Backtracker (37 page)

*****

 

Tom Martin lived in Beckley, a borough adjacent to Highland Township. The manager
'
s home was just a five
-
minute drive from the steakhouse.

Dave had been to Martin
'
s house once before.
He'd
made the visit against his will, along with several other Wild West employees; Martin had drafted them into helping him erect a shed in his back yard. The shed incident had been yet another example of Martin
'
s overbearing ways and abuse of power, the unreasonable demands that he so often made of his workers. Not only had he coerced Dave and the others with no trace of courtesy or graciousness, but he
hadn
'
t
compensated them for their labors and
hadn
'
t
even thanked them. It had been a typical Tom Martin performance, one which had left a bitter taste in the mouths of those who had been a party to it.

Dave hoped that his imminent visit would be a less aggravating one. He was going of his own initiative, at least, and
didn
'
t
expect any forced labor; he would be able to leave at any time that he wanted, and he
wouldn
'
t
have to worry about receiving compensation from Martin. Dave was only going to Martin
'
s house because
he had
to conduct some delicate business and needed privacy, privacy that was impossible to find at the steakhouse.

As he neared Martin
'
s neighborhood, Dave thought about what he would say during his visit. He
wasn
'
t
quite sure how he would approach the manager, how he would go about obtaining the information that he sought.

Dave planned to inquire about Larry Smith
'
s file; he wanted to know why it
didn
'
t
contain any of the customary paperwork and he wanted to find out what the
"
Special
"
notation meant. In order to broach this subject, however, he would have to reveal that
he'd
infiltrated the personnel files. Dave
didn
'
t
think that Martin would react well to such a revelation; company policy stipulated that employees
weren
'
t
allowed to touch those files, and Martin was the type of guy who would pounce on any violation of company policy. No doubt, the surly manager would seize the opportunity to punish Dave, would overreact and perhaps even fire him.

Dave struggled to think of a way to question Martin without putting himself at risk...but he came up with nothing. If he wanted to learn the story behind the file, he would have to divulge the fact that
he'd
seen it, that
he'd
been snooping in records which were off
-
limits to him.

If he tried to be subtle, it was unlikely that he would get anywhere near the data that he was after. Dave was convinced that Larry
'
s file was incriminating to Martin; the absence of standard paperwork violated company rules, and the lack of appropriate tax forms was certainly against the law. If Dave were to ask general questions about Larry, trying to lead Martin by an indirect route to the crux of his interest, Dave felt sure that the manager would volunteer nothing about the file,
wouldn
'
t
bring it to his attention because it was proof of wrongdoing.

No, subtlety
wouldn
'
t
work. If Dave wanted to snag anything important, he would have to be direct, fire his questions at the bull
'
s
-
eye. Despite the risk, the chance that Martin might boot him out of his job, Dave would have to come right out with it, describe what
he'd
seen and ask what it meant.

While it was possible that the inquiry might lead to unpleasant consequences, Dave thought that it might also work out in his favor. Maybe, Tom Martin would obligingly explain all when confronted by Dave
'
s knowledge of his secret indiscretion. In order to ensure that Dave
wouldn
'
t
spread the word about the inadequate and illegal file, Martin might sing freely of the truth about Larry. If Dave played it right, the blackmail might work; if the file was as sensitive as Dave believed it to be, the manager might be more afraid of being found out than he would be angry at Dave for daring to pry.

As he traversed Beckley Borough, Dave focused on his hope, also clung to his rage. Though distracted by his contemplation of the coming encounter, he was still furious, surging with anger at Larry Smith and what Larry had let happen to Ernie
'
s parents. He refused to let go of his wrath, for it made him feel stronger, more able to deal with Mr. Martin; normally, heading into a risky meeting like the one that he was about to face, Dave would be nervous as a
shell
-
shocked
war vet, but tonight he was remarkably calm, too thoroughly enraged to fret and quake.

Larry had ignited a new and dark power within him. He savored the angry strength, wanted it to grow and carry him through the obstacles ahead. He rushed forward like a missile, his momentum obliterating all frailties as soon as they appeared.

Dave guided the Torino into the development in whic
h Martin lived, the sprawl of
middle
-
income homes which had sprung up about three years ago. The neighborhood was quiet and the streets were empty; it was nearly eleven o
'
clock, and the local residents were working people, already retired for the night.

Girding himself for the skirmish to come, Dave steered the Torino into a cul
-
de
-
sac, a loop at the farthest edge of the development; the cluster of homes within that circuit sat on the frontier, bulged against a tract of woodland which
hadn
'
t
yet been cut away.

Slowly following the loop, Dave watched for Martin
'
s house. His memory of the place stood out vividly, for
he'd
hated every minute that
he'd
spent there: it was a two
-
story home with faux
-
brick siding, really just a big box with no architectural flair whatsoever. From the moment when
he'd
first glimpsed it, Dave had thought that it was ugly and that it seemed out of place among the attractive, white
-
sided homes of the development.

The Torino slid further around the cul
-
de
-
sac and Dave finally spied Martin
'
s house. With his target in sight, he started to drive a bit faster, eager to get on with his mission.

Then, he saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

Eyes bugging, he gaped at Martin
'
s driveway. Dumbstruck be
hind the wheel, he let the car
accelerate and slip past the house.

By the time that he reached the mouth of the cul
-
de
-
sac, completing the loop, his heart was hammering, his thoughts rioting like panicked bats. He
couldn
'
t
believe it, just
couldn
'
t
believe what
he'd
seen.

He pulled the car to the side of the street and sat there for a moment, trying to clear his head. Everything had suddenly changed;
he'd
been goading himself toward a showdown with Tom Martin, only to have an unexpected wild card derail his plans.

Larry Smith had been in Martin
'
s driveway.

Dave had seen him clearly in the bright swath cast by the light above Martin
'
s garage door.
He'd
seen the
crew
-
cut
, the goatee, the thick, familiar arms; it had been Larry, all right, no doubt about it.

While passing Martin
'
s house, Dave had watched the guy rise from the driver
'
s side of a dark
-
green station wagon. Larry had emerged from the car, looking toward the house, and then the Torino had rolled away and Dave had lost sight of him.

Good ol
'
Larry;
"
Special
"
Larry; Larry the Prophet; Larry the Adversary.

Larry had beaten him to Tom Martin.

Awash with shock and confusion, Dave closed his eyes and let his head drop to the wheel. Questions roared into his brain, a stampede of new and alarming questions.

What was Larry
doing
there? Though
he'd
said that he and Martin had been friends, Larry had emphasized that they had never been
good
friends; in fact,
he'd
expressed his distaste for the boss on a number of occasions,
hadn
'
t
once defended Martin when the gang had ridiculed him. If Larry
didn
'
t
like the manager, then why would he call on him at home? Were Larry and Martin closer than Dave had been led to believe?

If Larry had told the truth about his lack of affection for Martin, then what was the reason for this visit? What business could Larry have with the manager which
couldn
'
t
be conducted at the restaurant?

Could Larry
'
s visit have anything to do with
Dave
?
It was certainly odd that the guy had shown up just as Dave was about to drop in and interrogate Martin about the mysterious file. Maybe it
wasn
'
t
a coincidence; if Larry
'
s psychic abilities had alerted him to Dave
'
s move, perhaps
he'd
come just to keep Dave away.

Where had Larry gotten that
car
, anyway? Had he been lying all along about not owning one? Had he borrowed it from someone? Had he stolen it? Had he just bought it?

What the hell was going
on
here?

Dave raised his head, whipped it from side to side as if that would disperse the jumble of his thoughts. It
didn
'
t
help; Larry
'
s unexpected appearance had thrown him into an uproar, set his brain whirling like a pinwheel in a windstorm.

Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and stared dumbly at the dashboard. He struggled to sift through the mash in his head, make some sense of it all, but he
didn
'
t
have much luck. He strove to chart reasonable answers for the maddening crush of questions, but he only grew more confused.

Only one thing was clear: Dave
couldn
'
t
question Tom Martin about Larry
'
s file as planned. Certainly, the inquiry
couldn
'
t
take place within earshot of Larry; Dave could wait around and try to see Martin after Larry left, but if Larry stayed late, the manager might be cranky and unreceptive by then. Not only that, but Dave
couldn
'
t
know what kind of atmosphere Larry would leave behind; if Larry and Martin had an argument, Dave might end up walking unwittingly into a minefield, presenting himself as a target for Martin
'
s wrath.

Dave wondered if he should just go home, give up for the night. At home, in his room, he would be able to ponder the situation at length, perhaps produce some new ideas. Not only might home be conducive to contemplations of the war with Larry, but Dave might get some studying done there; he did, after all, have a final exam the next morning, a test for which he
hadn
'
t
prepared one bit.

As sensible as the notion of returning home sounded, Dave found it unappealing. He felt as if
he had
to do something, no matter how inconsequential; though no great strides could be made, he still felt the need to do something else. He was still too restless and uptight to call it a night; he
didn
'
t
think that he would be able to concentrate on his studies anyway.