Body Guard (3 page)

“I just told you I don’t know! I came here for help, not to be insulted.” The man drew his feet under the chair as if to stand. Kirk said nothing. The moment teetered until Humphries sighed again and the stiffness went out of his shoulders. “If I knew—if I had any inkling—I would tell you.” He added, “After all, I do have more than a passing interest in the matter.”

“You say your wife insisted that you come here?”

“That I get protection.” Humphries liked precision. “I was the one who selected your firm, based on the recommendation of someone you worked for previously.”

“Oh? Who’s that?”

“Owen McAllister.” The name had weight, Humphries knew, and he borrowed some of it. “We were having drinks the other day and he happened to mention you.”

“I’m grateful. What do you do, Mr. Humphries? Tell me about yourself.”

The implied answer was that Humphries was rich enough to do nothing if he chose to. But since the men in his family had engaged in business or the professions for six generations, he had studied electrical engineering and moved from that into the proprietorship of a firm that had been bought by Sanyo for, as he said without modesty, an impressive sum. Now he was engaged in starting a new company to explore and develop the artificial-intelligence components that the next generation of computers would need. “Robotics is the new frontier in computer work. A-I is the road to that frontier.”

His office was in the Meridian Office Park south of Denver. His home was farther south just across the line in Douglas County. It was, Kirk knew, a semi rural area of large lots and homes to match, scattered over broken prairie and pine-dotted foothills. A lot of professional and business people who commute up I1-25 to the metro area had settled there because of its isolation and beauty.

“Did the problem start before or after you began the new company?”

Humphries stared at Devlin. “I never thought of that.”

“Is it possible?”

The man twisted the signet ring and frowned at the rug that covered part of the office’s shiny wooden floor. “It’s possible, I suppose. It’s a highly competitive business, of course. But I can’t believe that any of the people familiar with what I’m doing would stoop to … .” He ended with a shrug.

“Names?”

“I can’t make accusations like that, Mr. Kirk!”

“It’s not an accusation. It’s merely hypothetical.”

“Still, this is very embarrassing. I mean, you will please keep this confidential, won’t you? These people are my friends as well as competitors. In fact, ‘competitors’ is too harsh a word for—”

“We keep our mouths shut, Mr. Humphries.” Kirk held a pencil ready. “Who might profit from a knowledge of your activities?”

“Well … Gunter. Gunter Schmidt—he’s working in the same area. In fact, we exchange information occasionally. But it’s a friendly rivalry.”

“He’s an engineer too?”

“Yes. He was recently promoted to head the A-I project at Reliable Electronics. I can’t imagine him doing what you suggest. In fact, I’ve asked him more than once to work for me.”

“But he hasn’t.”

“Not yet.”

“Anyone else?”

“Michael Stratford. He’s a vice president for research at Memory Technology. They’re very active in A-I.”

“And interested in what you’re doing?”

“Of course. I’m interested in them, too.”

“Do you think he could be the one?”

Humphries weighed that. “I don’t like to think so. I really don’t know the man that well, but …”

Devlin jotted the name down. “Anyone else who might possibly be interested?”

“Ned Liles. He was one of my research engineers in the old company. He elected not to stay on with Sanyo. He didn’t want to work for the Japanese, he said.”

“But he’s now working in A-I?”

“Yes. His own company. Essentially a one-man, one-lab outfit. He doesn’t have the capital to develop very far, or the patents to attract it.”

“Was he upset when you sold out to Sanyo?”

“No more than anyone else, I believe. Everyone wondered how the new owners would treat them, of course. There was bound to be some anxiety. But I handled it pretty well.”

“How’s that?”

“Kept the acquisition secret until the last moment. That way, there was no time for rumors to spread and anxiety to increase. And Sanyo guaranteed all employee benefits and seniorities. It was a very quick and smooth transition.”

“But Liles quit.”

“It was something he’d been thinking about for some time. It was the right moment. In fact, he should be grateful—my decision gave him the impetus to do what he wanted to anyway.”

“These are all the names you can think of?”

Humphries nodded. “I honestly don’t think any of them would try to harm me.”

“You think none of these men is the person following you?”

“No.”

“You’ve had a good look at this person?”

“Well, no. As I say, there’s this car—a brown one—that’s come by our home several times lately. And I began seeing it behind me when I drove to and from the office. I wouldn’t have noticed if Mitsuko hadn’t said anything.” He added, “We live on a lane that doesn’t get much traffic. You come to recognize the neighbors’ cars.”

“Mitsuko?”

“My wife. She’s Japanese.”

“Neither of you saw who was driving?”

“A man. That’s all.”

“What about the prowler?”

“Again, we haven’t actually seen anyone. But I’ve noticed signs that someone’s been on our property—gates left open, footprints, things moved about.”

“What time of day?”

“Usually at night. I find the evidence in the mornings, the last few mornings especially. Before, I wasn’t looking for anything. But since the car began following me I’ve begun to worry and started looking around.”

“Exactly what would you want us to do, Mr. Humphries?”

“I suppose basically make the person stop. Whatever it takes to make that person leave us alone.”

Kirk swiveled around to gaze out the window and talk to the dry, rocky crests of the distant mountain ranges. “If there is a prowler—if someone is following you—you’ve told me nothing to indicate that he constitutes a clear and present danger. However, if someone is planning to assault you, our merely watching over you might not remove that threat.”

Humphries twisted the ring. “What do you mean?”

“Ultimately he would have to be identified, arrested, and brought to trial. It’s a serious course of action.”

Humphries leaned forward. The thin blue stripes of his shirt billowed up beneath the lapels of his coat. “Isn’t it serious to be frightened for one’s life?”

“Do you have any evidence that the prowler or the man following you is a threat to your life?”

“You sound like that damned policeman! If you can prove I’m mistaken, that’s fine. If I’m not mistaken, I don’t want to find out the hard way!”

“Twenty-four-hour-a-day bodyguards cost a lot. From us or from anyone else.”

“My check won’t bounce, if that’s what’s worrying you, Mr. Kirk.”

“I’m sure it won’t, Mr. Humphries. But in the absence of a definite threat, and given the legal ramifications of any action that might be taken, perhaps there are better options.”

Humphries rubbed a hand across his chin. “Such as?”

“An investigation would probably cost less than providing round-the-clock security. That, and some coaching in basic survival techniques. Once the suspect’s identified, we can decide the best way to handle him.”

From the hallway outside came the heavy sound of familiar steps as Bunch ran up three stairs at a time in the final sprint. When he opened the door, almost filling it with his bulk, Kirk introduced him to Mr. Humphries and sketched the situation. “What do you think, Bunch?”

The big man wiped his face with the damp front of his sleeveless sweatshirt and shrugged. “Simple. What we do, we pick up this guy and convince him it’s not nice to harass Mr. Humphries.”

Devlin caught the “we.” He turned to the man in the gray suit. “On defense, we have to wait for the opponent to make his move. On offense, we can dictate the action. My suggestion, Mr. Humphries, is that we go on the offensive. But the choice is yours.”

Humphries looked at the large, sweaty figure, at the legs whose calves seemed almost as big as those massive thighs, at the torso whose muscle hung heavily defined. This was the ungrammatical one. But given what Humphries hadn’t told Kirk, he was gratified to know he could hire this monster to be on his side. “All right.”

“Then I think we can help you, Mr. Humphries. Here’s what I suggest.” It wasn’t the twenty-four-hour baby-sitting the man had first wanted, but it was effective. And, equally important, it left time for Devlin and Bunch to juggle the other cases as well.

The plan was all right with Bunch. He would stick with Humphries for a couple days to try and identify the suspicious figure and to familiarize himself with Humphries’ routines and usual locations. He would also place security devices in Humphries’ home and automobile. Meanwhile, Kirk would rehearse Humphries and his wife in personal security—how to avoid being approached in crowds, how to vary the routine patterns of life, how to stay visible to people around them. To avoid, in other words, making targets of themselves in areas that invited attack. These and other techniques that the Secret Service had drilled Kirk in would give Mr. and Mrs. Humphries a measure of self- protection for those times when they did not have a bodyguard.

“When we find out who the joker is,” said Bunch, “we’ll pick him up and talk with him.” He cracked his knuckles for punctuation.

“We can keep this unobtrusive, can’t we? I mean, if Schmidt or Stratford discover that I’ve mentioned their names … Well, we run in the same social circles. It would be extremely awkward.”

“We’ll be circumspect, Mr. Humphries.” Kirk drew a standard contract from the drawer and filled in the blanks, adapting a paragraph or two to include the costs of installing security devices. “If what we’ve said makes sense and you want to proceed with it, I’ll need your signature after you read over the contract. If you have any questions, please ask.”

He didn’t. When the pen stopped scratching, Devlin gave him a copy and nodded at Bunch. “Mr. Bunchcroft here can start right now.”

That was what Bunch wanted to hear. This kind of job beat hell out of surveillance in that Subaru. Standing, he wiped his face. “Just call me Bunch, Mr. Humphries. We’ll swing by my place and I’ll clean up and then we’ll be on our way.”

Humphries nodded as Kirk folded his check and said goodbye. Going down the stairs, he eyed the wide back and shoulders of the sweaty man and hoped that Mitsuko was right. Kirk had bought the story. Now Humphries hoped the plan would give them the safety they sought.

W
HEN THE DOOR
closed behind them, Devlin read Humphries’ check over one more time. Then he filed the contract in the “Active” drawer in its new manila folder labeled “Humphries.” Opening a companion file on the computer, he typed in a code and brief synopsis of current information. On the time sheet, he noted the hour and day that Bunch started work. After running off a backup file, he turned to the telephone answerer for the messages that had come in while the office was empty.

The only one of interest was a report from Houston with the address and telephone number of a James Fackler. It cited the McQuiller Agency’s costs of discovering the information: two hundred dollars. Right—it took McQuiller four hours and expenses to look through a telephone directory and then drive by to verify the suspect and address. Nevertheless, Kirk wrote out a check and put it in an envelope, noted the expense on the Fackler time sheet, and, in the World Association of Detectives directory, put a mark by McQuiller’s name to remind him not to use that agency again. Most of the names in the directory were honest in their fees. But every now and then you ran across one that padded expenses.

Fackler was one of those insurance cases that had dragged on because the principal had a tendency to move quickly and without a forwarding address, usually just ahead of angry creditors. But for some reason, the man never changed his name. Vanity perhaps, or an unconscious will to be caught. It happened that way occasionally. Kirk had chased the man from Colorado to Oklahoma, then out to California and back to Louisiana, wherever the oil companies set up operations. The last rumor led to Houston, and sure enough, he’d popped up there like a beer drinker’s belch. Kirk faxed the information back to Security Underwriters in New York and flagged the computer file with the code number that meant Wait for instructions. Paperwork was a hassle, and most of it fell to Kirk because Bunch didn’t like to do it. Besides, it was his agency and his responsibility. And making quick and careful records was the only way to keep facts and fees straight when working a number of cases. He didn’t know any P.I.. firms that had the luxury of working only one job the way they did on TV. Recording and filing taken care of, he scurried across town to meet with Reznick at the Advantage Corporation plant.

The regional manager was less than enthusiastic about bringing the police into the investigation. “No. Absolutely not! We deal in high-quality products—products whose name means reliability. And we ship that name all over the world. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a shitbird like Porter give our corporation a public black eye.”

Kirk was hearing what he expected. Late-morning light filtered in through a wall of glass sliced by narrow vertical blinds and interrupted here and there by silhouetted sprouts of potted plants. Beyond the glass lay the parking lot and delivery bays where trucks from other corners of the far-flung Advantage empire brought in what they brought in, or carried away what they carried away for distribution to the company sales outlets. The Denver plant was the assembly hub because it was a convenient location between manufactories on the West Coast and in Florida. The same geography suited it for market distribution as well. “It’s possible that Porter’s working alone on a small scale,” said Kirk. “If so, he can be handled quietly and easily.”

“So handle him.”

“But it’s also possible he may not be working alone. His supply could be coming from outside the plant or inside it. We don’t know yet.”