Like Mind (9 page)

“Didn’t you think that was a bit…creepy?”

“I don’t know what I thought. I was happy to have a job, so I just took it all in stride.”

“Weird.”

“I know. But that’s going to change right now. Let’s go shopping.”

“Oh, okay. I usually like to follow up my espionage with some scrapbooking, but shopping will work too.”

Anka punched me in the ribs, but then grabbed my arm as I tried to protect myself. With arms linked we walked on down the hill.

“So, where do I go shopping?”

“Well, I usually go to Goodwill or something like that.”

“I could get a lot of things there, but I don’t really want a lot of things. I want something nice. I want something just for me because I want it.”

“We could go to the Buffalo Exchange.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s like Goodwill, but the clothes are nicer. People sell their stuff instead of donating it. They have standards for what they’ll take.”

“Yeah, that could work. I don’t know, I just want to shop like a real person for once. Does that make sense?”

“Not really, but I pretty much hate shopping. We could go to Nordstrom. They have a piano player that serenades the shoppers and a makeup counter and all that stuff. Nothing feels more like shopping than walking in to Nordstrom.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“And, while you’re trying on dresses or whatever I can go play some more hacky sack.”

“No you will not.”

“Uh, why?”

“We scammed them. You can’t go back to the people you’ve scammed. It’s the cardinal rule of con-jobs.”

“But what if I liked it?”

Anka squeezed my arm and smiled up at me.

“Nope. Not this time. Maybe I’ll buy you a nice, new hacky sack. Would that make you happy?”

“Ha. Ha.”

She squeezed my arm again. I was getting extra confused by all of this. My experience with women hadn’t really prepared me for something like this. Usually the conversation revolved around getting drinks, or not. Then we might talk about hanging out more, or not. We might listen to music, or not. If I was really lucky we’d get some food, or not.

I didn’t have great luck with women for the most part. They were like animals in the zoo to me, I could look at them from afar, but I was never allowed to approach the really cool ones. My contact was relegated to the petting zoo goats and lasted about as long as I could keep putting quarters into the food dispenser.

Now I had a tigress on my arm.

When we got to Nordstrom, Anka didn’t want to go in right away. We walked around the building looking at the mannequins in the windows. She examined every outfit as if they were rare gems. I tried to see what she saw, but it all looked the same to me. Eventually we went inside and she found the women’s clothing section. A salesperson stepped up and offered some help. I, almost instinctively, notified her that we were just looking, but Anka stopped her before she turned away.

“No, I need help. I want a new outfit, but I’m not sure what it is.”

“Ah,” the thin, mid-forties woman with a tight bun and navy blue pant-suit said, “I think I can help you with that. My name’s Stacy.”

“Hi, Stacy. Thank you, I really need some help.”

Anka dropped my arm and walked off with Stacy. I trailed along behind thinking of all the forlorn men in malls that were relegated to the same role. My only comfort was that Anka didn’t have a purse to make me carry. The two ladies talked as I wandered behind them. I was actually happy when they’d collected enough clothes to justify a trip to the fitting room. I could park myself in a chair and just wait.

I pulled out my phone and looked back through the pictures from our raid. Nothing made any sense to me. I couldn’t crack the code and the MNA files were still enigmatic. I searched for the file type and came up with nothing. The only real result stated that it was an unregistered file type with no known programs that run it. Then I started searching for Grosskopf and brain research. I found a lot of recent articles about his arrest, but when I searched prior to that, there was almost nothing about him. No Facebook page, no graduation record, no publications, no journal articles, there was just nothing.

Pairing together the suspicious state of his computer files and the fact that he didn’t exist prior to getting arrested made me nervous. I made a mental note to not respond to Craigslist ads like that in the future. In hindsight it seems to have been a mistake.

Just out of curiosity I started searching for Anka. She wasn’t too hard to track down when I added ‘Seattle’ to the search. Again, though, nothing much showed up. She has a Facebook page, but it’s so bland as to be non-existent. Her friends are all only friends with each other, it’s a closed loop. That doesn’t happen in real life. Her pictures are all awkwardly candid, as if someone posed them that way. She also had a graduation record from the University of Washington, class of 2008, and a blog with pictures of kittens on it. I went to the UW site and looked for pictures of Anka. Yes, I wanted to see what she looked like in college. But when I got there I found nothing. There were no yearbook photos, no candid shots, and no sorority pictures.

Just like Grosskopf, Anka’s online existence had a finite start date and very little real information. I resolved to confront her about my discovery and sat there rehearsing what I’d say when Stacy came out and requested that I join her. I got up slowly and stepped through the curtained doorway with Stacy. She gestured to a padded bench that faced a wall with mirrors on it.

“She’ll be right out.”

“Okay.” What else could I say?

I waited a moment and then Anka walked out. She moved like she was on a catwalk in Paris, strutting out and spinning so the skirt flared out. The skirt was red, plaid, knee-length and pleated. She had high, brown boots on that came up to just below her knees, so only a small strip of skin showed. Her shirt was a fitted, gray tank-top with a satin sheen and a bit of lacy frill around the neckline. Over that she wore a blue jacket that accentuated her hourglass figure. I must have been sitting with my mouth open for a while.

“So, does that mean you like it?”

“Uh…”

“I think that’s a yes,” Stacy translated for me.

“Uh-huh.”

Anka spun again, flaring out the skirt, and quite a bit, before turning back to me and grinning at my slack-jawed appreciation.

“We’ll take it.”

“Very good, would you like me to package it up for you?”

“Can I wear it out?”

“By all means. Let me just gather your other clothes. I’ll meet you at the register just out there.”

We followed Stacy’s gesture and stood next to the register. I wanted to ask how much all this was going to cost (I had to hacky hard for that money), but the combined effect of Anka’s unabashed joy and her gorgeous appearance made me shut my mouth. We stood for a moment waiting when I glanced around the store. Mostly I was looking around to keep myself from staring at Anka, though my eyes kept coming back to her. On the second or third pass I saw something familiar. I still continued back to Anka before my brain registered that it was something I’d seen before, so I had to scan back through to figure out what it was.

The burly twins were in Nordstrom.

I spotted them in the shoe section across the way. They didn’t appear to see us, yet. I nudged Anka and pointed them out.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s about right. What are we going to do?”

“We have to go, now.”

“What about your clothes? You have to pay for them?”

“There’s money in my pants.”

“What about your phone and the photos you took?”

“Damn, you’re right.”

We went back toward the dressing room where Stacy was just coming out with a bag.

“Here are your clothes. Just give me a moment and we can have you all taken care of. Would you like to apply for a Nordstrom card today?”

“No thank you. What’s the total?”

“Well, let’s see. The boots, the skirt—that’s one of my favorite designers, by the way— and the top…oh and the jacket. That should be…”

I was about ready to throw a wad of cash at Stacy and take off running when she announced the total. I nearly lost my fear of Cuban criminals from the shock of hearing how much one outfit costs. Without flinching, Anka pulled out the cash and gave it to Stacy.

“No change, thank you. You were so helpful.”

How could she be polite at a time like this? As soon as the transaction was done, I wanted to run, but Anka forced me to walk calmly. We headed in the opposite direction from the twins, but we would still have to cross the main walkway to get to the door. We’d be exposed and they would probably see us. I was tensed to run at a moment’s notice, but Anka whispered to me to keep calm and walk normally.

“I can’t really keep calm when people who’ve tried to kill us are just a few feet away.”

“Don’t worry about them. We can deal with it. Right now, you just need to breathe.”

I focused on my breathing and the agonizing pace of our walk to the door. I reached out to push it open when I heard the shout from behind me.

“There they are, stop them!”

Grreat

We ran.

As soon as we got outside it was clear to me that Anka couldn’t go very far or fast with her new boots. Sure they were cute, but the heels made it impossible for her to run and she couldn’t stop to take them off.

“I’ll draw their attention, you try and slip away in the crowd.”

I pulled her across the street to Pioneer Square. What was it with the burly twins and attacking me here? Once we got into the crowd around the Starbucks entrance I pushed Anka in and then edged out toward the street. As soon as Leif Burleson and Burls the Red popped out of Nordstrom I took off running due east, away from Anka. Every few steps I’d check behind me to make sure both of the twins were following. They were in pursuit, so I pushed the pace a bit using my Parkour skills. I leapfrogged people in my way, jumped over strollers and dodged through the trees on the sidewalk.

A few blocks down from the square I spotted a parking garage on the north side of the street. I cut through traffic, sliding across the hood of a car at the last second, and ran into the garage. I figured my new skills would serve me well inside and give me a chance to lose the Burl-esques. I made sure they could see me as they came inside and then ran around a corner up to the next level of the garage. I was looking for a good place to lure them in so I could escape and leave them behind. Finally I saw the perfect spot, it was an alcove where three parking spots fit between some machinery on either side. At the top of the alcove was a small opening, about six feet off the ground, where the next level of the garage was visible.

I slowed down enough for the twins to catch up and then ran straight for the alcove. Once they followed me I used my Parkour wall-climbing skills to launch up with just a couple steps. I gripped the top to pull myself up to the next level just as the twins came up behind me. Perfect, I thought.

But then I couldn’t pull myself up. I gripped the ledge with my hands, but I didn’t have the strength to get up the wall. I scrambled to get a grip with my feet, but I couldn’t get enough leverage to push myself higher. So I dangled from the ledge, furiously trying to claw my way to the top while the Cubans slowly walked up behind me. One of them reached up, grabbed my shirt and pulled me down. The one-foot fall was disappointingly small for the amount of effort I’d exerted in climbing. But, I guess you have to ascend to call it climbing. I did use a lot of energy in my hanging, though.

“
Llame El Tigre.
”

“Oh, are you calling Tony? I hear he’s grrreat!”

Blank stares. I guess the humor was lost on them. The Burly that pulled me down held my arm behind my back to keep me immobile. I tried to use one of my MMA moves, but nothing dislodged his grip. I assuaged my hurt pride with the knowledge that Anka had gotten away. She would, hopefully, find a way to rescue me from the Cubans. At least these people didn’t want me dead, unlike her boss.

After the phone call to Antonio, we just stood there waiting for a while. They didn’t seem too interested in conversation. I tried though.

“What happened to your face? That must have been some fight. I suppose I should see the other guy. Am I right? Nothing? Really? This is comic-gold you’re getting here.”

If I’m honest, and there’s no reason to not be honest with you, I was making jokes to avoid peeing my pants. I’ve never been a tough guy. My first, and only, fight in school was when I was in the fourth grade. A kid pushed me so I tried to kick him. He grabbed my foot and pushed again. My backpack sent me off balance and I fell over backward.

The very next physical conflict for me was the twins in the square. I’m not a violent guy, so all this car-chasey, gun-fighty, spy-droney stuff had me very nervous. Humor was one of my only defenses.

A stretch Cadillac Escalade drove up next to us and the door opened. Sitting there staring at me was Anka. For a moment I thought she was working with the Cubans, but then I saw worry and fear cover her face as she recognized me. A man slid past her and stepped out. He could have been Antonio Banderas’ brother, tall, dark and Latino. He swaggered toward me in an immaculately tailored white suit with a bright red tie and pocket square. His thick, black hair was slicked back against his head giving him the appearance of a swimmer just exiting the pool.