The Perfect Candidate: A Lance Priest / Preacher Thriller (No. 1) (3 page)

Chapter 3

Out the front doors and onto Commerce Street, no time to get to his car out of the lot across the street. Too risky.

He recalled his reconnaissance of the area the night before and maybe more so, the OU-Texas weekend a couple of years prior. If only that crazy thing were going on now, he’d have no problem melting into the crowd of thousands on Commerce Street the night before the big game.

He knew that diagonally to the left he could make his way to Dealey Plaza where a certain president met his untimely demise. Not good karma right now. Further to his left were the spires at the top of the Old Dallas Court House, but that area was too wide open. He needed crowds and walls and windows to look through. Two blocks west, the Greyhound bus station offered a crowd, but was way too obvious.

Three blocks to the right was the incredibly over-priced Adolphus Hotel where he had party-crashed that night before the big game a few years ago.

He went right. Figured to stay on Commerce for a block and then cross and go north over to Main where he could get behind a wall or a car or tree and still see the entrance of the federal building. The slow jog and jaywalk across Commerce took 26 seconds. If Seibel was correct. The two hunters would be given their mission within a minute. They would likely come storming out of the building two or three minutes later.

He took Griffin over to Main Street and positioned himself beside a short wall just east of the intersection. Two female office workers sat 20 feet away solving the problems of the world and complaining about their bosses.

From his vantage point, he could duck down and still see the front doors of the building. He opened the file folder and re-examined the faces of the two gents who were supposedly out to capture or kill him. He closed the folder and folded it into his pocket. He rolled his neck and exhaled all the nerves out. Well, most of them at least.

He couldn’t stop his mind from going out of body to look down on his position from a couple thousand feet. The aerial view put a little mental red “you are here” circle at the northeast corner of Main and Griffin. He could see the streets going in all directions like asymmetric arteries. He had originally memorized downtown “Bid D” several years earlier when he and a small group of teenagers drove down for a ZZ Top concert at Reunion Arena just a few blocks over from his current location. He knew his immediate surface road options and maybe a few secrets hidden in the urban terrain. He returned to his head at street level.

Another minute passed and he allowed himself to think maybe this was just a hoax or some screwy test or possibly even one of those dinner theater murder mysteries where everyone in the audience plays a part. But this little respite from reality was quickly shattered by the emergence from the glass double doors of a man he had just seen in a photo folded in his pocket.

What happened next was definitely not cool. The guy, instead of scanning the horizon and looking up and down the street, put a walkie-talkie to his mouth and did the most amazing thing. He looked directly at Lance from over 250 yards away. No mistake; he picked him up immediately. Impossible, but true.

Boris Number 1 spoke into the walkie-talkie and glanced up at the building before jogging toward Lance. Preacher glanced up and couldn’t be sure from this distance, but he thought he could make out someone standing in a window on the seventh floor with a pair of binoculars. His best guess was it was Boris Number 2. He looked back at the hunter heading directly his way and stuck his hand into his pocket to grab the handle of the gun. Boris would reach him in about 30 seconds. Lance thought of the odds. Here’s one guy coming at him. Likely armed and more than likely skilled in weapon use. Boris probably wouldn’t let Lance walk up to him and put a gun to his head. Better to move.

He turned from his perch and walked briskly to the north. His brisk walk rapidly evolved into the jog of a young businessman late for a meeting. His sightline of the building on Commerce was lost when he rounded a corner of another building, which meant the watcher in the window could not see him either. Behind him, Boris crossed Main a block and a half back. He could follow Lance, but he didn’t know the secret Lance knew. And he hadn’t run at least five miles virtually every day of his life since he was 13.

Preacher broke into an all-out sprint, which immediately put distance between him and the hunter. No contest. After turning another corner, Preacher came to the intersection of Main and Field. For the briefest moment, he thought of stopping right there and plastering himself against the building with the gun aimed at the corner, at the height of a man’s head.

He could put a bullet in the guy’s brain and turn and run. But the problem was witnesses. There were no less than 50 people within view. Shooting a guy right there on a downtown Dallas street corner would likely raise attention. He’d have a hell of a time getting out of the area without dozens of witnesses identifying him.

He stuck with his plan formed the minute prior. He crossed Field diagonally and ran into a parking garage entrance. His visit to Big D for OU-Texas weekend had left him with more than a few bits of precious information. One of these little jewels happened to be a secret back entrance into the aforementioned Adolphus Hotel.

He had been introduced to the virtually unknown and totally discrete entrance by a bellman who appreciated a $50 bill and no hassles. Lance had made a little wager with the fellas he had come down with that he could not only get into the heavily-secured grand dame of Dallas hotels; he would stay the night with one or more of the guests and meet back up with the guys at the game the next day. As usual, Lance came through and had another great story to share with the gang. Always leaving out the intimate details. He was a gentleman, of course.

All of that fleeted through Preacher’s mind as he ran through the parking garage and out a back door into a tiny alley between tall buildings. He stepped into a doorway out of view if Boris happened to see him enter the parking garage. Not likely though, he had turned on the burners pretty good and left the hunter in his dust back on Main Street. But still, he listened for footsteps and the crackly voice on a walkie-talkie. Maybe, just maybe there were more of them out there hunting him.

He thought about walkie-talkies and how he and his little brother had played with them as kids. They usually didn’t work very well, but damn they looked cool tucked in your belt while you pointed your toy machine gun at the bathroom mirror. “
Roger that, over and out.
” He whispered.

He leaned against the wall beside the door and jabbed his hand back into his pocket. The gun calmed his nerves. He stayed out of site and listened for any sounds in the alley. None came. Approximately four minutes later, a door with no outside handle opened and an employee stepped out for a smoke. Lady luck shone on Preacher yet again. He didn’t believe in luck. It was being in the right place at the right time. And lying helped, a lot.

The employee’s name was Philip, the hotel’s French-Canadian concierge. Lance put a hand on the man’s bicep gently forcing him back into the building. The cigarette would have to wait.

Lance was quite convincing as an anxious assistant to a Texas businessman who needed to arrange special accommodations that required absolutely secrecy. He implied he had been watching the facility for a couple of days and knew Philip would be stepping outside for a smoke at this location and time. Lance was very persuasive, as always.

He lent a great deal of credibility to his story through his in-depth knowledge of the facility. Lance led the way, walking the concierge down the hall, up a flight of stairs he shouldn’t have known about and onto an elevator restricted to VIP use. He kept eye contact and often put a hand on the Philip’s arm or shoulder. He so completely took the concierge into his confidence that he was able to tell him a couple of highly personal and completely fabricated facts about Lance’s fictitious employer. Lance convinced Philip that room 614 would be ideal for his employer’s needs and would greatly appreciate it if the concierge could use a house phone to confirm the availability of that particular room.

Lance described the suite’s layout, traditional American furniture and priceless chandelier over the conference table as the perfect setting for his superior’s needs. Philip was quite taken with Lance’s details of both the room and his employer’s delicate situation. Philip was fairly certain the room was unoccupied and used a house phone on a table near the elevator to confirm the fact. He asked the registration staff member to send up a key immediately. Lance interjected to ask for three keys. Details. It’s always in the details.

Lance pulled out an American Express card belonging to Jimmy Lee, the car dealership’s owner. He had been given the card under the table because of his exceptional sales performance the previous quarter. Jimmy was particularly impressed with Lance’s handling of a long-time family friend going through a delicate personal situation.

Lance had made a point of using the card several times so as not to appear rude. He wasn’t concerned that the card had someone else’s name on it. If anyone was alarmed enough to call American Express, who would in-turn call Jimmy, the dealer would simply tell them Lance was using the card with his permission. Lance didn’t know the card’s credit limit, but assumed a few thousand dollars over the next few days wouldn’t break the bank.

But a credit card may be called in for verification and a computer record generated. Anyone who knew much about Lance Priest, and it appeared Seibel knew just about everything, could possibly see a charge for Jimmy Lee at the Adolphus. He needed to delay card verification for a little while.

He inched closer to the concierge, took the man’s hand, affected a conspiratorial tone in his voice and a look of utter and complete trust in his eyes. Lance asked Philip to handle all pertinent details but not run the card because that might trigger an action that could bring unwanted attention for his superior. He told Philip a cash payment that would cover all expenses as well as a generous gratuity would arrive in two days.

Lance added, if anyone, anyone at all, asked about room 614 or its occupants, Philip was to report this to Lance immediately. There could be no leaks, no loose ends. The concierge assured him these situations happened all the time at the Adolphus. Confidentiality was the hallmark of the institution.

As they stood outside room 614, Lance piled detail upon detail and added elements of intrigue that captured Philip’s imagination. The hairs on the back of the concierge’s neck stood at attention. He was sold.

Lance informed his new confidant that if anyone came looking for someone resembling himself, it would be rival interests who had only cracked the code up to Lance’s level. “Do not divulge anything about me to anyone.” He grasped Philip’s upper arm to emphasize the point as they shook hands.

He let Philip know he would only deal with him. Aside from room service, no other employees were to come to 614. No maid service would be required. Secrecy was demanded at all times. Lance asked Philip for his home number so he could reach him after hours. Lance had the hooks in.

The concierge committed himself and the resources of his closest and most trusted associates to secrecy. For their confidentiality, Lance told him, they would be rewarded handsomely. And if they earned his trust, they could expect repeat business and even greater rewards in the future.

A bellman stepped out of the elevator with three room keys. Philip immediately intercepted the Hispanic man while Lance turned away to conceal his face. Philip quickly dismissed the bellman and turned to unlock the door. During the walk-around, Lance pulled out his wallet and fished out the secret $100 bill he always kept folded in with photos. He had about $300 in $50s and $20s but wanted to award the larger bill for full effect.

Back at the door, he placed the bill and the American Express card in the concierge’s hand to seal their deal. Philip left the room with the credit card, the $100 bill and a sense of pride. Before he closed the door, Lance called out to his new friend, “And Philip, we would love to have a good U.S. road map. A road atlas would be even better.”

As the door closed, Lance walked over to the windows at the corner of the room to look down on the street. He didn’t expect to see anything suspicious and he didn’t. No sign of either Boris. He could see Commerce Street in both directions. Nothing. He pulled the drapes closed and sat in a chair beside the bed to do some calculations. The room was going to cost at least $300 per night and room service would need to be ordered for three or four people each day to keep up appearances. He estimated that the next 72 hours would cost him about $3000. There went the commissions on the 280Z and Fiero he had sold the weekend before. Oh well.