The Unseen (10 page)

Dark Suit turned his neck to the side, and it made a ripple of cracks. He twisted it the other way. More cracks. “Not really tracking that's the problem. At this point, we need some inside information. Someone who's one of them.”

“But I'm not one of them.”

Dark Suit blinked rapidly a few times. “I did say that, didn't I?”

“Besides, I just blew out of there; I doubt they'd welcome me back.”

“Do they need to?”

Lucas thought about it. He knew where they met, although he was pretty sure that would change after his stunt tonight. Still, he knew how to track Donavan; he could follow him to a new meeting spot once they established it.

A sudden thought flashed in his mind. The conversation with Sarea. “Hey,” he said. “You were the one at the Blue Bell. Waiting for me.”

“When you had your encounter with Donavan, you showed up on our radar. Once it became obvious you were perhaps going to attend a club meeting yourself . . . it seemed a good idea to let things develop naturally. Which brings us to tonight.” Dark Suit took a deep breath, exhaled, waited. Blinked some more.

Lucas pondered. Something inside him did want to bring down the Creep Club, punish them for . . . doing nothing. And doing so would feed the Dark Vibration deep inside him, wouldn't it? Two birds with one stone, as the old cliché went. “I don't know who you are, who you work for. How do I know you're not setting me up for something?”

“You don't,” Dark Suit said.

“And how do you know I'm not going to set you up, double-cross you somehow?”

“I don't,” Dark Suit admitted again.

The Dark Vibration inside began to cycle up, creating a steady hum in Lucas's ears. “Okay,” he said. “As long as we're clear on that.”

He held out his hand.

Dark Suit took his hand. “Crystal.”

They shook hands to seal the pact.

“I'll meet you tomorrow. Give you a few things to help,” Dark Suit said. He was staring at a spot somewhere over Lucas's head as he said this; Lucas fought the urge to turn around and see what it was.

“Okay. When?”

“Three in the afternoon.”

“Where?”

“You seem to know your way around these stations,” Dark Suit said. “Pick one.”

Lucas thought. “Shaw-Howard, on the Green Line.” Right next to his old quarters. Dark Suit had already admitted he'd sent people there, so he wasn't giving up anything.

“Done.”

Dark Suit turned, walked up the stairs to street level, and was gone.

Lucas checked his watch. Just a bit after nine. If he was lucky, Donavan would still be at the Creep Club meeting—providing Lucas's little outburst hadn't ended it all early.

He wanted to get to Donavan's tonight; something told him all the locks would be changed by morning.

NINE

LUCAS SHUDDERED AWAKE THE NEXT MORNING, ROUSED BY DREAMS FILLED with giant letters in the background.

(Humpty Dumpty had some great falls.)

After a few seconds, he realized he was in his web hammock, perched above the computer in Donavan's ceiling. He listened for a moment before he allowed his body to come awake and move.

His watch said 8:23 a.m. Had Donavan been home, and he was just too exhausted to notice? No. Not a chance.

Lucas unfolded his body, pushed aside the tile, dropped to the floor, and retrieved his hammock webbing. Yes, the apartment was exactly the same as it had been last night. Just no Donavan.

Maybe he'd left with one of the other Creeps; Lucas himself had interrupted the regular flow of the meeting just a bit.

Even though he'd been in his deep state, sleeping even, he didn't feel refreshed. He felt . . . violated. First, someone had found his home, touched his things, moved them around. Then, this guy from last night—the guy in the Dark Suit—had easily tracked him from the Creep Club meeting. Had
known
things about him. Was he slipping? Maybe it would be best just to get out, maybe even leave the DC area. There was nothing tying him to this place.

But if he did that, Viktor Abkin would be murdered. Worse, Donavan or one of the other Creeps would record it. And he couldn't let that happen.

So. He'd just retrieve a few things from Donavan's closet, use his computer, and be on his way. He had a few hours before his meeting with Dark Suit, and there were some things he needed to take care of first.

In Donavan's closet, he found a stash of equipment. He took two of the flexible tube cameras, some wireless microphones, and four of the geopatches.

Next, he found Donavan's bag and looked through it. Good, the minidisc recorder was still in there. He flipped the button to Video and replayed the last few minutes of captured video. Anita and Ted, talking about Split Jacks and Viktor. That was what he needed.

Lucas fired up Donavan's computer, hooked the minidisc recorder into a USB port. He let the computer start converting the video into a Web movie, then wandered into the kitchen. Might as well see what was in the fridge.

Nothing. Unless you considered a couple bottles of beer, an opened pack of deli meat, and a bottle of ketchup.

He returned to Donavan's bedroom and decided to go online while he was waiting for the video to finish converting. At the Creep Club home page, he used Donavan's name and password to sign on. No new posts since the meeting last night. Evidently he'd shocked them into silence.

The computer beeped, letting him know the video was done converting. Lucas slid a DVD from Donavan's desk into the slot; while burning the DVD, he easily found the ATM2GO home page and clicked the “Contact Us” link. He'd briefly thought of sending an e-mail directly to Viktor, but he had no real way of knowing where that e-mail would route to, did he? The wife or business partner might see it, and he wasn't a hundred percent certain what might happen in that case. After a few moments of staring at the screen, he noted the phone number and dialed it on his TracFone.

A pleasant voice answered. “Good afternoon, ATM2GO.”

“Hi. Is Viktor available?”

“Viktor's out of the office at the moment. Can I put you through to his voice mail?”

Okay. Lucas thought for a second. Then: “Maybe I'll just call him on his cell phone, but I'm on the road right now, and I don't have his card with me. Do you have that number?”

“Certainly.”

After she gave him the number, he thanked her and dialed it. Viktor's voice answered, a bit raspy, with a hint of an accent. Russian, maybe?

“This is Viktor.”

“Viktor. You don't know me, but . . . I have some information I think you'll be interested in.”

A few moments of silence. “What kind of information?”

“About your business. About your . . . um . . . partners.”

“What partners, exactly?”

“What do you mean, ‘what partners'? Your wife and Ted.”

“Oh.”

Lucas expected the man to ask or say something else, but he didn't.

Lucas shook his head and continued. “Look, it's probably easiest if I just show you. Some video. I think it will all make sense then.”

“Is everything okay?” Viktor asked.

“Everything's fine. It's just—I'm trying to do you a favor.”

Another pause. “So what do you want?”

“Look, I think you just need to see what I have.”

“Okay. You can bring it to me.”

“Um, actually, I was thinking more along the lines of sending it to you. E-mail or mail, or something.”

“No, I think . . . you say this is something very important. I believe you, and something important like this you don't trust to mail or computers. You do it in person.”

He had a point, but this conversation wasn't going the direction he'd intended. He closed his eyes. He didn't like the idea of meeting the guy, but he at least deserved to know his wife and partner were planning to kill him. “Okay, okay. How about I meet you at Split Jacks? It has something to do with this.”

“Okay.”

“When?”

“What about now?”

Lucas shook his head, even though he knew Viktor couldn't see it. “I can't right now. Later—this evening.”

He felt the pause from Viktor.

“You call and tell me you have something very important for me to see, and then you tell me to wait for several hours.”

“I know, I know. And I'm sorry.”

Viktor sighed. “Okay. I'll be at Split Jacks all evening.”

“Okay,” Lucas said, but he was already talking to dead air; Viktor had hung up.

Right now he was too frazzled to meet Viktor or anyone else. He needed some downtime, some alone time before his meeting with Dark Suit.

He caught the Metro, riding it back to his new digs above Dandy Don's Donuts. There he decided it was time to freshen up, prepare himself.

The bathrooms on the fourth and fifth floor of his building had been ripped out, but the third floor did have a restroom with a lockable door. He washed, then shaved and changed into fresh clothing. Last clean set; he needed to head to the Laundromat or the Salvation Army soon.

That done, he returned to his small space. All the totems were there, placed in the soothing pattern he'd created. He picked up a few of the photos and looked at them. Once again, it occurred to him how very long it had been since he'd felt the Connection with anyone. So long since any dweller had been aware of his presence, sending that electric wave of excitement radiating through him. Now, more than ever, he needed a Connection like that, a link to something real, because he felt lost and alone.

He had always been lost and alone, ever since his days in the orphanage. But participating in the lives of others, the lives of people represented by all these totems spread out before him, had erased the fears and longings he'd felt when he was a young and scared boy. His hobby, his lifestyle, had filled a purpose inside—especially in those moments when he felt a Connection.

He put down the photo, picked up his most recent one taken from Noel's office. Looking at it calmed him, made him feel secure. Before the Creep Club meeting, he was sure he had found a permanent Connection, of sorts, in the one group that would understand him. And he was excited to find that creeping into private homes could actually help him do something good. Something meaningful. Like what he was trying to do for poor Viktor, who obviously spent every day drinking his liver into oblivion while his wife and partner plotted his death.

But then he'd seen the video from Dilbert, and every image stayed stuck in his mind. The curse of a vivid memory. And since then he'd felt untethered, lost. So quickly, he had found something profound, something beyond the Connection he'd felt with other individuals; just as quickly, it had been yanked away from him.

Now he needed something else sure and solid. Something to make him feel better.

Her face popped into his mind immediately. Sarea. He needed to talk to her, let her know he was going to disappear. Dark Suit had already admitted he'd been snooping around at the Blue Bell, so it was best if Lucas just cut off contact with everyone there. Keep them out of it.

He dug through the pocket of his old pants and found the receipt Sarea had given him. He powered on the phone and dialed her number. It was morning, and she most often worked mornings, so she probably didn't even have her cell phone on.

The connection went through, and Sarea's phone started to ring.

This was Friday, but he couldn't remember if she was on the schedule for—

“Hello?”

He paused, long enough for her to repeat the hello.

“Uh . . . hi, Sarea. It's—”

“Lucas.”

“Yeah.”

“You missed a few shifts.”

“Well, yeah. I, uh . . .”

“You in trouble?”

“No, no. I'm actually good. I just . . . I'm not gonna be around. I won't be back to the Blue Bell.”

Silence from her end. Then: “Oh.”

“And I just wanted to say . . . to you, I mean . . . I didn't want to just disappear, because you were always so nice to me.”

He could hear a clicking noise on the line. Was she tapping her fingers?

“Musta been the free cigarettes.”

He grinned. “Yeah. Musta.”

“Listen, Lucas. Are you sure you're okay?”

He closed his eyes. “No, I'm not sure. But I gotta . . . take care of some stuff.”

“All right. You take care of yourself. I suppose this just means Briggs is actually gonna have to wash some dishes.”

A smile. “Yeah, I suppose it does.”

“Good-bye, Lucas.”

“Bye.”

He hung up the phone. All these years, he had concentrated so much on the Connection with other people. Now he felt that Connection, stronger with Sarea—someone he'd never spied on—than with anyone else, and he was saying good-bye to her.

But maybe it had worked out much better this way.

No one could be close to him. A freak. A man who watched other people because . . . because why?

Because the Dark Vibration inside demanded it.

Lucas thumbed off the phone and turned his attention to his collection of totems, reminding him of smiling faces in happy places.

Once again his eyes returned to the most recent photo: Noel, camping with her kids. Their eyes sparkling with joy.

(Humpty Dumpty had some great falls.)

Yes, indeed. You never really heard anything about Humpty when he was whole; only that he was broken, irreparable.

Just one more thing Lucas understood well.

He looked at his watch. It was time to go see Dark Suit.

LUCAS WATCHED THE SHAW-HOWARD STATION CAREFULLY FOR HALF AN hour before showing himself. First he scouted the underground platform, searching for people who seemed to be hanging around but not waiting for a train. After three trains had pulled into the station and left again, he noticed a woman who had been standing on the platform the whole time. She looked to be of Asian descent, professionally dressed in a skirt and blazer. Not exactly the place he'd expect her to be hanging out if she were waiting to meet someone.