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There, mindful of security cameras, he pulled the hood of his windbreaker over his head, shuffled up to the counter, and asked the cashier if he could use his phone to call for a taxi. “My battery’s drained.” Never looking up from his hot rod magazine, the guy slid his cell phone across the counter.
It took twice as long for the taxi to get to the convenience store as it did to cover the distance to the motel. Drex asked to be dropped off at an apartment complex across the freeway from it. He paid the driver in cash, waited for him to get out of sight, then crossed the road to the motel.
Gif had texted him the room number. It was on the ground floor. Drex rapped softly on the door, heard the bolt, the chain, then Gif opened the door a crack. Moving aside to let Drex in, he said, “I didn’t dress up.” He was in boxers, a white t-shirt, black socks. He secured the door, then went over to the dresser, pulled a can of beer from the plastic webbing, and extended it to Drex.
“I could use a belt of whiskey.”
“No whiskey.”
“Then never mind.” Drex took off his windbreaker, pulled a chair from beneath the table for two in front of the window, and sat down. He propped his elbows on his knees and used all ten fingers to hold back his hair. The adrenaline was wearing off.
Gif sat on the edge of the unmade bed. “I didn’t hear your car.”
“I left it at the apartment so they wouldn’t know I was gone.” He explained how he’d gotten there.
Gif asked, “You sure you weren’t tailed?”
“Of course I’m sure. I made sure.”
Gif looked him over and noticed that his clothes were damp. “Is it raining?”
Drex raised his head. “You want a weather report?”
Gif opened his mouth as though to retort, but thought better of it and closed his mouth with an audible click of teeth.
Drex said a few choice words directed toward himself. He took a deep breath, let it out. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, it does. I’m sorry. Thanks for being here.”
Gif bobbed his head, then took a sudden interest in the loose cuticle on his thumb. “You’re sure she’s in on it?”
“Hear for yourself.”
Drex took the receiver/recorder from the canvas duffel, connected it to the audio feed of the headset, and passed it to Gif. “I think you’ll find the conversation telling.”
He left Gif to listen and went into the bathroom. He used the toilet and splashed cold water on his face. He gave his image in the mirror a look of sheer disgust. “Even now, you’d fuck her if given the chance, wouldn’t you? Dumb bastard.” He tossed the towel onto the floor and opened the door.
Gif was still listening, but his expression didn’t give away his opinion of what he was hearing. Drex returned to his chair at the table and used a new burner phone to call Mike.
He answered with a growl. “Who’s this?”
“Is this phone secure?”
“It goes through about five rerouters. Should be okay.”
“Were you asleep?”
“No. I’m watching the people who’re watching me.”
“Gif filled me in on Rudkowski. I’m sorry as hell, Mike. When we started this, you gave me fair warning that you wouldn’t help me dig my own grave or climb in with me.”
“That’s what I said, but I didn’t mean it.” He snorted what passed for a laugh. “Actually, it’s kinda fun. They’re out there in their van, eating cold pizza and scratching their balls. I had a pork loin with all the trimmings. Bottle of wine. I’ve got all the comforts of home. Still have my toys, too.”
“They haven’t served a search warrant?”
“Rudkowski is blowing smoke. He knows the chance of finding anything on my computers is nil. If he made good on his threat to search, he’d be left with nothing to show for it. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to go through with it, because he’d never live down being made such a fool of.”
