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She snorted. “You’re making it up. Come on, Gay, you called it in, I’ll do the pickup.”
“Nope, forget it. You’re going to stay behind locked doors.”
“Come on, Gay, Pizza Nirvana’s only half a mile away, lots of traffic all the way, lots of people. I’ll be in and out in a flash. No worries.” She pulled her car keys out of her jeans pocket, tossed them in the air, caught them again, leaned down to rub Helmut’s ears. “I really need to get out, breathe some of this crisp air.”
“It’s thirty degrees out, a bit beyond crisp.”
“Gay, really, I’m going nuts. I’ll leave Helmut to protect you. He saved my bacon Monday night.” She went down on her knees, took Helmut’s head between her hands, looked into his beautiful eyes. “You will stay here and guard Gay. I’ll bring you one of those cheese sticks you like.” She looked up at Gay. “You could give Helmut a short walk, but not too long, he hates the cold.”
Gay took a final bite of his apple, banked the core into the wastebasket, and clapped his hands. Helmut trotted over to him, butted his golden head against his hands. “My old dog, Gamble, died a couple of years ago. Helmut here makes me wonder if I should get another mutt.” He remembered there was a basketball game on tonight between his beloved Wizards and the Bucks. He sighed, looked at his watch. “Okay, you fetch the pizzas and I’ll walk Helmut, give both of us some exercise. You got your Glock?”
“Of course.”
He walked with her to the front hall. “I know in my head you’re right, no one can know you’re here, but—you be careful anyway, Hildebrandt. Oh yeah, when you get back you can tell me what you were doing on the Web for hours.”
That brought her to a stop. “How did you know?”
“It’s not a big house. I walked behind you, you never heard me. I’m a ghost.”
Olivia sighed. She couldn’t tell him, so she lied clean. “Only thing interesting I found was a nest of drug dealers out of Rwanda who supply the Middle East.”
“Sure, Hildebrandt, like I’ll believe that.”
She patted his hand. “Don’t worry about me, Gay. And you stay, Helmut. Guard Gay.” Olivia bundled up against the cold and bitter wind, wondered how winter could still be so dug in in the middle of March.
Gay watched her run to her car, climb in, and lock the doors before he closed the front door again.
Olivia turned the heater on full blast and settled in until it began to warm. Of course Gay knew she was cutting him out. She couldn’t tell him she was researching French arms dealers, studying their glossy web pages, and then, frustrated, anything she could find on the dark Web. Why had she picked Rwanda of all places? She wondered what Dillon Savich was doing.
She backed slowly out of the narrow driveway, looked over all the cars parked in the pleasant middle-class neighborhood, didn’t see anything suspicious. Everyone was inside, eating dinner, staying warm. She headed out.
Olivia turned onto Wilton Avenue and into traffic, and again, checked her rearview. She saw no one following.
She pulled into the Willow Springs strip mall. Not many people about except the few inside the pizza place. She parked, dashed into the awesome warmth, heard her stomach growl at the divine smells. She breathed them in, gave her name, chatted with the counter girl while she waited, a perky eighteen-year-old, if that, and paid. She walked out carrying two pizza boxes and cheese sticks for Helmut, and again, she paused, looked all around her. She saw a young couple hurrying toward the Mexican restaurant, another man hurrying to his car. Nothing suspicious.
She slid into her RAV4, turned on the heat, and got ready to back out. A man’s voice, with a French accent, came from behind her.
“You did not think we could get to you, did you?” Olivia felt the cold muzzle of a pistol at the base of her skull.
“How did you find me?” Was that her voice, so calm and steady?
A moment of silence, then the man said, “Reach for your weapon, slowly, and give it to me.” He dug the muzzle into her neck. “Do it, now. If you try anything stupid, believe me, you will regret it.” He held out his right hand.
Actions and consequences sped through her mind. She realized she didn’t have a chance, not now. She passed him her Glock. “How?”
He said close to her ear, “Nice red Porsche the federal cop drives. Easy to follow.”
