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Ingersoll understood. He was no different.
Wondering why the millionaire was so upset, Ingersoll touched the webvid icon
on his computer screen.
Instantly, the screen displayed channel 54, the all-news station from Los
Angeles. He caught only the tail end of the lead story, but that was enough,
The newswoman was standing on the lawn of a seedy-looking home located,
according to the banner on the bottom of the screen, in south San Jose. "Local
authorities are holding the four men and one woman on a variety' of minor
charges," she said in clipped tones, "until they can determine if the group
actually had any contact with murder suspect Judith Carmody. A lab team is now
going over the rental car that was found parked in front of the house. If they
conclude it was indeed the car stolen by the fugitive, the more serious
charges of aiding and abetting a suspected felon will likely be lodged against
the five."
A photo of Carmody, obviously taken from her driver's license, flashed on the
screen, The reporter's voice rose a half octave. "No word yet as to what
happened to the driver of the vehicle, who seems to have disappeared without a
trace. Carmody remains on the loose and is described by police as potentially
armed and dangerous."
The picture disappeared, and was replaced by a close-up of the reporter's
face. She appeared intensely concerned. "We'll have more on this dramatic
story as events continue to unfold. This is Charita Collins, reporting live
from San Jose, for News 54."
Disgusting.
Ingersoll touched the webvid icon, and the news window closed.
This story must be all over the news stations even on Kmart Virtuoso TV,
which broadcast for those who couldn't afford real computers. The media were
devoting more time to the Carmody story than to the war in Indonesia. It was
amazing how certain stories took on lives of their own. Carmody should thank
him. Ingersoll had made her famous. She'd probably appear on the covers of
People, 21st
Century, and
Time within a week. Posthumously, of course.
Touching the phone icon again, he switched on the voice modifier and the
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caller-ID scrambler. He was now officially Richard Nixon, calling via an
unregistered phone in Washington, D.C. With a slight smile, Ingersoll dialed
Ernie Kaye's unlisted number. He almost hoped someone was monitoring the
message.
Creating a new conspiracy theory these days came as easily as placing a phone
call.
He wiped the smile from his lips as soon as Ernie Kaye answered the phone.
"Ernie," he said slowly, letting the words roll one after another from his
lips. "How are you? Expecting my call, no doubt.
"The news report this morning was an unpleasant surprise," he continued. "What
happened? I thought you had this matter under control,"
Ingersoll didn't mention his own name. There was no need. He listened as Ernie
Kaye fumbled with an explanation. Gently, he tapped his fingers against the
side of his computer, silently counting to ten as Ernie detailed the
difficulties he'd encountered trying to locate Carmody.
"Ernie," Ingersoll interrupted. His voice cracked like a whip.
"Shut up"
Ingersoll continued in precise, measured tones. "You made one serious mistake.
I sent you all the data you needed to make it convincing. NSA personal-history
files are wonderful tools. The frame's a good one. But " Ingersoll's voice
dropped to nearly a whisper, " if that girl's arrested, brought in for
questioning, the whole fucking frame collapses.
On the run, she's fine. In custody, tilings get sticky real
fast. Smart-ass lawyers will check into circumstances, want to know why Tony
and Paul were at her apartment. Who do they work for? Why was the agency
interested in Carmody? Pretty quick, the seamless story begins to come apart.
And, as the point man for this whole operation, you start smelling like
week-old meat"
On the other end, Ernie started chattering, but Ingersoll gave him no time for
apologies.
"I don't want any more excuses, you stupid shit!"
Ingersoll screamed. It was time to put the fear of hell into Ernie Kaye. "Your
job is to find the bitch and kill her. Do you understand? Do you understand'.
I want her dead."
With the touch of an icon, Ingersoll cut the call. There was no reason to
continue the conversation. He had made his point. A dash of movie-style
psychotic behavior worked wonders. Time now to let Ernie sweat for a few
hours. Later, in the afternoon, Ingersoll would call back with new
instructions.
This time, there would be no screwups.
He glanced at his watch. Exactly ten minutes till his meeting. The scrambler
and voice modifier were still in use. He dialed the phone number of the condo
that was being used as a base of operations in Ea-guna
Beach, As usual, Royce answered on the third ring.
"Tony Tuska here." His voice sounded muffled.
Royce had a fondness for double initials. Over the years he'd been Harry
Henderson, Jack Jones, Mitch
Miles, and a dozen others. Eike all good field agents, he concocted legitimate
backgrounds and electronic trails for each of his fake identities. He was an
expert at being other people. But Jerome
Royce, freelance contractor, left no electronic trail.
"Hello, Tony," Ingersoll said. "How's the nose?"
"The nose is broken.." Tony replied. "And I have a badly bruised wrist. Of
course, it could have been worse. At least the young lady didn't crack any of
my fingers."
"Good thing Paul is ambidextrous," Ingersoll said. "How's he managing?"
"Other than wanting to rip a certain person into little pieces?" Tony asked.
"You know how much Paul enjoys casual conversation. When he's angry, he talks
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even less than usual. Past twenty-four hours have been pretty damned quiet."
Paul Smith was a good agent; Ingersoll had used him for years in countless
operations. He was ruthless, and he followed orders. But he was no leader, and
there was always the chance that his temper would get the best of him at the
wrong time. This kind of work was tough, though, even for the strongest of
men. If you weren't careful, it could slip you over the edge. Ingersoll had
seen it happen to others. But this job was too important for any risks.
"I'm not sure that I'm pleased. Paul's letting this assignment get on his
nerves. Maybe I should send Greg and Harry to give you a hand."
"Nothing to he concerned about, sir," Tony said. "Paul's a professional. You
know that. Look at Seattle.
Slick as could be. Accidents happen, even to the best of us. We did a nice job
tying up a sticky situation yesterday. Put the frame together real fast, with
Ernie's help. Today, we'll take care of our other objective, in Los Angeles.
You'll see. Tight and clean, no mistakes. Then, we're off to our final
destination, for the wrap-up.'
"I'm not worried, Tony," Ingersoll said. "You guys are my best. That's why I
gave you the assignment. I
just don't want Paul doing anything stupid. There's too much at stake.
Important people are watching over my shoulder. My career's on the line."
Ingersoll paused, then continued. "Actually, the situation as it stands may
work to our advantage. The young lady offers a perfect hook on which to hang
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