connection is made, we’ll have a number where Stillwater’s staying.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Oslett asked. “Just sit around here
having manicures, eating strawberries?”
At the rate Clocker was eating strawberries, the hotel supply would be
gone shortly, and soon thereafter the entire hot-house crop in
California and adjacent states would also be exhausted.
Waxhill looked at his gold Rolex.
Drew Oslett tried to detect some indication of ostentation in the way
Waxhill consulted the expensive timepiece. He would have been pleased
to note any revelatory action that might expose a gauche pretender under
the veneer of grace and sophistication.
But Waxhill seemed to regard the wristwatch as Oslett did his own gold
Rolex, as though it was no different from a Timer purchased at K-Mart.
“In fact, you’ll be flying up to Mammoth Lakes later this morning.”
“But we can’t be certain Stillwater’s going to show up there.”
“It’s a reasonable expectation,” Waxhill said. “If he does, then
there’s a good chance Alfie will follow. You’ll be in position to
collect our boy. And if Stillwater doesn’t go there, just calls his
dear mater and pater, you can fly out or drive out at once to wherever
he called from.
Reluctant to sit a moment longer, for fear that Waxhill would use the
time to deliver more bad news, Oslett put his napkin on the table and
pushed his chair back. “Then let’s get moving. The longer our boy’s on
the loose, the greater the chance someone’s going to see him and
Stillwater at the same time. When that happens, the police are going to
start believing his story.”
Remaining in his chair, picking up his coffee cup, Waxhill said?
“One more thing.”
Oslett had risen. He was loath to sit again because it would appear as
if Waxhill controlled the moment. Waxhill did control the moment, in
fact, but only because he possessed needed information, not because he
was Oslett’s superior in rank or in any other sense.
At worst, they held equal power in the organization, and more likely,
Oslett was the heavyweight of the two. He remained standing beside the
table, gazing down at the Yale man.
Although he was finally finished eating, Clocker stayed in his chair.
Oslett didn’t know whether his partner’s behavior was a minor betrayal
or only evidence that the Trekker’s mind was off with Spock and the gang
in some distant corner of the universe.
After a sip of coffee, Waxhill said, “If you have to terminate our boy,
that’s regrettable but acceptable. If you can bring him back into the
fold, at least until he can be gotten into a secure facility and
restrained, even better. However it goes . . . Stillwater, his wife,
and his kids have to be eliminated.”
“No problem.”
The branch manager, Mrs. Takuda, visited Marty while he waited at the
teller’s window, shortly after the dark wave slammed into him and washed
away. If he had been confronted by his reflection, he would have
expected to see that he was still tight-lipped and pale, with an animal
wildness in his eyes, however, if Mrs. Takuda noticed anything strange
in his appearance, she was too polite to mention it.
Primarily she was concerned that he might be withdrawing the majority of
his savings because something about the bank displeased him.
He was surprised he could summon a convincing smile and enough charm to
assure her that he had no quarrel with the bank and to set her mind at
rest. He was chilled and shaking deep inside, but none of the tremors
reached the surface or affected his voice.
When Mrs. Takuda went to assist Elaine Higgens in the vault, Marty
looked at Paige and the kids, the east door, the south door, and his
Timer. The sight of the red sweep hand cleaning the seconds off i i the
dial made sweat break out on his brow. The Other was coming.
How long? Ten minutes, two minutes, five seconds?
Another wave hit him.
Cruising a wide boulevard. Morning sun flaring off the chrome of
passing cars. Phil Collins on the radio, singing about betrayal.
Sympathizing with Collins, he again imagines magnetism. Click.