tools for writing by hand (a gesture Billy finds both sad and somehow symbolic), and unzips it. âMacBook Pro. Best money can buy, state of the art. My present to you. You can use your own if you want to, but this baby⦠all the bells and whistles. Can you get it going okay? Thereâs probably an instruction book, or somethingâ¦â
âIâll figure it out.â
No problem there, but something else might be. If Nick Majarian hasnât rigged this beautiful black torpedo so he can use it as a kind of magic mirror into what Billy writes in this room, he has missed a trick. And Nick doesnât miss many.
âOh sugarpie, that reminds me,â Hoff says, and hands Billy another of his engraved cards along with the key to the cubby over the door to the kitchenette. âWiFi password. Totally safe. Secure as a bank vault.â
Bullshit, Billy thinks as he puts the card in his pocket.
âWell,â Giorgio says, âI guess thatâs about it. Weâll leave you to your creative endeavors. Come on, Ken.â
Hoff seems reluctant to leave, as if he feels there should be more to show. âYou call me if you need anything, Bi⦠Dave. Anything at all. Entertainment, maybe? A TV? Maybe a radio?â
Billy shakes his head. He has a considerable musical library on his phone, mostly country and western. He has many things to do in the days ahead, but at some point heâll find time to rip his tunes to this fine new laptop. If Nick decides to listen in, he can catch up on Reba and Willie and all Hank Juniorâs rowdy friends. And maybe heâll write that book after all. On his own laptop, which he trusts. He will also take security measures on both lappiesâthe new one and his personal, which is an old pal.
Giorgio finally gets Hoff out and Billy is on his own. He goes back to the window and stands there tracing both diagonals: the one leading to the wide stone steps and the one leading to the employeesâ door. Again he imagines what will happen, seeing it vividly. Real-world events are never quite the same as the ones you see in your head, but this work always begins with the seeing. Itâs like poetry that way. The things that change, the unexpected variables, the revisions: that stuff has to be dealt with when it comes up, but it starts with the seeing.
His phone dings with a text.
GRusso: Sorry about H. I know heâs a bit of an asshole.
Billy S: Do I need to see him again?
GRusso: Donât know.
Billy would prefer something more definitive, but this will do for now. It will have to.
6
When he gets back to what he supposes is now home, his new David Lockridge building ID is in his pocket. Tomorrow heâll be driving his new used car to work. On the porch, leaning against the door, is a bag of Miracle-Gro lawn food with a note taped to it: Thought you could use this! Jamal A .
Billy gives the house next door a wave, although heâs not sure thereâs anyone there to see; itâs still half an hour shy of noon. Probably both Ackermans work. He takes the lawn food inside, props it in the hall, then drives to Walmart, where he buys two burner phones (an heir and a spare) and a couple of flash drives, although heâll probably need just the one; he could put the complete works of Ãmile Zola on a single thumbie and barely fill a corner of the space available.
He also impulse buys a cheap AllTech laptop, which he puts in his bedroom closet, still in the carton. He pays cash for the phones and the flash drives. He uses his David Lockridge Visa for the laptop. He has no immediate plans for the burners, may never even use them. It all depends on his exit strategy, which at this point is only a shadow.
He stops at Burger King on the way back, and when he gets to the yellow house, a couple of kids on bikes are in front of it. A boy and a girl, one white and one black. He guesses the girl must belong to Jamal and Corinne Ackerman.
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Tom Clancy, Steve Pieczenik, Jeff Rovin