Ryan glanced at the door, checking for Bethany.
“Dude. Where are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m in trouble.”
“What’s going on?”
Josh sobbed.
“It’s bad.”
Ryan closed his eyes and listened and loved his friend more than ever.
PART THREE
Hidden Truths
24
Elvis Cole
I was making coffee when Ben Chenier appeared. He still wore the gym shorts and T-shirt he’d slept in.
“Mornin’。”
“Hey. How was the futon?”
“Great. What’s for breakfast?”
A teenage male calorie furnace.
“Eggs, bacon, whatever you want. Let’s check with Mom.”
“We could do tacos.”
We had tons of leftovers.
“Sure. We could also do chilaquiles. Let’s check with Mom.”
Lucy appeared in the door.
“Mom would like coffee, please.”
I smiled and reached for a mug. Lucy was dressed for their day and looked terrific in light gray pants, a sleeveless white shirt, and a thin gold necklace. Polished agate dangles hung from her ears. The earrings were a gift from me.
I said, “One coffee coming up. Sleep okay?”
“Very well, thank you. I vote for chilaquiles.”
I filled the mug and held it out. Lucy smiled and brushed my fingers when she took it. I felt odd. I wasn’t sure why, but I did.
I turned away and busied myself making breakfast. I used the leftovers, and the chilaquiles were good to go in twenty minutes.
We enjoyed a leisurely breakfast as Lucy outlined their day.
“After we finish on campus, we’ll walk around Westwood Village and drive to the beach. We may not be back until late afternoon or so.”
“Take your time. I won’t be home until later.”
Ben said, “I wish you could come.”
He looked hopeful when he said it.
“Know what, buddy? I do, too.”
Lucy patted my arm.
They left exactly at eight-thirty. I gave Lucy the alarm code and a key to the house, and walked them out to their car. I was back inside and washing the dishes when Pike called.
“You alone?”
Asking whether I could talk.
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“Sending pictures.”
I dried my hands and wandered into the living room.
A photograph of the rear end of a gold or tan Ford sedan appeared in my message window. Pike had enlarged its license plate, which left it pixelated but readable.
“Is this the gardeners?”
“No gardeners. The scarecrow and the meatball were in the street when we arrived.”
I dropped onto the couch.
“Excellent. Did you get their pictures?”
“Nothing usable. They were kitted out with NVG and IR illuminators, like your friend there reported, and they entered the bungalow.”
“What were they doing?”
“Dunno. I was below on the street. Jon saw them exit, but couldn’t see what they were doing.”
“Did you guys enter after they cleared?”
“I stayed with them. Jon entered. He found two devices. No way to tell how long they’ve been there.”
“I hope he didn’t take them or kill them.”
“They’re in place and active, plus Jon left one of his. Now the surveillance goes both ways.”
“Okay. Good.”
“You should know, Jon’s trying to identify their equipment. He’s concerned. This is Jon we’re talking about and Jon has never seen goggles like theirs.”
I tried to picture Jon Stone looking concerned and couldn’t.
“Why concerned? What’s he concerned about other than, you know, someone bugged Josh’s house?”
“The source. I followed them to Ontario Airport.”
Ontario was forty miles east of L.A., straight out the I-10 freeway. The airport began life as a military facility, but was released to the public and converted to a twenty-four-hour international airport. Most of its heavy jet traffic were cargo flights.
“They entered a security gate on the south side of the airport. Lot of private jets and charter jets on the south. They had a key card, but this was as far as I could go. Next picture.”
The next picture showed the tan sedan beside an open, brightly lit hangar. The area outside the hangar’s mouth was flooded with light. Two men in what appeared to be work clothes were walking toward the empty maw of the hangar. They looked like maintenance guys. I could make out two heads in the sedan, but no details.