Lisa eased the Porsche a few yards up the graveled road to the construction site. Turning off the lights and shutting off the engine, she looked over at Mitch.
“This is it, Mitch,” she said. “Can you handle it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He couldn’t quite believe he was on the threshold of committing a crime. Whether vandalism, malicious mischief, willful destruction of property with the intent to commit a terrorist act, or whatever name it went by, he didn’t suppose the legal term mattered. If they got caught, ignorance of the correct terminology, as defined by criminal statutes, would not constitute a defense. Pure and simple, regardless of whatever he or anyone else chose to call it, what they were about to do could land every single one of them in jail—big time!
Lisa leaned over and gave him a warm, prolonged kiss on the mouth.
“You’re going to do just fine,” she said. And, reassuringly, she began rubbing the inside of his thigh. “And afterwards, you and I are going to spend a quiet weekend at Daddy’s cabin at the lake. We’ll hike in the woods, drink wine in front of the fireplace in the evening, and even swim naked in the moonlight.”
“My God, how can I resist? Do you suppose seduction would work as a legal defense?”
“Do you feel like you’re being seduced, Mitch?”
“From the very beginning.”
She had taken a blonde wig from her handbag and, with the interior light on, was busy tucking her own hair up under it.
“How bad is it? Do you want me to stop?”
“I didn’t say it was bad. It’s actually rather nice. It’s just that I have this disconcerting habit of considering the consequences.”
“What do you think?” she asked, looking at herself in the mirror. “Does it work?”
“Voila!…Wonder Woman!”
She turned to him.
“We all have to consider consequences, Mitch,” she said “then get on with life.”
He gave her a quick look. Her comment constituted the kind of aphoristic dictum that could be tossed off with flippant nonchalance only by someone for whom consequences could be negotiated. The attitude arose from an awareness of rank and privilege, and its validity had more to do with the habitual and conditioned indulgence of lesser mortals who were sometimes inclined by a mixture of admiration and envy to go easy. If Lisa felt that way, her station in life allowed her to.
Giving him another kiss, she opened the glove compartment.
“Do you have a handkerchief?”
“I do. It’s one of the few things consistently consistent about me. I never go anywhere without one.”
“Good. Because you’ll need it for this.” And she held up a bottle the size of a cough medicine container.
“One drop of this’ll do it, huh?”
“I would use considerably more than a drop. You want it to act quickly, without involving a struggle.”
Mitch took the bottle and slipped it into his jacket pocket.
She handed him a fresh roll of duct tape.
“And you know what this is for?”
“It’s a great item to have in your backpack. You never know when you’ll need a quick fix.”
“Well, tonight you’re going to use it for something else.”
“Bind him hand and foot, right?”
“Immobilize him for the duration. We don’t want him getting loose and causing a commotion. We can notify someone later, after it’s over.”
“The poor guy’s gonna suffer a lot of discomfort. But, just out of curiosity, what if he turns out to be a really big guy, with a really big set of lungs?”
“Heidi and Jody checked him, Mitch. He’s not anything like that. They thought he might even be a rather meek sort.”
“Oh, really? They could tell all that in the dark?”
She clamped her hand over his mouth.
“Just stop, Mitch. It’ll be all right. Trust me.”
“Okay.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah.”
“So…the first thing is the tire…”
They both got out of the car. Lisa turned on her flashlight, gave him a little wave, and walked rapidly up the gravel road.
Mitch knelt down by the right front tire and unscrewed the valve cap. Using his apartment key, he pressed it against the stem and held it there until all the air had been released. Once the tire was completely flat, he screwed the cap back on and put the key ring back in his pocket.
Resting on his haunches a moment longer, he looked over his shoulder and estimated the distance from the Porsche to the nearest tree: no more than four feet. With so little space between where he would be hiding and the fellow himself, it shouldn’t take more than a few seconds to creep up on him undetected. As long as Lisa did her part, kept the fellow distracted with chatter and blocked his view by standing right next to him as he knelt beside the tire, Mitch could come out from behind the tree and overpower him with ease. The only problem would arise if a car happened by at the very instant Mitch grabbed him from behind. But that was a chance they had to take, and it seemed unlikely in any case, as it was close to two o’clock in the morning on a stretch of roadway normally deserted at this time. The only other problem would be lugging an inert body back into the trees. If the fellow proved heavier than anticipated, it could be awkward. But that, too, was out of their control; they would have to deal with it, regardless.
He stood up and looked at his watch. Lisa had been gone barely five minutes and he did not expect her back for at least another twenty. He wished he could sit in the car, waiting until he saw her flashlight coming over the crest of the gravel roadway, before getting himself into position, but decided not to risk it.
He walked over to the nearest tree and, resting his back against the trunk, sat down beside it. Closing his eyes, he tried not to think.
§ § § § § §
Lisa came to a rise at the end of the construction road. The October night was clear and cold and, except for the constant thrumming of crickets, silent. Ahead, she could see the moon-lit skeletal outlines of several partially finished condominiums. They stood silhouetted against a scattered sprinkling of distant, pen-head lights visible beyond the hillside, in the wide expanse of farming country in the valley below. As of yet, construction stood at the framework stage of development—a double-story of two-by-fours and cement foundations—and collectively it occupied an area roughly equivalent to a football field. At either end, and along the backside, an open swath of ground demarcated the site up to the edge of the trees.
Off to her left, in one of the open spaces, a lone car was parked in the shadow of a storage shed. Lisa walked over and shined her flashlight in the window.
A man was inside. He had the seat tilted back and, with his head lolled to one side, appeared fast asleep. He had on a dark blue jacket, and a silver and white triangular patch on the shoulder signified the name of a security company.
Lisa tapped on the window with the butt of her flashlight. The man stirred but did not wake up.
She tapped again.
As though to object against the interruption of his sleep, he shifted in his seat; then he opened his eyes. Squinting, he rolled down the window. “Yeah?”
Lisa directed the light away from his face. “Sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but I’ve had a flat tire. I’m parked at the end of the road. I thought there might be a house up here. Do you suppose you could help me? Or would you get in trouble? I’d be willing to pay you.”
Rubbing his eyes and letting the information register, the guard looked at his watch. “I suppose I could. Where are you parked again?”
“Just off the road, down below.”
“Sure…Why not?”
The man picked up his own flashlight and got out of the car.
Lisa immediately perceived that Heidi had not been wrong. He had a slender build and was about her own height. The security jacket he had on hung from his shoulders, and the sleeves seemed a mite too long for his arms. Nothing about him inspired authority, and he easily confirmed the description gleaned from three nights of observation.
With two flashlights for illumination, they set off down the road together. Lisa had pulled up the hood on her anorak so that it covered most of the wig, leaving just enough of a fringe to identify her as a blonde. To make the disguise even more effective, she had applied more makeup than she usually wore: darkened her eyes with mascara and eyeliner, and added an ample layer of lipstick gloss. How sharp his recall might be, when it came time to give a description of her, was anyone’s guess, but he was sure to remember that she was a blonde.
§ § § § § §
Mitch opened his eyes. In the time he had been sitting against the tree, a single car had passed. But with the sound of the engine receding into the night, he had heard nothing since then, only the trilled purring of crickets across the road.
He looked at his watch. Lisa had been gone all of fifteen minutes, enough time to go up and back. By way of an agreed-upon signal, he was to listen for the sound of her voice in conversation with the security guard as they approached. Momentarily, he expected to hear something.
The soft crunch of footsteps on the crushed gravel brought him up sharp. He cocked an ear and listened.
“I must have picked up a small nail,” he heard Lisa say.
“I can see that. You got a spare, though, right?”
“I don’t know why I wouldn’t have. The car has everything else.”
“Well, let’s see what we got here…”
Staying behind the tree, Mitch stood up. He took the bottle of ether from his coat pocket and got out his handkerchief. He unscrewed the bottle cap and poured out enough of the liquid to saturate the cloth. He recapped the bottle and slipped it back in his pocket. With the handkerchief in hand, he moved to the side of the tree.
The security guard raised the hood on the front compartment. He got out a jack and a lug wrench and brought them both around to the tire. He knelt down beside the tire and, as Lisa held the light for him, he fitted the wrench onto one of the lugs.
“Usually, they’re not too hard to crack,” he said reassuringly, “unless some garage mechanic got carried away with an air gun. But let’s see…”
He leaned into the effort to loosen the first nut, but it didn’t budge. He took a deep breath, shifted his weight to one side of the wrench, and pushed down as hard as he could. Feeling a slight give, he tried again.
As though on cue, with a cursory glance in Mitch’s direction, Lisa stepped in closer to the man and a little to his rear. While he continued with his effort, she began a line of patter.
“Normally, I’d call Triple-A, but it seemed easier to go for help than wait here in the dark. Two o’clock in the morning is not the best time to be standing alongside the road, or even waiting in your car. I’ve never changed a tire…and it doesn’t look like something I’d be able to do, anyway…”
“You’re lucky I was here,” the guard replied. He had broken the first nut loose and was fitting the wrench onto the next one. “I’d say you’re lucky anybody was here. How’d you get so far out, anyway?”
Glancing alternately at Mitch and back at the security guard, Lisa explained how she had been delayed by a late-night meeting at the company she worked for. Partway into the explanation, she motioned for Mitch to come from behind the tree.
Taking his cue, Mitch stepped into the open. Focusing on the back of the man’s head, he moved forward a step at a time; the thin strip of dirt between the gravel roadway and the tree itself muffled his footsteps.
He moved closer…
Stopped…
Hesitated…
Stepped up to him…
Grabbing him, he cupped his mouth and nose with the handkerchief…
Arms locked in a tight embrace, he held on with both hands…
The man’s legs kicked out…
His body jerked one way, then another…
He tried to pull Mitch’s hands away…
Struggled to stand…
Fell to one side…
Then collapsed.
Mitch held the handkerchief in place a moment longer, then released his grip.
He felt as if he had just emerged from a Grecian-Roman wrestling match. His face ran with sweat—his heart raced—the adrenaline pulsated. The man had been stronger than he looked; the exertion required to overpower him both startled and surprised.
“Let’s get him outta sight.” Mitch’s voice was harsh, peremptory; a command, not a request. “Get the legs.”
Bending down, all in one motion, he grabbed the man under the armpits…lifted him up and back and away. Ignoring Lisa, he had, within moments, manhandled the inert body across the strip of dirt and to the backside of the tree.
“I’ll take care of him now…Just get the tire started.”
“Listen, Mitch,” Lisa started to say, “I’m sorry—”
“Just re-inflate the fucking tire, Lisa, so we can get the fuck outta here! This isn’t the time for an apology. Okay?”
“But—”
“It’s already been done, Lisa! Save it for later!”
He took the roll of duct tape from his coat pocket. He stepped to the back of the tree and spent the next few minutes binding the guard’s hands and feet. He debated whether to tape his mouth but decided against it. The ether would keep him out long enough.
By the time he finished, Lisa had re-inflated the tire and had replaced the lug wrench and the jack. As he walked up, she was sitting in the driver’s seat with the engine running.
He got in and, opening the glove compartment, tossed the bottle of ether and the roll of tape inside.
“Let’s go.”
She started to say something but thought better of it; instead, she put the car in gear and stepped on the accelerator. Backing onto the roadway, tires squealing, she fishtailed off the way they had come.