Remaining in the office was a risk. The longer Bishop stayed the greater the chance he would be asked a question he couldn’t answer. But his mission required that he remain credible for two days. Bishop rose from his desk and informed the others he would be out of the office the rest of the day doing field work.
“Don’t tell me you’re missing another meeting,” Philips said looking up quickly. “What do you want me to tell the big man?”
“I need to check something out. Just cover for me,” Bishop replied, as he walked out of the office. Missing a meeting was suspicious, but not as much as attending one in which he might be required to provide details only a long-term employee and insider would know. If he couldn’t give a satisfactory answer they might use his difficulties and his personality against him as a basis to temporarily kick him out of the office or suspend him, or worse. Not what he needed for the next two days. In three, he’d be long gone if everything went according to plan.
Bishop drove to his apartment and changed into casual clothes, then made himself a salami sandwich, wrapped it and put it into a paper bag. He walked a half mile to a nearby plaza and found the car Rector’s operative had left for him. It was an old Pontiac Firebird from the 1970s, without a single electronic aid. It was illegal on major highways, but could still be driven in some urban areas and on secondary roads.
In good condition the rare car would draw attention from automobile enthusiasts and collectors, but this one had faded paint, some rust and a few dents. Nobody would give it a second look. Bishop got in and started the engine. It fired immediately and settled down to a satisfying rumble, in perfect tune. Bishop drove to Volunteer Park Conservatory.
He parked the car at and walked to a relatively secluded area of the park. Rector was already there, dressed in jeans and a casual sport jacket, wearing a cap and sunglasses with an expensive looking digital SLR camera hanging from a strap on his right shoulder. Rector looked like a tourist, standing there with a park map in his hand. Bishop sat on a bench about three meters away. He reached into the paper bag for his sandwich and started eating.
“Need any directions?” Bishop asked.
“The park is just how I expected it to be,” replied Rector.
“Glad to hear it. Sometimes they have a guide here. You can either enter information yourself in the terminal or talk to a guide directly.
“Verbal is easier for the other person to understand,” Rector said as he walked away, looking to his left at a messy area next to a garbage can. “I wish they’d keep this park a little cleaner.”
After a minute Bishop finished his sandwich. He crumpled up the bag and walked by the garbage can, tossing the bag. It missed the container and landed on the ground near a folded piece of paper. Bishop leaned down and retrieved the paper, placing it in his pocket as he stood while simultaneously tossing the crumpled bag into the receptacle. He walked out of the park back to his car.