As we drove through the side streets, Jennifer said, “Looks pretty much like America.”
I laughed and said, “Did you think crocodiles were going to attack the minute you exited the plane?”
She smiled, rubbed my arm, and said, “Yeah. Sort of, I guess.”
We went up the coast, weaving along surface roads with Jennifer watching the GPS as my navigator. I felt my phone go off and pulled it out, saying, “Someone just texted.”
“It’s Dunkin. He’s leaving work right now. He thinks we’re still in the air.”
“Tell him we’re on the ground and rolling. ETA is . . .”
Jennifer looked at the GPS and said, “Twenty-two minutes.”
She tapped on my phone and said, “He says we’re going to beat him home. There’s a key underneath the outdoor light. Unscrew it like you’re changing the bulb and it’ll fall out.”
I laughed and said, “Looks like all that security training at the Taskforce didn’t pay off. Tell him we’ll see him there.”
She did, and we continued up the coast, following every command from the GPS, trying to remember to stay on the left side of the road. Eventually, we turned onto a double-lane avenue called Semaphore, with a median of trees and a line of businesses on both sides. A little outside of downtown Adelaide, it looked like any small suburb in America. Except that they drove on the wrong side of the road.
Jennifer said, “Getting close. Slow down.”
I did so and she said, “Here. Right here. On the left.”
I looked and saw a two-story complex that was a little dilapidated, squeezed between a jewelry store and a Mexican restaurant. I had no idea how good that Mexican food was, but was fairly sure what I’d find in the complex. I’d lived in such places before.
I pulled into a parking spot outside the complex, saying, “Looks like he’s saving a little money.”
The building had two three-story towers, with a walkway between them and balconies at each level.
I said, “I don’t think he’s home yet. Let’s go find his door.”
Jennifer pulled out a GoPro camera and started filming, saying, “Here we are in Australia, first stop on our tour of the land down under. Say something for posterity, Pike.”
I said, “Turn that shit off.”
“What? Come on. Say something.”
I put my hand over the camera and said, “Turn that off. Please.”
She looked at me like I’d grown a third eye and said, “What the hell, Pike? You can’t be on a video? It’s our vacation.”
I sank down into my seat, unsure of what I’d just done. Jennifer said, “Pike?”
I rolled my head back and said, “I’m sorry for that.”
She said, “For what?”
I took a breath and said, “Heather always wanted to video us. I never let it happen because of my job. Everyone has a video of their child learning to walk or swim. I have nothing of Angie.”
I turned to her and said, “I don’t want to be on video celebrating life. I never celebrated hers.”
She cupped my chin and said, “Pike . . .”
And that snapped me out of my pathetic melancholy, realizing I was destroying the very reason we were here. I put my hand over hers and said, “Sorry. I think leaving Amena took a little more out of me than I thought. You didn’t deserve that.”
She smiled and kissed my cheek, saying, “Well, you did that right. You should let it go.” She opened the door, sprang out, and did a little dance. I grinned and she said, “Let’s get this party started.”
We exited the car and marched up to the second floor of Dunkin’s apartment complex. We looked around a little bit, and Jennifer found the way. We walked down a dim balcony, the light muted by the overhangs, and ended up in a little cul-de-sac. Three apartments on the end, the biggest ones in the unit. Standing on a balcony were three Asian guys with maintenance uniforms on, but they didn’t look like they belonged. I kept my eye on them for a moment, not wanting to go to work on the light fixture in full view of them.
It would look strange, to say the least.
Chapter 12
Dunkin watched Jake’s car disappear, feeling a little bit of unease at what he’d just asked the security manager. He fully believed that Jake was up to no good, but Jake could definitely affect his employment—especially if his employers sided with Jake over him. Jake was much smarter than Dunkin, with computer skills that were in another stratosphere. He decided to just let it drop. Enjoy the holidays without worrying about his job.
He got in his car, started it up, then pulled out his cell. He saw the text from Pike and texted back that he was headed home, knowing Pike wouldn’t see the message until he landed. He was surprised to get an instant response. They were already on the ground.
He looked at his watch, realized they would beat him, and texted how to access his apartment.
He got back: Really? A key in the light fixture? Pike says the Taskforce training didn’t take. We’ll meet you there.
He smiled and realized yet again how much he missed the mission. The purpose.
He put the car into drive and left the parking lot. He hit the outside gate, waited on the bar to rise, and saw a pair of running lights turn on from a late-model Lexus. Unbidden, he thought about the surveillance training he’d been taught, about a “correlation of events.” Leave a place and see someone stand up as you exit? Might be surveillance.
He smiled at the thought, swung by the car, and saw two Asians inside, one male, one female. He continued down the exit road, heading to the A9 thoroughfare, and a car swung in behind him. He looked in the rearview and saw another pair of Asians, this time young guys about thirty. Which was strange, but not unduly so. There were a lot of Chinese in Australia. It was just a fact of life, but two in a row made him think.
He wasn’t paranoid—at least he’d tell you that—but he’d had enough training from Pike drilled into him that he lived by a simple mantra: If you think it’s wrong, it probably is.
He entered the A9 with both cars behind him. He gently increased his speed, passing cars. The two vehicles behind him kept pace. He slowed back down to the speed limit, and they did the same.
He thought, This is stupid. Probably getting off at the M2 for downtown.
He continued in the traffic, not speeding or slowing down, and passed the exit for the main artery into Adelaide. They didn’t exit.
The A9 would eventually run out, becoming Semaphore Road and leading right to his apartment complex, which was why he chose it for his job, but now he wanted to run a little bit of a surveillance detection route. If they were following him, they either didn’t know where he was going or wanted to keep him in sight for some other reason, so they’d stick with him.
If he wasn’t paranoid.
He exited early, before crossing the Port Adelaide River, and saw both cars come with him. He began snaking through surface streets, making no obvious moves like he was trying to escape, and they stuck with him. After three turns his paranoia changed to true belief. They were following him. Why, he had no idea.
He entered Semaphore Road and continued straight, keeping his eyes glued to his rearview mirror. They were still behind him. He passed his apartment complex and kept going, pulling into a strip mall two blocks down, parking in front of a convenience store.