cussler.blueandgold-第53部分

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　about　him。
　
　She　checked　her　rearview　mirror　and　was　surprised　to　see　that　the　man　had　disappeared。　Easy　e；　easy　go；　she　thought。　She　scolded　herself　for　letting　him　sneak　up　on　her。　Growing　up　in　L。A。；　she　had　learned　early　on　to　be　aware　of　her　surroundings　at　all　times。　This　damned　water　story　had　preoccupied　her；　taken　the　edge　off　her　alertness。　Cohen　had　promised　only　a　couple　more　days　before　they　ran　the　story。　Not　soon　enough。　She　was　getting　sick　of　taking　the　file　disks　home。　Cohen　was　positively　paranoid　about　leaving　them　in　the　building。　Every　night　he　cleaned　the　files　off　the　puter　and　put　them　on　backup　disks。　In　the　mornings　he　would　load　them　back　on。
　
　Not　that　Sandy　blamed　him　for　being　paranoid。　There　was　something　special　about　this　story。　The　team　had　talked　Pulitzer　prize。　Cohen　coordinated　the　work　of　the　three　reporters。　Her　area　was　the　Mulholland　Group　and　its　mysterious　president；　Brynhild　Sigurd。　The　other　two　reporters　concentrated　respectively　on　domestic　acquisitions　and　international　connections。　They　had　access　to　an　accountant　and　a　lawyer。　The　secrecy　was　tighter　than　the　Manhattan　Project。　The　editor　was　aware　of　the　story　but　not　its　scope。　She　sighed。　The　story　would　be　out　in　a　few　days；　and　she　could　take　that　long　vacation　in　Maui。
　
　She　swung　out　of　the　garage　and　headed　to　her　condo　in　Culver　City。　She　stopped　off　at　a　shopping　plaza　and　picked　up　a　bottle　of　California　Zinfandel。　Cohen　was　ing　over　later　to　talk　about　wrapping　up　loose　ends；　and　she　had　promised　to　whip　up　a　pot　of　penne。　As　she　was　paying　the　cashier　she　noticed　someone　standing　in　front　of　the　window　looking　into　the　store。　It　was　that　damned　metal…tooth　creep；　and　he　was　smiling。　This　was　no　coincidence。　The　jerk　must　have　followed　her。　She　glared　at　him　as　she　exited　the　store；　then　strode　purposefully　to　ward　her　car。　First　she　dug　the　pistol　out　of　the　purse　and　tucked　it　in　her　belt。　Then　she　called　Cohen　on　her　cell　phone。　He　had　told　her　to　report　anything　unusual。　Cohen　wasn't　there；　but　she　left　a　message　on　his　recorder　saying　she　was　on　her　way　home　and　that　she　thought　she　was　being　followed。
　
　Starting　the　car；　she　pulled　slowly　out　of　the　plaza；　then　gunned　the　engine　and　shot　through　an　intersection　just　as　the　light　changed　to　red。　The　cars　behind　her　all　stopped。　She　knew　the　neighborhood　well　and　cut　through　a　couple　of　motel　parking　lots；　then　down　a　side　street　in　a　circular　route　to　her　apartment。　Her　heart　was　beating　rapidly　as　she　drove；　but　her　pulse　slowed　to　normal　when　she　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　sanctuary　of　the　condominium　building。　She　buzzed　herself　into　the　five　story　apartment　building　and　took　the　elevator　up　to　the　fourth　floor。　She　stepped　out　of　the　elevator　and　almost　dropped　her　groceries　in　surprise。　The　creep　was　at　the　far　end　of　the　hallway。　He　stood　there　with　that　insane　grin；　staring　at　her。　That　did　it。　She　put　the　bag　on　the　floor；　pulled　her　pistol　from　her　belt；　and　pointed　it　at　him。
　
　〃You　e　any　nearer；　and　I'll　blast　your　private　parts　off；〃　she　said。
　
　He　made　no　motion。　If　anything；　the　grin　got　wider。
　
　She　wondered　how　he　had　got　there　ahead　of　her。　Of　course。　He　must　have　known　her　address。　While　she　was　zigzagging　in　an　attempt　to　lose　him；　he　had　simply　driven　directly　to　her　apartment。　That　didn't　explain　how　he　had　got　into　the　building。　The　management　was　going　to　get　an　earful　about　the　lack　of　security。　Maybe　she'd　even　do　a　story　on　it。
　
　Still　keeping　the　pistol　leveled；　she　fumbled　in　her　purse　for　her　keys；　opened　the　door；　and　quickly　shut　it。　Safe　at　last。　She　put　the　pistol　on　a　small　table；　snapped　the　deadbolt　and　chain　lock；　and　put　her　eye　to　the　peephole　in　the　door。　The　creep　was　standing　just　outside；　his　face　distorted　even　more　grotesquely　by　the　lens。　He　was　holding　her　bag　of　groceries　as　if　he　were　a　delivery　boy。　The　nerve　of　him。　She　swore　lustily。　She　wasn't　going　to　screw　around　with　Cohen　this　time。　A　straight　call　to　91　1　to　report　she　was　being　stalked。　She　suddenly　had　the　odd　feeling　that　she　wasn't　alone。
　
　She　turned　from　the　door　and　stared　with　unbelieving　eyes；　frozen　with　fear。
　
　The　man　with　the　metallic　teeth　was　standing　in　her　way。　Impossible。　He　was　out　in　the　hall。　Then　the　answer　came　to　her　in　a　flash
　
　　Twins。
　
　　The　epiphany　came　too　late。　As　she　backed　against　the　door　he　began　to　walk　slowly　toward　her；　his　eyes　glittering　like　black　pearls。　
　Cohen　sounded　frantic　on　the　phone。
　〃Joe；　for　Godsakes；　I've　been　trying　to　reach　you　for　an　hour！〃　〃Sorry；　I　was　out；〃　Zavala　apologized。　〃What's　wrong？〃　〃Sandy's　disappeared。　The　bastards　have　got　her。〃
　
　〃Calm　down　for　a　minute；〃　Zavala　said　evenly。　〃Tell　me　who　Sandy　is　and　these　bastards　you're　talking　about。　Start　from　the　beginning。〃
　
　〃Okay；　okay；〃　Cohen　replied。　There　was　a　pause　as　he　pulled　himself　together；　and　when　he　spoke　again　it　was　with　his　nor　mal　posure；　although　it　was　clear　from　the　tenseness　of　his　voice　that　panic　lurked　close　to　the　surface。
　
　〃I　went　back　to　the　paper。　I　just　had　a　funny　feeling。　All　our　source　material　is　missing。　We　kept　it　in　a　locked　file。　Empty。〃
　
　〃Who　had　access？〃
　
　〃Just　the　members　of　the　team。　They're　all　solid。　The　only　way　someone　could　get　them　to　open　the　files　is　if　they　had　a　gun　at　their　head。　Oh；　God；〃　Cohen　said　as　the　implication　of　his　statement　sank　in。
　
　Zavala　could　sense　that　he　was　losing　Cohen。　
　〃Tell　me　what　happened　next；〃　he　said。
　
　Cohen　took　a　deep　breath　and　let　it　out。　〃Okay。　Sorry。　Next　I　checked　the　puter　disks。　Nothing。　You　needed　a　password　to　get　into　them。　Everybody　on　the　team　was　aware　of　it。　We　backed　everything　up　at　the　end　of　each　working　day。　We　took　turns。　Sandy　Wheeler；　one　of　the　reporters；　took　the　disks　home　with　her　today。　I　got　a　message　saying　some　guy　was　following　her。　She　was　in　a　parking　lot　near　her　condo。　We　were　supposed　to　have　dinner　tonight；　go　over　some　material　for　the　first　installment　of　the　story。　I　called　when　I　heard　her　message。　There　was　no　one　home。　I　came　over。　Sandy　had　given　me　a　key。　The　grocery　bag　was　on　the　table。　The　wine　was　still　in　it。　She　always　puts　her　wine　into　the　rack。　She's　pulsive　about　that。〃
　
　〃There's　no　sign　of　her？〃
　
　〃Nothing。　I　got　the　hell　out　of　there　as　soon　as　I　could。〃
　
　A　thought　came　to　Zavala。　〃What　about　the　other　reporters　on　your　team？〃
　
　〃I　tried　to　call　them。　No　answer。　What　should　I　do？〃
　
　Cohen　probably　saved　his　own　life　by　going　to　Sandy's　apartment　and　then　leaving　quickly。　Those　who　were　rolling　up　the　investigative　team　had　already　been　there；　but　they　might　check　back。
　
　〃Where　are　you　calling　from？　I　hear　music　in　the　back　ground。〃
　
　〃I'm　in　a　leather　bar　near　Sandy's　condo。〃　Cohen　nervously　laughed　through　his　fear。　〃I　ducked　in　here　when　I　thought　someone　was　following　me　and　wanted　to　be　in　a　public　place。〃
　
　'Anyone　follow　you　inside？〃
　
　〃I　don't　think　so。　This　is　pretty　much　a　biker　crowd。　They'd　stand　out。〃
　
　〃Can　you　call　me　back　in　five　minutes？〃　Joe　asked。
　
　〃Yeah；　but　make　it　fast。　There's　a　tall　transvestite　giving　me　the　eye。〃
　
　Zavala　looked　up　the　number　Gomez　had　given　him。　Gomez　answered　the　phone　on　the　third　try。　Zavala　brushed　off　the　usual　greetings。　
　
　　〃I'm　in　L。A。；〃　he　said。　〃I've　got　someone　who　needs　to　be　out　of　circulation。　Can　you　help？　No　questions　now；　but　I　promise　to　fill　you　in　as　soon　as　I　can。〃
　
　〃Does　this　happen　to　have　anything　to　do　with　the　business　you　were　involved　in　down　here？〃
　
　〃That　and　more。　Sorry　to　be　so　mysterious。　Can　you　help？〃
　
　Pause。　Then　Gomez's　voice　came　back；　all　business。　〃We　maintain　a　safe　house　in　Inglewood。　There's　a　caretaker　there。　I'll　call　and　let　him　know　to　expect　a　package。〃　He　gave　Zavala　directions　to　the　safe　house。
　
　〃Thanks。　Talk　to　you　later；〃　Joe　said。
　
　〃I　hope　so；〃　Gomez　replied。
　
　The　phone　rang　as　soon　as　he　put　it　down。　He　rattled　off　the　address　Gomez　had　given　him　and　told　Cohen　to　take　a　taxi　there。　〃Leave　your　car；〃　he　cautioned。　〃It　might　have　a　transmitter　on　it。〃
　
　〃Of　course。　I　never　thought　of　anything　like　that。　O