17 A Wanted Man

the ultimate decision, to oil the wheels, to speed things along.
    Her gut feeling told her again: this was a guy accustomed to making important operational calls. He had very sound bureaucratic instincts.
    As in:
or you’ll lose your job
. Preceded by the very short pause for thought. This was a guy who knew exactly what to say. Who had gone through duty officers before. Who had maybe even
been
a duty officer once upon a time.
    So what was he doing driving a car full of two murderers and a hostage?
    And why did he make the call and then hang up prematurely?
    She got no further with those questions, because right then her phone rang with a live call, the plain electronic tone blasting loud and deep and sonorous through dashboard speakers and door speakers and a subwoofer under the rear parcel shelf. She dropped the volume a notch and touched Accept. It was her duty officer on the line, at her field office in Omaha. The guy who hadn’t picked up in time.
    He said, ‘I have the SAC holding for you.’
    Sorenson slowed down to eighty. She checked the road ahead and checked her mirrors. She said, ‘Put him on.’
    There was a static click, loud and emphatic through the sound system. Then a voice said, ‘Sorenson?’
    Sorenson said, ‘Yes, sir.’
    Her special agent in charge. Her supervisor. Her boss. A man called Perry, fifty-four years old, a Bureau lifer, ambitious, first name Anthony, called Tony to his face, called Stony behind his back, because of the mineral lump where his heart should have been.
    He said, ‘I called the gas station in Iowa.’
    ‘
You
did, sir?’
    ‘I’m awake. I might as well do something useful.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘They don’t have video.’
    ‘But?’
    ‘The night clerk seems like a smart enough kid. He came through with a pretty coherent story.’
    ‘Which was?’
    ‘The car was a dark blue Chevy Impala. He didn’t get the plate. Four people in it, three men and a woman. Initially one man and the woman stayed in the car. A second man pumped the gas. First point of interest, he used a credit card we just found out is phony.’
    ‘Was it related to the card used at the Denver airport?’
    ‘We don’t think so. Different source, almost certainly. The second point of interest is the car took only three-point-something gallons, which the kid behind the register thought was strange. The average sale at that location is closer to eleven gallons, unless someone’s filling a can for a lawnmower.’
    ‘So they either part-filled the car, which might mean they’re close to home, or they topped it off, which means they’d stopped before.’
    ‘We’re checking if the same card has been used anywhere else tonight. No results yet. But anyway, while the gas business was happening the third man entered the store alone and waited until the door closed and then asked for the pay phone.’
    ‘This was the driver, sir?’
    ‘Yes. The kid described him as gigantic, with a busted nose, all raw and crusted with blood. The kid admits at first he was a little scared. The guy looked like something out of a slasher movie. Like a wild man. His clothes were dirty and his hair was a mess. But he spoke normally and ultimately he seemed pleasant enough. So the kid pointed him to the phone, which is out of sight near the restrooms. So the kid has no direct knowledge of whether the guy actually used the phone or not. Then the guy who had stayed in the car came in to use the toilet. The slasher movie guy came out and got coffee all around and then the other guy came out and they left together. The car drove away in an orderly fashion and headed south.’
    ‘Atmosphere? Anything squirrelly?’
    ‘Nothing to report. It was the middle of the night, so they all looked a little tired and vague, but there were no bad words, no apparent tension, and no real hurry either, as far as I understand it.’
    ‘Did you listen to the emergency line recording, sir?’
    ‘Yes, I was copied on it, obviously.’
    ‘Did anything stand out for you?’
    ‘The word
probably
. It makes no sense. If he’s one of them he knows where the crime was committed. In which case he would have said he had information for Omaha, Nebraska, period.’
    ‘You think he’s not one of them?’
    ‘I think he’s low-level muscle. He drives, and he fetches coffee. He doesn’t know the details.’
    Bullshit, Stony
, Sorenson thought.
He doesn’t sound low-level to me. He sounds smarter than you, for instance
.
    She said, ‘Thank you,