Mind Prey

blue minivan. And he was waiting when the guitar player left with Ice. An odd time to leave, he thought.
    He followed them, staying well back.
     
    I CE AND D EL came down the sidewalk together, Ice wearing a Korean War–era Army field jacket and tights, smoking a cigarette. She flicked the cigarette into the street, blew smoke, and climbed in the passenger side of the van.
    As they headed across the interstate back toward the company offices, she half-turned to talk to Lucas. And he thought how young she was: her unmarked face, the way she bounced in the front seat, out of excitement, engagement.
    She was emphatic. “Three people saw him, two of them out front, one of them around by the alley; he was going through in a van, and Mr. Turner, who’s the guy behind me, saw his face up close. When I showed him the composites we made, he picked out the one where we aged Mail’s face. He was sure. He said Mail was the guy in the alley.”
    “He saw you on television,” Lucas said. “I thought he’d go after the company. I didn’t think he’d come after you in person.”
    “Why me?”
    “’Cause of the way you look,” Del said bluntly, after a couple seconds of silence. “We’ve got an idea of the kind of kid he is. We thought he might go for you.”
    “That’s why the TV people were all over you,” Lucas said. “You sorta stand out in a crowd of techies.”
    She looked Lucas full in the face. “Is that why you were so happy to have me involved?”
    Lucas started to say no, but then nodded and said, “Yeah.”
    “All right,” she said, turning back to the front. He saw her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Is this a good time to ask for a raise?”
    Lucas grinned and said, “We can talk about it.”
    “How come you didn’t come in with Del?” Ice asked.
    “He knows who I am, that I write games,” Lucas said. “And he probably knows me by sight. I think I actually ran into the sonofabitch the day after the kidnapping.”
    “At least he’s sniffing around,” Del said.
    “Yeah,” Lucas nodded, looking out the back windows. Another van was back there—and yet another was waiting at a cross street. “He’s out there.”
    “Good thing I had a gun,” Ice said.
    Lucas turned back to her and said, “What?”
    Ice dug into her waistband and came up with a blued .380 automatic, turned it in the dome light, worked the safety.
    “Gimme that,” Lucas said, irritated, putting his hand out.
    “Fuck you, pal,” she said. She pushed it back in her waistband. “I’m keeping it.”
    “You’re asking for trouble,” Lucas said. “Tell her, Del.”
    Del shrugged: “I just bought one for my old lady. Not a piece of shit like that, though.” He looked at Ice. “If you’re gonna have one, get something bigger.”
    Ice shook her head: “I like this one. It’s cute.”
    “You gotta shell in the chamber?”
    “Nope.”
    “Good. You don’t have to worry about blowing your nuts off, carrying it in your pants like that.”
     
    M AIL STAYED A full two blocks back, following them up St. Anthony to Cretin, across the interstate to University. When they turned left, he let them go.
    Davenport’s, he thought. She’s going back to work.
    He wondered who the musician was—a full-time relationship, or just a ride?
    He’d like to take a look at Davenport’s, but it simply smelled wrong. Of course, maybe he was simply being paranoid. Mail laughed at himself. He was paranoid; everybody said so. Still, if he had to look at Davenport’s, it might be a good idea to make a test run. To send in a dummy.
    He thought, I wonder where Ricky Brennan is …

26
    H AYWOOD CALLED FROM the roof. “We got somebody coming in.
    Lucas had been on the cot for an hour, half-wrapped in an unzipped sleeping bag, his mind moving too restlessly for sleep. He kicked the bag off, groped for the radio. “Coming in? What do you mean?”
    “I mean there’s this asshole down there along the tracks, coming straight in, kind of dodging in and out like he’s in fuckin’ Vietnam. But he’s coming here. I can see his face, he’s looking at the building.”
    “Stay on him,” Lucas said. He stood up and flipped on the conference room lights. The radio burped again. Sloan asked, “We moving?”
    “Maybe.” Lucas called Dispatch. “You’re up on the flood plan?”
    “Yes.” A little tension popped into the dispatcher’s voice.
    “I might call it,” Lucas said. “On my address. Put out a preliminary call right now, get