W Is for Wasted

arguing, but the good doctor had finally agreed to the spot. Pete arrived first and got out of his Ford Fairlane, crossing a patch of grass to one of the picnic tables. Beyond the wide expanse of lawn, the beach extended for another five or six hundred yards. Beyond, the Pacific Ocean stretched for twenty-six miles until the islands peeked up at the horizon.
    By way of a prop, Pete had bought himself an oversize container of coffee, still too hot to sip. He heard a car and turned as the doctor pulled in, driving a turquoise Thunderbird. For a man worried about being seen, the car couldn’t be more conspicuous. Linton locked his car and approached casually with a copy of the
Santa Teresa Dispatch
under his arm.
    Pete waited until he sat down on the far side of the table, neither of them making eye contact. Linton made a show of opening the paper as though he’d arrived solely for this purpose.
    “Let me know when you have a minute,” Pete said.
    “I’m listening.”
    Pete said, “Somebody’s going to think we’re sweet on each other. Why else would you come over to my table and sit down?”
    “Don’t mock me. Let’s just get on with it.”
    “I take it we’re on or you wouldn’t have called again.”
    “What do you think?” Linton said, snappishly.
    Pete noticed that he’d neatly sidestepped consent. If Pete were caught, he could honestly say he hadn’t agreed to anything.
    Pete said, “If we’re on, I want what was promised. The map for starters.”
    Linton took a folded sheet of typing paper from his pocket and handed it to Pete. Pete opened it and made a quick study of the drawing Linton had done, showing the location of the building that housed the research lab in relation to the campus parking lots, some of which were designated for staff or employees only. There was apparently no restriction on vehicular ingress and egress.
    Linton had marked the first point at which a card needed to be swiped. He’d also drawn the layout of the lobby with a series of directional arrows from the door to the elevators. Nice. If Pete were passing himself off as someone who knew his way around, he couldn’t be blundering down the wrong hall. The lab occupied the entire second floor. Linton had also roughed out the interior offices, marking his desk, the desk where Mary Lee Bryce worked, and a few other significant landmarks.
    “Looks good,” Pete said. “You have the other business?”
    Linton took out a thick envelope and placed it on the table without making visual reference to it. Then he got up and walked away.
    Pete took the envelope and slid it into the inner pocket of his sport coat. He’d count the cash later to make sure it was all there before he tucked it away for safekeeping. Linton was right about the risk. Pete wasn’t nearly as sanguine as he appeared to be. The very notion of what he had to do made the hair stand up on the back of his neck. He had no confidence the plan would work, but with the two grand in his pocket and two more on tap, what choice did he have?
    He waited a day and then he called Willard and suggested the night of August 24 as the date he’d need the ID.
    “Why then?”
    “Middle of the week. Nothing else going on. Seems as good a date as any.”
    “Students will be back on campus by then.”
    “So what? I’m doing this at night. All you have to do is wait until she’s asleep and put the ID outside the door. Nothing to it.”
    Willard seemed to concede the point, but he wasn’t happy. Pete eased the conversation along without giving him an opportunity to protest. It wouldn’t pay to argue because Pete’s position was weak and he didn’t want Willard to think about it too much.
    • • •
    Late afternoon on August 24, Pete did a dry run. He drove out to the university and used Linton’s hand-drawn map to get the lay of the land. He left his car some distance from the building where the lab was housed and proceeded on foot. He knew the lab was on the second floor. Even at that hour, he could see the offices and labs marked by a stripe of brightly lighted windows that extended all the way around. It seemed odd to Pete he’d be trespassing in full view of anyone who happened by that night. With his height and his odd build, he stood out like a sore thumb wherever he went, and while he’d equipped himself with the requisite white lab coat, he didn’t look like a scientist. Of course, scientists came in all shapes and sizes. Smart people could look any way