Chapter 28

David Nimoy stared at the screen, feeling the eerie sense of self-recognition he always felt when reviewing his features. Reproduced from the live broadcast, his voice sounded flat, tinny and slightly nasal. His olive complexion shown pale white in the bright lights required for night filming.

"David Nimoy, reporting live from San Jose, California, where late-breaking developments in the Sooner Than Never treasure hunt have literally lit up the night sky. As you can see behind me, there's something afoot at the old Winchester Mystery House - something that may spell big bucks for some lucky treasure hunter."

David winced. Human interest was his bread and butter, but it usually felt more like the butt-end of the journalism universe.

"Just minutes ago, in the sort of spectacular display that has become his trademark, Simon Waterbury has unleashed yet one more brain-teaser on the world - the next step towards a fabulous prize waiting at the end of a nationwide puzzle. As you can see behind me, the Winchester house has literally blown its top. A mast of some sort that burst through that topmost tower," David gestured over his left shoulder, "And moments ago, the air was split by the thunder of cannons discharging. Representatives of the landmark manor have yet to respond to inquiries about the clue. It would be hard to believe that the mechanism was loaded without their knowledge, but so far, we have no confirmation of their involvement.

"Interestingly, the clue was discovered entirely by accident by two tourists who were inadvertently locked in the building after closing. Why the museum's elaborate alarm system did not go off is still undetermined. Two others were seen fleeing the scene, but their identities have yet to be determined. Earlier I reported that the two were none other than Will Gilbert and Laura Dial, the leading contenders in this nationwide contest. Reviewing that earlier broadcast, it appears I was mistaken. Local authorities have conjectured that the two are local vagabonds, hoping to find a night's shelter in the museum or its adjoining buildings. The couple has yet to come forward regarding their involvement.

"Authorities have spoken with the other two witnesses, a pair of tourists from Japan. The tourists, a Mr. Subaru and Mr. Kikkoman, appear to be confused but unhurt, and were grateful to be rescued from their startling mishap. They are currently in protective custody of the local police, and are expected to be released shortly.

"This is David Nimoy, reporting from San Jose, California. We will be reporting late-breaking details as they develop."

David stopped the replay. The broadcast had been touch-and-go. It was really just luck that his hunch panned out. Will and Laura were on the right track. And catching the dazzling display at the Winchester House had been icing on the cake. Marcus would certainly be off his back now. "Great work, kid," his producer had beamed. "I didn't think you'd pull it off. I was even making plans for your replacement. Glad to be able to keep you on board."

Thank heavens for small favors, David thought as he sighed out his thanks to Kessler. It would have been so easy to blow the whistle on Will and Laura. And it would've made much better copy. Leading treasure hunters, Simon Waterbury's darlings, caught by a pudgy, donut-eating local cop while fleeing the scene of a B and E. And scooped by clueless tourists. Perfect.

But David couldn't do that. As much as it was handed to him on a silver platter, he couldn't use Will and Laura in that way. The look on Will's face as David pushed the microphone in front of him; it was enough to convince him to let them run out into the night and fabricate his cover-up.

He hadn't forgotten that cold, dark night last winter. Standing on that deserted roadway, David decided then that he owed it to Will to help him whenever possible, even if it meant closing some of the doors that were open to him. He had severed his ties with Vesper (a lucky turn that - considering how she had lost favor with Waterbury), and until now, his path had not directly crossed Will's.

But in San Jose, their paths swerved back into conjunction. He had to report on the Sooner Than Never developments. It was the only trump card he could play in the industry. His career hung in the balance. So he had to report on Will and Laura, even while he tried to protect them.

David sighed. A stalemate. Stuck in the middle again.

********

"So what do we do with these two?" Officer Jameston jabbed a pudgy thumb in the direction of the two men.

"I dunno," the sergeant answered, refusing to look up from his coffee and newspaper. "Did anyone call the embassy?"

"I was going to, but they kicked up a fuss. At least, I think that's what they were doing. Hard to tell. But let's get them out of here. They're really stinking up the place."

Jameston slouched over to the two men, currently perched on straight-back wooden chairs. "Hey, Mr. Kikkoman! Mr. Suburu! Chop, chop! You two ready to head out?"

"Yes, yes. Chop!"

Yemishigi grinned wildly. He enjoyed playing this part. It was a strategy that always worked with these dim-witted backwater Americans. Go glassy-eyed, smile and nod, and produce a few phrases they might recognize as Japanese (or "some kind of oriental," as they would often say).Do-mo oh-ree-gah-to. Koh-nee-shee-wah. Even soo-kee-yah-kee would do in a pinch. It was the best camoflauge in America. Act like a clueless tourist, and suddenly no one cared that you had no proper identification and were guilty of trespassing. It was the perfect way to keep Takamoto's interest in the Waterbury project under wraps.

Jameston leaned in closer. "We call embassy now!" he shouted, half questioningly. "Em-bass-ee. We call." He pantomimed a phone, his beefy fingers punching at imaginary buttons.

Yemishigi nodded enthusiastically. "We see ... Golden Gate Bridge." His eyebrows shot up gleefully. Professor Hattamari, seated beside him, scarcely looked up.

Jameston sighed. He turned back to the sergeant. "Look, we tried to call the embassy before, but we don't have any I.D. for these guys. No passport, no citizen identification, nothing. And they're not demanding to see anyone. Let 'em go. This doesn't exactly classify as an international incident." Jameston registered his disgust with departmental protocol with an elegant flourish of his chunky paws.

The sergeant didn't look up. "What about the Winchester folks?"

"Aw, they don't want to press charges. I spoke to their press contact. Some crotchety bitch - she doesn't give a damn. She said we should talk to Waterbury since he started this mess."

"Yeah, that's what we need." The sergeant chuckled sardonically. "More bullshit. Ah, what the hell, cut them loose."

Jameston breathed a noisy sigh of relief. "'Bout damn time," he muttered. He strode over to the tourists. "You go now!" he shouted, emphasizing each syllable. He walked his finger along the desktop to illustrate. "Bye-bye."

Yemishigi peered intently at the gesture and shot a gleeful glance at Jameston. "Yes, thank you very much. Bye-bye. Now bye-bye!"

Jameston rolled his eyes. This one, all chatters and pidgin English. The other one, sullen and silent. He couldn't be rid of them too soon.

As the two scurried out, Jameston heard Yemishigi exit in a trailing flourish of pidgin English. "Thank you good day. Thank you good day. You good day!"

Out in front of the police station, Yemishigi could no longer contain himself.

"Ha! Stupid cop! Classic."

Professor Hattamari registered all the contempt that had been building within him over the last few hours. He growled to his companion in Japanese.

"Is it really necessary to go through that buffoonery? I would think you and Mr. Takamoto could find a more dignified way to smooth things over with the local citizenry."

"And you think Mr. Takamoto would want to be fingered as our contact? You think he would want to be spread all over the front page as being connected with the discoverers of the most recent Waterbury clue? Trust me, my way works best. When in Rome, act precisely as stupid as the Romans think you are."

"Enough!" Professor Hattamari rubbed his tired eyes. "I'm hungry, I'm exhausted, and I need a shower! And so do you!"

The pair set off down the stairs and stood at the curb. Yemishigi flailed his arms, motioning to a nearby cab.

As the cab pulled away from the curb, Mr. Yemishigi settled back against the sticky plastic seats, his eyes shut against the glare of the noonday sun. He shut out everything around him ... the evil-tempered cab driver, the whining professor by his side. He didn't even see the sedan pulling after them, or the man in Armani behind the wheel.

********

Will trotted up, a big, fluffy wad of cotton candy in his hand. He held it out to Laura.

"All they had was blue. I hope that suits your feminine palette."

"That's fine." Laura pulled off a wispy bit and delicately placed it on her tongue. It immediately dissolved to a grainy, sweet syrup. "Mmmmmm," she sighed, "Nothing better."

"Here's what I like to do," Will said, grabbing a large piece and wadding it to a small, compact pellet. He popped it in his mouth. "That way, it lasts longer."

"To each his own," Laura grinned at him. "This was a good idea. I think we needed a day off."

Will nodded, his head bobbing as he gazed out to the horizon. "It's the golden afternoon," he crooned, recalling Disney's Alice in Wonderland. "And I love the salt air. Some day, I shall live at the beach. How long has your Aunt Joy lived here?"

"A long time," Laura replied, "Twenty, maybe twenty-five years. She came here for college and stayed. U.C. Santa Cruz, the Mighty Banana Slugs. She said she wanted a life with no strings. I guess she found it here."

Laura pulled another tuft of confection from the blue bouffant. "Her pottery barn's always done well. She makes enough to get by. I think she grows pot on the side as well. That's probably her main bank roll."

Will almost choked on a mouthful of dissolved sugar. "Ganja? The evil weed? Does your family know? I can't imagine Ma Dial is cool with this."

"Well, that's simply my construction on things. God forbid my mother ever suspect. Just coming to the west coast was enough to brand Aunt Joy a family outlaw. If they knew she trafficked in illegal substances ... well, I imagine they'd come out personally to hail her home by her hair."

Will chuckled at this, contemplating the terror of the Midwestern matron, swooping in from the prairie, toy dogs in tow, to chastise her fallen kinswoman. Stretching out his legs and wiggling his toes inside his Birkenstocks, Will pondered the utter pleasantness of the afternoon.

He was glad they had followed Aunt Joy's advice and taken a breather from the rigors of the hunt. They'd been at each other's throats since the whole Winchester Mystery House fiasco. After the immediate rush of exhilaration, a deep, unrelenting irritation had set in. Piecing together what exactly happened out in front of the old manor, Will and Laura found their conversation returning to the same round of recriminations and disagreements.

And the mood didn't lift. Not during the long walk to find a payphone. Not during the long ride to Aunt's Joy's house in Santa Cruz. Not even during the restless hours that remained of the evening.

But things seemed better now. Taking Aunt Joy's advice, they ditched their treasure hunt to spend a day at the Santa Cruz boardwalk before settling back in on the treasure hunt. The air was clear, the breeze was bracing, and the fun-house atmosphere had kept them from each others' throats - for awhile anyway.

"Lovely," Will intoned. "Just lovely." He smacked his lips on the last bit of blue fluff and stood up. "It's time we ventured on," he told Laura, holding out his hand to her.

"To other parts of the park, or other parts of the country?"

"Both, my pet, both. We have the Haunted Shack to explore, and Waterbury's next clue to discover. And now that we know who our enemies are ..."

"Will you stop with that already!" Laura pulled her hand out of his. "Look, I'm pissed at Mike too, and I don't know what to think about those things he told me, but I really don't think cold-cocking him was the answer! You could have killed him! Who knows? Maybe you did!"

"Better him than us."

"And what does that mean?" She removed her sunglasses. Will knew she meant business. Calculating the odds on her various possible responses, he decided the evasive approach was best.

"It's best you not know."

He calculated wrong.

Grabbing him by his shirt collar, Laura pulled Will to her and looked him straight in the eye.

"Now you look here, Will Gilbert. You do not have any upper hand in this situation. This is my life were talking about too, you know. Not your own private little drama. We aren't all here merely as minor players in your epic. If you know something that affects me and my well-being, you'd better goddamned spit it out right now!"

Will blanched. He'd only rarely seen Laura in this mood. She was like this the day she quit Waterbury. She was like this when she discovered one of her colleagues in grad school had 'borrowed' her work and published it as his own. His choices were few. Tell her more about Sebastian Moffet? It was risky - but perhaps the only way to go. He took the risk.

"I have every reason to believe ... that we are being stalked ... by a homicidal maniac!

Laura took this in.

"Oh, really. And, I take it, we are in immediate danger?"

"Yes. I have reason to believe," he responded smugly.

"And that's why you attacked a federal agent?"

"If that's what he really is ..."

"Oh," she mulled, "That's right. According to you, Mike's lying. No, wait! Let me guess. Your mysterious Australian let you in on this little detail."

Will was relieved. Laura was finally seeing sense. "Exactly!" he sighed.

"So let me get this straight. A total stranger, who may or may not be from Australia, sweeps into your life by way of a decrepit barroom in some mountain backwater. Oddly, even though no one knows where we are, he recognizes you. Swept off his feet by your charm and perky inner spirit, he spends a torrid night of unspeakable passion with you ... and then ... vanishes ... only to reappear at, yes, the Winchester Mystery House. In the middle of the night. With a gun."

"Laura ..."

"No, don't stop me! I'm on a roll! So this supremely trustworthy, eminently credible individual tells you that we are being stalked by a homicidal maniac and you, as a result, strike a man who has just identified himself an agent for the CIA? Now that makes sense."

"Laura! I was panicked! I was confused! I was nauseated! I didn't know what I was doing ... I'm sorry!

"Christ, Will, didn't you stop to think ... I mean, my own mother doesn't even know where we are, and this guy - he seems to trace our every move ..."

Suddenly, Laura stopped sharp in her tracks.

"Will," she growled between gritted teeth. "What precisely did you tell the Aussie during your all-too-brief night-to-remember?"

Will affected a casual laugh. "Oh, that. So many things are said on a night like that. And I'd had so much to drink ... you know, now that I think of it, I don't really remember ..."

"Oh, my God. You told him everything, didn't you? You told him where we were going next."

Her voice was odd, strangely flat and toneless. Will would have preferred her screaming at him. It was time for the last-ditch effort.

"Laura, we're lucky I told Sebastian. That's how I know about Mike. That's why I stopped him before he ... might've done something. When he called me at Aimee's ..."

"What?!" she exploded. "He called at Aimee's? Jesus, what'd you tell him that time? My dress size? My bank account number? I can't believe this, Will! This guy's obviously tailing us, concocting crazy stories about psychopathic killers, and it never strikes you that he might not be trustworthy? And why? Because he looks like Fabio!"

"Oh, please! He's much better looking than Fabio! Laura ..."

"No, that's it! I want out! This isn't worth it. By the time you're done with me, I'll have a rap sheet in all fifty states. And I can't even trust you to protect our interests if you catch sight of some cute piece of ass."

"Laura, what are you saying?"

She sighed and crossed her arms. "I'm checking out. Let's pick up our monthly stipend. I'll take enough to get me back to Iowa. I'm out."

"Laura, you can't be serious."

"I am. Will, you assaulted a federal agent. I'm surprised we're not wanted. Maybe we are!"

"That's the thanks I get? I was protecting you!"

"No, you were hysterical."

"Fine." Will muttered in half-sentences under his breath as he pulled her to a nearby cash station." Risk my life ... rescue you from some crappy, go-nowhere job ... Fabio!" Sliding the card for their joint account, Will punched in their access code. "Waterbury's allowance should be deposited by now. We'll each take half. Then you go where ever the hell you want!"

He punched in the figure for their monthly allotment.

The screen blinked back in glowing green: INSUFFICIENT FUNDS.

***********

"Mr. Redding, I was wondering why we had not heard from you lately. You promised us regular updates on your acquisitions and backing. I trust things are going well."

Vesper stepped up to Mr. Takamoto's desk.

"Yes, sir, I know. And I feel our plans are ... progressing, though not - perhaps - with the speed with which we had hoped."

Takamoto's eyes narrowed almost unperceptibly. "Nothing is amiss? I had hoped by now you could report a considerable consolidation of shares. Or at least, some information about when additional shares might become available."

Vesper pulled straightened slightly and affected a tone of aloof unconcern. "Of course, additional information would always be welcome. And I am working with several investors and industry consultants to obtain that information. Waterbury is, however, unpredictable. His staffing," her eyebrows raised slightly, "for instance. It has undergone changes of late that disrupt the flow of information. Under such circumstances, in a fluid and unstable industry - well, such delays are to be expected. There's nothing I can do."

Takamoto leaned in. "Look, Redding. You promised me Waterbury on a platter. I expect nothing less. Staffing changes, broken connections - those are your concerns, not mine. We have an agreement, and I expect you to fulfill all your obligations. Is that understood?"

Vesper paused, examined one perfect, cropped fingernail, and took her time in responding. "Indeed it is. Have no concern."

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