St. Vincent had to think about it, then, “All right, but just a recon. You see anything at all, you call.”
“Of course,” Sherwood said. “Good luck at the farmhouse, David. Keep your head down.”
“Thank you. Don’t let Davenport shoot anyone.”
Sherwood laughed and said, “I’ll try to restrain him.”
When Sherwood hung up, Lucas said, “I’m not saying St. Vincent is a moron…”
“He’s probably not,” Sherwood said. “He’s caught in a bureaucratic morass, and that’s difficult for anyone who is actually trying to get something done. The Agency is the same way, on everything above an operational level.”
“All right,” Lucas conceded.
“How do you want to do this? You’re the cop—do we go together, or should I follow?”
“As a cop, I’ll tell you that you always want to have the same number of cars as you have cops, because if you don’t, somebody will getuselessly stranded. Follow me, but stay close. If we happen to stumble into them, we’d want to be together. You got a gun?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ve got an extra, if you want it. Revolver, point’n shoot.”
“I’ll pass. If I actually shot somebody in the States, I’d spend the rest of my life filling out forms and going to hearings.”
11
Titov parked behind the second motel building, out of sight of both the office and the major streets on either side. Abramova met him at the door and he slipped inside. Nikitin was on the bed, apparently asleep.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Matvey won’t die, if the surgeons are good. If he can keep his mouth shut, he might even get loose,” Titov said. “He’s not on any police records here or with Interpol.” Then he shrugged. “If the cops here have any imagination, he’s probably fucked. But we’ve done what we could.”
“These security cameras are a curse,” Abramova said. “If they find this car I rented, they might be able to track me. I tell you, the cameras are everywhere.”
“Then we should move again,” Titov said. And, “I like your hair.”
She ignored that and said, “Your Jeep might be a problem, if theyfind the farm. I think they will find the farm, with clues from the doctor. She would have had some idea of passing time, and style of the old house. The neighbors know your Jeep…”
“Maybe we should have done her.”
“Last year’s snow,” Abramova said.
Titov nodded at Nikitin: “What about Lev?”
“He can move, with pain. The opiates kill the pain, but make him sleepy and unreliable. When I bought the hair dye, I bought more simple painkillers, not as strong, but his brain will be clear. I think we let him wake up, give him some of this acetaminophen, a lot of it, and then try to find a way to get clear. Get a new car…”
“I have all American identification and good driver’s licenses and credit cards,” Titov said. “Let’s do what you did this morning: rent a new car. Call and make a reservation. It’s all by computer, computers don’t get suspicious, they just rent. One of my driver’s licenses is from Normal, Illinois. I even have a membership with the Plus Your Points with Enterprise.”
“I have nothing better,” Abramova said.
“Have you had anything to eat?” Titov asked. “I stopped on the way here, I got sandwiches…”
“Wonderful. I could eat an ox,” Abramova said. “Let’s eat and wait for Lev to wake up, make an assessment. If we reserve a car now, it will be ready when you go to the airport.”
• • •
Nikitin woke alittle after noon, had some groggy questions about Orlov and Milwaukee. He began to pull himself together after eating two sandwiches, and Abramova checked his butt wound. The blood had stopped leaking and the wound looked drier than it had,but inflamed. Nikitin swallowed more antibiotic tablets and four Tylenols, said he could move if he had to, but he’d rather not.
“I’m going to get a car,” Titov said. “You’ll only have to walk ten feet from the door.”
