[Steven Lyle Jordan]

9: Nailed

I would’ve loved to see Fern’s face as the Vette came back for her. Of course, I knew now that it was always Barry’s plan to draw any pursuers away from Fern, so she could slip away. But she would have waited for a time, just to make sure he didn’t lose his tail and circle back for her. She would’ve waited in the shadows, holding tightly onto the laptop that held the incriminating files she’d downloaded. A familiar-sounding car engine would have made itself heard in the distance, getting closer, and her heart would have leapt in anticipation.

Hopefully, she actually had feelings for Barry… I’d hate to think that the office ugly duckling was taking advantage of the office pipsqueak, just as those in the office had doubtless taken advantage of her. Hopefully, she planned to give him a cut of her ill-gotten gains, and not just cut him loose once she scored.

So, she would’ve waited until she saw the Vette come around the corner, and drive slowly into the parking lot, staying close to the shadows. She would’ve stepped tentatively out of the dark corner where she had been hiding, and then, once she confirmed that there were no other cars coming, would’ve come around the car, opened the passenger-side door, and climbed in triumphantly.

Then she would’ve seen me sitting there in the driver’s seat instead of Barry, looking back smugly at her, and realize she was boned.

In fact, there was only one difference between what I imagined, and what actually happened: Barry’s driver’s seat and controls were so modified for his size that I couldn’t get into a comfortable position. In fact, it was all I could do to drive the damned thing. And as I sat there, looking at Fern’s shocked expression, I knew the expression on my face communicated anything but smugness.

“Is there actually a way to lower this seat further?” I asked her outright. “Or is it pretty much stuck this way?”

Fern responded by jumping back out of the car. But by then, of course, Gail was already pulling up into the parking lot, followed by another two vehicles, one of them being a police car. The other car was a new-model Mustang that, upon stopping, immediately engorged Lou and Phil. As I unfolded and practically tumbled headlong out of the Vette, Lou rushed over as the policeman stepped up and turned Fern to face the side of the vehicle, hands on the trunk.

“I can’t believe you, Fern,” Lou snapped as she approached. “Like you didn’t have a great job just working for me!”

“Oh, yeah, great job,” Fern shot back. “Getting everything through your pity! I didn’t deserve how you-all treated me!...” What followed was a rapid-fire stream of epithets from both women that I wouldn’t print on toilet paper, much less repeat here.

It was funny, I noted as the two women stood there chewing each other out: Fern was not really ugly. Or, for that matter, particularly mousy. In fact, she was pretty, and shapely, and I’d bet that if she took those tortoise-shells off, it would be like a Clark Kent-to-Superman moment. (Well, maybe a Diana Prince to Wonder Woman moment.) I (Wonder Woman?) … uh, I couldn’t imagine this woman feeling inadequate, even in an office full of TV supermodel-types. Sure, maybe next to Lou Chow, she didn’t look drop-dead exotic the way some Asian women tend to look to Europeans. But mousy? No way.

A shame such a not-mousy girl was about to be boned.

Lou, for her part, gave Fern a nasty look—one of those “I gave you everything, how could you betray me?” looks—before she turned to me. “Did you get all the evidence you needed?”

I indicated the laptop in the Vette, the one she had had when she got in. “My Trojan Horse data will match that laptop there. I’d say you’ve got her dead to rights.”

Lou looked over to the police car, at Barry who was already in custody in the back seat. “I didn’t even know the two of them were a thing,” she said. “They certainly kept it to themselves.”

“Did they?” I found myself asking. “Or did you guys just not notice them?”

Lou looked at me hard, but she didn’t snap off an answer. I suspected it was because she wasn’t positive of the answer herself, and was rethinking her worldview a bit. After a few seconds, she came up to me and said, “You have my thanks, Mike. Send me a bill, and don’t be modest. And you and Gail are welcome at my place anytime.”

“Thank you,” I said graciously, as the other officer finally got out of the car, and approached Lou to ask some questions. As Lou and Phil went off with the policemen, and the other cop was herding Fern into the cruiser, I noticed Gail sidling up beside me.

“Well, that was a nice job,” she said smugly. “You have my thanks too, for helping out my friend.”

“Don’t mention it, Wonder Woman,” I replied.

Gail’s head snapped around fast enough to throw her hair every which way, and she looked at me with piercing eyes. A few seconds later, it occurred to her where I had heard the name, and her eyes softened noticeably. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use that name in public,” she said quietly. “Old nicknames are kind of embarrassing to me.”

I nodded. “You have any newer ones I should be aware of?”

Gail’s eyes narrowed again, just a tiny bit. “Not today,” she said. “But for now, I think a reward is in order. I was coming to take you to dinner.”

“Really? Where at?”

“Kansas City Bar-be-que,” she said. “It’s famous around here, because they filmed scenes of Top Gun on the premises.”

“Never heard of it,” I said.

“Don’t know Kansas City Bar-be-que?”

“No… never heard of that Top Gun thing. What was it, a TV show?”

“Hmm… your dinner prospects are getting smaller and smaller!”

“Then maybe we should settle on dessert,” I said. “I know some things we could nibble on back at your place.”

“I plan to do more than nibble.”

“You drive.”