"No, not that silly," he said. I got back on the highway, and headed for home. "I meant like date nights or just making sure we spend time together. Think Tabby and Patrick would mind having some more days watching Andrea while we get away sometimes?"
"As long as we're willing to return the favor, I don't see why not," I said. "Think the two of us could handle two kids for a couple of hours or even overnight?"
"I can fight five men at once, do combat reloads on over a dozen different types of firearms, and run five minute miles repeatedly," Mark replied confidently. "How hard could two kids be?"
"Two toddlers?"
Mark cocked his eyebrow, conceding. "Good point. Okay, together we might be able to handle that."
Chapter Ten
Tabby
Towards the end of the week, I was spending an hour in the now re-established home office, Patrick having moved into my bedroom with me. He still had his apartment in The Playground, but that was merely for politics. He had to maintain a first or second residence in the district he represented to be eligible for office. In any case, I was spending an hour doing some research when one of Mark's computers beeped. Since they were set up to monitor things that were important to his vigilante work, I immediately saved and set aside the document I was working on, a letter to Gene and the Spartans requesting their input on the schedule of activities for the opening day of our first community center. "Mark?"
"Yeah?" he called back from the kitchen, where he was talking with Patrick. "What's up, Tabs?"
"Computer's beeping," I said as he stuck his head in the door. He looked, then pulled the HDMI cable out of my computer, sticking it in the slot on his. His face wasn't worried but intensely curious. While his bugs would record for later playback, there was something in his face that said he had a hunch about this time.
"Sorry, you can have it back in a minute," he said, watching the screen. The monitor flashed and kind of wiggled, then steadied as the computer registered and adjusted. Three notices were on the screen, as each of Mark's bugs from Francine Berkowitz's condo were sending notifications. The computer had detected the trigger words on the active bugs, and sent signals to the passive ones to turn them on as well. "Well, well, let's see what we've got."
The video feed and audio feed were actually composites from two of the bugs, spliced and clarified by the computer on our end. Because of that and because the system was monitoring for key words, we were actually watching a feed that was about a minute old.
"Yes, that sounds fine," Francine said. She was sitting on her couch, a glass of white wine in her hand as she talked on her phone. "No, no way in hell am I bringing you to my condo. Patron, you may live out of Filmore, but that doesn't mean you're material for this neighborhood."
"Bitch has got some balls," I noted while we listened. Mark nodded, not commenting until the conversation was finished. I could see in his face, he was studying every facial expression and vocal inflection, trying to make sure what we were overhearing was real and not just an elaborate deception from someone who had found our devices.
"No, I can't do it during the day either. Why? Do I really have to explain why I can’t be seen with you? All right, all right. We can talk details tomorrow night. Where? I know you live near the Park, how about there? No.... okay, I understand that. The docks? Why there? Fine. The Docks, eight o'clock? Pier thirty two. I'll bring the deposit, you make sure the meeting is secure. No visits from the cops.... or him."
"Sounds like Francine is expecting company," I quipped as Mark set the computer back to passive monitoring. It would still record, but only notify us if key words were tripped again. "What's this about Pier thirty two?"
"The Docks are one of the areas that are very open," Mark replied. "And Pier thirty two is one of the farthest out there. Approaching it is difficult at best, impossible at worst if the Latin Kings bring decent observation. The nearest buildings to thirty two are over a hundred yards away, and the approaches are all easily defended. Two roads, both going deep into the warehouses near the Docks, and the ground area is crisscrossed with only tiny little alleyways that are barely big enough for a mini forklift. That area is also rarely used, because of how old fashioned and out of date it is. Most of the sea traffic that comes into the Docks prefers to use the closer in, modernized berths."
"So they’re preparing themselves to have a visit from you," I replied. "They wouldn't put their backs against the sea with so few avenues of escape if they were just worried about the cops."
Mark nodded. "The thing is, they're not going to be anticipating one thing."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I know the time of the meeting. They're meeting at night because they can move a lot of soldiers into the area once the sun goes down. But, if we're already there...."
"They're walking into a trap themselves," I finished for him. "What's your idea?"
* * *