waited for what he was sure would be an angry reaction. He didn’t get it.
“He’s not my friend, Matt. I’ve told you that and told you that.”
“I still want to see where he lives.”
“Why?”>
“So, when this is over, I can take the cops there,” Matt said. “You may be in jail.”
The waitress appeared with the check in time to hear the last part of the sentence.
Matt smiled at her in what he hoped was a disarming way.
“Or married, or have entered a convent,” he added.
The waitress smiled. Susan shook her head at Matt.
When they got back in the car, Matt asked, “How do I get to Chenowith’s house?” again expecting a negative response, and being surprised when he didn’t get one.
“Go into Doylestown, turn right at the Crossroads Diner,” Susan said.
“Is that where you’re going to meet her?”
“That’s where I met her the last time,” Susan said. “She may change her mind this time.”
“But she is going to call you there, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going to cut over through Quakertown and go down Route 611,” he said.
“Any special reason?”
“No.”
“I’m a little afraid of showing you the house,” Susan said a minute or two later.
“Don’t start now,” Matt said. “I want to be in a position where I can truthfully tell the FBI that you led me to the place.”
“What if she leaves the baby in the house when she comes to meet me?” Susan asked.
“The FBI is not going to go after him with guns blazing if they know there’s a baby around,” Matt said.
“He’s crazy, Matt, you know that. What’s the FBI going to do if he starts shooting his machine gun?”
“The way that happens is that they will surround the place. Then somebody will get on a bullhorn and tell him—hell, you’ve seen the movies—‘This is the FBI. We have you surrounded. Come out with your hands on your head, and no harm will come to you.’ ”
“And what if he starts shooting his machine gun? The both of them start to shoot their machine guns?”
“They’ll look out the window and they won’t see anything to shoot at. The FBI’s not going to stand there in the open where they can get shot. They’re not stupid.”
“And if Bryan doesn’t come out with his hands on his head?”
“Probably nothing. They don’t want to start shooting unless they have to. With or without knowing there’s a baby inside. After a long time—a long, long time—they might shoot some tear gas into the place. But that’s it. Once they have the place surrounded, that’s it. They can wait; time is on their side.”
She didn’t reply.
“And with that thought in mind, probably the smartest thing we could do right now would be to call Jack Matthews, have him meet us, you show him where Chenowith is, and let the FBI do their thing.”
“If I show you where the house is, you’ll have to promise you won’t tell the FBI until after we meet with Jennie.”
“Jesus!”
“Promise!”
“Okay, okay.”
Several minutes later, moving down a narrow, winding road, Matt said:
“You know what worries me the most? That your friend Jennie, once I put the arm on her, is not going to listen to one goddamn word you say to her about keeping her mouth shut until she sees a lawyer. You’re not going to be the friend trying to save her ass, trying to keep her baby from getting hurt, but the traitorous bitch who turned her in to the cops.”
“And?”
“She starts screaming that you were in on this whole thing from the beginning. If she and Chenowith are going down, I think it’s entirely likely they’ll want to take you down with them.”
“I was, more or less,” Susan said. “I’ll just have to take that risk.”
“Another option, of course, is for me to stop the car and start slapping you around until you tell me where the bastard is.”
“Oh, stop it!”
“That’s the best idea I’ve had all day,” he said. “I really have no idea at all why I’m going along with this bullshit idea just to try to save your friend, who, I am growing more and more convinced, is just as dangerous as her boyfriend.”
“You could slap me around all day, and I’d never tell you where the house is,” Susan said.
She believes that. She’s probably never been slapped in her life.
Could I slap her?
Yes, I could.
And get her to tell me where this goddamn house is?
Yes, I could.
And the FBI takes the house, and the asshole shoots off his homemade terrorist machine gun, and