the entwined pair of naked female bodies. It was a perfect spot for another bug, well hidden under the cupped hand of one of the groping participants.
He repeated the same process on a lamp in the bedroom and then beeped again for Garagua on the one-way.
“Yeah boss?”
“You still have the girl?”
“Yeah, I think she’s headed for her office.”
“Good, don’t lose her. Also, switch on the receiver. We’re live, I need a reading.”
Garagua leaned over to the passenger seat and flipped on the switches to the equipment stacked in the seat. “Go boss.”
“Test, test, test.” Bolivar walked from the bedroom into the living room. “Test, test.”
“Loud and clear boss.”
“Good, let’s try the phone.” Bolivar picked up the phone, and waited for the dial tone.
“That one’s good, too,” came the reply over the one-way.
“Excellent, I’m heading for some lunch. Call me when she gets to where she’s going and I’ll drive over to you and pick up the equipment. You can stay on the girl.”
“You got it boss.”
Bolivar walked out of the tower into the warm sunshine, took a left toward the park and decided to walk toward Bardstown Road and lunch.
The pasta special at The Comeback Inn was incredible as usual, coupled with the glass of merlot, it had taken some of the edge off Ferguson’s anger. He was still mad, but he decided on a long lunch to determine his line of thought and how he would proceed in the conversation he was about to undertake with Courtney Lewis.
He wanted to make certain that she was aware of the danger that she put him in, the damage to his personal property, and that she was no longer to involve herself in any way, shape, or form. If there was even a hint of somebody or something that had the remotest connection to the letter, he was going to the police.
He checked his watch. It was 1:28. He signaled the waitress for the check, paid, and headed for the car.
The administrative offices for the Speed Museum are on the third floor of the main gallery building located on South Third Street adjacent to the University of Louisville’s Belknap campus. Ferguson had to pass through a security gate at the front entrance, receiving instructions on where the offices were and where to park. He wound his way around the large, pillared structure to an adjoining parking garage, and entered.
He followed the ramps up three levels and found a spot on the exterior next to a beautiful, black Porsche 911convertible. He exited the Explorer, thumbed the lock button on his keyless entry remote, the locking mechanism responding with a chirp, and stole an admiring glance at the Porsche as he headed for the door leading into the museum. Inside, on the third floor, he had to take one last pass at a security guard seated behind an unassuming desk, and then he made a right turn at the end of a short hall into the well-appointed waiting room.
“May I help you?” The petite, blond receptionist looked at Ferguson as he approached her desk.
Yes, I have an appointment with Courtney Lewis,” said Ferguson cordially.
“Your name?”
“Matt Ferguson.”
“Thank you!”
She dialed in an extension on the phone console and announced Ferguson to Courtney when she answered.
“She’ll be with you in just a minute. You may have a seat if you like,” motioning to the chairs and loveseats behind him.
Before he could find the time to locate a seat, Courtney Lewis emerged from the only hallway that led from the reception area.
“Good to see you again Matt!” Courtney smiled affectionately.
“Miss Lewis.”
“Please, come on back to my office.”
“Thank you.” Ferguson dropped the magazine he had picked up on the coffee table in the waiting area and accompanied Courtney as she pivoted and retreated down the hall.
“Please hold my calls Joan.”
They walked in silence past three offices and a conference room and entered the second to last door on the left. Courtney could feel the
He repeated the same process on a lamp in the bedroom and then beeped again for Garagua on the one-way.
“Yeah boss?”
“You still have the girl?”
“Yeah, I think she’s headed for her office.”
“Good, don’t lose her. Also, switch on the receiver. We’re live, I need a reading.”
Garagua leaned over to the passenger seat and flipped on the switches to the equipment stacked in the seat. “Go boss.”
“Test, test, test.” Bolivar walked from the bedroom into the living room. “Test, test.”
“Loud and clear boss.”
“Good, let’s try the phone.” Bolivar picked up the phone, and waited for the dial tone.
“That one’s good, too,” came the reply over the one-way.
“Excellent, I’m heading for some lunch. Call me when she gets to where she’s going and I’ll drive over to you and pick up the equipment. You can stay on the girl.”
“You got it boss.”
Bolivar walked out of the tower into the warm sunshine, took a left toward the park and decided to walk toward Bardstown Road and lunch.
The pasta special at The Comeback Inn was incredible as usual, coupled with the glass of merlot, it had taken some of the edge off Ferguson’s anger. He was still mad, but he decided on a long lunch to determine his line of thought and how he would proceed in the conversation he was about to undertake with Courtney Lewis.
He wanted to make certain that she was aware of the danger that she put him in, the damage to his personal property, and that she was no longer to involve herself in any way, shape, or form. If there was even a hint of somebody or something that had the remotest connection to the letter, he was going to the police.
He checked his watch. It was 1:28. He signaled the waitress for the check, paid, and headed for the car.
The administrative offices for the Speed Museum are on the third floor of the main gallery building located on South Third Street adjacent to the University of Louisville’s Belknap campus. Ferguson had to pass through a security gate at the front entrance, receiving instructions on where the offices were and where to park. He wound his way around the large, pillared structure to an adjoining parking garage, and entered.
He followed the ramps up three levels and found a spot on the exterior next to a beautiful, black Porsche 911convertible. He exited the Explorer, thumbed the lock button on his keyless entry remote, the locking mechanism responding with a chirp, and stole an admiring glance at the Porsche as he headed for the door leading into the museum. Inside, on the third floor, he had to take one last pass at a security guard seated behind an unassuming desk, and then he made a right turn at the end of a short hall into the well-appointed waiting room.
“May I help you?” The petite, blond receptionist looked at Ferguson as he approached her desk.
Yes, I have an appointment with Courtney Lewis,” said Ferguson cordially.
“Your name?”
“Matt Ferguson.”
“Thank you!”
She dialed in an extension on the phone console and announced Ferguson to Courtney when she answered.
“She’ll be with you in just a minute. You may have a seat if you like,” motioning to the chairs and loveseats behind him.
Before he could find the time to locate a seat, Courtney Lewis emerged from the only hallway that led from the reception area.
“Good to see you again Matt!” Courtney smiled affectionately.
“Miss Lewis.”
“Please, come on back to my office.”
“Thank you.” Ferguson dropped the magazine he had picked up on the coffee table in the waiting area and accompanied Courtney as she pivoted and retreated down the hall.
“Please hold my calls Joan.”
They walked in silence past three offices and a conference room and entered the second to last door on the left. Courtney could feel the
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