Binary - Michael Crichton [16]
'Here he comes,' Lewis said. He pointed to Wright emerging from the store with an armful of packages wrapped in brown paper. George, the chauffeur, jumped out and came around to help carry the packages. Wright indicated that they were to go into the trunk of the car. George locked them there, then came around, shut Wright's door, and drove off.
'I'd like to know what was in those packages,' Graves said, making notes in his book.
'Bet you anything it's kinky rubber clothing,' Lewis said.
'What will you bet?'
At that, Lewis laughed. He knew you didn't bet with Graves. Nobody bet with Graves. He might deny special skills until he was blue in the face, but the fact was that Graves was the best gambler, bettor, poker player that any of them had ever seen.
They followed the car for another five minutes. Then it pulled up in front of a sporting goods store. Wright again got out. He said something to George, who nodded and went across the street to a coffee shop. The car was left alone. It could not be seen easily from either the sports store or the coffee shop.
'Looks like we have our chance,' Graves said. 'Pull over.'
As Lewis pulled the sedan over, Graves opened the glove compartment and took out a large, circular key ring. On it were keys to Wright's apartment in New York, his apartment in San Diego, his limousine, his Alfa sportscar, his summer house in Southampton, his winter house in Jamaica. And several others as well. They were all neatly tagged.
Lewis said, 'Isn't this a little risky '
'We're going to arrest him today,' Graves said. 'It doesn't matter now.' He got out of the car, feeling the heat of the morning air. He walked forward to the limousine. It took just a moment to insert his key in the trunk and open it. He raised the trunk lid partway and looked at the brown paper packages. There were three, closed with strips of tape. He opened a corner of one and peered inside.
The package contained black rubber belts, about six inches wide, formed into loops of varying diameters. He closed the package and squeezed the others. They all seemed to contain belts.
Frowning, he shut the trunk. And then, because he was in a gambling mood, he walked into the sporting goods store. As he went through the door he glanced back at Lewis. Lewis looked horrified.
The store was large and spacious; he did not see Wright immediately. Walking among the aisles of equipment, he finally spotted him in the water sports department. Wright was gesturing with his hands, forming a shape in the air.
Graves walked over and stood beside him at the counter. To do so gave Graves an immediate burst of excitement. He had never been so close to his subject before. Wright was smaller than he had thought - several inches shorter than Graves himself. And much finer-boned. A delicate man in an English-cut suit, dapper as Phelps, but without the vanity that made Phelps unbearable.
The salesman said, 'I'll be right with you, sir,' and Graves nodded.
Wright glanced over at him and smiled vaguely. There was no recognition in the glance. None at all: Graves was sure of it. They were just two customers at the same counter.
Graves bent over, peering down at the glass case, which contained depth gauges and underwater watches. He could see Wright's face reflected in the glass surface.
'Is this the one you mean, sir?' the salesman asked.
Graves glanced up and saw the salesman holding a small air tank, painted yellow.
'That's the one,' Wright said.
'Now, do you understand about this tank?' the salesman said. 'It's not the standard seventy-two cubic foot model. This one only has twenty-five minutes of air at -'
'That's the one I want.' Wright said it quietly, but his voice cut the salesman off. Graves was impressed by the understated authority in the voice - and presumably in the man.
'Yes, sir. How many was that?'
'Three.'
'I think we have three in the storeroom,' the salesman said. He turned to Graves: 'Was there anything in particular?'
It seemed to Graves that the salesman was much