Ill-Gotten Games Read Free Page B

rectangular box with a small bathroom and one lonely futon covered in psychedelic fabric. In place of the former washers and dryers were gaping holes in the floor. The most striking feature, if you could call it that, were the hundreds of pictures covering the walls—graphic war montages, bloody crime scenes and detailed articles, hung in rows.
    They walked around looking at the frames, and Drayco started feeling guilty for bringing Janet along, after all. He couldn’t remember a more disturbing collection of materials. They were in chronological order, dating from the Vietnam War through Charles Manson to the Symbionese Liberation Army, the Gulf War and the present.
    The newest additions were clippings from The Washington Post about the figurine heist and the murder of the Artserve guard. One of the clippings mentioned the questioning on the witness stand of Odom, with that paragraph highlighted in yellow. If Drayco had ever questioned the link between Truitt and Odom, which he hadn’t, this was a sign he and Baskin were on the right track.
    But the picture that interested Drayco the most was a snapshot of three men in G.I. uniforms, arms around each other’s shoulders as they smiled for the camera. Drayco had seen enough photos of the younger Truitt to recognize him as one of the men in the snapshot, but the man to Truitt’s right also looked familiar. And he was pretty sure the third man was someone else he knew well.
    “Do you have a copy machine?” he asked his companion.
    “One of those combo jobs that prints, scans, and fixes you supper. Would that do?”
    “Yeah. I’d like to make a copy of this one.” He removed it from the wall and laid it on the futon. Then he ducked into the bathroom, barely big enough to fit one person in addition to the toilet and sink. There was a deep windowsill which held a cardboard box with a wig, fake beard and mustache, spirit gum, bald skull caps and several containers of theatrical makeup. He was disappointed not to spy the ZZ-Top getup, although that was probably buried in a landfill by now.
    The sink had a leak with a small puddle underneath, although it wasn’t dripping, nor were there beads of water on the pipes. Drayco turned on the hot water faucet. Nothing. But when he turned on the cold water, the leaky valve started dripping again, adding to the puddle. Truitt was here recently.
    The pair made their way back to Janet’s building, where she printed him a copy of the photo, then they both returned to the laundromat long enough to re-hang the original. She’d offered to do it herself later, but he didn’t want her over there alone in case Truitt returned.
    “That’s very sweet of you,” she’d said, when he explained his reasoning. “But I can take care of myself.”
    He smiled at that. “No doubt, but it does a male ego proud to play the knight in shining armor. You helped me get my quota this week.”
    “Any time you need to get your quota, give me a call. And if you ever do decide to get your nails done, I’m your gal.”
    Although he’d known some men on Capitol Hill who’d had manicures, and one or two in the FBI (although they’d never own up), he wasn’t the type. Still, the thought of the very appealing Janet lavishing care on his hands for the better part of an hour didn’t seem such a horrible idea.
    “I may hold you to that,” he replied, before heading back to the car. He’d barely had time to fold his long legs into the car when the cell phone went off again. Baskin or Truitt? When he looked at his watch, he had a pretty good idea of who it would be.
    “Greetings, Scott. How are we coming along with my little game?”
    “Albert Einstein sends his regards.”
    Truitt chuckled. “Now you’re into the spirit of the game. Have you figured out how to win?”
    “Depends upon whether the game is rigged. So far, you’ve given me a game board with no pieces.”
    “Ah, but they do exist. You have to keep looking.”
    “I’m more interested