The Mechanic by Tom Fowler

Author:Tom Fowler [Fowler, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Widening Gyre Media

23

Rick Rust owned a small detached home in Laurel. Beige siding covered the outside. A large porch allowed for seating outside the front door. The driveway led to a one-car garage. All the place needed was a white picket fence, and it could get listed in an Americana catalog. For a man of questionable ethics who worked for a war criminal, Rust chose a nice house in a good neighborhood.

Tyler sat in the 442. He curbed it across the street two homes up from Rust’s. There had been little activity in the half-hour he sat and waited. Most people here were either in their offices or working from home. One man in a car didn’t merit a lot of attention. Rust’s house was dark. The garage made it difficult to know if he was home, but Tyler figured the man was out. He wondered what Rust was up to. Who was he strong-arming or harassing for the benefit of Leo Braxton today?

It made him wonder if Smitty’s shop was still on the radar. Tyler fired off a text to his boss. I’m outside someone’s house. Keep your eyes open and remember what I gave you a few days ago. He hoped Smitty would realize the last part referred to the gun Tyler took from Rust. Smitty insisted he knew how to shoot. Tyler hoped he did, and he doubly hoped it wouldn’t be necessary.

A return message came in. I got it. All quiet so far. Good luck.

Tyler looked at his stack of papers. He was glad the laptop would track things for him, especially on social media. In the meantime, he needed raw data, so he printed out the report Lexi helped him prepare. It produced a hefty output, and he split it up into a couple different folders. Rust still kept a landline phone . . . an odd quirk for a millennial. In Tyler’s limited experience, most of them dismissed the quaint technology while eating avocado toast. He called the number. It rang five times before clicking over to a generic voicemail greeting. Tyler hung up without leaving a message.

He shifted in the seat and kept his vigil. He’d done similar tasks in Afghanistan. Terrorist targets weren’t always home when the army came calling. Recon was important. Tyler got out of the car, walked across the street with his hands in his pockets, and moved past Rust’s house. After the next dwelling, he cut across a yard. Homes on the next street lay across a short stretch of trees. Tyler padded through the thicket and surveyed the back of Rust’s place. No lights in the rear, either. A short chain-link fence would be easy to hop. The small yard led to another door.

Breaching the rear entrance would be easier. Tyler pondered how long to wait for Rust as he walked back to his car. What if the man was out all day? Maybe he could use the Patriot laptop to keep tabs on him. As Tyler considered the gaps in his understanding of technology, his phone vibrated in his pocket.

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