I threw the covers off of me, stood up and said, “Fuck me! Call Roger, tell him to
meet me on the curb in 5 minutes. You’re parked in that alley on Army near Mission?”
“Yes,” Torley said.
“If you can wait 30 minutes, you can have my car. Leave the keys by the back tire, if
you have to go.”
“Thank you, Mr. Mullins.”
“Is Hinton there?”
“Yea, he’s here. He’s a crazy man, ranting and raving. He’s a maniac.”
I hung up and got dressed. We should stay on this asshole. I didn’t know if he was a
killer, but he was a fucked up idiot and could have done it. If I’m taking the client’s
money, I’m at least going to give it a shot. I could have had Torley just drive off, but we
said we’d watch him.
I dressed and walked out the front door of my house across the street from Ocean
Beach in San Francisco. The fog was in. Visibility was ridiculous, maybe 10 feet. I’m
used to it, living on the beach, but this was the real deal.
I started up my work car, an old Taurus that I left on the street, and pulled forward to
the house next door. Roger came out of the house with his backpack and got in.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Mullins,” Roger cried in his adenoidal whiny voice.
“Just shut the fuck up. Don’t talk to me,” I said.
“I didn’t know that it was the lab, Mr. Mullins!”
“You knew you little shit. You fucked up and it could have cost everyone,
everything. Your parents, Velma, me, the business, they could have taken everything and
locked us all up. I’ve told you a fucking hundred times don’t put us in jeopardy. You
don’t fucking listen,” I screamed at him. He had it coming.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Mullins.” Tears streaming down his face.
“Shut the fuck up. Don’t speak to me.” I drove slowly down the street. Roger crying.
He cries a lot. 12 years old, 170 IQ, short for his age, red curly hair. Looks like an elf.
He’d always lived next door to me. I love the kid but he’s a tremendous pain in the ass.
The street lights could barely be seen through the fog. I took a right on Judah, drove
up to 19th and stopped at the donut shop. Walked in and saw Ed Tonelli sitting in front of
a cup of coffee leaning on his elbow. It wasn’t surprising seeing him there. This is where
we hang. He did look beat. “Tonelli, I want you to give serious consideration to going on
the wagon.” I ordered donuts and drinks for Roger and me, to-go.
Tonelli looked over and said, “What’s Roger doing sitting by the door?”
“Because he’s a dumb fuck,” I said.
“What’d he do this time?”
“He hacked into the personnel data base of the Lawrence Livermore Lab,” I said.
“The FBI showed up last night and was in the process of perp walking Professor Bob out
in chains when I got there. As soon as they showed up, Roger called me. I went over and
spent three hours convincing them that Dad, the USF Dean of the Psychology
Department, didn’t do it. They didn’t believe it was Roger. There are firewalls for the
firewalls at that place. Fucknut Roger, got into the personnel database looking for a guy
who owed his ex-wife alimony.”
“So, what happened?” Tonelli asked.
“I convinced them that it was Roger. I told them I’d show them how he did it if they
dropped it. Getting that Okayed took hours. He went in the network through a back door
