Chapter 16 - Dinner

I popped a can of Coke for Andrea and it foamed over to the desk. "Shit!" I exclaimed. The thug left no napkins, and I was not about to ask. I mopped it up with the lower half of my shirt, then passed it to Andrea, who quickly took a gulp. She had already torn off a piece of hot pizza, and leaned over the box so that the cheese would not ooze to the floor. Andrea made the usual stupid looking face people do when the slice was too hot to put in one's mouth, and the desperate -- usually unsuccessful attempt to eat it while not burning the roof of one's mouth. I sat back decidedly determined to wait for the pizza to cool and the Coke to de-fizz before opening.

I did not want to engage her in conversation while she tried to finish that dangerously fateful first bite. I looked past he at the clock on the wall over the french doors. It was 4:47, only fifteen minutes had passed since emailing Jake. Jake's entrance and moves were passing through my head as I tried to envision the confrontation. Would he be successful? Would he come through the front door? Would he climb the balconies and come from the beach side? Maybe I could email him a good approach if I could think of one.

"You eating?" asked Andrea, clearly surviving the first bite.
"I'm not hungry anymore."
"You mean you don't want to burn your mouth," she replied.
"Something like that," I said distantly as my thought remained on the point of entry.
"What are you so preoccupied with Randall?"
"Jake's entrance. Maybe we can email a plan to him. He has never been here, and I'm not sure that blasting through the front door is the most productive," I replied.

Andrea deferred the second bite she was about to eat and set the slice back down in the grease laden box. I saw the imaginary smoke from her head as she joined me in strategic thought. "Aren't we on the top floor?" she asked.

"Yes."
"Is there a way into your condo from the roof?" Andrea inquired.

I sat and thought. My eyes shifted around as I thought. I always forget the direction one's eyes drift when creating -- or remembering. I think it is to the left when factual and the right when fabricating or editing. I realized my eyes were going left, then right, which means I was processing facts I knew, and creating things I did not. The creation of something that did not exist could get Jake and us killed. I had to be very deliberate in understanding the proper entrance.

"Randy?"

I hate when she does that, breaking my thought. "What?"

"Is there a way in from above?"
"I am thinking, gimme a minute."

Okay, the roof is flat, I know that. A rubber ply, tar and pebble roof. All of the air conditioner condensers are up there. What else? It seemed impenetrable. I had been up there one time when there was a leak and the roofer showed me where it was. I was so pissed at the time. Think Randall. Think.

Bubble. Plexiglas bubble. A skylight. I thought. Were my eyes darting left or right. Eyes left on the skylight. Eyes right on where it was in my apartment. My closet! Holy crap it is in the closet upstairs. How perfect is that? I never realized that is why there was always light in the closet during the day. I never even thought of it, but it must be. Then again how stupid was that architect? If it leaked, there would go ones wardrobe. I don't care, right then I loved that stupid architect. A small smile came to my face.

"Randy?"

There it was again, Andrea wanting to enter my thoughts. I guess I couldn't blame her. "I have it," I responded.

"Really?" she said with hope.
"There is a skylight to my closet upstairs. There is a service stairwell to the roof on the other end of the building. Jake has to breach that door, then climb to the roof. He could then navigate all the way to the south end and look for the opaque Plexiglas bubble. Smash it, then enter from my closet. He could move down the stairs, gun drawn, then pop a couple knees. I need Stephan and Diego alive to interrogate."

"You're scaring me Randall."
"I'm scaring myself." I pulled out the Berry and started to type the plan to Jake. I finished and pressed send. Then waited. I looked at the clock -- 5:01. We both sat quietly. 5:05. Then it came. "10-4."

I sighed. Andrea did as well. "Let's eat," I said as I popped the top to my Coke. The pizza would clearly be benignly cold by now.