“There’s too much money. But even if Hondo can’t be in it, we’d still like you to be with us tomorrow. It’s a major, major opportunity for you.”
“I understand, but the answer is no. My friend may die, and Jett Sunday is missing. They’ll be my priority.”
Gleason said, “That’s what I thought. One other thing, I talked to my boss before I made this call and we both figured this would be your answer. He said to pass on to you that he understands. He also said to tell you there will be other movies and other chances for you and Hondo, and he hopes to see you two audition for his projects in the future.”
I said, “Can I ask a favor?”
“What?”
“The two actors that auditioned right after us, Bob and Dave?”
“I remember them.”
“I would appreciate it if you could give them our parts in your movie.”
He was silent a moment, “I’ll give them another look. I can’t promise more than that.”
“Thanks, David. Tell your boss thanks, too.”
“I will. Good luck, Ronny.”
He hung up and I put the movie business in the back of my mind and turned into Griffith Park toward the horse stables.
**
“So we’re going up behind the Hollywood sign?” Atticus asked as we walked along the trail.
I adjusted the straps on my small rucksack, “Yeah, I’ll need for you guys to make a diversion.”
Oscar did a stutter step and said, “Hombre, what we need is a diversion from all the horse poop on this trail.”
Tomas said, “It’s like doing hopscotch going up here.”
Just don’t pick up anything green, ese.” Atticus said, and they all laughed and bopped fists.
Once at the top, I moved off and left them to it. They didn’t take long. The three of them wormed their way around the chain link fence and down the hill, near the H in HOLLYWOOD. They started hooting and chasing each other around and throwing dirt into the air, making dust clouds that floated across the hill face.
I watched the only two park rangers on duty heading toward them, so I moved into the brush, took out my camouflage shirt and pants, and slipped into them. I wormed my way under a small washout under the fence and belly-crawled downhill, staying in a shallow, flat-bottomed ravine until I stopped directly under the W. It only took me a minute to find the softened earth where John Sunday had buried his package. Six inches down, I hit the top of a Tupperware bowl.
I dug it free and opened the lid. Inside were three one-gallon Ziploc bags, each one crammed full of small, black plastic-and-metal things, each one about the size of a honeybee. I put the bags back in the Tupperware bowl and stuck the whole thing in my ruck, then refilled the hole.
Atticus, Tomas and Oscar were hooting and laughing and dodging around, evading the park rangers. I belly crawled back up the ravine and under the fence, then changed to my hiking clothes and got out of there.
Just before I went out of sight on the trail, I looked down the hillside. Atticus looked up at me and gave me a big grin.
I flashed him a quick thumbs-up and trotted down the trail. On the third step, my foot skidded through horse poop.
**
I parked the Corvette at the far edge of Archie’s parking lot for a little privacy. I opened the trunk, retrieved one of the bee-sized things from the Tupperware bowl and carried it to our office. I pulled out the magnifying glass and peered at it. I knew it was some sort of electronic gadget, but that was all. The chip was black, with small glints of minute copper wire at the edges, a needle-like nose that was a third as long as the body, and what looked like some sort of dragonfly-styled gossamer wings folded like origami on top of it.
I called CIA Agent Harris. When he answered, I sang in my best Johnny Rivers voice, “Se-cret AY-gent Man, they’ve given you a numbah and taken away yo name.”
“Baca, I should have known. Where’s Jett Sunday?”
“Wow, I appreciate all the concern about us.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you and your friend. But this is a matter of national security.”