PMadriani 12.5 - The Second Man by Steve Martini Page B

house.”
    â€œWhere’s that?” asked Joselyn.
    â€œOver there. Other side of those mountains.” Akers nodded toward the Santa Lucia Range in the distance to the west. “State owns it now. William Randolph hated the fuckin’ name, Hearst Castle. Insisted they call it the ranch. Now that’s a man with a healthy God complex. Unfortunately, he’s not here to entertain us. Get the back door,” he told her.
    She closed the back door, then grabbed her overnight pack from the backseat, closed that door, and followed him toward to the lodge. “Aren’t you going to lock the car?”
    â€œWho’s gonna steal anything out here. If the snakes don’t get ’em, the fucking MPs will probably shoot ’em out of pure boredom. Only action they’re ever gonna see.”
    Akers lugged the ice chest into the building. Inside was a large, rustic reception area and a desk with a clerk behind it. The place was dated but clean and beautiful. Like a time capsule, it looked as if it hadn’t been touched since Hearst’s last visit.
    Akers put the ice chest down on the ancient floor. He wrote his name on a slip of paper and handed it to the clerk, who pulled up the reservation.
    â€œIt’s already paid for on a credit card,” said the clerk.
    â€œI know. We’re in the tower suite. I don’t imagine you have somebody who can bring up our luggage?”
    â€œLeave it, we’ll take care of it,” said the clerk.
    â€œSeparate rooms,” said Joselyn, “remember?”
    â€œYou’re worse than a nun,” said Akers. “Not to worry, there are two bedrooms in the suite.”
    The clerk handed him the key. “If you like, I can show you the way.”
    â€œNo need. Been here before.” Akers grabbed Joselyn by the hand and almost jerked her off her feet. She was still looking around, up at the beamed ceiling, what money could build. “Wait ’til you see the colonnade out back,” he told her. “You’ll feel right at home. Think you’re in a nunnery.”
    â€œYou could fit an army in this place,” said Joselyn.
    â€œAt times they do. Brass abuses the hell out of the place entertaining themselves. Used to hunt in the hills for wild boar,” said Akers. “Don’t know if they still do or not.”
    They climbed the stairs, got to the top, and Akers opened the door, turned, and said: “Would you like me to carry you over the threshold?”
    She smiled and brushed past him into the room. It was the size of a large condo, windows looking out at the gardens at the back of the building. Manicured grounds, green grass and boxed hedges. “It’s very nice.”
    â€œAnd romantic,” said Akers. “Very romantic. There are two bottles of champagne in the ice chest. You cook a candlelit dinner, and I’ll get you drunk and do the rest.”
    She walked over and glanced in the bedrooms. “Which room do you want?” she asked.
    â€œDon’t know. Let me check the beds.”
    Joselyn walked over to survey the kitchen. A few seconds later, Akers came out of one of the bedrooms and went into the other. A quick appraisal, and he came back out. He was holding a small pocketknife in his hand, cleaning his nails.
    â€œWhat’s your verdict?” she asked.
    â€œWhy don’t we wait, and we can draw straws later for sleeping arrangements,” he told her. “First, let’s go take care of business. Let’s get to the airfield before we miss the bird. They’re liable to fly it out of here to Palmdale or Edwards before we can take a gander.”
    Joselyn certainly didn’t want that to happen.
    They headed back to the car. As Akers pulled out of the lot, he turned and headed north.
    â€œI thought the airfield was the other way.”
    â€œIt is,” he said. “First, I want to show you something.” He turned left onto a side road,