Excellent. Phil was unlikely to let that alien device out of his possession. As long as he owned it, we owned him. Phil apparently wasted no time acting on his newly rising fortunes, as occasional texts from Sheldon informed me.

By late morning, the texts had all but dried up, and I was starting to consider alternative strategies to generate some churn, when my phone rang. The caller ID said Sheldon.

“Hello?”

“Jack, the fertilizer has hit the fan. Phil visited the field, and was cornered by a couple of security guards, on pretext of trespassing on private property. He’s being taken in for interrogation. It sounded ominous. Not that one human more or less matters in the grand scheme of things, but Phil could have continuing utility, and I’d rather not waste him. Or have them waste him. Hah! I made a joke.”

“A very small one,” I replied. “Did they set off the detector?”

“No. Just garden-variety humans, unfortunately. They appear to be heading for the industrial park. Perhaps we’ll get some information from his ultimate destination.”

“Sheldon, can you phone Patrick? Ask him to pick me up.”

“I’m on the phone with Patrick right now. Natalie as well. I am a computer, after all. One moment … He will leave immediately. He says be ready.”

I hung up and ran for the front of the store, removing my apron as I moved. I yelled, “Taking an early lunch!” to Maria the checkout clerk.

Patrick’s car roared up to the curb within a minute or two, almost but not quite sliding in sideways. I jumped in and Patrick took off, with even less concern for traffic laws than usual.

“What’s the plan, Stan?”

“Winging it, I think. Hold on.” I tapped the walkie-talkie app and put the phone on speaker. “What’s the latest, Sheldon?”

“He has been taken into what appears to be the administration offices for the industrial park. Logical, I guess. Someone said something about security, so I assume—”

“Wait, someone said? You have him bugged?”

“Of course. Did I not mention that? I added a listening device as well as the tracker. It seemed prudent. Was that a mistake?”

“Sheldon, I think you’re better at this spy thing than we are. Continue.”

“Not much more to report. He is presumably in the security offices somewhere, waiting for the sergeant or captain or some such bigwig to show—”

Sheldon’s voice cut off abruptly.

“Sheldon? You okay?”

“Sorry, Jack. I was momentarily nonplussed. The detector went off. It appears we’ve found our Loranna.”

Chapter Twenty-Two: Rescue

Chapter Twenty-Two: Rescue