The Sean Wyatt Series Box Set 4

by Ernest Dempsey

  The gunman's lips quivered. His eyes searched the starry sky—for what, Sean and Adriana didn't know.

  "Tell me who's behind this," Sean said with more force. "Where is Annie? Who has her?"

  The man's breathing quickened for a moment, and then ceased completely. His eyes fixed in their sockets, unblinking.

  Sean sighed.

  "Did you really think he was going to give us any information?" Adriana asked.

  "No," Sean said. "But you never know."

  Tommy and Reece burst out of the bushes on the other side of the clearing. Sean spun around with his weapon raised, but he immediately recognized his friends.

  "That's a good way to get shot, sneaking up on someone like that."

  Both of them raised their hands at first and then when they realized Sean knew who they were, put them back down.

  "We weren't exactly being quiet," Reece said.

  Sean shoved the pistol back in the holster. "I know. We heard you when you were a good eighty feet away."

  Tommy looked to Adriana for confirmation. She nodded. "It's true. You two aren't the quietest."

  Reece pointed at the dead man on the ground. "I see you got the shooter."

  "Did you get anything out of him?" Tommy asked.

  "Unfortunately, no," Sean said. "He was pretty set on not speaking. Tough sucker, though. Didn't want to have to shoot him, but he didn't leave me much choice. Plus, I really need to get some sleep."

  Tommy had his weapon in his hand and put it back in its place alongside his belt. "I don't suppose he has any identification or anything."

  "Actually, we found the keys to his car over there." Adriana motioned to the general area where they'd seen the yellow flashing lights earlier.

  "Oh, that's what that was," Reece realized. "We were wondering what was going on with that other car out there. Saw the lights flash and thought maybe there was a camper who'd strayed off the beaten path."

  "We were just about to check his car for clues," Adriana said.

  "Good idea," Tommy said. He faltered and then motioned for the others to go ahead. "Lead the way...you know, since you guys saw where it was and all."

  Sean turned on his phone light. "Still worried about the snakes?"

  "No...okay, yes. But you would be too if one almost bit you on the butt."

  "Pretty sure the snake didn't strike at your butt."

  Sean spun around before his friend could retort and started walking the direction he'd seen the flashing lights. He hit the button on the fob again. Once more, the lights blinked. Sean adjusted his direction accordingly and marched ahead with the other three right behind him. The lights from their phones danced along the ground as the group moved. Sean kept an eye out for snakes—just in case. He wasn't as worried about them as his friend. That didn't mean he should be careless.

  The group reached the car after only two or three minutes of walking. It was a five-door hatchback, gray with black interior. The color scheme made it perfect for keeping the vehicle hidden at night in the outback. That part was probably not in the shooter's plans. There was no way he could have known he'd be going after his targets at night. Or was there?

  "Hardly a luxury car," Adriana said, staring at the modest commuter vehicle.

  "Yeah. Strictly for utility purposes," Reece agreed. "See a lot of these from bikers and kayakers."

  "Probably a rental," Sean said. "These guys are assets. They never use their own cars. That would leave a trail."

  "Doesn't a rental leave a trail?"

  "Not if you use an alias. The systems have made it increasingly more difficult to do those kinds of things. Pros still know how to get it done. They have connections for their connections. When you know the right people, strings get pulled."

  "Remind me never to cross you," Reece joked.

  "That would be a good idea," Tommy said.

  Sean opened the front passenger door. He sifted through the glove box and found some paperwork. As he suspected, it was a rental agreement—signed for by a Jonathan Stout. No way that was the guy's real name.

  Tommy opened one of the back doors and found a black book bag sitting in the floorboard. "Find anything?" he asked.

  "Just the rental agreement. The guy was definitely working under an alias. No question about it, he was a pro. What you got back there?"

  "Found a black backpack. Looks like something I used to carry around in college."

  Black backpack? Sean thought.

  "What's in it?"

  "Haven't opened it yet."

  Sean stood up out of the car and looked in the back seat where his friend was hunched over. Tommy started to unzip the main compartment to the book bag when Sean tried to stop him.

  "No, wait."

  Something beeped. Sean grabbed Tommy and jerked him back.

  "Get down!" Sean yelled at the other two.

  Adriana and Reece dove away from the vehicle and covered their heads. Sean expected an explosion, but none came. He looked back into the hatchback at the book bag. He frowned and patted Tommy on the shoulder.

  "False alarm. Must be the guy's watch in the bag. For a second there I thought it was a—"

  A sudden burst of bright white flashed from the backpack, and the car erupted in flames. The concussion blast hit Sean like a dump truck, driving him back fifteen feet through the air. He hit the dirt and shielded his face with his forearm from any falling debris.

  He rolled over and stared into the burning wreckage for a second. Next, he checked to make sure Adriana and the others were okay. She and Reece had jumped for cover behind a boulder only twenty feet away from the car. They rose slowly from behind the big rock, both safe from the blast. Tommy wasn't far from Sean, lying on the ground with his hands over his head.

  "You okay, buddy?" Sean asked over the crackling roar of the fire.

  "Yeah," Tommy said, though his tone didn't sound so sure. "I'm okay. Just won't be going to the symphony anytime soon. Jeez, that was loud."

  Reece and Adriana came out from their hiding place and joined the other two.

  "I guess he had it booby-trapped," Sean said.

  "Ya think?"

  "We won't find anything of use to us now," Adriana said. "Might as well get back to the hotel and get some rest...if we can."

  "Right. Good luck sleeping tonight, everyone."

  19

  Sydney

  "The shareholders aren't happy with your latest reports, Bernard. We were promised things would be better. So far all you've managed to accomplish is the same results as your predecessor."

  Twelve sets of eyes stared at Bernard from their seats around the boardroom table. The sun had set nearly an hour ago. Its waning light filtered through the thirtieth-story windows and mingled with the sterile glow of the room's fluorescent bulbs.

  But a white-hot light raged inside Bernard's chest—a fire, really, and one he had to temper for now. While he was the chairman of the board, things could change rapidly in the world of capitalism, especially in the oil sector.

  The dozen ingrates around him were a greedy flock of vipers. Every single one of them would sell their own children if it meant another yacht in the Caribbean or another chalet in the Alps.

  The man who'd spoken was a wealthy Aussie who'd made his initial money in real estate. When oil started becoming more prevalent in Australia, he was at the front of the line to get his share of the profits. A thin, bird-like character, he had a high hairline and a slender, pointed nose. His eyes, however, were piercing. When he wanted answers, he expected to get them quickly.

  "Have you lost money?" Bernard asked. No one in the room responded. "No. You haven't. Every single one of you, to a man, has made 15 percent more than you did last quarter. You got a huge increase, and you're going to complain about it?"

  "He's right, Bernard," another man to the right said. "You promised us we'd get an incredibly high return on our recent investments. Fifteen is good, but it's nothing close to what you said we could get."

 
The recent investments the man spoke of were an injection of funds the board had pooled together in order to purchase more land to the northwest of Adelaide. Reports had indicated large amounts of shale oil in that area. The problem was the owners weren't selling. They had no interest in becoming billionaires. Threatening them would have adverse effects and only make acquiring the land more difficult.

  Fortunately, a solution to the problem had fallen right in Bernard's lap. He just needed a little more time.

  "Gentlemen, of course you're right. I did make bold promises. And I have no intentions of letting you down."

  "Your intentions...won't get us the money we were promised, Bernard." The man who spoke this time was one of the two oldest in the room. He was worth an incredible amount of money, and he carried the mantle of the board's respect. When he spoke, people were expected to listen. "You said we would get 1,000 percent return on the money we gave you. We don't care about your measly little 15 percent gains. We would have had that anyway. It's not like people have stopped using petroleum in the last ninety days."

  The room erupted in a chorus of "Hear, hear" and "That's right."

  Bernard put out both hands to try and get some order. It took more than a few minutes for the other twelve men to quiet down. When they finally did, Bernard stepped out from behind his seat and walked around the room. He touched the back of every chair as he passed by, biding his time before he spoke.

  Every pair of eyes stared at him, waiting impatiently to hear his explanation.

  "You men know as well as I do that things can change rapidly in the free market. One day, you're at the top of the food chain. The next, you're begging for scraps. It doesn't take much to be knocked off the pedestal." He stopped at the other end of the table and put his hand on the initial protestor's shoulder. "And make no mistake, gentlemen, we all have a target on our backs."

  "We want results, not metaphors and long-winded speeches," the old man said.

  Bernard pointed a finger at him and gave a curt nod. "Right you are, Jerry. Right you are. You all have risked a large amount of money, and you deserve to get what's coming to you."

  "So when are you going to make it happen?" the second speaker asked. "And don't tell us to be patient. We've been plenty patient."

  It was all Bernard could do to keep from yelling at the top of his lungs to shut them all up. There was a better way.

  "Gentlemen, you have truly been patient with me. You really have. And I appreciate you putting your trust in what I have to offer."

  He paced over to the window and stared out. The entire wall was covered in glass. The view of downtown was spectacular. The famous opera house stood next to the harbor about a half mile away. Holmes gazed out at the many buildings, streets, and sidewalks. People rushed around, filling their busy lives with whatever menial tasks they felt necessary. They were oblivious to the power play going on above. Holmes let his eyes stop on the building across the street. Most of the lights were off, save for a few here and there where people were burning the midnight oil.

  Bernard paused for a second before he continued. He held up his hand and hit a button on a little remote. The lights dimmed, and a projector cast a map onto the far wall. The highlighted area was in South Australia, outlined in red. There were other locations highlighted in greens, blues, and yellows.

  "The area in red," Bernard said, “is where our research teams have discovered an enormous deposit of shale oil."

  Bernard's counterpart started to interrupt again, so he raised his voice and continued. "You will notice the areas surrounding it are some of the well-known oil deposits where drilling has already commenced or is about to. Some of those locations belong to us. That one in red, however, contains more than double what all the other areas hold combined."

  "Yeah, it's also on land that's held by natives," a new voice chimed in. "You'll never get to that oil, not even if you waited a thousand years."

  "What are you planning, Bernard? Some kind of drilling scheme where you go in sideways?" The chubby man who'd spoken up second laughed at his own joke.

  The rest of the room joined in.

  These laughing fools, Bernard thought.

  Bernard put his hands behind his back and waited for things to die down again. When the noise settled, he continued. "Good one. Very clever." Bernard pointed at the man sitting at a middle seat. "To answer your question, Jaime, no, we are not planning on some sort of sideways drilling contraption to go in underneath the Aboriginal land." He paused again to let the drama build. "They are going to give us the land for free."

  The room fell into deep silence. Bernard wasn't sure what to expect

  "You're off your rocker, Bernard," one man finally said.

  "He's lost his mind," another added.

  Bernard held up both hands again to signal silence. "Please, hear me out. I know it must sound crazy to you, but I have received information about the location of something extremely important to the Aborigines. They would give anything for this relic. Soon, it will be in my possession."

  "And what is this relic you're talking about, Bernard? Do you have it with you?" the old man asked.

  "Regrettably, no. But I will have it in my possession soon, probably within the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

  Jerry had lost all control. He stood up and pointed an angry finger as he shouted. "You talk about things that are out of your control as if they have already happened. I can't believe we're actually having this conversation! Relics? Have you gone mad? We are an oil company, Bernard. We sell oil to the world. Last I checked, we're not in the archaeology business. It sounds like it's time for us to make some changes to this board." He looked around into the other faces at the table. Several of the men nodded in silent agreement. "We gave this imbecile enormous amounts of money, money from our own pockets, because he promised us an astronomical return. You know what I think? I think he conned us. Where is that money now, Bernard?" He turned to the chairman who remained calm, staring straight at his accuser. "Where is it? Huh?"

  Jerry put his hands out wide and waited for an answer.

  Bernard's lips creased. He knew exactly where the money was. He'd taken over a billion from the men in the room. His intentions hadn't changed since he conceived the plan. Some of the money had gone to finding new deposits in the ground in South Australia. That was no cheap venture, either. It was time intensive, and the people who did that kind of work were highly paid. Still, that left Bernard with a large sum left over. He considered it an entry fee for the other men in the room, a way of paying dues to a membership that would give them incredible returns.

  Now they were challenging him and his plan. Shortsighted fools. He'd known it would eventually come to this. Unlike the other men at the table, Bernard always thought two or three steps ahead, keeping his focus on the long game.

  "As I was saying," Bernard finally spoke, "we will be able to negotiate for the land in the next forty-eight hours, although it could take up to a week before the preparations can be made. I think we can all agree that a week is not much time to wait when it comes to the tens of billions you will reap from this venture."

  "He can't answer the question," Jerry said, ignoring Bernard's spiel. "You know what I think, Bernard? I think you stole our money. And now it's sitting somewhere in the world with no way for us to get it back."

  Jerry was an instigator, an irritating flea itching the dog. Were they somewhere else—a dark alley, perhaps—Bernard would shoot the idiot in the face and leave his body in a dumpster. The thought caused a brief moment of pleasure as Bernard considered the irony of a billionaire's dead body in a heap of garbage. An assassination, however, wasn't an option. Bernard kept his composure, though, because he already had a plan for Jerry—and for the rest of the men in the room.

  "Your money is safe, Jerry. All of your money is safe," he said to the others. "If you would like to get it back, all you have to do is tell me, and we will abandon the entire operation."

  Several of th
e men grumbled, suggesting that was exactly what they wanted. One at the other end of the table in a corner seat spoke up. He was younger, in his midforties, with cropped black hair and a sharp jaw. "What about the money you spent on research and all that? I suppose we just take the loss?"

  "No," Bernard shook his head. "I'll absorb that."

  Surprised expressions washed over the room like the wave at a football game.

  Jerry remained unimpressed. "That's very generous of you, Bernard. But I think we can all agree that Mr. Bernard has worn out his welcome as the chairman of this board. The decisions he's made over the last year have been reckless and imprudent to the finances of this company. The mere fact that he is willing to give up on this wild scheme of his shows that he is not committed to the company and its shareholders."

  Most of the men nodded and voiced agreement to the statement.

  "I believe," Jerry went on, "it is time we name a new chairman."

  Bernard didn't hear any protests coming from the men in the room. They were unanimous in their thoughts. He knew they would be. It was all part of his plan.

  "Very well," Bernard said. "If you want me to step down as chairman, I will. It is clear that our vision for this company and its future projects are not on the same track. I can accept that. I will resign effective immediately, and you can choose a new chairman."

  "What about our money?" the old man said.

  "You'll get your money. It will take me a day to get the transactions arranged and have it sent back into your accounts. I trust none of the information has changed?"

  No one said anything, which meant it hadn't.

  "Good. I'll begin the transfers in the morning."

  Jerry stared at Bernard with suspicion. "How do we know you're not just going to leave the country with our money, disappear somewhere?"

  Bernard cocked his head to the side and shot him a look like the guy was nuts. "Honestly, Jerry? Where am I going to go that a room full of billionaires couldn't find me? With all your resources, I'm sure there's nowhere I could go."

  Jerry didn't say a thing. He actually grinned at the comment, probably because he knew it was true. It was remarkable what a few billion dollars could get.