Another Way to Kill

by Brian Drake

  “I don’t need any distractions today, Colleen.” Trent sat down.

  “Did something go wrong with your meeting?”

  Oh, yes, he thought.

  “No,” he said. “In fact, I think we have a deal.”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted. You don’t seem very excited.”

  “Jet lag.”

  She finally sat down on the chair in front of his desk and leaned forward a little. “What’s next?”

  “Our Russian friend is coming here. I want to do a big dinner. You, me, some top-level people from the project.” He handed her a page of notes. “You’re in charge. See if you can get the same chef as the last one, um…”

  “Higgins.”

  “Right, that guy.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, that’s all. Tell everybody.”

  “Dad, my presentation?”

  He let out a breath. “Of course, honey, I forgot.”

  “You didn’t see it?”

  “I watched it on the flight, as I promised. I watched every second of it.”

  “But you think it’s stupid.”

  “Not at all. I honestly don’t know the first thing about how to do it.”

  “You think it will work?”

  “All I’ve ever done is military stuff, Colleen. I’m an old dog and you’re trying to teach me a new trick.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of,” she said. “There are consultants and all kinds of people—”

  He leaned forward so fast she pulled back. “Colleen, there’s no investment money. No money for retooling or new hires. My usual funding sources are the same as me. We know one thing. I would need to find investors with your level of understanding. We simply cannot afford that right now.”

  “But, Dad—”

  “If I don’t close this deal, we’re finished. I haven’t wanted to tell you this, but I must. If we fail to sell the weapon, there is no more Trent Defense. I retire and the building closes and you and everybody else—”

  “Any other corporation wouldn’t bother if it was this bad.”

  “And that’s a sad commentary on our culture, isn’t it? I’m trying to do the right thing. For all of us.”

  Colleen stared at her father. Finally, she said: “I’ll get started on the dinner prep.” She rose from the chair.

  “Colleen.”

  But he was talking to her back. Then she was out the door and gone.

  Trent put his head in his hands. The right thing? For everybody? One man dead already and who knew what was coming next. Arkady blamed the Feds. Was he right, or was this some kind of old-style Soviet trickery? Plenty of Russians, ones like Arkady, were old dogs, too.

  Oh, God, what have I done?

  If things went south, if another attempt at theft or sabotage occurred, there was only one thing to do. Stop the deal and take his chances. Be like every other corporation. Walk away with his golden parachute.

  He had never envisioned his career ending that way. Trent sat up, a sense of resolve coming over him. He’d never caved before and he wasn’t going to now. Let them come. Whoever they were. He’d finish this deal and throw it right back in their faces, and if the Feds cut him off, well… Colleen had some great ideas. The future of the company was in good hands.

  COLLEEN RETURNED to the office in a huff. She assured the executives that her father was at home and taking care of business after a good meeting, finished most of her work and left before five. The notes about the dinner remained on her desk.

  She collected her mail and slammed the apartment door a little harder than intended, the impact knocking a framed photo off a nearby shelf. She picked up the frame. The photo showed her and her father, when she was ten, fishing from his old, rickety boat. She was holding up a fish for the camera with a big, gap-toothed smile, a hat too big for her on her head that almost covered her eyes. Dad was beaming behind her, hatless.

  Colleen replaced the picture and changed into jeans and a sweater. Sitting at the computer nook in one corner of the living room, she ignored the growling in her stomach and logged on to the company network. Using her father’s password, she opened the directory containing the company’s financial information.

  She sorted through the files, making notes and jotting numbers, and when she logged off she looked at her notes and numbers and then stared at the wall with folded arms, lips pressed tightly together.

  Dad wasn’t making it up, and the math didn’t lie. Trent Defense had enough cash to cover overhead for only two more months. Her father’s personal account was okay. He could retire, no problem. His employees would move on if the company closed. That’s life and sometimes you get a bad hand.

  But her father saw retirement as the first stage of death. It wasn’t just the employees he was thinking of, despite his rhetoric.

  Failure would destroy him.

  Okay, then. Close the deal with the Russians. Bring up retooling again once the dust settled and the accounts were flush.

  Her stomach growled again. Colleen left the computer and went to the kitchen.

  HALFWAY AROUND the world, The Trust met in a secured video conference on the dark web. From his office in Milan, Number One faced his two colleagues on the desktop computer screen. The large desk was empty of clutter except for decorations around the edge, including a cigar humidor he did not open. Dark carpeting matched the color of the walls; curtains over the window danced inward with each gust of wind.

  “It’s confirmed,” he told the other two. “Monaco police have Blaze’s body in the morgue.”

  “We’ve failed on that phase,” said Number Three. “What about our other people?”

  “I say we pull them out, because Blaze’s death revealed another element that could work to our advantage. There were two people at the casino that we’ve had our eyes on for some time. Stephen Dane and Nina Talikova.”

  “Really?” Number Two said. “We might still have a chance.”

  “We know that Trent and Arkady are now in Texas,” said Number One. “Dane and Talikova are no longer in Monaco, but we have no record of their entry into the U.S. That doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

  “You’re suggesting Dane’s dealt himself in,” Number Three said. “We can’t assume—”

  “We know enough about Dane to know he’d get involved if he was able to sniff out a problem. The Russian woman would certainly recognize Arkady. We can have our people looking for them. But they may already be in Texas. If so, it’s only a matter of time before they turn up, and I suggest we finally make an approach.”

  “I’ll alert our people in Texas,” Number Two said. “But will we have enough to entice Dane to join us?”

  “We do,” said Number One. “We have the answers to questions he’s been asking himself for a long time.”

  ARKADY WAITED for Yuri Ivanovitch to clear customs. Ivanovitch, a bulky Cossack with a thick chest and wide shoulders, carried a black briefcase and matching tote bag. He stood two full inches taller than Arkady, who had to look up to meet the Cossack’s eyes.

  “Any more bags?”

  “This is all.”

  Arkady turned and started walking. Ivanovitch fell in step beside him. Arkady said nothing during the drive off the airport property in the rented Lincoln. Once they hit the freeway, staying in the slow lane since Arkady was still getting used to the American driving style, the Hawk finally spoke.

  “You have a simple mission. I need you to deal with any troublemakers who might get in our way.”

  Ivanovitch said nothing.

  “And don’t,” Arkady added, “use your knives unless you must.”

  “Are you expecting trouble?”

  “Anything can happen in the next few days. The ship is almost here. Cavallos is taking care of his responsibilities. Once I get a close look at Trent’s weapon, I’ll know better how we’re going to take it away.

  “So, yes, Yuri, I am expecting trouble. I’m just not sure what form it will take.”
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br />   TRENT AND COLLEEN sat at the outdoor café near the office. Colleen had her tablet computer on the table and scrolled through her notes as she and her father talked. The other outdoor tables were full and so was the street, but they didn’t need to raise their voices over the extra noise.

  “Higgins is already at the house preparing the meal,” she said. “Are the engineers coming?”

  “Jake Harvey and Frank Kellogg will be there,” Trent said. He ate a few bites of Cobb salad.

  “What about Pete Kenny?”

  “Kid’s school play or something, wasn’t going to cancel for anything.”

  Colleen cut her salmon fillet with her fork and swallowed a piece. “Do you expect to close this tonight?”

  “We still need to do a demonstration,” Trent said, “but if he agrees to that, I think we’re home free. Arkady has a big interest in trains, so we’ll spend some time with those.”

  “Oh, wow,” she said. “You two will be in the basement for hours.”

  “I hope that’s all it takes, and at the end I have his signature on a piece of paper.”

  Colleen looked up as a dark-haired woman approached the table. Trent watched her, too.

  “Pardon me,” Nina said, stopping a foot or two from the table, “but I’m Sylvia Lockridge. I’m a freelance journalist and I want to do a story on you, Mr. Trent.”

  “Now’s not a good time.”

  “Of course, not now. I’m just here to see if we could schedule a meeting.”

  Colleen said, “How did you hear about my father, Ms. Lockridge?”

  “Everybody in D.C. knows who your father is, Ms. Trent.” Nina pulled over a stray chair and sat. The Trents shifted a little away from her. “They’re also buzzing about laser weapons.”

  “Our work is classified,” Trent said.

  “The basics are all over the Internet, Mr. Trent, especially after the Pentagon signed with Hess Laboratories. You know that as well as I. We just want a profile of the people bringing direct energy technology to reality.”

  “You should speak with Mr. Hess instead.”

  “It might be good for business, Dad.”

  “Not now.”

  “Won’t take more than thirty minutes,” Nina said. “Short interview. File photo. Won’t disturb you at all.”

  “Now is not a good time,” Trent said again.

  Nina took a business card from her purse. She placed the card on the table and slid it to Trent. “If you change your mind, I’m at the DoubleTree till next Thursday.”

  Colleen watched the dark-haired woman depart. She turned to her father. “Might have been nice.”

  “We need to finish this deal first. Once that’s done, we can see if she’s still in town.”

  Her father looked down at her fish and stopped talking. He said very little for the rest of the meal, and nothing at all on the ride back to the office.

  TRENT DROVE with his hands tight on the steering wheel.

  This time they wanted to infiltrate his campus. Maybe destroy the 680c and the collected research and development material.

  But if he wouldn’t let them in, would they try another avenue?

  He’d have to discuss this with Arkady when the two of them had a private moment.

  Trent slowed, pulling into the driveway and up to the guard shack. The guard pressed a button on his panel, and the main gate swung open. The guard smiled and waved at Colleen. Trent drove through.

  NINA SAT in the Jag, which she’d parked down the block from the café.

  Traffic streamed by as she sat and thought about the encounter.

  She wasn’t happy, but at least she’d registered her face in their minds. Now what? Plan B, of course.

  That meant going to the daughter to tell her everything.

  Trent had said no because the Hawk had his claws in Trent’s neck. Must have spun a heck of a yarn about the attempted theft, and Nina wondered if Arkady hadn’t orchestrated the whole thing. Such a plan was right up his alley, even working with an enemy of Russia to get it done, but she eliminated the idea once she realized not even John Blaze would have been silly enough to take the deal.

  No, somebody else had sent Blaze. The U.S. government was the next most obvious suspect. Trent probably figured that as well, helped along with suggestions from Arkady. So, yeah, he was worried the U.S. would try again.

  She started the motor and drove away to find out where Colleen Trent lived.

  ARKADY HAD had his doubts about whether or not Ivanovitch could fit into a proper suit, but the Moscow tailor had done well and the navy blue double-breasted fit the Cossack just fine. Arkady wore his usual black suit with a white shirt and thin tie, and he held a bottle of wine. Some customs were universal to every culture. Even in Russia, one didn’t show up empty-handed.

  Arkady knocked on the door of Trent’s home. It wasn’t as fancy as he had expected. Two-story, small front yard, mixed within a gated community of other homes, some of which were much larger. Perhaps not all capitalists were material gluttons.

  A young woman in a strapless red party dress answered and Arkady blinked. Even with the extra weight in her hips, she wore the dress well.

  “Hi, I’m Colleen,” the woman said. “You must be Alexander. Come in.”

  The Russians entered the front hall. Inside it was very warm. Delicious smells from the kitchen and voices from the back patio filtered their way. Arkady introduced Ivanovitch but told her he didn’t speak English, which wasn’t true at all. He translated her greeting to the big man, and Ivanovitch shook her hand.

  “Right this way, drinks on the patio.”

  AT LEAST they didn’t look creepy.

  As Colleen led them through the house, she wondered what else she had expected. Horns? Drooling? They looked like perfectly normal individuals, albeit strangers to her country. If she were visiting Moscow, somebody would have to translate for her, too.

  Colleen pushed open the patio doors and announced the new arrivals.

  Trent and the two engineers rose from the patio table, which contained an assortment of appetizers. The backyard was larger than the front and had a small gazebo on one side, a greenhouse on the other, and in between some well-maintained grass.

  “Alexander,” Trent said, after shaking hands with the Russians, “these are two of my top engineers, who probably know more about direct energy than I do. Jake Kenny and Frank Kellogg.”

  More greetings all around. The engineers weren’t very tall, and Kellogg wore glasses. They both were drinking Cokes. Trent held a half-full martini. They all sat while Trent fetched drinks: fresh coffee for Arkady and a double portion of Stoli vodka for Ivanovitch. Both expressed their appreciation as Trent rejoined the table. Colleen saw from the gleam in Arkady’s eye that he was pleased to see Trent remember his preference.

  Ivanovitch said something in Russian. Arkady laughed and then translated.

  “Yuri wants to know where your cowboy boots are.”

  Trent and the engineers laughed, too. Colleen only smiled.

  “We’re in real Texas, not movie Texas,” Trent said. “Two different things.”

  Ivanovitch thought that was funny and then, via Arkady, said he wanted to bring a pair home with him. Trent said he’d take care of that personally.

  THEY SPOKE of the weather, family, even hunting. Ivanovitch turned out to be an enthusiastic deer hunter.

  “We have deer in the hills around here,” Trent said.

  Arkady: “Ever shoot one?”

  “I couldn’t do that. They haven’t done anything to me. The only deer I ever wanted to shoot nearly wrecked my car.”

  “How?”

  “I was leaving for work early one morning in my little Mercedes convertible, going down the road to the gate, and this big buck leaped right out of the bushes. All I saw was this flash of a head in my lights. I swerved and he slammed into the car, took my side mirror clean off, and when I looked in the rearview he was doing a 360 spin on the pavement. I wanted to shoot him for su
re, especially when I saw how much it would cost to fix the car.”

  Arkady translated for Ivanovitch, who then asked a question.

  “What happened to the deer?” Arkady said.

  “I drove back to try and find him, but he was gone. Walked it off, I guess.” Trent laughed. “Must have been a tough one.”

  The chef texted that he was ready to serve dinner. Trent led everybody into the dining room. Arkady told Trent that he couldn’t wait to see the train set.

  “Sets, Alexander. Plural. I have three of them.”

  MORE GENERAL conversation accompanied dinner, Arkady telling stories about growing up in Russia, Trent about Texas, and the commonality of their stories impressed Colleen for some reason. Worlds apart yet similar lives. Or maybe everybody was similar, she decided, and we have to find those commonalities in order to get along. Nobody at the table mentioned politics or government, which Colleen appreciated. Jake and Frank, the two engineers, were her age and, like her, had been teenagers when the wall had come down. But her father and Arkady would both remember the day the wall had gone up.

  The party faded after dessert, where the talk finally turned to technical and business matters, and Jake and Frank chimed in with tidbits about the 680c and related subjects. Arkady focused on how they saw future development and how many weapons Trent could deliver per year.

  That part Colleen didn’t like. It meant the Russians had plans for those weapons. Her anxiety about the deal flooded back, but she pushed it away.

  When the dishes were cleared, the engineers departed and Ivanovitch went outside to smoke.

  Colleen poured another glass of wine as her father and Arkady ventured into the basement.

  “OH, WOW, this is tremendous.”

  Trent shut the basement door. Before them lay his private worlds, ones he’d created.

  The three train sets sat atop large tables. The railroad tracks weaved through decorated mountain passes, small towns and other scenery. One of the train sets circled a moonscape, complete with space stations and astronauts.