The Fourth Law

by Paul Stein

  This decision had served Angelina well. In the three years she had been his mistress, she had made a veritable fortune investing her compensation into Alastair’s business recommendations. Because of his concern for her well-being, Angelina had gained a rare respect—if not love—for her benefactor, which seemed to be mutual, although this familiarity did not completely insulate her from his acerbic personality.

  “Mr. Holloway, is this a convenient time?” Captain Suarez asked while knocking gently on the mahogany door to the master stateroom. He stood patiently in the hallway, prepared to return later in case Holloway was indisposed with Miss Navarro.

  “Come in, Eduardo,” Holloway replied. He never addressed the captain by his formal title; to do so would acknowledge the man’s stature above that of his own on the ship. Even though Holloway understood the captain had absolute authority to direct staff and define operational priorities, he could never allow anyone to feel superior to him in his presence.

  “Where’s my dinner?” he snapped as the captain entered the room.

  “It will be delivered directly,” Captain Suarez replied, trying to stay as composed as possible. “The chef has prepared some fresh halibut at the request of Miss Navarro. He waited until you were settled to complete the preparation. No more than five minutes, I’m sure, sir.”

  Holloway rounded on the captain in the center of the stateroom, a look of contempt on his face. “Please tell me Marlon’s off the ship and we’re presently underway. It appears we’re still anchored. This isn’t your boat…I suppose you’ll pay for the damages to my ship if we get caught in the hurricane,” he mocked, trying to bait the man into a verbal confrontation.

  “As you correctly surmise, Mr. Marlon has just disembarked. We were at anchor when you landed, but are presently making about five knots. The engines were idling to be ready as soon as you arrived. We will, of course, sail throughout the evening and I expect to be off the coast of Florida early tomorrow morning. The current path of the hurricane is still heading toward Cancun. If this track holds, it will provide us a wide berth to escape any possible navigational difficulties. You can expect a very peaceful evening, sir,” Captain Suarez concluded, hoping he had addressed Holloway’s most likely concerns.

  Holloway clapped his hands, but not to show appreciation. “You think you’re so clever, Eduardo. But don’t think for a moment I’m one bit impressed by someone finally meeting my meager expectations on this fucking boat. I wonder what the shit I was thinking when I bought it…it doesn’t produce one thin dime for the bottom line.”

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, sir. The Jurassic is a beautiful ship.”

  “Don’t start that with me, mister. You’re all fucking freeloaders. I suppose you’d love me to sell it, wouldn’t you? I imagine you dream of a new owner. Well, believe me, you won’t have to wait much longer,” Holloway fumed, upset with the captain for no apparent reason.

  “Nothing could be further from the truth, sir,” the captain calmly replied. “None of our staff would want another owner,” he truthfully stated. “You’re hardly ever here…which means Jurassic is mostly ours to enjoy. Too bad you can’t see what a magnificent vessel she is, sir. There is none other quite like her.”

  Captain Suarez knew he was on thin ice. It was not like him to be insubordinate, but someone needed to stand up to this ceaseless bullying. Besides, if he were fired, he could seek other employment where his wide breadth of talents would be far more appreciated. A position like his would be hard to come by, but he refused to be obsequious merely to give Holloway the satisfaction.

  “Well, at least you’re honest about it, Eduardo…disrespectful, but honest. I know how you all feel about me, and the luxury you enjoy at my expense.”

  Alastair turned his back on the captain, ending the discussion. “I expect to be notified the minute anything changes with this storm, understand? Now get out…take us to Florida,” he groused, perturbed by the way Eduardo had calmly put him in his place. He hated the man standing before him, dressed in his white uniform, the gold epaulets shouting dignified authority. He decided to fire him as soon as his $100-million investment was out of harm’s way.

  “You can count on it, sir. I wish you and Miss Navarro a good evening. I will remain at your disposal should you need anything from our staff,” he stated with a modest bow from the waist, backing toward the door without turning his back on his employer.

  Captain Suarez sensed that this would surely be the last time he would skipper the beautiful Jurassic. So be it, he thought, as he gently closed the door behind him.

  SEVENTEEN

  BERNALILLO, NEW MEXICO

  SARAH MARSHALL stared out the picture window of her expansive, tan-colored adobe home. A sudden movement caught her attention. A roadrunner darted a zigzag path across the shallow ravine near her backyard, closely pursued by a coyote desperately trying to run the bird down. She broke a thin smile and thought: Beep, beep. The hapless young coyote hadn’t yet learned he was outmatched in the roadrunner’s native sagebrush habitat.

  Sarah took pleasure in the view from her home. She could see the southern end of the Sandia Mountains that dominated the small town of Placitas, just north of Albuquerque. The traditional Southwest adobe home sat high in the foothills overlooking the Rio Grande Valley below. The view from Placitas was especially alluring at night with thousands of lights shimmering in the desert air. She and Ryan had fallen in love with this area of New Mexico, rejecting the more metropolitan lifestyle of Albuquerque, where they were both raised. Placitas offered the perfect combination of open space and quiet solitude, which Sarah craved, and a close proximity to family and friends—Albuquerque was only thirty-five minutes away.

  Placitas was also close to the town of Bernalillo, the headquarters of Levitation Solutions, Inc. Sarah enjoyed the flexibility of working mostly from home, able to manage her administrative responsibilities with only occasional trips to the office. Although she was technically the office manager, her duties didn’t require her to be at the site every day, as the men generally came and went unfettered by her supervision.

  LSI headquarters was mostly a big construction yard sitting on thirty acres.

  It was large enough to store all the equipment needed for any construction project, with several large steel buildings to handle servicing and repairs. LSI could fabricate just about anything, and because Ryan didn’t believe in throwing anything away, most of the property looked like a gigantic junkyard.

  In the twenty-three years the Marshalls had been in business, LSI had completed an impressive portfolio of construction projects, ranging from major dams and bridges, to complex salvage operations. LSI had been dispatched to both the Oklahoma City bombing and the World Trade Center tragedy, in the aftermath of these monstrous events. Sarah was especially proud that the Office of Emergency Services routinely dispatched LSI to major earthquake disasters, working closely with urban search-and-rescue personnel to remove fallen debris from trapped victims. LSI had even received special commendation from OES during the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake that nearly leveled San Francisco.

  Those were indeed bittersweet days: She and Ryan were happily married, their flourishing business was gaining renown, and their spirituality sustained them through the grief of losing their son Jacob to muscular dystrophy. Looking back at that time in her life, Sarah often wondered whether she could ever again be that content.

  The office phone interrupted her melancholy mood. “LSI, this is Sarah,” she answered, more cheerfully than she felt.

  “Sarah Marshall, this is Detective Raymond Westbrook from the Bernalillo County Sheriff’s Office. I’m sorry to bother you, but we have a developing situation,” he said authoritatively.

  “Oh, my God…has something happened? Has there been an accident?” Sarah asked, afraid that it might involve her parents or one of the LSI workmen.

  “No, no nothing like that, Mrs. Marshall. But your husband is missing, and I’m hoping you can provide information o
n his whereabouts. Have you heard from him today?”

  “No, I haven’t heard from Ryan in over a week. My ex-husband is presently running a job near Taos,” she replied, baffled why Ryan would be missing. Damn him, she thought, but then quickly felt bad, hoping nothing really dreadful had happened.

  “Yes ma’am, I’m aware of his job location. I was sent to Taos this morning to bring him in for questioning. Unfortunately, he resisted arrest, which has made his problems much worse,” Detective Westbrook stated, still exasperated from his first contact with Ryan Marshall. He knew his colleagues would have a field day when word spread about how he was manhandled by LSI’s workmen.

  “He resisted arrest?” Sarah asked forcefully. “What’s he wanted for?”

  “I can explain everything, Mrs. Marshall, but I’ll need to pay you a visit. Would it be convenient to visit you later this afternoon? I need your input on a case we’re investigating in California that involves Ryan’s cousin, Dr. Jarrod Conrad. Do you know him?”

  “Oh, good Lord. What have those two idiots done now?” she groaned, the disgust in her voice reverberating through the phone. “Yes, I know all about Jarrod, more than anyone ever should. The two of them together are infantile. They have an insane rivalry that never ends. What would you like me to do, Detective?”

  “Well, believe me…I may have a sense of the troubles between them, Mrs. Marshall. I’ll need to take your statement. How late will you be at the office?”

  “I’m not in the office today, Detective. I’m working at home. You’re welcome to visit me in Placitas, if that’s more convenient. I’m at 65 Piñon Lane.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that will be perfect. I know where that is. I apologize again for the interruption. See you later today, ma’am. Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Detective.”

  Sarah switched off the cordless phone and frowned. Ryan or the foreman usually called about any complications or personnel problems that arose on the job. She was also frosted that Ryan and Jarrod had once again intruded in her life. She checked her voicemail, entered the pass code, and found that she had two messages.

  She listened to the first message recorded nearly an hour before and remembered having briefly gone outside, just missing the call. “Mrs. Marshall, this is Corky Chalmers up at the gorge. Say…could you give me a call on my cell phone as soon as you get this message? We have a problem and Mr. Marshall asked that I call to explain. My cell number is 505-255-6750. Please call me as soon as possible. Thanks.” The fact that Corky at least had tried to reach her made her feel slightly less exasperated.

  Sarah then played the second message recorded just moments before. “Mrs. Marshall, this is Corky Chalmers again. It’s pretty important that I speak to you as soon as you get this message. Mr. Marshall gave me specific instructions to call about an incident that occurred here at the job site earlier today. Please call my cell. Thanks, Mrs. Marshall.”

  Now Sarah grew more concerned than she was irritated. What could possibly cause Ryan to leave a job site? He would never do this under normal circumstances. Something has really come undone.

  Sarah decided to call Corky before trying to reach Ryan. She keyed the number. He answered on the second ring.

  “Hello, Mrs. Marshall,” Corky answered, recognizing her number. “I appreciate you calling back.”

  “Corky, a Detective Westbrook called here a few minutes ago and is coming over to see me later today…it’s something about Ryan and his cousin. What’s going on?”

  “Shoot. I’m so sorry, Mrs. Marshall. Ryan’s gonna kill me. He wanted me to call before Detective Westbrook contacted you. What did you tell him?”

  “Well, I didn’t tell him anything, Corky, because I don’t know anything. Why don’t you tell me what’s happened and let me figure out what I will and won’t tell the detective?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Corky described everything that had taken place at the job site from the beginning of the day. He held nothing back.

  “I’m telling you, Mrs. Marshall…it was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen. It was like he was possessed. But the last thing he told me was to make sure you didn’t say anything to the cops before he had a chance to figure this out. I can’t tell you any more than that,” Corky said, trying to remember if he had left anything out.

  “Thanks, Corky. Don’t worry about Ryan. He’s a big boy; he knows what he’s doing and the problems he’s creating. Unfortunately, I’ve seen this behavior before. I’ll deal with it from here on. Capisce?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now, has the detective filed any charges for holding him while Ryan escaped?” She was furious that Ryan allowed his men to break the law for him. This macho bull has got to stop, she thought.

  “We haven’t been charged with anything yet, ma’am, but Westbrook was madder ’n a sidewinder when he left. It won’t surprise me if he rounds up the whole crew,” he replied, sounding contrite. At the time, detaining Westbrook didn’t seem that bad an idea, but now their actions were really hard to fathom.

  “Let’s keep it that way… I want to know the second anyone gets served because of this little charade. Promise me, Corky?”

  “Yes, ma’am, you have my word. I’ll be in touch the minute anything changes.”

  Sarah ended the call and immediately placed another to Ryan’s cell phone. She honestly couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Did he really plan to confront Jarrod in California? He’s even crazier than before, she thought. Whatever was on his mind, she refused to be drawn into yet another unseemly encounter between those two, and she intended to make that point perfectly clear.

  “Ryan, this is Sarah. I would appreciate a return call. I was contacted by Detective Westbrook this morning. We need to talk,” she said curtly, ending the call.

  She walked into her office to make a few notes, hoping he would promptly call back. Trying to organize her thoughts, she began to list the questions she wanted answered. She made a note to call Kerwin for advice on how they should prepare for the crew’s inevitable legal citations. Kerwin was an excellent corporate attorney, but she was certain this debacle would try the limits of his expertise.

  Sarah sat at her desk, nervously twirling a pencil, trying to think of anything she could do to ameliorate the matter at hand. While she still cared for Ryan, his aberrant behavior had put an impenetrable wall between them. Even though they still had Jeremiah and LSI in common, Ryan’s obsession with his cousin made any intimacy impossible. Her overriding feelings were a mixture of anger and humiliation; she despised having to address legal questions about her exhusband’s behavior. Shame on him, she thought.

  Sarah tried to control her vengeful thoughts, but she couldn’t keep from remembering the hurt and humiliation she had suffered from Ryan’s affair. Granted, Ryan had probably been drugged, but he should never have allowed himself to be put in that dubious situation in the first place. And there would never be an acceptable explanation for why Jarrod would create such havoc in their lives. Recalling the shock she’d experienced from first viewing those horribly graphic pictures still made her feel nauseous. Sarah restrained herself from hurling a paperweight through the office window. I’ll never forgive either one of them.

  Thankfully, the phone interrupted her recollection. “This better be you, Ryan,” she said, answering the phone.

  “Well, your intuition is correct, Sarah,” Ryan replied, sensing there was going to be an argument. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

  “Oh, really, Ryan? Don’t you dare patronize me, you son-of-a-bitch,” Sarah replied, uncharacteristically cursing even while trying to control her temper.

  “Where are you?” she demanded. “Do you realize the trouble you’ve caused? How can you be so selfish?”

  “You have every right to be angry,” Ryan started. “I can’t tell you where I am, but if you’ll give me a few minutes to explain…I think you’ll understand.”

  “I’m listening, but make it quick. Detectiv
e Westbrook is on his way over.”

  “That’s exactly why I called, Sarah. Corky tells me he explained what happened up at the gorge. Listen…we both know that Jarrod’s capable of anything. I can’t let them arrest me for something I didn’t do…something else Jarrod has obviously set up. You of all people should understand to what length he’ll go to hurt me. This is another one of his elaborate schemes, Sarah. He’s taken away my family and now he wants to strip me of my freedom. I will not be drawn into his web.”

  “Jarrod is right Ryan…you are a moron,” she bellowed, knowing that her words would land a terrible blow. “Don’t you see he is drawing you into his web? You’re such a fool. How could you fall for another one of his fiendish tricks?”

  “Sarah! Listen to me,” Ryan shot back. “I don’t expect you to understand why I have to find Jarrod…it’s between him and me. But please don’t underestimate him for a second. He vandalized our crane, Sarah. I know it as surely as I believe in God. It could have killed a bunch of our guys. And as if that weren’t enough, he’s accused me of breaking into his lab. Please! This has all the earmarks of his handiwork. Come on…you know it’s the truth.”

  There was a pause. Sarah listened for a moment until she was sure he was through. “Honestly, Ryan, I don’t think the two events have anything to do with one another. You have such irrational hatred for Jarrod that you see boogiemen behind every shadow and imagine he has something to do with it. You need help. Please…turn yourself in before someone gets hurt. Think about what you’re doing. Jail lies at the end of this path,” she pleaded.

  “Sarah, I have no intention of turning myself in. I don’t trust Jarrod, but I do respect his intelligence. He’s planted evidence proving that I was in his office. If they catch me before I can prove my innocence, I’m history. My only chance is to get to him before the police catch me. He’s never been able to hide what he’s up to from me. It’s part of the sick pleasure he gets from hurting me…he’ll give it up, I promise you.”