The Fourth Law

by Paul Stein

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Sarah muttered, fighting to regain her composure. “So help me, Jer, you’re going to listen to what I say. Capisce?” she said, stamping her foot for effect.

  “Yes, Mom, I’ve got it. Now, please…get ready. We’ve got to take the next flight out.”

  Jer didn’t have a clue what to expect from this unplanned trip to California. He hadn’t considered that Sarah would demand to come with him; having his mother in tow only added to the complexity of searching out two men who had hated each other for over four decades. But Jeremiah was confident in his ability to find a solution to finally resolve their animosity. While the path ahead was uncertain, the potential outcome filled him with great inspiration. It was worth risking failure to bring resolution to the bitter rivalry that had too long held his family captive. Jeremiah was excited by the prospect and couldn’t wait to get going.

  It was near noon. The slight, bald-headed man in the silver sedan watched with curious interest as the smartly dressed woman and younger man loaded small suitcases into the back of the woman’s Cherokee. He took out his digital camera and snapped off a half dozen pictures of both. He next took a couple with his phone and sent a text to his client to verify contact with the subjects he was hired to tail. It didn’t appear as though he was going to be as bored on this assignment as he first thought. Looks like we’re going on an adventure.

  He waited for the woman to drive past him before he started his car to follow. She looked upset and he figured there was no way she was aware of his presence, but good investigative technique dictated he wait until the subject was some distance away before he pursued. This had every appearance of an easy assignment.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  NASSAU

  ALASTAIR HOLLOWAY burned with rage from Richard Kilmer’s latest news. He was fuming as he paced about his stateroom on Jurassic, trying to formulate his next move. His first thought was to call Niles Penburton to demand an explanation. The existence of yet another hidden procedure was far beyond what the owner of Quantum Dimensions, Ltd. guaranteed when he brokered the deal.

  Holloway first heard the speculation about a revolutionary antigravity technology when attending an oil symposium with Saudi Arabian sheiks in 2007. From the moment the subject was hinted at, he became obsessed with acquiring the technology before anyone else could capitalize on the discovery. There were a number of drilling applications that could benefit from this technology, principally the extraction of vast oil deposits that lay in deep underground caverns; at current prices, the cost of pumping these deposits was greater than the refined commodity. Apart from his personal interests for Triton Energy, however, the promise of an antigravity device was easily a multibillion-dollar discovery with limitless possibilities. Holloway wanted exclusive ownership of this technology, no matter what it took to get it.

  Following months of investigation, Holloway finally located Dr. Niles Penburton, the aloof general partner of Stanford-based Quantum Dimensions. He made repeated overtures to meet the scientist but was continually rebuffed, Penburton politely explaining that his partnership was not interested in adding more limited partners and was not looking for venture capital. Holloway was undeterred, convinced Penburton was cautiously protecting the premature disclosure of a revolutionary breakthrough, and was being evasive to guard against tipping his hand.

  Through unrelenting pressure, Holloway finally coerced Penburton into divulging the secret research emerging at Quantum labs. He was finally granted an audience upon offering to fully capitalize the development of the project. Venture capital aside, he convinced Dr. Penburton that no one could take this technology to market faster than the Triton Energy Group. Holloway committed to developing the manufacturing capacity that would introduce the antigravity device into every conceivable industry. His only request was that he be granted exclusive manufacturing and marketing rights; all royalties would remain the province of Quantum Dimensions.

  It was at this point that Holloway made one of his astute investment observations. Through several negotiation discussions, he detected a passive hostility between Niles Penburton and Dr. Jarrod Conrad, the inventor behind the antigravity technology. He learned that Conrad was also the other general partner in Quantum Dimensions. Penburton had halfheartedly confided his desire to buy out Conrad’s interest, but he couldn’t imagine a scenario where this would be possible—the antigravity technology was Conrad’s discovery alone and the culmination of his life’s work.

  Holloway set out to exploit this rancor to his advantage and offered to solve Penburton’s problem. He devised a plan to build the machine if Penburton could supply the engineering drawings, and to later break into Quantum Dimensions for Conrad’s proprietary equations needed to operate the device. In so doing, he would also create a scenario whereby the egocentric Dr. Conrad would be eliminated. All he required of Penburton was unrestricted access to Conrad’s lab, and as much personal information as possible. Other than these meager stipulations, Penburton would have no other responsibility or involvement. In exchange, Holloway promised complete anonymity from subsequent investigation.

  Penburton initially expressed serious objection to such an extreme measure, but ultimately agreed to sell Dr. Conrad’s twenty-six percent partnership share to Holloway for $20 million if he fulfilled his promise. He could not conceive how Holloway could pull this off, but felt there was nothing to lose: If the plan worked, he’d be rid of irksome Dr. Conrad and would be wealthy before the new technology even went to market; if Holloway failed, he’d have plausible deniability in the matter—no one would be any wiser about his collaboration with Holloway. Penburton accepted half the money deposited into a Swiss bank account when the agreement was signed, the other half due when Conrad was no longer a general partner of Quantum Dimensions.

  Following their deal, Holloway conducted a full investigation of Conrad’s affairs, which uncovered the bad blood between Conrad and his long-estranged cousin in New Mexico. From this information, he devised an elaborate scheme to steal Conrad’s files and make it look like Ryan Marshall was the perpetrator. At the same time, Kilmer sent one of his men to vandalize Marshall’s equipment in Taos, implicating Jarrod Conrad. With each cousin believing the other responsible for their situation, it would be a simple matter to arrange that they meet, kill them both, and make it look like they did each other in. Everything was set in motion to make this happen. The plan would need a drastic overhaul, however, now that Conrad was needed to operate the antigravity machine.

  Holloway did not believe that Conrad should be kidnapped. To do so would shift the focus from his cousin. But neither was Marshall valuable enough to kidnap, there being no incentive for Conrad to assist them only to save the cousin he reviled. The only alternative was to kidnap someone close to Dr. Conrad, someone he cared about. The discovery of who this might be would take further investigation and time he could ill afford to waste. He decided to call Penburton to discuss the options.

  “Niles, this is Holloway,” he said as the scientist answered his direct line at the Quantum Building. “We’ve got a big problem with the information from Conrad’s office. I’m told the machine still won’t work because that prick-head partner of yours has hidden another secret formula. What the fuck happened? How could you not know this?”

  “Well, hello, Alastair,” Penburton replied. “So nice to hear from you…as usual,” he mocked, slightly caught off-guard by the call. He never enjoyed conversations with Alastair Holloway. “First of all, by definition, if there’s a secret formula known only to Dr. Conrad, how could you think I’d know about it?” he asked in a condescending tone. “Second, I’ve repeatedly told you that Conrad’s unpredictable. What do you expect from me? This is your plan; I’m to have no direct involvement…remember.”

  Holloway made a snorting sound like a bull, outraged by the nerve of the man. “I know exactly what the deal entails, Niles. But I don’t like surprises, nor do I tolerate incompetence. The plan depends on
the accuracy of your information…that everything needed to build the device was on Conrad’s computer. That doesn’t appear to be the case now, does it?”

  “I repeat…what do you want from me? I gave you access to all available information. I’m a scientist, not some thug. I opposed your plan from the beginning, remember? But you insisted the plan would take Conrad out of the picture.”

  “This is no time to debate the plan, Niles,” Holloway replied, irritated by his arrogance. “What I need is the name of someone that Dr. Conrad cares about. Who would he feel obliged to help if they were in trouble? Is there anyone in this guy’s life we could leverage to force his help?”

  “That’s tough to say. Conrad’s pretty abrasive. I’m not aware of friends or family that he’s particularly fond of. I’ve heard him mention a research scientist at Johns Hopkins University…Coscarelli, I think. He’s talked about her several times as someone he admires, but it may be strictly professional. Now that I think about it, I seem to recall he also mentioned that she’s the sister of his cousin’s ex-wife. He might in fact feel obligated to help if she were in trouble. I’ll give it more thought, but all this guy really cares about is himself. He’s a narcissist,” Niles concluded.

  “Coscarelli, huh? I know Senator Alfonse Coscarelli. Christ…I hope she’s not related to him; that’ll complicate matters. I’ll have someone investigate Johns Hopkins to see about picking her up.”

  “Well, if I think of anyone else, I’ll let you know,” Penburton concluded, happy to be done with the conversation.

  From the moment Penburton heard the news, he realized that needing Conrad’s intercession was a troubling development. Not only would it be nearly impossible to hide his involvement from Conrad, it could potentially derail the rest of the deal with Holloway. He had a menacing sense (not for the first time) that associating with Holloway could be his undoing. He had sold out his partner to one of the richest men in the world for $20 million. If the plan went awry, the consequences would ruin his scientific reputation and lead to a criminal investigation. This was a most unsettling thought, and only time would prove if the deal he struck with the devil would lead to his downfall.

  God help me…what have I done?

  Following the call to Penburton, Holloway immediately went into overdrive. He made another call to Kilmer, directing that Travis Marlon be sent to Johns Hopkins to locate the Coscarelli woman. He wanted as much information on her in the shortest amount of time. Next, he confirmed with Kilmer that Stuart Farley was notified about the change in plans. Under no circumstances was he to carry out the original job—arranging the double homicide of Conrad and Marshall. He figured that if the Coscarelli woman panned out, it might work even better than he had originally planned; he could pin the Knox heist on the hapless inventor, an option his previous plan had not offered.

  Holloway had struck the deal with Penburton to acquire a twenty-six percent stake in Quantum Dimensions for a mere pittance of what the technology would be worth once the manufacturing complications were worked out. The royalties the fledgling company earned from the discovery would be insignificant to the amount of money Triton Energy would earn from holding exclusive manufacturing rights. It would be akin to an oil strike of Middle East proportions.

  But to capitalize on his advantage, Holloway wanted immediate worldwide recognition for the awesome potential of the technology behind the machine. For this he devised a bold plan that would grab the attention of every media outlet in the world. By using the technology to attack the most impregnable institution in the country, the technology would gain instant prominence. This would facilitate the eventual mass marketing as every industry scrambled for access to the new technology.

  Holloway then conceived the Fort Knox operation. He figured that the theft of $1 billion in gold bullion from the Fort Knox Depository would generate the shock value he was after. The Depository was guarded with the highest level of technological surveillance available. If it could be breached, the antigravity device would be capable of anything. Using the machine to pull off the heist-of-all-heists became his single-minded obsession. Now it appeared that by happenstance he could also blame the crime on Conrad, making it look like this was his original intent.

  Holloway banged his hand against the side of his head in a rare moment of self-recrimination, scolding himself for not having thought of this before. I must be getting soft. The perfect crime is now even more perfect.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  STANFORD 19:30 HOURS

  RYAN MARSHALL exited the theater at dusk, having watched two complete showings of the movie Transformers. More accurately, he slept comfortably through most of the first show and awoke to watch the conclusion of the second.

  Hitting the street, he again felt hungry, deciding to have dinner before proceeding back to his cousin’s house. He wandered into an Italian restaurant named Gianinni’s and ordered a large helping of lasagna and a glass of Chianti. Refreshed, he headed back to Stanford at about 9:00 p.m. to confront Jarrod.

  Entering the Stanford residential area, Ryan parked his SUV a few blocks from his cousin’s home on Lomita Lane. Although anxious to resolve the conflict, he was also filled with a surprising sense of trepidation. He felt strangely unprepared. He didn’t want to engage in a fight, but realized that when the two met after years of ill feelings, one was likely to break out. So be it, he thought.

  Ryan walked along the opposite side of the street from his cousin’s house. He decided to move briskly past without stopping to get a sense of whether Jarrod was home. On his first pass, he noticed the bike on the porch but still had no information about a car in the garage. There were lights on, suggesting a presence, but he considered this inconclusive.

  On his second pass, Ryan crossed the street for a closer look. He detoured quickly to the side of the house, entering the backyard through an unlocked gate. From the back of the house he had a good view through the kitchen window, only partially veiled by window blinds. He noted that the kitchen appeared very efficient, with a variety of cooking utensils hanging from a range hood above the stove. A Krupp’s espresso machine also stood prominently to one side of the main kitchen counter. Jarrod apparently shared his affinity for strong coffee.

  Ryan studied the kitchen view for several minutes, hoping to get a glimpse of his cousin. He noticed a reflection cast upon the glossy surface of the kitchen door, which was standing open against the wall. He figured the reflection came from a television set somewhere in the adjoining room. This buoyed his hope that someone in the house was watching TV. He moved cautiously up the three brick steps onto the back porch.

  Ryan’s heart was pounding as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He could actually hear his own heartbeat, his senses unusually acute. He thought about the many times he had dreamed of this moment following his divorce from Sarah. He wondered if he was really prepared to confront Jarrod for all the torment he had caused. The anxiety of addressing each of the past transgressions was inescapable.

  Ryan decided to try the back door. He cautiously pulled open the screen and put his hand gently on the knob of the kitchen door. Slowly he turned the knob, and to his surprise, it wasn’t locked. He was free to enter the kitchen if he so dared, but hesitated, considering his options. Entering the kitchen presented the chance of catching his cousin off-guard, watching television in the next room. If the assumption was correct, he hoped to subdue Jarrod before he mounted a defense or fled the house.

  Ryan gathered his courage, steeled his nerves, and slowly walked into the kitchen, ignoring the voice in his head telling him not to proceed. He was relieved that the door didn’t squeak, and very slowly closed it behind him. He was standing in Jarrod’s kitchen; his legs and especially his hands were shaking with nervous energy. All of his senses were hypersensitive: The clock on the stove ticked louder than he thought possible; the hair on the back of his neck bristled, alert to the dry warmth of the kitchen; his nostrils picked up the sweet smell of cinnamon wafting through the ai
r. He couldn’t believe how nervous he felt, but knew there was no turning back. This was the moment he had waited years to face, yet he was almost paralyzed with fear. He took a gentle step toward the living area, trying to make his 250-pound body as stealthy as possible, but each step became excruciating.

  Finally, he was able to cautiously peek into the living room. The television was tuned to a documentary but his vantage point didn’t allow a full view of the room. He still couldn’t locate Jarrod. There was a dark hallway he needed to cross for a better look, so he took a step forward to reorient himself. As he did so, he heard a man’s familiar voice say, “Hello, cousin.”

  Ryan yelled, clutching the back of his neck as searing pain shot through his head, knocking him off his feet. He lay on the floor, jerking with involuntary convulsions as spasms of pain shot through his body. He had been Tazered by someone standing in the darkened hallway. Lying on his back, unable to move, he was only partially aware of being dragged further down the hallway before he lost all consciousness.

  Ryan woke sometime later, disoriented and uncomfortable. At first his eyes wouldn’t focus and he couldn’t remember where he was or what he was doing, but eventually gathered that he was seated in a room full of computer equipment, his hands and feet held fast to a sturdy chair with plastic snap ties that were much too strong to break. A strip of adhesive tape across his mouth kept him from spitting out the rag that was stuffed inside. He felt like gagging as he struggled to break his restraints. Then he slowly recalled what brought him here, and wished he hadn’t ignored the small voice that warned of this eminent danger. He felt like prey that had fallen into the lair of a predator, only this predator cunningly expected the prey to arrive.