The Fourth Law

by Paul Stein

  The room fell silent. Jer felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Ryan immediately took his son’s open hand, while Jarrod reluctantly did likewise. Jer looked from his father to Uncle Jarrod and over to his mother. He released their grip, unsure of what to do or say next. He took a seat on the floor next to Sarah, placing his arm around her shoulders.

  Sarah had tears running down her cheeks and she sniffled slightly to keep her nose from running. Ryan hung his head with shoulders slumped as he too fought back tears.

  Jarrod merely stood stoically, in rapt attention, bemused by the wisdom that poured forth from Jer’s recount of their notorious family history. It was as if an oracle had descended into their midst and brought clarity to a problem that had eluded them all their lives. “Well, Jer, you’ve accurately presented our situation,” he ventured, breaking the interminable silence. “Everything you’ve said is true. Sarah, I’m sorry for the abomination in New York. I was so certain you played a role in Sela’s decision to break up with me that I set out to hurt you both. I never imagined it would cause your divorce. I regret my actions and would do anything to take it back. But that’s not possible. What would you have me do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do,” Ryan ventured. He was still slumped in his chair but had raised his head to show a trace of tears running down his face. He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. “Ever since we were children, we’ve been forced to compete against each another because of our mothers’ own competition. They made us who we are. It’s no more your fault, Jarrod, than mine. We’re both at fault.

  “But I agree with Jer…it’s time to stop this madness. Son, I am proud you’re my boy and so sorry I haven’t told you that often enough. I don’t know what happened to me after Jacob died. A part of me died with him I suppose, but that’s no excuse for not expressing the pride I have in you. You’re a remarkable person, and I promise to do my best from this day forward to share in your life, to help make your dreams come true. I do love you, son, no less than I loved Jacob. Please believe me.”

  Hearing that Jer didn’t feel as loved as Jacob, was like a knife cutting into his soul. Ryan swore to himself he’d never forget those words as long as he lived, and promised himself never to take Jer for granted again.

  “Sarah…you…you’re the bes…best thing that ever happened to me,” Ryan stammered, choking back his emotions. “God blessed me when he brought you into my life. You were always my best friend, the person that kept me straight, gave me a purpose, brought joy to my life. I miss you more than you could ever imagine. My world ended after our divorce. I’d do anything…give anything…to have you back. Please don’t hate me anymore,” he pleaded, tears now flowing freely down his face. “Forgive me…give me another chance…” he begged, looking at Sarah, fighting to maintain his composure.

  Jer stood up and approached his father. At first he laid his hand on his shoulder and leaned over to whisper softly in his ear. “I believe you, Pop. It’s going to be okay. Mom and I both still love you and you’re going to get better.”

  Hearing Jer’s whisper caused Ryan to cry unrestrainedly. He gathered himself up to his full height and embraced his son, raising him off the floor as he did so. “I love you so much, Jer. Thank you for saving me…for believing in me…for bringing us together… for providing a chance to be a family once again. You’re a miracle worker.”

  As Ryan’s words poured from his mouth between sobs of pure joy, Sarah stood, opened her arms, and embraced her long-estranged family. She hugged the two of them tightly. “I’m so proud of you, Jer…so proud. I’m sorry I ever questioned your intentions. Jacob is smiling down upon us. He’s at peace, too. I love you both.”

  Jarrod began a rhythmic clapping that echoed through the enclosed room. “Jer, bravo…it took guts coming out here to face your father and me,” he said, rounding on him, clasping a hand on his shoulder. “But unfortunately, it’s not that easy for me. My mind was long ago made up about your dad. I have a hateful heart, and one speech from you isn’t going to absolve years of antipathy between us. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some sleep. These past two days are more than I can take. Sarah, you and Jer are welcome to stay here tonight.”

  Ryan moved to block Jarrod from leaving the room. There was still much to discuss. “Listen Jarrod” he began, “I don’t know where we go from here, but tonight we bury the hatchet on our past. Despite what you might think, I didn’t come here to retaliate. I needed to know why you were hell-bent on destroying my life. Hearing your explanation, however, I’m convinced we’ve been set up. You didn’t have anything to do with my problems in Taos, and I hope you can accept that I had nothing to do with breaking into your office. Jer’s right—we need to face this as a family; no one can beat us if we stick together.”

  “I believe you—there’s too much coincidence for this not to be a set up,” Jarrod replied, brushing past Ryan. “But that alone doesn’t absolve everything between us. And you still have the matter of the police to consider. You need to turn yourself in. We can explain our theory together. But to continue ignoring the possibility of arrest seems foolhardy.”

  “In a perfect world, I’d agree with you, but we both know this isn’t a perfect world. The minute they get their hands on me, I’m cooked,” he said, shaking his head as if this option was out of the question. “The local police will find out that I’m facing obstruction charges in Taos…at the very least.”

  “Tell me you’re kidding,” Jarrod smirked, a look of incredulity on his face. “You mean you’re wanted in New Mexico, too? Man, you’ve been busy, Cousin. You’re an honest to Christ vigilante, aren’t you?”

  “It’s a long story,” Ryan replied tersely, reflecting on all the legal problems he’d be facing. “Let’s just say, I was mighty pissed about the damage to our tower crane. I was certain you were responsible. When Lieutenant Westbrook showed up to discuss the break-in here in Stanford, I just snapped. I hope you understand why I can’t just turn myself in.”

  “Enough talk for tonight,” Sarah interjected, opening the door to Jarrod’s office for the first time since they had all entered over an hour ago. “We need to decide where we’re staying this evening. We’ve imposed too long on Jarrod’s hospitality. Ryan, did you arrange a hotel?”

  “Nonsense,” Jarrod said quickly, looking insulted by the suggestion that she considered leaving. “I’ll hear none of that. You’ll stay here this evening, as long as Ryan and Jer don’t mind the couch and recliner. Jer, fetch your mother’s luggage,” he directed, as if they had already agreed to his decision. “It’s too late to do anything more this evening. Tomorrow we’ll formulate a game plan.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Jarrod. We didn’t mean to impose, but it would be great if we could all stay together. Mom, I’ll get our stuff. Is there anything else besides your carry-on bag?”

  “No, that’s all I need, Jer. Are you sure you don’t mind us intruding, Jarrod?” Sarah asked, relieved that they didn’t have to find accommodations at this late hour. Even though she was blown away by the outcome of their impromptu trip, she was still feeling uncomfortable about abruptly leaving Bernalillo on this wild adventure with her son. Jer had showed incredible courage facing his father, and Sarah was quite thankful to have been present to witness the result. But she was also rather proud of herself; she hadn’t done something this impulsive since college.

  “Sarah, you’re not intruding,” Jarrod replied instantly, wrinkling his forehead to show his seriousness about the offer. “I’ll even cook breakfast in the morning.”

  “Okay…okay, you’ve convinced me,” she replied. “You know, come to think of it, we haven’t all been together since we lost Jacob. I appreciate how understanding you’ve been this evening, Jarrod. You’ve changed you know.”

  The man dressed in black watched from the shadows as the young man exited the house on Lomita Lane. The private investigator tailing him was still unconscious. There was no telling how much longer b
efore he would wake or what he would do when he regained consciousness. The man had no idea how this person fit into Kilmer’s bigger plan, but he was starting to get antsy. There was entirely too much activity surrounding Professor Conrad to suit his purpose. His earlier call to Kilmer had gone unanswered. A decision needed to be made, and quickly.

  Considering his options, he surmised that anyone showing up at the professor’s house at this late hour was most likely a relative or a close friend. Kilmer had previously informed him that new plans included kidnapping someone close to the professor. So he made the unilateral decision to kidnap the young man and accept the consequences.

  The young man walked across the street and began removing luggage from his car. As he was getting ready to return to the house, the man in black intercepted him, jumping at him in an instant.

  Pressing a gloved hand against his victim’s mouth, the man in black easily slammed him against the back of his vehicle. “Listen to me real good, kid. I can make this easy for you or difficult—your choice. But know this: You’re coming with me, no matter how much you resist. Is that understood?”

  Jer was petrified, wide eyes expressing his fright. He nodded his understanding as the man continued to press his hand hard against his mouth.

  “Now, I’m going to take my hand off your mouth and we’re going to walk together to the end of the block. If you cooperate, I won’t hurt you…but if you scream for help or try to get away, I promise you’ll regret the decision. Let’s go.”

  “I think I’ll go outside and see what’s taking Jer so long,” Ryan said after several minutes, waiting for his return. He was sitting quietly on the couch with Sarah while Jarrod was off making preparations for his guests. They were holding hands for the first time in ages, taking cautious steps at reacquainting themselves, when suddenly, Ryan felt his intuition nagging him. “Geez, how much stuff did you bring, anyway? I can’t imagine what’s keeping him.”

  “I was just wondering the same thing,” Sarah replied, a look of concern coloring her face. “I only brought a small carry-on bag and Jer just had a backpack. He can’t be delayed by the luggage.”

  Ryan stepped into the night air. It felt refreshing against his face. He stood for a moment on the porch to let his eyes adapt to the darkness. Although he didn’t have any idea where Sarah had parked, he didn’t imagine it was much further than the front of Jarrod’s house. He observed quizzically that there was a backpack perched atop a sedan parked across the street. He walked toward the car and noted with interest that there were two men walking briskly down the block. It appeared as if the larger man was escorting the lankier man beside him.

  All of a sudden, it hit him. Even though the men were almost a full block away, he recognized Jeremiah’s brightly colored Hawaiian shirt as the two passed under a streetlight.

  “Jer!” Ryan called out to his son. “Jer, where are you going?” A feeling of panic jolting through his body, Ryan took off down the street in a dead run, trying to cut the distance between them.

  “Dad, help!” Jeremiah exclaimed, but could say no more as the man forcefully hit him along the side of his head, dazing him momentarily. He staggered briefly, but the man caught him before he fell and continued to drag him toward a black cargo van that was parked on the corner of the upcoming intersection.

  “Not a good decision, kid,” the man said disgustedly, manhandling him as they made their way forward. “I told you what would happen if you didn’t cooperate. Now I’ll show you what the hard way is,” he said, hitting him again, this time in the side, doubling him over with pain.

  “Hey, stop!” Ryan yelled. He could see the man hitting his son. “Jer, run….”

  The man reached the van, thrust open the rear doors, and shoved Jer inside. It was only another moment before he jumped into the driver’s seat and, with wheels screeching, sped down the street just as Ryan caught up with them, only seconds too late. He watched helplessly as the van containing his son disappeared from sight.

  Ryan’s greatest unspoken fear had just been realized. His one remaining son had vanished. This can’t be happening, he thought. His stomach lurched and he felt sick. It was as though he was trapped in some surreal dream, one from which he couldn’t awake. An icy chill enveloped his body at the thought of never seeing Jeremiah again. He raced back toward Jarrod’s house, not knowing what to do next.

  Sarah and Jarrod had heard the commotion and were standing outside the house as Ryan raced back toward them. “My God, what’s happened?” Sarah screamed when she saw Ryan running toward them. “Where’s Jeremiah?”

  “Someone’s taken him…someone’s taken Jer,” Ryan yelled. He came to a stop, bending over to catch his breath. “Call 911…we need help!” he pleaded, sounding mortally wounded.

  Jarrod rushed back into the house.

  “No…no…no…this can’t be happening,” Sarah moaned into Ryan’s chest as they held each other, standing in the middle of the lawn. “Oh, my God, where is he? What are we going to do…Ryan, why is this happening?” she shouted, pounding his chest with her closed fists.

  “Shhh…shhh…it’s going to be okay. We’ll get him back, Sarah, I promise you,” Ryan whispered, holding her as close to him as he could manage. He was stroking her hair, trying to console her. “I promise you, Sarah, we’re not going to lose Jeremiah, too. I’ll die before I let anything happen to him. You listen to me now…we’re going to get him back, you hear me?”

  He tried to keep his voice steady, but he knew in his heart he was just as scared as she was. There were no clues to follow—he hadn’t seen a license plate; he had no idea what the man looked like other than a brief description of his size; the van was nondescript; there didn’t seem to be any evidence that might help to locate their son.

  There was no doubt in his mind that Jer was now embroiled in the same mind-numbing conspiracy that had brought him to Stanford in the first place. No way I lose Jer, too. I’ve got nothing else to lose. These guys are dead.

  THIRTY-TWO

  SAN JOSE

  01:30 HOURS

  THE FIRST THING ON KILMER’S mind when they returned to the Bayshore warehouse was to call Holloway. He knew that even with the three-hour time difference it would be too early to call, but he would not be delayed. Kilmer was seething over the death of Dallas Weaver, not so much that it happened—he’d lost men before—but that his death could have been prevented.

  Rafie’s assessment had been right on the mark; they had spent too little time investigating the guard deployment at the Livermore facility. On reflection, it made perfect sense for the lab to place a guard detail at this location, but to be unaware of this vital piece of information was unconscionable. Because of this oversight, the team had lost one of its most talented members.

  Kilmer dialed Holloway’s secure phone and awaited the satellite link to connect him. To his surprise, Holloway answered immediately.

  “Did you get the container?” Holloway asked abruptly, recognizing it was Kilmer’s number. Even though it was early morning in Nassau, he was anticipating the call.

  “Yessir,” Kilmer replied respectfully, holding back his anger, his fist tightly gripping the phone, knuckles white from the pressure. “For the most part, everythin’ went accordin’ to plan.”

  “So what’s the problem, then?” Holloway asked, sensing displeasure in Kilmer’s voice, and braced for more bad news.

  “We lost Dallas Weaver. It could’ve been prevented,” Kilmer said, unbridling his anger. “I want the lame-brain who did the intel on this deal. We were jumped by guards at the containment room! We walked into a bloody hornets’ nest one second off the lift. Weaver was shot in the face, ya motherfucker,” he said, raising his voice. “This was bullshit planning. I want a name.”

  “That’s unfortunate news, but you can’t blame this on my source. Things change…you know this. The fact is the mission was successful; you got the package needed for the Knox job. Stay focused on the end game,” Holloway said, trying to make li
ght of the situation.

  “Yer not hearin’ me. This ain’t negotiable, sir,” Kilmer emphasized, trying to manage his overflowing anger. “Eye for an eye. I want yer source. I’m pullin’ the plug without the prick’s name…now!”

  “You insolent bastard, have you forgotten who you’re taking to?” Holloway replied.

  He quickly began considering his options: if he didn’t give in to Kilmer’s demands, there wasn’t a ready alternative to getting the nuclear fuel he needed to make the antigravity machine operational; Kilmer also had Dr. Conrad under surveillance and was currently casing the Coscarelli woman. Holloway was in an untenable position. After brief consideration, he decided to acquiesce to this extortion, however unseemly it might be.

  “Be careful where you take this, Richard,” Holloway said impassively, straining not to worsen his weak bargaining position. “You’re crossing the line. I don’t appreciate your tone or your demands. It’s very unprofessional. But, be that as it may, I will give you my source and expect that how you obtained it won’t be linked to me. But make no mistake…I won’t forget this defiance. The name of the source is McCauley…Steven McCauley.”

  “Good oh, Mr. Holloway. And I don’t give a rat’s ass what ya think of me,” Kilmer said. “There’s payback for shoddy surveillance. Dallas paid the full quid for this piker’s incompetence. Settlin’ the score with McCauley will chill my mob’s demand for blood. Everythin’ else stays square. Conrad’ll be nabbed soon and we pick up the Coscarelli woman later today. Now, if ya don’t mind…I’m off to find this wanker McCauley.”