Laura cast a blank look at Kerrin, then followed him out.
Chapter 42
Day Twenty-Eight
Four Seasons Hotel
New York
David Sonderheim took the call just as he got back to his hotel suite overlooking Central Park. Four days ago he had been on one of the biggest highs of his life, but the past few days had rapidly disintegrated into a nightmare.
The meeting with the Board of the Chymera Corporation had gone better than he could have hoped for. His presentation had captured all of their imaginations and the board had loved him.
There was only one small problem.
In the discussion that took place after he had left the room, there had been an embarrassing question from one of the board - he suspected it was the CEO of Sabre Genetics - asking for clarification on the rumours circulating about a possible exposé that would soon be published by the Washington Post.
How it had got out, David couldn't prove exactly, but he was pretty sure that the rumour had been cleverly started by the one person who had seemed most concerned about it: Sabre's CEO, Calvin Mead. Ever since Gen8tyx had joined Chymera, Calvin had made it no secret that he was after David's job.
In the end, Rupert had reassured those in the board room by promising that the situation would be cleared up immediately. He pointed out that Buz Trueman had already been handed the case, and that Buz had promised the issue would be dealt with within the next few days.
Everyone trusted Buz.
Rupert had called for a vote on the necessary funding, and the decision had been unanimous to proceed, with one billion dollars to be provided as requested. The news should have been excellent, except there was one small caveat: the approval was conditional upon the potential problem with the Washington Post being resolved within the week.
The subtlety of the public shift of responsibility to Buz to resolve the issue was at first lost on David, but it soon dawned on him that it made his handling of the problem look bad and unprofessional.
When he first realised this, he had initially hoped that he could save face by still resolving the issue himself. He had called his two main contacts in the FBI, John in New York and Laura in Miami, only to find out that John was out of the country somewhere and that Laura had left the FBI to join the CIA. Rumour had it that she had met one of the Divisional Directors, had spent the night with him, and within a few days had been transferred and promoted to his personal assistant! Wherever she was now, she was no longer returning his calls.
Sonderheim was mad. His anger and hatred towards Kerrin Graham had multiplied ten-fold. If he disliked the man before, now he was ready to rip him apart with his bare hands. David was close, so close, to being elected to the Board. And Phase Three of the Orlando Trials represented the dream he had been working towards all of his life.
There was no way that a stupid, meddling, bastard of a reporter from The Washington Post was going to stop him!
When the phone rang, Sonderheim picked it up, already in a bad mood.
"David, hi! It's Buz Trueman. Just thought I'd let you know, we've got Graham. He's being kept in one of our safe houses for questioning. He's demanding to see you…Ordinarily I wouldn't get you involved, but I don't think I've got any choice in this one. Graham is blackmailing us. And I believe he has the capability to back up his threats. We would be foolish not to take him seriously. "
David gripped the phone with both hands, rage seething through his body.
"How the hell can that fucking idiot blackmail us? What's he got?" Sonderheim demanded.
"We can't talk on the phone. I'm sending a car over for you now. Be ready in five minutes."
The line went dead and Sonderheim slammed the phone down onto the base. He sat down hard on the edge of the plush bed. For a few seconds he stared into space, then he turned towards the pillow, slid his hand underneath it and pulled out a gun. He slid the magazine out, checked the bullets, then pushed it back home with the base of his palm.
Perhaps it wasn't too late to resolve the Graham issue after all.
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Day Twenty-Eight
It was 11.15 p.m. when Sonderheim arrived at the farm house. As best as David could make out, it was somewhere south of Wilmington in Delaware, but more than that he couldn't tell. They had left I-95 long ago, and had travelled cross country through the dark.
When he stepped out of the car in the middle of the countryside, David couldn't quite figure out why they had stopped in a field in front of a farmhouse. It was tiny, only a single square building with a porch running all the way around it, and a large barn at the back.
When they walked inside, he was surprised when they were stopped and met by an armed soldier. It was then that he realised they were probably standing above some sort of bunker, with the main building somewhere below them.
After numerous security checks he was taken down to a floor three levels beneath the ground. Sonderheim followed his escort to a room towards the end of a long corridor, and after being ushered inside, the door was closed quietly behind him. Surprised, Sonderheim turned and tried to open it again.
He reached out and tugged the handle.
It didn't budge and he realised with alarm that he couldn't turn the handle from the inside.
The room itself was quite dark, and strange noises which sounded like the beginnings of a thunderstorm were being piped into the room via loudspeakers.
His eyes adjusted quickly to the reduced lighting, and he realised that he was not alone. Although otherwise empty, there was a woman sitting in a wheelchair in the centre of the room. Her arms were bound to the sides of the chair, and she was obviously asleep.
Sonderheim stepped up to her side.
The woman's eyes opened and looked at him directly in the face.
Sonderheim had never seen the woman before in his life, but from the fear that he saw in her eyes, it was obvious that the woman knew him.
Suddenly a peal of thunder roared through the loudspeakers and it sounded like it had begun to pour with rain.
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The helicopter touched down a hundred yards from the farm house. As the rotary blades began to slow down, Buz Trueman jumped from the open door and almost stumbled on the hard gravel-strewn ground below. His personal aide, jumping from the helicopter behind him, immediately offered him his arm, but Buz shrugged it off and quickly recovered his composure.
Together they walked towards the farm house, and after being greeted at the entrance by Agent Daniels, the base commander, they caught the elevator down to the fifth level.
He followed Agent Daniels to Dr Smile's office, where he was met by the doctor, Cheng Wung and his new assistant. Buz couldn't help but smile when he shook her hand. She was obviously a woman of many 'talents'. No wonder Cheng had been so keen to have her transferred under his command. Though, from what Buz had read and heard about her, he wondered if Cheng realised just exactly what he was getting himself into, or onto, as the case may be. If everything he had heard about her was true, Cheng had better watch his back.
"Agent Samuels? It's a pleasure to meet you. Agent Wung has spoken very highly of you…"
He felt her hand linger slightly in his as he released her grip, and as he studied her pretty face he caught the flicker of interest in her eyes.
Yes, Cheng Wung better keep an eye on this one. Buz doubted she would waste much time with him. She had already made her plans for promotion quite clear.
Pouring himself a glass of cold water from the glass jug on Dr. Smile's desk, he listened carefully as Cheng briefed him on everything they had learned from Kerrin. When he had heard it all, Buz turned to one of the agents standing by the door.
"Bring Graham here now. I would like to meet him…" And turning to Cheng, he asked to see the infamous parcel that Kerrin had been threatening them with.
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The uniformed CIA officer opened the door and stepped into Kerrin's cell. He crossed the room wi
th his gun trained on the suspect and spoke aloud to an invisible security officer who was sitting in another room, surveying Kerrin remotely by hidden cameras.
"Undo the armbands!" the officer shouted curtly.
Immediately the two orange bandings holding Kerrin's arms tightly to the sides of the chair were electronically released.
Kerrin was fully aware that a guard was standing beside him, but from the moment he had entered the room, Kerrin had feigned sleep, his eyes remaining tightly shut.
The guard spoke loudly, his gun still pointing towards him.
"Please stand, Mr Graham."
Kerrin remained slumped in his chair showing no obvious signs of life.
"Mr Graham, if you would please come with me?"
Kerrin waited.
"Mr Graham…"
His every sense was straining, his muscles tensed and ready to react, his reactions primed and ready to go. He knew there was only one person who had entered the room. He had listened carefully.
He could hear the guard breathing. He could sense the guard's proximity and uncertainty as to what to do next. Kerrin knew he had to time it right.
As the guard spoke his name again, he could hear the slight change in tone as he turned his head away from Kerrin to look questioningly at the hidden camera and the other guard watching them from the other room.
Sensing the moment and the guard's distracted attention, Kerrin opened his eyes and kicked upwards with his legs, knocking the threatening gun upwards and out of the guard's hand. At the same moment, he pushed backwards on the arms of his chair, propelling himself up and at the chest of the guard in front of him.
They sprawled backwards together, knocking over one of the two chairs and falling hard against the metal edge of the table that had been carried into the room only an hour before.
The edge of the table crashed into the base of the guard's skull, and as Kerrin's momentum propelled them hard against it, the agents neck bent quickly at an awkward angle. There was an audible 'crack' and the table was pushed aside as Kerrin and the agent hurtled clumsily towards the floor. Even before they had hit the ground, the body of the agent had gone limp underneath him, and as Kerrin struggled to pick himself up as fast as he could, he realised with shock that the agent was dead, his neck broken during the fall.
There was no time to think. Kerrin knew that even as he was moving towards the door the guard in the other room would be raising the alarm.
Picking up the dead agent's gun from the floor, he raced out of the cell and into the corridor beyond.
According to what he'd overheard Agent Daniels say to Cheng Wung earlier, Dana and Fiona were somewhere in the rooms on this floor. He had to find them.
He looked quickly around him. There were five rooms on his right towards the back of the corridor, and six doors on his left, leading towards the elevator.
Choosing to move away from the obvious source of trouble, he ran to the last door at the end of the corridor.
He turned the handle. The door was locked.
Shit.
He turned and tried the handle of the door behind him. It didn't budge.
His heart racing, and the sound of an alarm now ringing in the corridor about him, he reached quickly for the next door handle in sight.
The handle turned, and the door opened inwards.
Kerrin stepped into the room beyond.
The room was quite dark, and as he entered his senses were accosted by the sound of a loud thunderstorm, the rumble of thunder, and the sound of torrential rain.
In the centre of the room his attention was immediately drawn to the sight of a hospital wheelchair.
There was a woman sitting in it, her arms bound tightly to the arm rests, but before his eyes could adjust to the darkness so that he make out the features on her face, Kerrin realised with a sickening sense of panic that he had seen this scene before. Many times.
This was his worst nightmare come true.
The memory of the dreams came flooding back.
He knew exactly what was going to happen next.
He started to turn towards the blow that he knew must surely come from behind him, but he was too late.
From the dark shadows, an arm swung down, a heavy metal object smashing into the base of his neck.
Kerrin went down with the force of the blow. He sprawled on the ground, the gun in his hand flying away from him and skidding heavily across the floor.
Impossibly beyond his reach…
Without waiting for any brilliant flash of lightning, Kerrin kicked out at the legs which he saw silhouetted against the brightness coming from the open door, sweeping his assailant's legs out from under him with a swift sideways blow to his shins.
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As the stranger fell, a single gunshot lit up the room, the loudness of the shot reverberating around the walls of the cell and mixing with the next peal of thunder which boomed out from the overhead speakers hidden in the walls of the room.
Kerrin screamed…this couldn’t be happening.
He jumped to his feet, swinging a second blow from his foot at the stranger's head, which lay clearly before him in the light of the door… He felt the impact through the leather in his shoes…
Déjà vu. Déjà vu…
He turned towards the woman at the centre of the room, lunging towards her wheelchair in an effort to free her and bring the nightmare to an end.
But even as he fell helplessly at the foot of the wheelchair, he could see the dark stain of the blood already spreading on the white blouse…
He started to scream, the same long guttural scream that he had dreamt a hundred times before. He wept, not able to bring himself to look up at the face of the dead woman, not able to look at the face of his dead wife…not able to grasp that after all this, Dana, his wife, was dead.
Chapter 43
All of a sudden, the lights in the cell were turned up bright. People poured into the room, and rough arms grabbed hold of him in an unnecessary attempt to restrain him.
Kerrin blinked at the bright lights, and made no effort to resist as he was pulled to his feet.
Behind him he heard the voices of people in conversation, people shouting, more people rushing into the room.
Then abruptly, the awful thunderstorm stopped and the loudspeakers went quiet.
Kerrin opened his eyes wide, and as the men behind him started to drag him out of the room, he turned to look at the face of his dead wife.
"Dana…I'm sorry…Dana…"
He stopped in mid-sentence, not able to comprehend what he was seeing.
He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his eyes.
The woman's head lolled awkwardly to one side but he could see her face clearly now.
It was not Dana.
Instead, Fiona looked back at him with unseeing eyes, blood oozing slowly from the corners of her mouth.
The two guards holding his arms lifted him and dragged him around the body on the floor. Kerrin looked down at the man, and with a pang of shock realised that he was looking straight back at him.
His eyes were blurred, but he was not dead. Kerrin had not killed him after all.
On the contrary, David Sonderheim was very much alive.
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The sight of Fiona's lifeless body stirred a strange mixed reaction within Kerrin. The immediate rush of relief and emotion that hit him like a rushing train as he realised that it was not Dana, was quickly replaced by a sense of incredible guilt and loss.
Guilt that his first reaction upon seeing Fiona's dead body was that he had been relieved. Guilt that he had brought her into this whole fucked up mess, and guilt that she was now dead because of him.
And then guilt again, as it slowly hit him that if he had killed Sonderheim when he'd had the chance in California, she would still be alive today.
They dragged him back to the room where he had been incarcerated only minutes before. His feeble attempt at finding D
ana had resulted in the unnecessary deaths of two people, and now he was back where he had started with nothing to show for the passing of their lives.
When he was a policeman in Miami he had often been involved in shoot-outs on the street. More than once he had witnessed the death of a close colleague, and he had learned through painful firsthand experience that at these times the worst that a man could do was to dwell upon the tragedy that had just occurred. There would be plenty of time for that later. To think too much was to be weak.
For now, more than ever, Kerrin had to be strong.
Dana.
He had to think of Dana. Her life depended upon him and how he reacted in the next few minutes.
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A few people he hadn't seen before came and went from the room. Then a large man arrived along with an entourage of others, including the Chinese-American Kerrin had met earlier. Kerrin had seen the large man before…in the photographs that Fiona had given him.
Buz Trueman.
The man came close to Kerrin, and bent over him, his eyes only inches away. He didn't speak.
Kerrin could smell the aroma of expensive cigars and high-class cologne.
His clothes were handmade, his shoes polished and gleaming, the watch on his wrist a limited edition from Switzerland. He smelt of money.
Yet, there was one more thing. The man oozed power.
Confident. Relaxed. In charge.
Buz pointed to the table beside Kerrin's chair and one of the men behind him put down a telephone, taking the lead and plugging it into a small, almost invisible phone socket on the wall.
At the same moment, one of the hand restraints loosened automatically and Kerrin was able to lift his arm.
"Mr Graham. I am sorry for the experience you have just been through, and I deeply regret the death of your colleague. I trust you will appreciate it was an accident. It was not planned or intended…in the same way that the death of one of our guards a few minutes before was also not planned or intended. It was an accident. Nothing more, nothing less… Now, I would be very grateful if you would call your editor and tell him that you are okay, and that there is no need for him to print the story he was intending to. It is now 9.51 p.m."
The Orlando File Omnibus : (Omnibus Version-Book 1 & Book 2) Page 37