“And your wife doesn’t object to all your sexy employees? Mine would not be happy about it.”
Davis smiled. “Frenchmen like you notoriously can’t keep their dicks in their pants. Brit slash Americans like me have self-restraint.” His wife Gwen never asked, and he never told. In his mind he was totally faithful and dearly loved his wife. The sex he had with the corporate-ladder-climbing female employees was completely at their instigation. It was his weakness, not being able to resist them. He couldn’t help that at sixty, being six feet tall and in good shape, women still found him attractive and his libido was strong as ever.
“Cinq à sept.” Jacques shrugged and smiled. “Five to seven, and then you go home to your wife for dinner.”
The young lady re-entered the room with the Spaniard, Carlo Da Silva, and an older man carrying a tea service.
Da Silva, barrel-chested with thick, wavy dark hair, approached the two seated men. “Good to see you, Davis. Jacques.” He sat down in a chair upholstered in a bright flower pattern that in an interesting way made the decor of the room fit together.
The butler poured tea for Carlo and Jacques.
“That’ll be all, Daphne,” Davis said to the young lady.
All three men watched her walk with confidence, behind the butler, from the sitting room.
“You’ve remodeled,” Carlo said with his prominent lisp. “I like the art.”
“It needed freshening.” Davis did a quick scan of the room. “It turned out well.”
Carlo inhaled. “But the smell is the same.”
“It smells a little different to me,” Davis said. “The pine has a muskiness in the latest batch I’m not sure I like.”
Carlo looked at Jacques. “Davis is obsessed with a pine air freshener—he takes it everywhere.”
“I wouldn’t say obsessed. I just enjoy the smell.”
“Obsessed.” Carlo smiled, showing perfect white teeth that must have been worked on, because at forty-eight no one’s teeth were that white and perfect. “I just received a Maserati Quattroporte to have as my car in London. It’s spectacular. You should get one.”
Jacques raised an eyebrow. As if he could afford one.
“I prefer the Bentley and a chauffeur here,” Davis said. “Traffic.”
“Do you mind if we got down to business?” Jacques asked. “I don’t have much time today.”
“By all means,” Davis said.
“Barrister Kenneth Brown came to visit me,” Jacques said. “He showed me video footage from the hotel Monsieur Barnes was staying at. It shows a man named Dale Samson, who looks strikingly similar to Barnes, pick his pocket for the hotel receipt. When you compare Samson’s image with the airport’s, it’s a match.”
“Who is this Dale Samson?” Carlo asked.
“Samson works for Naintosa’s security,” Jacques said.
Davis sat back in the chair. Well, that did point directly to Schmidt’s killing coming from within his own organization.
“We haven’t been able to locate Monsieur Samson for questioning.” Jacques looked to Carlo and Davis as if asking for assistance.
Carlo shook his head. “Nor will you ever.”
Jacques shrugged. “We have to try to find him.”
“He’d be eliminated by now,” Davis said.
“So now what?” Carlo asked.
“I must withdraw the case against Barnes, and I need to question Hendrick V,” Jacques said. “My suspicion is swaying toward Hendrick having performed a coup d’état on his own father, but I’m not sure if he did it himself or had someone do it for him. He did fire Hendrick IV’s head of security right away, stating he couldn’t trust him anymore.”
“If Daimler was fired, who’s in charge of security now?” Carlo asked.
“Second in command, Otto Schilling.”
“And what of the threatening e-mails from Barnes?” Davis asked.
Jacques opened his mouth to speak, but Carlo interjected. “There are ways … easy enough to plant.”
Davis understood where the investigation needed to go. “When you talk to Hendrick, make sure to point out that Carlo and I know it was an inside job. See how he reacts.”
“Agreed.” Jacques glanced at his watch and rose to his feet. “I will report back.”
As soon as Jacques was gone, Carlo said, “Deep down I’d hoped that Hendrick hadn’t killed his father, but the more we get to know him, the more irrational he seems.”
“We don’t know for sure yet if Junior’s hands are bloody,” Davis said. “But if it turns out that they are, we have to make a decision.”
“It’s not the first time a son has killed his father to seize control,” Carlo said. “You can’t begrudge him that. It’s actually quite common in our history.”
“We can at least hold it over him for control,” Davis said.
“The question is, can he take over where his father left off?” Carlo raised his hands and then let them fall to his lap.
“The scientists keep doing what they’re doing.” Davis reached for his tea. “Dr. Smith is competent.”
CHAPTER 8
May 2, 2003
Breathing in and out, my mind went blank. Sweet nothingness as I entered the gap—the void of pure potential that could be accessed through meditation. My inner self was floating in space when an image appeared. I stood on the wharf in Christina Lake, where Morgan and I hid to write the exposé three years ago. It was a beautiful fall day with not a cloud in the sky, and the lake rippled. Morgan sat on the edge of the diving board, bare feet in the water, brilliant blue eyes looking up at me. Her strawberry-blonde hair fluttered in the cool breeze.
“I miss you.” She reached her hand out for me to take it. “I’m doing what I can to help.”
I took her cold hand. How I had longed to touch her. “I miss you, too, more than you’ll ever know.”
“You have to be strong.” Her face looked sad and worried. “I can see just around the corner of the future.”
“Since I lost you, I feel numb to whatever happens.”
She raised her feet from the water, slid over, and stood on the wharf, still holding onto my hand. “You have to become hyper-focused. Others are going to die. The son is more dangerous than the father. You’re going to have to be stronger and fight harder. You’ll have to lead.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek. I didn’t care about the warning, I just wanted to be with her.
We leaned in to kiss.
I came storming out of the gap, back to reality, and gasped. I opened my eyes. The tears were real.
Sue was looking at me. “What happened? You ruined my relaxed moment.”
“I saw Morgan, and she had a warning.”
“Morgan again?” She got up from the couch.
“What do you mean, again?”
“Nothing.” Sue walked toward the hallway. “I’m going to go have a shower.”
Maybe Sue and I had been spending too much time together. We’d both snapped at each other from time to time, but today she seemed especially impatient. I’d purposely tried not to talk about Morgan with her, but it still came up sometimes. Today’s message was important. I’d explain it to Sue when she was more open to hearing it. Sue was trying hard to be there for me, but it wasn’t in her nature to be nurturing. And I didn’t want to be doted on anyway.
After a shower and breakfast, I headed to the study.
There were several e-mails that needed attention. The literary agent I’d chosen had agreed to work with me and had attached a standard agreement that I filled out and sent back to him. The editor was ready for my manuscript. It took me a few hours to finish the final edits, and then I sent it off. Now I just had to wait for the deal the agent and publisher worked out.
Sue came into the study wearing jeans and a tight gray sweater. She glanced at me. “I feel like working outside today. It’s nice out.”
I glanced out the window and saw the sun shining. “Good idea.”
She unplugge
d her laptop, placed it under her arm, and left the room.
I didn’t want to suggest that I join her.
I wasn’t sure what to do next. With the manuscript sent to the editor, all I could do was wait, which could take months. I glanced over at my To-Do list; everything was crossed off. This house arrest sucked. I wanted to get out in the field—I wanted to go look at the Norway seed bank.
I needed to use this time wisely. The smart thing was to start on my second book.
I heard the ping of a new e-mail arriving. It was from Ivan, addressed to Sue, Jack, and me.
Ivan had just finished meeting with the board of the Northern European Council for Ethical Farming, and they weren’t happy. They understood that the media were trying to discredit us; however, if I wasn’t cleared of the murder charge, it could put their reputation on the line by associating with me. Ivan felt it was only a matter of time before they disassociated from us if our credibility wasn’t rebuilt.
I didn’t want to contribute in any way to Ivan’s research being slowed. He was progressing well, currently looking at the long-term effects of Naintosa’s neonicotinoids throughout the food chain, from insects to humans. And there was the very private study that had just commenced to determine what Pharmalin’s latest colon cancer drug really did. We had Schmidt IV on video saying it wasn’t meant to be a cure, but we had to prove it. If Pharmalin found out about the study, it would be shut down because of patent infringement—Pharmalin would have had to give permission for the testing, which they never would have.
I stared at the screen for a while, which wasn’t productive, so I closed the laptop.
As I was walking through the foyer, Jack and Lee came through the front door.
“Ivan sent us an e-mail,” I said as I walked up to them.
Jack looked like he was expecting bad news.
After I explained what was in the message, Jack said, “I was kinda expecting that. I don’t blame them for being nervous.”
“What can we do?” I asked. “Ivan has to keep his studies going.”
“Brown has met with Plante,” Jack said. “Plante had no rebuttal to the proof that you were setup. I’m hoping the charges will be dropped any second.”
“That’ll sure help,” I said. “Has the PI had any luck in finding Dale Samson?”
Lee rubbed his chin. “Naintosa’s so tight, if they don’t want an outsider finding someone, it’s darn near impossible.”
I looked down at the pad of paper in my hand. I wanted to be alone to think.
“You hungry?” Jack asked.
“No, thirsty.”
I followed Jack and Lee through the main living room and into the dining room. Sam was there, finishing his lunch. I kept going to the kitchen.
Rose, in a cream-colored, knee-length dress with an apron over it, was talking on the phone. She looked concerned. “I understand … uh-huh … yes … okay, we’ll see you on the ninth.” She glanced my way and looked startled. “Okay, then.” She hung up the phone.
I wondered who she’d been talking to, but it felt inappropriate to ask. So I headed toward the fridge.
“You want something to eat?” she asked.
“No, I’m not hungry.” I opened the fridge door and surveyed the middle shelf.
“Can I get you anything?” Rose had come up beside me. She looked guilty and was overcompensating.
What was she up to? At that moment I wasn’t in a mood to ask.
“I can whip you up a mean punch.”
“No, thanks, Rose, I’m good.”
She relented and went back to tend to something in a pot on the stove.
We had an assortment of beer, since all of us had unique tastes. We’d been experimenting with different European brands—you know, while in Europe, drink as Europeans. I’d never liked darker beer in the States, but some of the ones I’d tried here were excellent. My tastes were definitely changing. I chose the last two Chimay Blues from Belgium. My plan for the afternoon was to find a quiet place to sip beer and see if I could get any new book ideas.
I went to the sunroom. It was bright and warm there, with the windows curving up at the ceiling to let the sunshine in. I sat down in a wicker chair beside some tall plants. There was a small glass-topped table for me to put my drinks and pad on. I took a generous swallow of the first beer—it was rich and satisfying.
Hours later, I wasn’t even sure how many, I heard footsteps and looked up. Sue was in the entryway, twenty feet in front of me.
She held a beer bottle, and her eyes were focused on the table beside me. “What are you doing, sitting in the dark?”
“Thinking about what we’ll do after I’m able to leave here.” To my surprise I was slurring my words. I tried to speak slower to cover it up. “And also starting on the outline of my next book … trying to be productive.”
“Mind if I join you for a minute?”
“Sure.” I reached over and turned on a lamp. It was bright, making me squint. On the table next to me were two empty stubby bottles of Chimay Blue, two drained Duvel Tripel Hops, the pad with some notes, and a bottle of Aberlour Scotch missing over a third of its contents. In my hand was a glass containing half-melted ice and amber liquid.
“Are you drunk?” She pulled a brown wicker chair closer to mine.
I sat up straight. “Getting there, now that you mention it.”
“Good idea about starting the new book.” Sue took a swig from her bottle. “And as far as our next moves, I thought we were going to the seed bank in Norway and then the lab in Colombia after you’re free. Were you thinking something different?”
“No, that’s still the plan.”
“So basically, you’ve been sitting here all afternoon and evening, getting sloshed?”
I smiled at her. She’d pointed out before that when I didn’t have much to do, I drank too much. I needed to keep busy and have a cause to focus on. “Pretty much.”
“Did you read the e-mail from Ivan?”
“I can understand why the Council is getting antsy.”
She nodded. “That’s what Jack said.”
We sipped our drinks.
There was a feeling of unease from Sue. “I’m sorry that I was short with you today.”
“It’s understandable. We’ve been spending a lot of time together in this place.”
“Yeah, but it’s not just that. I feel …”
“What?”
Sue reached out and took my hand. She opened her mouth to speak and then closed it.
“What?”
She leaned over and to my surprise, kissed me on the lips, lingering. I felt a spark and didn’t want her to stop.
She pulled back and paused, as if studying my reaction.
Her eyes narrowed and she let go of my hand. Standing, she walked out, saying something I couldn’t make out.
“Wait.” That was unexpected. “Don’t go.”
I sat back in the chair. The room took a second to catch up with me. I was drunk.
CHAPTER 9
May 3, 2003
I shouldn’t have skipped lunch and dinner yesterday, especially with the amount I’d drunk. There was a dull throb behind my temples, and my mouth was dry even after two glasses of water.
I thought about Sue. She’d been grumpy yesterday and then out of the blue, kissed me. I hadn’t seen that coming. Originally when we’d met at Washington State University, she’d shut my advances down and we developed a great friendship instead. Since then I’d kept the little flame I had for her buried deep inside me. Had I blown an opportunity with Sue? Was it an opportunity at all? Was I ready and wanting such an opportunity? I’d just seen Morgan in a meditation yesterday. Could Morgan’s spirit see what happened? Surely she would want me to move forward with my life … wouldn’t she? I sighed; my thinking was making my headache worse.
When I arrived at the dining room it was empty. Opening the door to the kitchen, I saw Rose in front of the stove. “Good morning, Rose.”
“Morni
ng, Nick. Coffee?” She took a mug from the cupboard.
“Great, thanks.” I took the mug from her and poured my own coffee. Then I walked over to the island and reached for the sugar.
“Do you want to eat in the dining room?” Rose was standing in front of me with a plate in each hand.
“No, here’s fine, thanks.”
Jack came into the room and took a stool next to me.
Rose placed the second omelette in front of him and went to get toast.
“I have to go back to the States.” Jack sliced the egg with his fork. “Tests at a lake near a site that was just hydraulically fractured are showing high levels of benzene and arsenic. It’s not far from Dallas. There’s also been seismic activity in the area the past few days.”
“Does that have to do with the hydraulic fracturing?”
“They’ve never had earthquakes there before.”
“When are you leaving?” I asked.
“This afternoon.”
I reached for the toast that Rose just placed in front of us. “We’ll hold down the fort. Or at least you know I’ll be here when you get back.”
He patted me on the shoulder. “Lee and I should return in a few weeks.”
After breakfast, Jack went to his office, and I retreated to my bedroom. I had an urge to meditate alone, so I crawled under the sheets of my bed and propped up the pillows behind me for a comfortable sitting position.
Breaths in and out, in and out. Let thoughts pass right through my mind and not linger. Before long blackness and empty space, calm.
Out of nowhere I was on a snowmobile, speeding across a frozen inlet, snow-covered, treeless, mountains rose on either side. I was in the lead with Sue, Jorge, and Lorraine behind me—I couldn’t see them because of the limited peripheral vision of my full-face helmet, but I felt they were there. Drifts ranging from two to five feet high like hard icy waves rose over the surface, and our snowmobiles became airborne as we launched off each one.
The channel narrowed sharply as the mountains closed in, and we had to take a hard right turn. I released the throttle and jammed on the brake, locking up the tread and skidding to a halt. In front of us was a wall of ice at least a hundred feet high. It was translucent, and I knew the light penetrating through the ice was from the seed bank.
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