Beyond Control

by Lawrence Verigin

  CHAPTER 15

  May 9, 2003

  I was nervous about being out in the open in Dallas, yet relieved we weren’t going to the seed bank.

  Sue was in the seat next to me, her face pointing toward the little round window with the shade drawn.

  I touched her shoulder.

  “Are you awake?”

  She turned her head toward me, looking tired and solemn.

  “I have to tell you something.” I adjusted my hip beneath the seatbelt, to face her. “I have to admit that I had a premonition about us going to the seed bank, and it wasn’t good. There was blood, ice turning to water, and us drowning.”

  Sue seemed to contemplate my admission for a moment, then said, “Do you remember when you, Jack, and I meditated, and I told you I had an ominous feeling afterward?”

  “Yes.”

  “It was about the seed bank too.”

  Thank goodness we hadn’t gone to the seed bank.

  We landed at Dallas Fort Worth International Airport at 2:10 a.m. local time.

  I didn’t think any one of us slept much on the flight. I’d probably slept a cumulative two hours when my brain had shut down, needing rest from the sadness of losing Jack and weighing our next options.

  “What’s our first step?” I asked Sue and Jorge on either side of me, as the plane taxied to the terminal.

  “I guess it depends on if someone is waiting for us.” Sue had been looking out the window at the lane lights passing by.

  “If we’re not detained, we need to rent a van and find a hotel,” Jorge said. “It’s too early to see Lee, and my condo is too small to fit everyone.”

  I’d forgotten that Jorge had told us Dallas was his home base. Him saying he had a “condo” sounded too normal for him. “Do you have a hotel in mind?”

  “There are a few close to the hospital where Lee is.”

  “What about nearer Jack’s ranch?” Sue suggested.

  Jorge shook his head. “There’s no way anyone is going to let us near there. There’s no need anyway.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” Sue said.

  As we disembarked the plane, the six of us stuck together. The first thing that struck me as we walked through the terminal was the dryness of the air. The smell of fried food lingered as we passed multiple, closed eateries between gates.

  After we cleared customs and collected our luggage, there was no one there to detain us.

  We stood together in a huddle.

  “This makes me more nervous than if the police were waiting for us,” Sue said.

  “Agreed,” Ivan said.

  The other passengers from our flight had dispersed, leaving few people around.

  “I’d bet everything that we’re being watched,” I said.

  “There’s no way that wouldn’t be happening,” Jorge confirmed.

  Lorraine eyed the room slowly.

  Rose looked as nervous as we must have all felt.

  I shrugged. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “Let’s go rent a van big enough for all of us.” Jorge led the way outside the terminal to where the rental agency shuttles were.

  The air was thick, like being wrapped in a warm blanket, even at three o’clock in the morning, not like cool and wet England. Dust stirred in the breeze.

  We picked up a gray Dodge Caravan, and Jorge drove us into Dallas.

  Ivan, sitting in the middle row, was holding Rose’s hand and asked, “Do you have your own home here?”

  “I had a suite at the ranch,” Rose replied. “I’d like to go back there and pick up my belongings.”

  “We can see if that can be arranged,” Ivan said. “Where do you consider home, then?”

  “I raised my children in Savannah, Georgia, and my husband is buried there. My son still lives in our home with his young family.” Rose’s voice was filled with longing. “It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen them.”

  Sue and I were in the third row and kept watching behind us to see if we could spot anyone following us. Traffic was very light on the freeway, but there were cars behind us that travelled at the same speed. When we exited onto another highway, there were two cars that did the same. As we turned into the circular driveway of a four-story hotel, one of the cars drove by, and one parked across the street.

  “I spotted the tail,” Sue said.

  “Right there.” It was a midsize gray Chevy sedan, identical to the one that had followed me after I’d met Dr. Elles. A ripple of unease ran through me at the thought of when all this had started, three years ago.

  “I’m sure they want to know where we’re staying,” Lorraine said from the front passenger seat.

  “Most likely police.” Jorge parked the van to the side of the hotel entrance.

  We all got out, keeping an eye on the car across the street. We couldn’t see inside from our distance, and no one got out of it.

  We checked in, getting three rooms with two queen-size beds each. We’d decided it was time to start being more frugal with money. We were all on the fourth floor but not next to one another.

  The interior of the popular hotel chain was about due for a renovation; everything looked worn from heavy use.

  Sue’s and my room was standard-looking, with brown furniture and gold-colored fixtures. The beige-and-gold striped wallpaper was beginning to lift at the edges.

  “It’s seen better days.” Sue was looking into the bathroom.

  I glanced over her shoulder to see a light-gray toilet, tub, and sink. The sink and tub were permanently stained where the water hit the porcelain, but it was clean. “It’ll do.”

  I went over to the window. We were pointing east, because past the highway, between the buildings, on the horizon the dark sky was turning to yellow. “We should try get a couple hours rest.”

  I awoke when I heard pipes complain. Looking over at the next bed, I discovered Sue wasn’t in it, and the shower was on in the bathroom.

  My back was tight, and I felt fatigued.

  Reaching over to the nightstand between the beds for the remote control, I saw the red numbers on the digital clock read 7:47 a.m. We’d slept only three hours.

  I turned on the news to see what was in store, weather-wise. It was culture shock to hear everyone speaking in slower southern drawls, compared to the stiff British accents I’d become accustomed to. There had been two domestic shootings last night—that was also something you didn’t hear often on the local news in England.

  A middle-aged man with a smile way too big pronounced from in front of a chart that it was going to be sunny with the temperature in the high eighties, with sticky, eighty percent humidity for the next five days.

  Sue came out of the bathroom wearing a white bra, panties, and a towel around her head like a turban. She looked good. I pushed away a sudden remembrance of our night together; now was not the time for those kinds of thoughts.

  “Get your ass out of bed and go have a shower.” She opened her suitcase. “How hot is it going to be today?”

  “High eighties.”

  After my shower, shave, and dual bandage replacement, I was ready to face what the day would bring.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Sue was putting on finishing touches of eyeliner at the mirror beside the TV. She wore black shorts and an off-white, thin tank top.

  The only good thing about having to come to Dallas at that particular time was that I was able to wear shorts, a polo shirt and not have to wear socks.

  “Ready? I talked to Jorge while you were lounging in the spa, and we were all supposed to meet in the restaurant five minutes ago.” Sue seemed especially blunt that morning.

  “Let’s go, then.”

  We grabbed what we needed, anticipating that we’d leave right after breakfast.

  The caé was busy, and we were the last ones to arrive at our table. Like the rest of the hotel, the restaurant needed a renovation from years of wear and tear.

  A middle-aged woman in a black skir
t and a white, button-down shirt was standing beside our group, writing down food orders. She looked to be of East Indian origin. When Sue and I sat down, she said, “Good morning, can I get you coffee?”

  That took me aback—a Texan drawl coming from a person of her heritage? I’d never experienced that before and smiled. “Yes, please.”

  As soon as everyone placed their orders, Sue said, “What’s the plan?”

  “We go to the hospital, which is nearby,” Jorge said. “I think the safest place for us would be in Lee’s room until I get some protection. I’ll need to go to my place to get it.”

  I assumed Jorge meant firearms.

  “I have friends at the police department who may be able to give us some information,” Jorge said.

  “I know people at the FBI whom I could talk to,” Lorraine said. “They might know something.”

  Everyone looked at her. She’d surprised us more than once.

  “Okay, talk to them, but don’t give them anything about us,” Jorge said.

  “Of course.” Lorraine showed an annoyed reaction, which was rare. “You think I’d tell them anything?”

  Jorge backed down. “No, of course not.”

  “We’re all on pins and needles,” Rose said.

  After breakfast no one had to go back to their room. One of the many things I liked about our group was that everyone was organized and planned ahead.

  Outside it was already warm and humid. The air smelled of a mixture of bacon cooking and asphalt heating. The Chevy that had parked across the street when we arrived was still there. Its tinted windows made it impossible to make out anyone inside.

  Sue and I went to the third row of our rental van and positioned ourselves to look out the back window.

  “Maybe they weren’t following …” Sue stopped in midsentence as the Chevy’s headlights turned on. “There we go.”

  “At least we know we’re being watched,” Jorge said from the driver’s seat. “We’ll factor that in when we need to disappear.”

  “We have to find out if they are local police, Feds, Naintosa security, or someone else,” Lorraine responded from the front passenger seat.

  Rose looked worried. Ivan took her hand.

  Another car that had been parked about ten spots ahead of the Chevy pulled out after it passed.

  “Are our followers being followed?” I asked.

  “Could be,” Sue said.

  We stopped at a red light. There was a small car in-between us and the Chevy. Our van being taller allowed me a view. From the way the sun hit the Chevy’s windshield, I could make out two people inside it. Then there was another vehicle in front of the second car that may or may not have been following us.

  We moved like a motorcade for the next long block until we reached the Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital. It was a big brown concrete complex, surrounded by a parklike setting. Jorge knew his way around, taking us straight to the parking garage.

  As we turned and stopped at the gate to get a ticket, the Chevy, which I could see now was a Malibu, and the other, which was a Ford, drove by.

  Jorge was looking through the rear-view mirror. “I’m sure they know why we’re here.”

  After walking for what seemed to be a quarter of a mile, we asked where Lee’s room was at an information desk. We had to go up two floors and follow a yellow line around a maze of hallways.

  There were no guards outside of Lee’s room like we’d anticipated.

  He was the only occupant inside, lying in one of two beds. A tube and monitor cord stuck out of his right arm. Lee was awake. There was a bandage over his right cheek and jaw and black and blue bruises around his eyes.

  “Hi, Lee.” I’d been the first one to enter the room.

  Everyone else said hello as they came in.

  “What are you all doing here?” Lee focused on us. “It’s not safe.”

  “You mean not safe in the hospital, or in Dallas?” Ivan asked.

  “Neither.” Lee tried to prop himself up, but you could tell it was painful. “I failed to protect Jack. I can’t protect you either. I can’t fucking do anything, lying here. Feds have been here, acting like I premeditated killing Bail.”

  I wondered if the medication Lee was on was making him anxious. His eyes were dilated and his speech pattern unusual for him.

  “You do not think Peter Bail acted alone?” Ivan asked.

  Rose sat down in the only chair in the room, looking somber.

  “You sure Bail is dead?” I had to ask one last time.

  “I snapped his neck myself,” Lee said. “And Bail only acted when he was paid, so someone put him up to it.”

  Okay, if Lee himself snapped his neck, then I finally was confident Bail was dead.

  “Some people tried to kill us at almost the same time,” Sue said.

  “Sam was shot and is in a hospital in London,” Lorraine said.

  “Fuck.” Lee tried to move again but winced. “I hadn’t heard.”

  Jorge and Lorraine explained the Burford attack.

  Then it was Lee’s turn. He told us what he knew of Jack’s death and his encounter with Bail. There was both anger and sadness in the room while we listened.

  There was a knock at the open door. “Sorry to interrupt.” Two men in navy-blue suits walked in. The one in front was four inches shorter and had a shaved head; the taller one behind had a full head of light-brown hair. Both men were probably in their late forties.

  “I’m Special-Agent-in-Charge, Furyk, FBI,” the bald one said in a gravelly voice, flashing a badge.

  The taller one nodded. “Agent Stenson.” His voice was an octave higher.

  Why was Furyk “special?” That made me not trust him right away.

  Looking directly at me, Agent Furyk asked, “Nick Barnes?” He was thick, with a noticeable gut, and barrel-chested. He reminded me of a bulldog. “Can I have a word with you?”

  Agent Stenson took a step forward. “Dr. Ivan Popov. May I please have a word with you?”

  As I followed Agent Furyk from the room, a woman in a navy-blue pant suit with short, blonde hair came in and went over to Sue.

  Furyk led me down the hall to a small meeting room. Ivan and Stenson continued on. I hadn’t seen where Sue went; it must’ve been in the opposite direction.

  The room’s main purpose was for doctors to have private discussions about patients with their family members. There were two caramel-colored small couches opposite each other, with a cheap wooden table in the middle and a fake fern in the corner.

  I went to sit on the furthest couch and took a good look at the special agent. He seemed serious, and my first impression was that he was a bully. “So you’re working on Jack Carter’s murder investigation?”

  “Yes.” He’d sat down on the opposite couch. “I just want to get your perspective on a few things.”

  “Sure.” I wanted to make a conscious effort to lead the conversation as long as I could and get as much information as possible before he turned the tables, which he invariably would.

  Furyk furrowed his brow. “I’m aware that your group had multiple exchanges with Mr. Peter Bail.”

  “Have you figured out who he’d been working for?” I leaned forward. “Who ordered the hit?”

  “We’re not sure yet.” Furyk was stone-faced. “We’re communicating with his past employers, but at this time it looks like he acted alone. Do you—”

  “That wouldn’t happen. Bail’s motivation was money. He didn’t do anything, especially kill someone, without getting paid for it.”

  “You don’t think he acted out of revenge?” Furyk seemed interested in what I was saying, his face showing slight emotion. “Y’all kept getting away from him.”

  How did he know that? “I’m sure that was part of it, but …” I looked him straight in the eye, wanting to gauge his reaction. “It couldn’t be a coincidence that there were attempts on Sue Clark’s and my life at almost the same time. Someone is behind both.”

  Somethi
ng I’d said triggered a flash of anger in Furyk’s gaze. But why? That made me uncomfortable, because I was just stating the obvious. I pressed forward. “It had to be a coordinated effort. They wanted us wiped out at once.”

  “That’s a possibility.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a possibility’?” I leaned halfway across the table separating us. “Are you in touch with Interpol? Have you talked to Chief Inspector Plante? Have they identified the man Lorraine killed? Who’s in charge of this investigation? Can I speak with them?”

  My barrage of questions made Furyk squint. “Listen, we are collaborating with Inspector Plante and Interpol, and we are exploring all avenues, I promise you that. But you and your group got yourselves into this mess, and it’s hard to believe you didn’t think it was going to end up this way sooner or later.”

  “Exposing the truth always has consequences, especially when it’s a plot that affects the population of the entire world. It’s worth the risk. Don’t you care what’s going to happen to you, your friends, your neighbors, the people you work with … your family?”

  “Of course I care. I’m not convinced you do.” He was sitting at the very edge of his seat. “Jack Carter is dead, the entire Elles family wiped out, Dr. Bill Clancy, Dr. Kenneth Roth … do you want me to go on? Their deaths are because of what you’ve so-called exposed.”

  Okay, he had a good grasp of what had been going on. “You nailed it! So, are you investigating the obvious suspects—Naintosa and Pharmalin security, Hendrick Schmidt four and five, Davis Lovemark, and Carlo Da Silva? They’re responsible!”

  “No, asshole, you’re responsible.” Furyk’s bald head went red, and he wasn’t acting “special” anymore. “You’re the ones picking on good citizens and their companies, meddling where you shouldn’t be.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I was ready to nail the guy. “You call the most obvious suspects good citizens and then say it’s our fault? Do you not know what we’re desperately trying to prove? These guys are working on culling the population of the Earth! They want to cut it by more than half and at the same time control everyone!” I caught myself yelling and toned it down. “This affects you and everyone you know … everyone. Only the people responsible are safe. Don’t you see? This is really important.”