by Meryl Sawyer
“Was this woman near your PC?” Cassidy asked.
“Yes. She brought me some literature on her Gull Wing. My laptop was in the room safe along with a special device being developed by DARPA.”
“Oh?” Cassidy said, clearly taken by surprise.
Brock instantly realized Cassidy didn’t know a thing about the gadget because Brock had never used his computer to discuss it. He went on to explain about the device, embellishing on its potential and his part in trying to obtain it for Obelisk. Anything to save his bacon. He finished, adding, “The woman must have pocketed my key and come into the room while I was asleep.”
“Wouldn’t you have heard her come into the room and break into the safe?”
This from the punk.
“I’m sure Jordan Walsh slipped me something like a roofie that would knock me out. I didn’t hear a thing. I slept until midafternoon the following day.”
“Roofie? What are you talking about?”
Brock opened his mouth, but the punk explained it to Cassidy. Brock listened, deciding the kid had used the date rape drug before or he wouldn’t know so much about it.
Cassidy pondered his explanation for a few seconds. “She cracked the safe and installed the keystroke logger. How would she do that without knowing your password?”
“It can be done,” Kyle assured him. “There’s a special logger that can be installed without turning on the computer. It invades the system the next time the authorized person logs on.”
“Who the hell does this woman work for?” Cassidy asked.
They debated the situation and decided Walsh was with the CIA. They’d been trying to link General Olofson to a stolen armament ring for years. Nothing in Obelisk’s records would incriminate the general, but they could be fried.
“I’ll investigate,” Brock said.
“No, you won’t!” Cassidy paced across the room to the window. “Kyle will handle it.” He spun around and pointed a finger at Brock. “You find Samantha Robbins and take her out.” He dropped his arm. “Otherwise, you’re out—and I mean out.”
Brock knew they intended to kill him even if he whacked the bitch for them. He was O-U-T. And he knew it. His brilliant mind was already hatching a plan.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
THE PAY PHONE at the Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary rang a little over an hour later. Chad grabbed the receiver.
“Langston?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve got some bad news.”
Fear mushroomed inside Chad, beginning as a vague sense of anxiety. It intensified as he rested his shoulder against the wall next to the pay phone and gazed at Devon. She was at the far end of the wooden platform that overlooked the sanctuary. Her remarkable profile was half-hidden by the binoculars she was using.
“Last night Rutherford and Ames were killed in a private plane crash outside of Houston.”
His stomach contracted, then twisted like a piece of wire. These men would stop at nothing. It was a miracle Devon had managed to kill one of them. “They were murdered.”
“The authorities say it looks like mechanical failure, but they won’t know until there’s a complete investigation.”
“I’m not buying it. Olofson and his buddies at Obelisk—”
“You’re probably right. Word in the federal prosecutor’s office is that Rutherford was going to cut a deal. Dunno what exactly, but I suspect Olofson and his gang got wind of it.”
“Wouldn’t be hard. Those prosecutors don’t make squat. For enough money, you can buy all the info you want.”
“You have to assume they’re going after Devon next. If she has hard evidence to link them to the crime, they won’t be safe until they’re rid of her.”
“True.” Chad was truly afraid for the first time in his life. These men were determined and resourceful. They’d managed to kill Rutherford and Ames even though they were under surveillance by the FBI. Chad wasn’t sure he could protect Devon.
“If you’re right about the disk, they’ll insist on getting it before they kill her.”
“That’ll rule out a sniper. They’ll grab her the way they tried to in Miami.”
“But first they’ve got to find her. You have a head start. Get back to Honolulu and find that disk. Call me the minute you do.”
“How will that help Devon?” Chad couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
There was a long moment of strained silence. Finally Danson said, “I’m going to give you some information you must keep to yourself. You cannot tell Devon or anyone. Agreed?”
“What choice do I have? Of course, I agree.”
“I know a lot more about Obelisk than I told you.” There was a serrated edge to Danson’s voice now.
Aw, hell, Chad thought. Here it comes.
“One of my agents managed to infiltrate their organization. Between what we have and what the federal prosecutor uncovered during their investigation of PowerTec, the Secretary of Defense himself is ready to charge them with treason.”
“Why would you be involved?” Chad asked. “DARPA is into development, not security.”
“I suspected Obelisk was after the device. What I found uncovered a lot more. Problem is—we can’t tie Olofson to any of it.”
“You think the disk Devon has will incriminate the general.”
“Absolutely. The federal prosecutor discovered the murdered FBI agent had checked that disk.”
“Right, and she told Devon that there wasn’t anything useful on it.”
“She lied. Apparently the woman tried to blackmail Olofson. That’s why she was killed. Later they discovered Devon had the original disk. All they’d taken from the dead woman was a copy.”
“Holy shit! Devon’s been holding a hand grenade without the pin all this time.”
“She didn’t have any idea?”
“Nope. She believed the FBI agent when the woman said the disk was worthless. She threw it in with some of her things.”
“Amazing. If only she’d known.”
“What can I tell her?”
“Just let her know the disk is really valuable. Don’t mention anything else. It’s top secret.”
“Okay,” Chad reluctantly agreed.
“Another agency has been monitoring Olofson’s telephone calls.”
Chad decided the other “agency” was the CIA. This was not encouraging. Even with the FBI and CIA involved, they still couldn’t nail Olofson.
“He talks in code but I understand it’s easy to tell what he means. He’s been calling Kilmer Cassidy and putting pressure on him to get something, then get rid of the person.”
With pulse pounding certainty Chad knew Devon was the person. “I’ll get you the disk, then I’m going to ground with Devon until the trial.”
“I doubt that will be necessary. Some of the illegal arms sales have been to terrorists. After 9/11 the government has extraordinary powers. They can arrest and hold these creeps indefinitely. They’ve waited, hoping to get Olofson.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Chad thought a moment. “How am I going to get the disk to you?”
“I’ll send a courier for it.”
Chad slowly hung up. Would finding the disk be enough to save Devon?
“YOU’VE FINALLY GOT SOMETHING.” Kyle pointed at the computer screen that was trying to match the do-rag guy’s photo with driver’s license photographs.
“Look,” he did his level best to sound like he accepted Kyle as a talented assistant with a lot to offer. After all, he was Bash Olofson’s nephew. The general had no children of his own. His sister had two daughters and this son. The heir apparent, Brock thought. Might as well kiss ass.
“Our software is state-of-the-art. Homeland Security’s sucks. They’re underfunded. That’s why this search took so long.”
“I know,” Kyle replied. “Do I look stupid?”
Brock was tempted to tell him the truth. Instead he pointed to the computer screen. It replaced the “Match Found” text with a rundown
of Chad Langston of Honolulu, Hawaii. His DMV profile didn’t tell Brock much.
“Would WITSEC have relocated Samantha Robbins in Hawaii?” Kyle asked.
Good question, Brock thought, but didn’t give the twerp the satisfaction of saying so. “I doubt it. The next step is to run his name through our computers. Unlike Homeland Security, we’ll have answers immediately. I developed the software myself.”
“Way to go,” Kyle replied, but he didn’t sound very impressed.
Less than a minute later information on Chad Langston filled the computer screen.
“Wow! This is rad,” Kyle said.
Chad Langston had been Phi Beta Kappa at Stanford. He’d been a colonel in the ROTC there and had gone on to serve in the army. He’d been selected for Delta Force.
“What’s Delta Force?” Kyle asked.
The kid had no military experience. Obviously his uncle had him in the financial end of the business. “Delta Force is a special unit that takes the best from all branches of the service, puts them together in special ops and assigns them covert duty. They’re highly trained and experts at firearms as well as field intelligence.”
“Commandos,” Kyle commented. “Trained killers.”
More information scrolled across the screen. Brock ventured a sideways glance and saw Kyle was impressed with the program Brock had developed.
“Langston served in the Gulf War, then went to work for the Defense Department,” Kyle said. “Doesn’t say what he did.”
“That means it was top secret and classified. We can find out if we think it’s important.”
More lines of text filled the screen. They silently read each bit of information. Brock mentally scrambled to piece it together. They were not dealing with an ordinary guy.
“He’s an underwater forensic expert,” Kyle said. “He owns a number of dive shops in the islands.”
“Let’s check his net worth.” Brock tapped a few keys.
“Well, I’ll be jiggered,” Kyle said. “He’s a millionaire. So what’s he doing helping that woman?”
“Good question,” Brock replied before he could stop himself.
“Maybe he racked up that kind of money from helping desperate people,” Kyle said. “She could be paying him.”
“Possibly.” He gazed at the punk. “What would you look at next?”
“Credit card activity,” he said without hesitation. “Let’s see if we can track him by his purchases.”
It was a good answer but Brock instinctively knew this man wouldn’t leave a trail that would be easy to trace.
“He bought a ticket to Miami on American Airlines,” the kid said. “There’s no other activity on any of his cards after that. He must have suspected we would try to track him. I’m surprised he even put the airline ticket on his card.”
“Paying in cash these days makes airlines suspicious,” Brock told the punk.
“Gotcha.” He leaned closer to the computer screen. “Let’s check the airlines to see if he used that ticket or exchanged it for another ticket to a different place.”
Kyle hacked into every airline’s central database. Nothing.
“He’s still in Florida,” Kyle concluded. “Or he’s driven to another state. He hasn’t returned to Hawaii.”
“Don’t be too sure. This guy could have phony ID.”
Kyle rocked back in his chair and studied the computer screen. “If she isn’t paying him to help her, what’s the link between them? Why would some rich guy try to help her?”
“The woman’s the bomb. A real looker. Could be that simple. Sex.”
“Then she was living in Honolulu,” Kyle responded. “That’s where we’ll find the disk.”
The word “disk” had never been used at Obelisk. From the moment they’d discovered Rutherford’s file had been copied, they all were under orders to never mention it. Obviously the kid had inside info to know about the missing disk.
“I thought killing the FBI agent who had the disk was the right move to protect your uncle. Who would have imagined the woman would have given the original back to the Robbins bitch?”
“I guess she didn’t want Samantha Robbins to look at the disk again and see it had been altered or it was a blank.”
Brock realized his first miscalculation in a series of miscalculations had begun with the FBI agent. She’d tried to hold up Bash and the rest of the group for cash. Killing her seemed prudent. Trouble was—women were unpredictable. Who would give back an original disk loaded with incriminating info?
Who would slit a guy’s throat unnecessarily? he thought, remembering the fuck-up in Santa Fe. Who would be clever enough to elude the police by driving to Colorado the way Samantha had? Who would pretend to be a Gull Wing buff like Jordan Walsh?
Women were born to make men’s lives hell. You could never predict what they might do.
“What next?” Kyle asked.
Brock was pleased that the punk didn’t know where to go next with this case. “Let’s see if Langston has family. They’ll know more about him and the bitch. They’ll know when he’s coming home or where he is.”
“What if the woman isn’t with him?”
Brock couldn’t swallow his laugh. He chuckled, then said, “Do you know we all die with our eyes open?”
Kyle edged away from him, a subtle movement, but Brock noticed. “No. I wasn’t aware of that.”
“It’s true. There are ways of making men—even those as tough as Langston—talk.” Brock pushed back from his desk. “I’m going to Honolulu.”
“I’m coming with you.”
Brock would have argued, but the kid was Olofson’s heir apparent. He intended to gain the general’s support through the know-it-all punk.
KEKE SAT UP UNTIL THREE in the morning, expecting Chad to call and say he was home—and safe. She checked the telephone again—in case the call had kicked into the message center.
Nothing.
If only Paul were here, she thought. He would know what to do. She called Chad’s home again, but no one picked up the telephone. No wonder. Rory had flown to Huntington Beach, California for a surfing contest.
Would Chad have returned to Honolulu and not have called her?
He promised, she thought. Chad wasn’t one to go back on his word. Something niggled at the corner of her mind. If he’d come home, his Porsche would be gone from the airport lot.
She wanted to check but the children were asleep. She couldn’t leave them. She didn’t want to awaken her two sisters and frighten them. Keke decided she had two choices. She could take the children to the airport to check on Chad’s car or she could call Mother Nakamura.
Waking the children wasn’t an option, she decided. Lui asked too many questions. He would want to know why they were going to the airport again in the dead of night. Lui would report the whole incident to Paul. She wasn’t sure she wanted her husband to know about Chad’s problems.
Paul came from a different culture. Families stood shoulder to shoulder and troubles were shared. Chad was different.
He was a man with secrets. His life in the military was something he never discussed. There was a lot Chad didn’t talk about. His dark side frightened her.
She bit the bullet and called Mother Nakamura. “I’m so sorry to bother you. I have to go out. I need someone to stay with the children.”
“Oh?” Paul’s mother sounded groggy. Well, it was very late. Mother Nakamura had suffered through a luau and Chuck E. Cheese. No doubt she was alarmed by this call shortly before dawn.
“It’s an emergency. My brother needs me. I don’t want to awaken the children. Could you please come over?”
Paul’s mother agreed and half an hour later appeared in a sweat suit at their front door.
Keke kissed both her cheeks with genuine sincerity for the first time. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Keke drove like a demon to the airport. She grabbed a ticket from the dispenser and drove into the parking lot. She turned left, then right to get to
the spot where Chad had parked his Porsche.
It had vanished.
She stared at the empty space, fear gathering force like a tornado. Why hadn’t he called? He had to be in terrible trouble.
Wait a minute.
He could have just arrived. She tried his cell but it kicked over to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message. She called Chad’s home. Voice mail again. She phoned the message center to see if he’d left her a message. Nothing.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAD SAT BESIDE DEVON on the sofa that converted to a bed in her small apartment. They’d returned an hour ago, drove directly to her place, and found the disk. They’d inserted it in the lap top they’d purchased in Naples while waiting for American Express to open.
“I don’t see anything on this disk that would incriminate Obelisk,” Devon said.
“Trust me. It’s here. It could be encrypted. It’s also possible the info is hidden in a screen within a screen. That’s how most kiddy porn sites are set up. It’ll take more expertise than we have to tell.”
“I don’t know. The FBI agent told me the disk was worthless. Judging from what I see, I’d she was correct.”
Chad cursed under his breath. Devon had no idea the FBI agent had been murdered because the information on this tape made her resort to blackmail, and Chad couldn’t tell her.
When Devon had asked about his conversation with Danson, Chad glossed over parts of the story. Afterward, there were questions in her eyes, but she’d kept silent. She was too intelligent not to realize he hadn’t told her everything.
“Let’s make a copy of this disk and put it somewhere safe.” He held up the silver disk. “Then I’m going to call my friend to make arrangements to pick up this one.”
“Speaking of picking up things, I need to get Zach. He’s supposed to be at Paws N Claws at nine to have his coat trimmed.”
“We’ll go out to my place now. I have a safe where we can store a copy of the disk.” He stretched out his long legs before him. Even though he’d slept for most of the long plane ride, Chad was still tired. It was mental exhaustion, he knew. It came because he was so concerned for Devon’s safety. “Zach should be fine. Rory didn’t leave until almost midnight.”