The men on either side of him said nothing, only stared out across the beach as if they were tourists taking in the view for the first time, enjoying the quiet company of friends.
“What this means,” Lance went on, spelling it out for them, “is that the disbursement of my father’s assets—including my share of his estate which was left to me in his will—will be delayed.” Lance sucked down more of his beverage while he waited for his connections to process the bombshell.
“Delayed by how long?” Right asked.
“Until he can be declared legally dead,” Lance said. Or physically, actually dead, he thought, and then felt so sick for an instant that he almost vomited right there on the table.
“Are you alright?” Left asked. Lance swilled some water from a glass.
“Fine, thanks”
“Too many eggs, perhaps?”
Right was impatient with the small talk and got back to business.
“This means that you will not be able to pay us what we agreed?” he asked.
Lance almost snorted orange juice and champagne through his nose. “Unfortunately, yes, that’s exactly what it means. If I had a couple of million dollars laying around, I wouldn’t have gone through with this in the first place.”
“Enough!” Left said. “You will not mention money like that again, do you understand me?” he finished through clenched teeth.
“Okay, I’m sorry,” Lance said, meaning it. Three men arguing in public while mentioning large sums of money would make for a memorable moment, and the last thing Lance wanted to do was stand out in anyone’s mind.
“You must not lose control of your emotions,” Left said.
“I’m not losing control,” Lance countered. “You’re the ones who let this thing with Dave and Johnson get all screwed up. It’s not my fault your boats are shooting up Waikiki Beach in the middle of the goddamn day. Talk about losing control. I thought you were professionals.”
A look of infuriation took over Left’s face. He leaned forward until his eyes were only inches from Lance’s.
“I will not be insulted by a man who cannot deliver what he has promised.”
Left shoved his chair back and stood up. Right did the same, albeit in a more composed fashion. Left threw his napkin on the table.
Lance just sat there, fork in hand, stunned. “What’s going on?”
Right put a hand on his shoulder, firmly. “Perhaps the investigation will stall long enough for the declaration we require.”
“And in the meantime?” Lance felt panic rising in his voice. Left was already walking away from the table toward the side exit.
“You wait. Preferably on the mainland with your sister, where you belong and will stay out of trouble. There is also the possibility that perhaps your father will be receptive to an offer of a different kind.”
Lance made a spitting noise. “You mean GREENBACK? It was part of our deal that you leave him alone in that regard.”
“But you are unable to keep your end of the deal. Things did not happen as you said. We will need to sequester him for a bit longer.”
“Sequester? Is that what you’re calling it these days? Listen, you can’t blame me for this. I’ve done my best.”
The Asian man gripped Lance’s hand as if for a sincere handshake, pumping it while putting on a beaming fake smile for whoever happened to be watching.
“Then it would seem that your best is not good enough in this case. We will contact you.”
“When?”
The kidnapper lowered his voice even more. “After we eliminate your new friend Dave.”
The sole contact Lance had to his father turned on his heel and walked away.
…CGTG37TTAT...
7:44 AM
Tara ripped out the headphones and shoved the parabolic mike into her bag. Throwing her clothes back on, she watched the two Asian men leave the restaurant by the side entrance and retreat down the beach access path to the street. Meanwhile, Lance was still sitting at the table alone, head in his hands. I know where to find him.
Tara sprinted across the sand and bolted down the beach access path after Lance's dining companions, weaving in and out of slow moving tourist herds on their way to the beach. Ducking around a group of Japanese visitors, Tara was unable to avoid a fat woman who'd been looking the other way, and ran full force into her, sending the woman sprawling onto the ground, her husband's cursing fading behind her as she continued to run.
She reached the street in time to see the two kidnappers ease into the back of a waiting taxi, unaware they'd been followed. The cab pulled onto the road heading away from Waikiki toward Diamond Head. Tara's car was parked too far away to give chase.
Watching the taxi drive off, Tara considered her next move. The kidnappers had threatened Dave by name. She had to alert Dave and Kristen as to what she knew. She'd find Lance later. She trotted off toward her parked car, a few blocks away.
Lance mumbled a half-assed apology to a fellow pedestrian he had just bumped into on the sidewalk. Consumed by inner turmoil, his mind replayed the details of his breakfast meeting to the point that he was not seeing what was in front of him while he walked. Zombie-like, he strode away from Diamond Head on Kalakaua Avenue back toward his hotel.
The bastards were keeping his father! This was not part of the bargain, yet, what could he do about it? What were his choices? He couldn’t very well inform the police or the FBI that he’d arranged to have his father kidnapped, and that his partners had refused to release him after he was unable to come up with the money. This maelstrom of uncertainty raged inside his brain as he paced onward, oblivious to the beautiful, sun-drenched day around him.
He had no idea what to do. He knew one thing, though.
Dr. William Archer was in terrible danger.
The kidnappers as much as told him that they would extract his father’s global warming bug technology out of him, like an oyster from its shell. Or like an industrial secret from a torture victim. And that’s what they wanted in the first place, Lance thought as he skirted around a mother with a baby stroller. The mother held up a camera as he passed, asked him if he would take a snapshot of her and her baby with the beach in the background. In a trance, Lance took the camera from her and framed the shot while his mind continued to roam.
Even if I had given them the two million, they still probably had no plans of just releasing my father. But now I’ve given them an easy excuse to renege on the deal...
Lance was moving again. He couldn’t even remember giving the camera back to the lady, wasn’t sure he knew what was going on.
Behind the wheel of her Crown Vic, Tara picked up her cell-phone and dialed Kristen's number. The marine microbiologist answered on the second ring. Tara asked where she was.
“I’m up here at Dave’s. He offered to make me breakfast, so I stopped by after I was done at the lab. Sequencing should be done in four-to-six hours. I told them about the bioluminescent—”
Tara cut her off. Anywhere with Dave was not a safe place to be right now. “Kristen, listen to me, I have something very important to tell you and Dave.”
“Okay.”
Tara knew that cellular phones were anything but secure modes of communication, especially Kristen’s, which wouldn’t have the same advanced counter-surveillance technology Tara’s did. What she needed to tell them would have to be done face-to-face. “I need to talk in person.” Kristen started to give her the address.
“Stop—I'll get it myself. I'll see you in a few.” Tara clicked off and focused on the road. The last thing she wanted was to broadcast their location. Dave was in the phone book, anyway, she already knew from her preliminary casework, but there was no need to make tracking him down that much easier for anyone who might be listening.
Lance was surprised to find their hotel room empty. Kristen had said she’d be back after she dropped the sample off at the lab. Not seeing any notes left for him, he took out his cell-phone and called his sister.
&nbs
p; …CGGC38CGGA...
Dave’s truck was in the driveway and the door to his house was open. Tara entered and closed the door behind her. No reason for the whole neighborhood to hear what was about to transpire.
Inside, the smell of bacon, eggs and papaya permeated the air as Tara passed through the living room. She walked past the table of laptops and into the kitchen, where Kristen and Dave sat at a round table, eating.
“Thanks for stopping by, Agent Shores. So what is it you wanted to tell us?” Kristen greeted her, standing up from the table.
“It's probably better if you're sitting down for this,” Tara said.
Dave shot Kristen a quizzical look.
“There’s something I need to explain,” Tara added quickly, not wanting Kristen to think she was about to relay that her father had been found dead.
Kristen set her glass of orange juice down on the tabletop with a loud clack. “Please just tell us what this about, Agent Shores—”
“I can make a run to the store for a few minutes if you don't want me here,” Dave said, looking at Tara.
“Never mind, Dave. Stay here. Unfortunately, this involves you, too.”
After exchanging glances with Kristen, Dave eased back into his chair. He pushed his plate away and looked at Tara, who took the seat across from him at the table.
Tara looked at Kristen and said, “Three months ago, Lance helped an Asian biotechnology consortium kidnap your father. According to prearranged plans, your father was supposed to be released today, but the plans have changed.”
Silence weighed heavily on the cramped kitchen. Kristen was the first to recover enough to speak.
“How do you know all this?”
Tara relayed her beach trip to Kristen and Dave, who both began firing questions at once.
“Why isn't the release going to happen? What were the plans that went wrong?” Kristen blurted.
“He told them I knew where the Tropic Sequence was?” Dave nearly squealed. “Why the hell did he do that?”
Tara looked at Dave and said, “That's what he told them. I guess he didn't know what else to say. I came over here right away to make you aware of this threat. It is very serious.”
She turned to Kristen and addressed her questions: “From what I overheard, Lance made an arrangement with the kidnappers whereby they would receive a portion of Lance's share of your father's inheritance once he was declared legally dead. But because his yacht was found, the investigation has been reopened, suspending the declaration of his death at least for a while. So because Lance can't pay, they said they're going to hold your father longer, possibly to obtain information about something called GREENBACK.”
“Oh my God,” Kristen exclaimed, and she seemed to slump onto the table. “Lance is on his way over now. Don't tell him that you heard everything. I want to ask him myself what's going on and see what he says.”
Tara knew this was a sister's way of testing her brother's loyalty, to see if he would lie to her face, to plumb the depths of his deception. As a detective, she too had an interest in how Lance would respond. But for now she didn't want Kristen to dwell on such a deplorable act of familial betrayal.
“Tell me about GREENBACK,” Tara said. “What is it?”
“The global warming bugs,” Kristen said, turning her head slightly so that she could be heard. “Potentially worth billions. Even if they're not 100% effective, plenty of companies would pay millions to be able to tinker around with them—to continue experimenting where my Dad left off. Imagine the ability to control the planet's climate. GREENBACK's worth may be incalculable.”
“The kidnappers did tell Lance they may have to learn about GREENBACK from your father to offset Lance's inability to pay the agreed upon cash.”
At this Kristen started bawling. “He won’t tell them, they'll torture him!” she cried. Dave put an arm around her, trying to calm her down. And then they heard a knock at the front door, the creak of the screen door opening.
Lance walked into the living room.
…GAAA39TTCC...
Kristen wiped her eyes dry on her sleeve as Lance continued through the house into Dave's kitchen. Kristen and Dave remained seated at the table. Tara stood, hoping she looked somewhere between bored and professionally detached.
“Agent Shores! Wasn't expecting to see you here. Any news?” Lance asked.
Tara downplayed her presence. “I wanted to compare notes with Kristen on the Tropic Sequence's itinerary. Also, I want to be here when the samples from the sequencing lab come back,” she said, giving both of the Archer siblings a true statement.
“You drop the pickle jar sample off at the lab?” Lance asked Kristen.
“Sure did. They'll call me when it's ready. So how's your morning been so far, Lance?”
Lance hesitated just slightly at the change in course. “Not bad. Slept in.”
“Oh. You hungry—want some breakfast?”
“No thanks, I already ate.”
“I thought you said you slept in?”
“Well, I did but then I went to McDonald's real quick. Wanted to see if they really add those pineapples we were talking about. They do, by the way, but you don't have a choice about it and it makes the meal more expensive. What's with all the questions?”
Tara was disturbed by Lance's ability to lie convincingly on the fly. She’d seen career criminals who wished they were that smooth.
“Oh, that's funny,” Kristen said, “because I thought you had breakfast at the Hau Tree Lanai on Sans Souci Beach with two Asian men.”
Lance paled.
“What did you talk about?” Kristen asked. Tara watched Lance carefully; he was now a cornered animal.
“Oh, yeah, those guys. I did have a super-light breakfast, but I was still hungry after that so I went to McDonald's.” Kristen ignored the white lie and focused on the core of the matter.
“Who were those men, Lance, and what did you discuss?”
“Well, I didn't want to tell you about it because I know you brought me over here to look for Dad. But I figured since there wasn't much else I could do to help at this point, that I'd do something productive for me. So I set up a meeting with a couple of local real estate agents, to see what it would take for me to buy some property here. You know, because my divorce attorney says I may be entitled to a little more of the proceeds from the sale of our house—”
Even Tara was floored by Lance's continuation of the web of lies, and by how adept he was at spinning them. But Kristen could take no more. She rose like a shot, sending her chair skittering to the floor. She pointed at her brother, who backed up a step.
“Damn it, Lance! Do you know what you've done! You've thrown our father to the dogs. They're not going to let him live, don't you see that? They can't.”
Lance opened his mouth to speak, looked at Tara, made the connection that somehow she was behind this, and went to the refrigerator. Finding a few cans of cheap light beer, he cracked one and started to guzzle it. His sister watched him in complete disgust.
After finishing half the can, Lance said, “Dad won't give them the entire GREENBACK solution at once. He'll dole it out to them, a piece at a time while they test it out, so that they won't be able to get rid of him if they want to know more.”
No one spoke. Tara began to think about arresting Lance for the kidnapping of his own father. Lance put a hand over his face and kept speaking. “My life has been totally out of control for about three years now. I took desperate measures to try and get back on course, which have now backfired in a huge way.”
He sucked down more beer. Kristen picked her chair back up from the floor and slid it back under the table, a fierce gleam lighting in her eyes.
“Lance. I know you’ve had some problems—the divorce and all—you’re drinking too much—but I also told you I was there to give whatever support I could. Dad was, too.”
“He wasn’t. I did ask him for money a while ago, but he told me I needed to make my own. That I was the one
who decided to have a family—at the expense of my own career, he said—and so I needed to be responsible for it.”
“You can’t really argue with that, can you? And even though he wouldn’t help you financially, I always said I would.”
Lance shook his head dismissively. “You couldn’t get me enough to pay for the lawyers I’d need to get my kid back from my ex-wife. Dad could have easily, but he didn’t want to. So I was incredibly mad, and I did what I did. I’m sure not proud of it, but I don’t want anything to happen to Dad, and so I’m coming clean now.”
“What exactly did you do?” Tara asked. Now was the time to pounce. She activated her voice-recorder.
“I contacted members of a biotechnology consortium who were fierce competitors with GREENBACK. They made it clear to me that they were willing to pay me some money in return for information about Dad’s science. But even the cash they offered me wasn’t that much. So I made a deal with them. I provided them with the Tropic Sequence’s itinerary around Hawaii, and some details about the kidnap and ransom guys on retainer by Alacra. Then I told them that if they kidnapped my father and just kept him hidden for a few months—without hurting him, I made that part very clear—that at some point he would be declared legally dead, lost at sea. This would also benefit them because they were racing to get their own global warming microbe technology patented and on the market before Dad did, so it bought them time.
“Then, since I’m listed on his will, I’d receive an inheritance of several million dollars. Out of that, I told the kidnappers I’d pay them a bonus of two million if everything went smoothly. It all seemed to be working, until Kristen found Dad’s DNA messages which led you to the boat. Since that new development keeps Dad from being declared dead, it also keeps me from receiving my share of the inheritance...which in turn means that I can’t pay the kidnappers.
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