Powell grunted. “Oh yeah? Who are we going to bear witness against? For what crime? To be in that, you have to know something about someone the cops want to bust. We’re not eligible.”
“God, what are we going to do?” McCormack was sweating and his hands were shaking.
“Do what I told you. If you can pass the bar exam, you can shoot a gun. Morons do it every day.”
The waitress approached with her notebook.
“Are you gentleman ready to order?”
Powell picked up the menu. “Sure. Got any specials?”
* * * *
April 7, 2276
“But you don’t know he’ll be there?” Wilkins asked uncertainly.
“We’re relying on a two hundred and fifty year old police report,” Mariena replied. “It said he was in his office at that time. It’s the best we can do.”
“Why him?”
“We didn’t choose him, they did. They’re trying to blackmail him into helping them – which is what we want. The problem is, he doesn’t know where to look. If we don’t help him, he’ll miss it.”
“How do you know they’re blackmailing him?”
“It was mentioned in Prime Minister Gundarovsky’s autobiography,” she said. “They failed, because he never found what they were after.”
“The master list?”
“Yes. He was too late. That’s why I asked Goldstein to hide it.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Wilkins said. “Will we remember this reset?”
“We remembered that I gave Goldstein a message,” Mariena replied.
“And it definitely worked!” Zikky declared. “The sensors proved we forced a tiny reset in the timeline.”
“It’s a question of scale,” Mariena explained. “These small resets don’t affect us, because they’re so minor, they haven’t really changed anything yet. The next timeline reset should be no bigger than the last one, so it shouldn’t affect us either.”
“But if he does what you want, that could be a big reset?”
“What I want, is to smash the timeline to pieces!” she said bitterly.
“A big reset,” Zikky said excitedly, “the mother of all resets, multiplied by two hundred and fifty years. It could fix everything!”
“Or wreck everything,” Captain Wilkins said uncertainly.
“You mean, wreck it worse than it is?” Zikky asked incredulously.
“You’re right! Nothing could be worse than this. Break the God damned timeline, if that’s even possible. We’ll take our chances.”
“It’s possible,” she said. “I’m ready.”
* * * *
Present Day
Craig stayed in his office, waiting for everyone else to leave. When he finished his work, he surfed the net briefly before skimming Twitter looking for an interesting conversation to jump into. He found a wrongheaded political argument which he decided to comment on. He chose his words carefully, knowing he’d be flamed for his views. When he was halfway through his tweet, a female voice broke into his thoughts.
“The MLI master list you’re looking for is in the top right drawer of Jerry Goldstein’s desk.”
Craig looked up, surprised to find Mariena in front of his desk, staring over his head. He’d not heard her enter, and didn’t recognize her, but he took in every detail in a glance. Her light blue jump suit fitted her snugly, without a single crease or seam. Over her right breast was a circular emblem, a curving light blue thunderbolt against a black background, flashing behind the letters SEIII. Over her left breast were the words, Del Rey.
“How’d you get in here?” he demanded.
“The key to the desk is hidden in Goldstein’s liquor cabinet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Craig said, suddenly anxious how this stranger knew he was looking for information on MLI.
“Once you have the master list,” she said, “You must give it to Valentina Petrovna. No one else.”
“Give what to who?” Craig asked confused. “I don’t have the MLI master list, and I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“It’s extremely important you do exactly what I say. Remember, you must give the master list to Valentina Petrovna only. No one else. And be careful, the people hunting this list will kill you if they know you have it.”
“Kill me?” Craig stood up and walked around the desk. “What the hell are you talking about? Who wants to kill me? And how do you know about any of this stuff?” Mariena continued to gaze towards the desk. He whistled and waved his hand. “Hey! I’m over here.”
Strangely, she seemed oblivious to his movements.
His computer beeped, using the customized tone indicating Nikki was trying to Skype with him. “One second,” he said, leaning over his computer long enough to signal to Nikki that he was in a meeting. When he returned his attention to the center of the office, Mariena had vanished.
“What the hell?” He hurried to his office door and checked the halls, wondering where she’d gone. There was no sign of her, and no telltale sounds of other staff working late. “Top right drawer, eh?” he muttered to himself, then headed for Goldstein’s office.
Craig slipped under the police tape stretching across the door to Jerry Goldstein’s office, carefully avoiding the chalk outline marking where the body had lain before the police removed it. He searched the liquor cabinet, using a handkerchief to ensure he left no fingerprints, but found no sign of a key. When he tried the desk drawers, he discovered they were unlocked, but contained no MLI files.
“What the hell was she talking about?” he wondered aloud.
He quickly searched the rest of the office, but found nothing. Disappointed, he stepped back under the tape, closed the door and started towards his own office when he noticed the stack of folders on Goldstein’s secretary’s desk. She’d been in shock all day, done no work and gone home early, leaving her desk untouched. Craig quickly looked through the files on her desk, discovering an envelope inscribed in the old lawyer’s own hand with the words: J. G. Personal Archive, dated yesterday.
He turned the envelope over, about to open it, when the elevator bell announced a lift arriving on the fifty first floor. He darted back into his office and locked the envelope inside his brief case as Ed McCormack hurried past reception carrying a plastic bag.
McCormack stopped on hearing noise from one of the Senior Associate’s offices. “Who’s there?” he called in a fragile voice, reaching into the plastic bag for the gun Powell had loaded for him at dinner. He pushed the safety catch off with sweating hands and raised the weapon.
Craig picked up his briefcase and jacket and strode out of his office, trying to look as if he was just leaving.
McCormack heard the footsteps approaching. The moment a man appeared from one of the smaller offices, he squeezed the trigger, barely aware of his aim. The confined, glass walled space reverberated with the sound of the gunshot as the bullet smashed through a partition and harmlessly embedded itself in the floor.
Craig ducked instinctively, startled by the sound of the gun.
“Shit! Don’t shoot Ed, it’s me!”
McCormack started shaking, dropped the gun and ran to Craig. “Oh God! I didn’t know it was you! I’m so sorry! Are you hurt? Did I hit you?” he asked remorsefully.
“I’m OK. Good thing you’re a lousy shot. What the hell are you doing with a gun?”
“I guess I’m . . . a little jumpy, after what happened to Jerry.”
A little jumpy? “Well, take it easy, you might hurt someone.”
McCormack nodded. “I will ... I’m sorry. I . . .”
Man, he’s a wreck! Craig thought. This thing with Goldstein has scrambled his marbles. “That’s OK Ed. No harm done.” Craig glanced at the neat hole in the office partition. “Although, it looks like you killed the wall.”
McCormack looked absently at the bullet hole, his mind on other things. “We’ll get that fixed in the morning.”
“Well, I
’m off. See you tomorrow.”
“Wait, I’ll come with you.”
“OK, so long as you don’t take another shot at me,” Craig joked. He’d planned to search through the desks of Goldstein’s junior staff, but it was too late now. He decided to do it early next morning before anyone else arrived.
McCormack rushed into his office, snatched up his brief case, then hurried out so he could ride down in the elevator with Craig.
“Are you going to leave the gun on the floor?” Craig asked.
McCormack looked bewildered, then remembered he’d dropped the gun. He quickly retrieved it, locked it in his brief case, and almost ran to catch Craig before he left the office.
Craig gave McCormack a curious look, sensing the senior partner was afraid to use the elevator alone. He’s got the gun, and he wants me to protect him?
“Do the police have any idea who would want to kill Jerry?” Craig asked, trying to make small talk.
“Ah, no . . . no leads”
Craig sensed he was holding back. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know.”
Yes you do! Craig realized as they stepped into the elevator, then remembered Mariena’s warning that his own life could be in danger. “Ed, can I ask you a confidential question?”
“Sure.”
“What’s the MLI master list?” he asked as the elevator started down.
McCormack’s face turned white with fear. “How do you know about that?”
“Goldstein said something to me,” Craig lied.
“What did he say?” he asked alarmed.
“That . . . you could get killed, if you had it. What is it?”
“I can’t discuss it. And you shouldn’t either.” He focused on the elevator floor indicator anxiously. “Goldstein should never have mentioned it to you!” McCormack’s mind raced. “Maybe that’s why he’s dead? He said something he shouldn’t have. And they know! They might think we’ve all been talking! Oh God!”
Craig had never seen McCormack babbling like this. The poor guy’s scared out of his wits!
When the elevator doors opened, Craig took a few paces into the empty parking lot, then realized the older lawyer was not with him. He turned to see a fear stricken McCormack peering warily out of the elevator.
Damn, Craig thought. Get a grip, man!
“It’s safe Ed. You can come out now.” Craig declared, regretting his contemptuous tone the instant he said it.
McCormack stepped into the parking lot, oblivious of Craig’s tone, and straightened. “Yeah, it is safe. I can see that.” He muttered, although the way his eyes searched the shadows, he clearly believed he was anything but safe.
Craig opened his car door. “See you tomorrow, Ed.”
McCormack seemed not to hear as he rushed to the safety of his car, afraid of being left alone in the carpark.
Craig climbed into his car and drove slowly towards the up-ramp. He glanced into the rear view mirror, watching McCormack fumble with his keys as he approached his car.
Man, he’s rattled!
McCormack climbed into his Mercedes Benz, then when the door closed, the car exploded into a ball of orange flame.
Craig slammed on the brakes, spinning around in his seat to look back through the rear window. The Mercedes burned furiously, leaving no doubt that Ed McCormack was dead.
* * * *
Detective Harriman had been on his way home when he got the call over the radio. He’d been surprised at the news, although it confirmed his suspicion that Jerry Goldstein’s two partners had lied through their teeth during their interviews. He drove into the underground carpark, past a black and white patrol car, and parked near the fire engine. Several fire fighters, having put the fire out, were rolling up their hoses getting ready to return to their station.
Harriman took a moment to study McCormack’s burnt out Mercedes, thinking, this could have been avoided, if they’d told me the truth!
Harriman flashed his badge at one of the uniformed officers on the scene. “What have you got?”
The officer pointed toward Craig. “That guy by the BMW called it in. His name’s Craig Balard. He worked with the victim – saw the whole thing.”
“Do we know what caused the explosion?”
“The fire chief said there were three incendiaries, one under the engine, one under the front seat, one in the rear. The forensic guys are on the way. Whoever wanted to blow this guy up wasn’t taking any chances. And the victim knew it was coming. He was carrying.”
“Hmm,” Harriman said surprised. He’d only spent a few hours with McCormack, but it was enough to tell him the lawyer was not the type to carry a gun. Puzzled, he strolled over to Craig, who was leaning against his car. “Craig Balard? My name’s Harriman.”
Craig shook hands. “I saw you in the office today.”
“I don’t suppose you know what’s going on?”
“No,” Craig said, realizing it was the truth. “I wish I did.”
“Why’d he have a gun?”
“He was scared, but he wouldn’t tell me of what.”
“Do you feel your life is in danger?”
“No. Should I?”
“One dead lawyer is a murder. Two’s a conspiracy. How come you were with him?”
“I was working late, and just happen to come down in the elevator with him. That’s all. I’m a senior associate. I do commercial stuff, mostly mergers and acquisitions. If it’s something the partners are into, I’m as much in the dark as you are.”
Harriman made a mental note to add Craig’s comments to his report. “Ever hear of them doing anything illegal?”
“No way. We use the law, we don’t break it.”
“OK. Give your statement to the officer and you can go.”
* * * *
Nikki Angelo was soaking her tired body in a steaming hot bath when the door bell rang. Reluctantly, she climbed out of the water, lightly toweled off and slipped into a robe. The bell rang again as she peered through the peep hole. When she saw who it was, she mischievously discarded her robe and opened the door.
“Oh, it’s you!” she said, feigning surprise.
Craig smiled, appreciating her nakedness. “Do you always answer the door that way?”
“What way?” She asked innocently.
He smiled as he stepped into her apartment, dropped his briefcase and proceeded to give her a long kiss.
“I wasn’t expecting this tonight,” she said, “But, I like surprises.”
“I wasn’t planning to come over, but I didn’t want to go home yet. I needed someone to talk to . . .”
“Talk? I thought you were just using me for sex!”
He smiled again, then sobered. “Two of the partners at GM&P have been murdered.”
Nikki’s playful smirk disappeared. “Oh, that’s terrible!” Realizing he really did want to talk, she said, “Hold on, I’ll throw something on.”
While Nikki vanished into the bedroom, Craig liberated a beer from the refrigerator, then retrieved the photo of his father from his coat and studied it anew.
How tough was it? He wondered.
Presently, Nikki emerged from the bedroom, transformed. Tight fitting jeans, loose fitting shirt, hair combed but no makeup, looking fabulous. “Let’s talk.”
* * * *
Craig lay awake, eyes closed, deep in thought, while Nikki slept curled up next to him. He’d told her everything – leaving out only the female apparition. When they’d finally gone to bed after 1 AM, the nightmarish vision of McCormack’s burning car refused to let him sleep.
Suddenly a thought flashed into his mind, The envelope!
After the shock of seeing the car explode, he’d completely forgotten it. He eased himself out of bed and quietly retrieved the envelope from his briefcase. There was a single sheet of paper inside with a heading that filled him with dread and hope.
MARCELL LAURENCE INCORPORATED
MASTER LIST
It was a list of bank acc
ounts, names and addresses. Craig skimmed the names, but recognized only the first name on the list. It was Goldstein, McCormack & Powell alongside accounts with both Bank of America and J. P. Morgan Chase.
“What are you doing?”Nikki asked, blinking sleepily from the bedroom doorway.
“You’re the financial expert,” Craig said, handing her the page. “What do you make of this?”
“Do you know what time it is?” she said without reading it.
“Please, this is important.”
Nikki stifled a yawn and ran her eye down the page. “Banks, bank account numbers, bank identifier codes, passwords and dealers.” She skimmed the names of the dealer organizations responsible for each group of accounts. They were located in the world’s financial capitals: New York, London, Shanghai, Zurich, Frankfurt, Sydney and Tokyo. “Everything you need to transfer money from one bank to another.” She snapped sharply awake. “You’re not becoming a white collar criminal are you?”
“This is what they were killed for,” Craig said.
“Where’d you get it?”
“I stole it.”
“You should put it back, before anyone knows you have it.”
“That would be the smart thing to do.”
“Whose Marcell Laurence?”
“I don’t think he exists. One of the associates did a search once – out of curiosity – but found nothing. It’s just a name.”
“Sounds French,” Nikki said.
“I think this is what the guy who phoned me wants.”
“You can’t give him this!” Nikki said, suddenly alarmed.
“It’s all I have to trade,” Craig said, his mind already made up.
“If you’re caught, you’ll go to jail forever! And you will get caught. Go to the police. Tell them this guy is trying to blackmail you. They’ll help you.”
Craig took the page out of her hand. “If he got a whiff of the police, he’d disappear, and I’d never find out what happened to my old man.” He slid the master list back into the envelope and locked it in his brief case
The Kremlin Phoenix Page 3