***
“Come and sit by me,” Bernard asked in a pleading voice. He patted the chair purposely set close to his wheelchair.
“Humph,” she spat out. “You just want to get your hands under my dress.” She stood several feet away and made no attempt to sit down.
“I’ll keep my hands in my lap,” he promised in a defeated tone.
“That’s better.”
“But you must come closer,” he said. “Even though I didn’t approve of you going to the news conference, I want to hear all about it and I don’t want anyone else to listen in to our conversation,” he said in a hushed tone. “We can’t trust anybody you know.”
She slid into the chair and locked her knees together. “The news conference went very well actually. It will generate much interest in our cause,” she quickly replied. “I’ll tell you all about it, but we have a pressing problem that needs to be resolved first,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Oh, what’s that?” He asked suddenly — being more attentive.
“They’re getting close to finding the FedEx guy. If they do find him, I don’t want them to find me,” she said.
“But you told me that you met him in a bar. You were disguised as well. We knew that he would eventually be found. It is part of the plan,” Bernard reminded her.
“I didn’t tell you that I had to seduce him. He saw the swastika tattoo on my groin area. He might be able to identify me.”
The old man pointed a crooked finger at her. “This is why you have to discuss everything with me. I have put together a tremendous plan, but it won’t work if you don’t tell me everything,” he chided her.
“Can you fix the problem, daddy. I’ll make it worth your while,” she purred.
The old man snapped his fingers and a servant appeared. “Get me Aldo,” he barked.
Chapter Twenty
C
olton Banyon had never been to the Las Vegas office of Dewey & Beatem before. He usually worked out of the main branch office in Chicago or out of his two homes. He was surprised by how small the building appeared to him. The structure was on a corner lot just off of Sahara Avenue, near the Summerlin area. While it was well maintained on the outside, it looked to be about a third of the size of the Chicago branch and more like a boxy fortress than a law office.
The building was surrounded by tall palm trees strategically planted around the property to make it look like it had been there for a long time. But Banyon knew that it was only three years old. There was a very small patch of freshly cut green grass between the front entrance and the road. Having grass was a status symbol in Las Vegas. Lusty green-leafed bushes tastefully covered the foundation. It was all meant to look like an oasis from trouble. They parked in a medium-sized paved lot just to the right of the building.
The entrance was fed by a four-foot wide curved sidewalk that let up to a black-tinted double-glass front door. A discreet sign hung over the doorway announcing the name of the firm. Banyon and his small army entered the building. They were led by Bart.
The reception area was also not like the large ultra-modern Chicago office. The inside was decorated in a southwestern motif. The walls were pink. There was lots of heavy, dark, wood furniture scattered around the twenty by thirty foot sitting area. The reception desk was tiny compared to what Banyon knew from Chicago. It was made from rough-hewn wood. Behind the desk sat a young man who quickly shot up to a standing position as they entered through the door. Banyon had expected a young pretty woman like the tempest Mandy who ran the main office reception desk.
“Everything is ready for you in the main conference room, Bart,” the young man nervously announced. At Dewey & Beatem, no last names were allowed. The receptionist then handed Bart several phone messages.
“Thanks Randy,” Bart replied as he moved across the room. “Do you have the visitors form ready for Mrs. Sandborn?”
“She just needs to sign it,” he confidently said as he nodded his head. He thrust the paper towards Haleigh.
“I have to sign a form? What for? How come no one else has to sign a form?” Haleigh Taylor Sandborn screeched.
“Loni has already signed one at the Chicago office and the rest of us are company employees,” Bart replied.
“I don’t know about signing this paper,” she said in hesitation. “What are you trying to hide?”
“A lot of things happen in this building that cannot get out into the general public,” Chase Sandborn told his wife. “By signing the form, you agree to never talk about what you see inside.”
“You make it sound like some sort of a top secret operation,” she noted, as she went and signed the document with the pen offered by Randy.
“It is,” Chase told his wife. This caused a furrow to form on her porcelain like forehead. My husband works in a top secret facility?
Randy pressed a button under the reception desk and the secure entry door clicked open. Bart charged through the doorway and headed down the hall, reading his messages. No other person was visible. All the doors along the hallway were closed. When he got to the end he turned left and into the corner conference room. Half the walls were floor to ceiling glass windows. Long, burgundy drapes hung along the edges. Bart immediately went to a control panel on the wall near the door and closed them for privacy.
The conference room was big with a ten person discussion table, two couches along with coffee tables and assorted chairs. A sixty inch flat-screen TV covered one wall and a small desk was located in the very back of the room. On the desk sat a large computer monitor facing away from the front of the room. The conference table had several laptops strategically placed around the oblong table for use. The entire wall adjacent to the door was covered in floor to ceiling dark-colored block paneling.
“Make yourselves comfortable, we may be here for a while, at least until this case is resolved,” Bart said wearily as he took off his jacket and hung it on a rack. He then rolled up his white shirt sleeves.
“I’m thirsty. Do you have any water?” Loni immediately asked as she looked around for a small refrigerator or bottles of water.
Bart went to the wall mounted control panel and pressed a button. The block paneled wall behind the conference table swung open. “There’s a complete, well-stocked, bar and a recently filled refrigerator. If you need anything else, let me know.”
“Get me one too,” Haleigh asked Loni.
“Okay everybody, let’s get started,” Bart, who was clearly in charge, clapped his hands and motioned the others to the discussion table.
“I’m not clear about what we should be doing,” Haleigh blurted out. She seemed lost without her stuffy little cubicle.
“First we are going to get up to speed,” Bart said as he held up the phone messages. “We have three people to visit, via video conference calls.”
“Who?” Banyon asked.
“Marlene Moore, the Secretary of Homeland Security, will be the first up. She will tell us where the investigation is headed and update us on any new developments. Next we will talk to Timmy, who will fill us in on nanobots. Finally, we will conference in with the Las Vegas Police Department. I also had Randy make a copy of the ACLU news conference. We will review it. It may have some information that we can use.”
“Do you think that the ACLU is somehow involved?” Banyon asked.
“I don’t know, but the President wants us to find out,” Bart replied.
***
The door to the conference room suddenly swung open and Randy entered carrying a document. Bart nodded his head towards Banyon and pointed.
“What’s this?” Banyon asked.
“This is your contract employee form. Please sign it,” Randy said officially.
“I never had to sign a contract before,” Banyon protested to Bart. “And who is the contract employee?” Banyon knew that the Law office of Dewey & Beatem gouged their clients whenever they could. Even though he worked there and he was one of top money producers for the organization
, Bart charged him for everything.
“New policy,” Bart barked. “And the contract employee is Chase Sandborn,” he said impatiently. “Just sign it so we can get started.”
“Don’t I get to choose who my contract employee is anymore?” Banyon asked stubbornly. “We have a rotating list back in Chicago, you know.” He had the distinct feeling that Bart was trying to railroad him.
“The list only applies when a case is opened in the main office,” Bart announced as he shook his head. “This is a remote case directly from the President, besides, we may need Chase’s special talent along the way,” Bart noted.
“What special talent?” Haleigh suddenly blustered. A look of concern crossed her face. She just thought that he was a criminal lawyer.
“I uh…never told you,” Chase admitted to his wife.
“What is your special talent?” the detective asked in a frosty voice as she crossed her arms over her breasts.
“You may not like it,” Chase warned.
“I’ll like it less if you don’t tell me,” she threatened.
“Okay, I’ll fess up,” he said like a little boy. “I’m an expert at cracking things open, like safes,” he evasively replied.
“Why am I just finding out about this now?” Haleigh demanded.
“It’s need to know, Haleigh, you can understand that, can’t you,” He begged.
“Actually he is being modest,” Bart explained. “He can disable almost any security system made.”
“But that sounds illegal,” Haleigh exclaimed excitedly. “I don’t know if I can be here if you are going to discuss illegal activities. I’m a detective for God sakes. I could lose my job or even wind up in jail.”
“Relax, Haleigh,” Banyon piped up. “We are working for the government of the United States. We sometimes have to do things for the President that should not be made public. We seek justice. The means are sometimes a little grey.”
“What else don’t I know about you, Chase?” Haleigh screamed. She was clearly upset and itching for a fight.
“Not now Haleigh,” he replied. “Besides, as a contract employee, we will make a lot of money if we solve this mystery.”
“How much,” she quickly asked.
“It looks like about four hundred thousand dollars,” Banyon informed her as he read the contract.
“Oh,” she said with a sharp intact of breath. “That much?”
“We could finally have enough money to buy that house you have always wanted,” Chase said to sooth her.
“So, am I to believe that you all have a special talent?” She said through narrowed eyes.
“That’s a need to know,” replied Bart.
Chapter Twenty-One
B
renda sipped imported coffee from a porcelain cup. They had just finished a fine lunch served to them on the patio. She paid no attention to what the old man was attempting to do under the table. Aldo had already appeared and had left to do the task that Bernard assigned him. Bernard was attempting to seek his reward.
“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” Bernard pleaded, hoping for another small victory.
“No Bernard, there is nothing else to report,” she replied off handily as she brushed his hand away.
“What about the woman?” Barnard croaked.
“The woman has no connection to me. I was able to handle her without having any direct contact with her,” Brenda explained.
“Good, then the plan should continue smoothly,” he replied with a hint of disappointment in his voice.
“But I am concerned about the number of books that didn’t get through to the inmates,” Brenda said. “We only have a small sampling to analyze. I was hoping for many more to get through before the police discovered what we were up to.”
“How many books actually were delivered?”
“Thirty made it,” she commented. “Less than half of the books we sent out.”
“And how many deaths?” Bernard demanded.
“Well, twenty-five, if you count the wife that died.” Brenda said off hand. “Who would have expected an inmate on Death Row to give his wife a book as a gift,” she snorted and shook her golden hair in disbelief.
The old man stopped what he was doing. He calculated in his head. Despite his age, his mind was still very sharp. “Why, that’s an eighty-three percent success rate my dear. That’s wonderful.”
“Bernard, it’s not the one hundred percent you promised,” she said with force as she turned to look at him.
The old man scratched his head and then waved his boney hand in the air like he was asking permission. “Hello, my scientists are still working on perfecting the system you understand. They’ll get the kill rate to one hundred percent soon enough,” he told her. “Right now, the poison tends to become unstable if left exposed to air for too long, the machines get that way too, for that matter. That’s why I put together this little experiment.”
“The data indicates that the machines cannot be exposed to the environment for longer than three days,” she said. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“That’s more than enough time, given the delivery system we are devising,” Bernard remarked happily.
“How is that going?” Brenda asked like a CEO at a meeting.
“It will be ready in time.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
M
eanwhile, back at the Las Vegas office of Dewey & Beatem, the team was ready to get to work.
“Let’s move to the back desk,” Bart suggested. Everyone gathered at the back of the room. They all had to stand except Banyon who claimed the only seat so he could be seen on the screen. He picked up a Bluetooth lying on the desk top and said. “Connect us.” He had done this many times before, but usually it was to the situation room at the White House. An IT person somewhere in the bowels of the building performed the function.
The screen blinked and then Marlene Moore could clearly be seen looking at her own screen, just like Skype. “This is a special hook up,” Bart explained. “It is secure, so you can talk openly, she can hear you and see you.”
“Hello Marlene,” Banyon started. “Can you fill us in on the situation with the current investigation?”
“We have several updates,” she quickly replied. Marlene Moore was known for her coolness under pressure and no-nonsense approach.
“Can you start with the FedEx situation?” Banyon said.
“Okay, but do you have anything to tell me first? Have you made any progress?” Banyon was usually the one who had the answers, but since Wolf refused to help him, he was in the dark as much as anyone else.
“Sorry, nothing yet,” he admitted sheepishly.
Not missing a beat, Marlene nodded and began reading from some notes. “I think we have found the person who was injecting the packages. I have sent a SWAT team to his home to arrest him. This may crack open the entire threat.”
“Why do you say that?” Banyon inquired.
“We got lucky,” Marlene admitted. “One of the pickup drivers is in serious financial trouble due to gambling, but fifty thousand dollars has suddenly appeared in his bank account.” That’s almost too easy, Banyon thought.
“Okay, but what about the person ordering and shipping the books. Is there any progress there?” Bart asked.
“Yes there is,” she responded with a slight grin. “I have six agents talking to people in the computer lab at the university. They have reported someone of interest. Several students recall a well-dressed matronly woman sitting at the target computer. She apparently comes there frequently — almost every day in the late afternoon. She always uses the same machine. If someone spots her, we’ll follow her to her base and arrest her there. Maybe we can expose her whole terrorist cell.”
Banyon almost shouted, but bit his lip. She will be a dupe. This is a classic double cutout spy technique,” he thought.
“Were you able to check the order list from the factory where the books are printed? Colt think
s that we may be able to identify a large order and where it was shipped,” Detective Haleigh inquired.
“What list?” Marlene wondered out loud.
“I figured the idiot didn’t check,” Detective Taylor said in frustration. She had given the assignment to Officer Madison earlier in the day. “I’ll call the person who I gave the assignment to and get you the information,” she promised.
“No, you’re working on strategy. Let us do the follow up. I’ll have someone call the captain at the police station and get the list,” Marlene explained and quickly gave some orders to someone off camera.
“Keep us informed,” Bart said. “Have you discovered anything about the nanobots? Do they carry a plague or a poison?”
“This is very advanced technology,” Marlene announced shaking her head. “We are working on them, but all the machines which we were able to capture have all died before revealing much information.”
“You mean that they ran out of juice. Their batteries wore down, don’t you?” Banyon said as a correction.
“No, I mean that they died. These machines are at least partly organic.”
“What?” Banyon uttered. “Do you mean organic — like in alive?”
“I only know what the scientists tell me,” she lamented and shook her head. “They told me the machine like organism can only live for a few days.”
“Wow! This sounds like science fiction,” Loni exclaimed.
Marlene was suddenly distracted off screen. When she came back she said, “I’ve got to go right now, something is happening right now.”
“What?” Banyon croaked out.
“We are about to take down the FedEx guy.” Her screen went blank.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Dubious Device: The Nanobot Terror (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 10) Page 7