by David Archer
“And you didn’t tell them she was here,” Pat said. “I appreciate that.”
“When cops say the FBI wants to talk to someone, that means they’re probably about to disappear. I had two buddies who got mixed up with the FBI, and only one of them ever came back. We still don’t know what happened to Dean. I don’t trust those bastards. You better get her someplace and keep her hidden for a while. That’ll be twenty-three-eighty, with tax.”
Pat handed him two twenties and said, “Keep the change,” as he turned and walked out the door. He looked around for a second, and spotted the pickup where he had left it, then walked over and climbed inside. He handed the bottle of water to Becky. “Thought you might be thirsty.”
She took it, but then she sat and looked at him. “What was all that?” she asked after a few seconds.
“Two state boys came in and flashed your picture at the clerk,” Pat said. “Told him the FBI wants to talk to you about your husband being murdered. I didn’t think you’d want to go, so that’s why I told you to wait in there for a minute.” He glanced at her face and saw that it was white. “Don’t worry, the clerk didn’t tell them you were there. He doesn’t trust the FBI, so soon as they said that he was your best friend. Reckon you might want to tell me what’s going on?”
Becky stared at him for a few more seconds, then lowered her eyes to the water bottle in her lap.
“Come on, Becky,” Pat said. “I knew as soon as we met that you were running from something, but I spent thirty years in CID trusting my gut, and my gut says you’re not a bad person at all. Talk to me, maybe I can help.”
Becky sat still for several seconds, then looked up at his face. “The best thing I can tell you is that you don’t want to get involved in this. My husband did something bad, Pat, and then he got me to help him with part of it. Those cops may have said the FBI was looking for me, but I think it’s really someone else, and if they find me, it’s not going to be something I can walk away from.”
Pat chewed this over for a moment, then looked at her again. “Are we talking about the mob? Mafia?”
“I don’t know,” Becky said. “All I know is that I've got something they want, but there are other people who want it, too. If I can get to the right people, maybe there’s a chance I can live through it. If I can’t, then I don’t want you to know anything that could get you hurt.” She turned and laid her head against the window. “Probably the smartest thing you could do right now is find a cop and hand me over. Then no one would have any reason to bother you.”
“If I was inclined to do that, I already would have, back there. I didn’t even see the picture they showed the clerk, but my gut said they were looking for you, so I made my choice right then and there. When it turned out I was right, I just thanked God I was there with you.” He drove in silence for another minute, then turned to her again. “Becky, I don’t believe you’re a bad person, but sometimes even the best people get caught up in things that aren’t good. Let me help you.”
She sighed. “This thing is big, Pat, but I don’t even know how big.” She cleared her throat. “Mac, my husband, he was a guy who bought and sold things, and some of the things he bought and sold weren’t exactly legal. I’m not talking about drugs, by the way. Normally he bought and sold industrial equipment, but sometimes there were other things. I’m talking about stuff that one big company wants from another big company, stuff that can’t be had in any legal way. Information, gadgets, formulas—I don’t even know what all, because Mac didn’t want me involved in that part of his business.”
Pat nodded. “Okay, I’m with you.”
“Well, last week he had this really big deal. He found someone inside one of the companies who could get something another company wanted, a prototype of something new and worth a fortune to whoever gets it on the market first. I don’t know what it was, but it was worth more money than you can imagine, and the buyers agreed to pay a hundred million dollars to get it. The trouble was, they didn’t trust the guy who was selling it, so they told Mac they were going to kill him. Mac couldn't argue or he would be killed, so he kept his mouth shut—but the thought of that hundred million was driving him crazy. It was gonna be set up in some secret accounts with debit cards and things like that, and they all figured the cops would find it when the guy turned up dead. Mac came up with a plan to get it, and all it took was for me to go and wait till the dead guy got dumped at his house, and take the envelope that had all the cards and stuff. I didn’t want to at first, but a hundred million dollars—it does things to your mind, Pat. After we talked about it for a couple of days, I finally agreed.”
“Did you get it?” Pat asked.
Becky nodded. “Yeah, I got it. It had some kind of poison on it, so I had to use gloves and clean it with some special stuff, but then it was supposed to be safe and ours. The only thing that went wrong was that the people who killed the guy who sold it to them also killed Mac. They shot him through the head and left him where he was, but he thought it might happen that way. He left an email for me that I’d only get if he wasn't able to stop it from coming, and I got it the next morning. He told me to go to this lawyer and that the lawyer had some papers for me about a trust, but when I got there, the lawyer gave me this letter that was supposed to be from Mac. It said to give him the cards and everything, but it didn’t feel right, so I said I’d have to go get all the stuff, and the lawyer started to freak out. He wanted to take me right then to get it, but I wanted to try to figure out what was going on, so I ran away, and that’s how I ended up in Grand Junction. I took a bus, but when we stopped at Grand Junction, the driver got a phone call asking if there was a woman on the bus that fit my description, so I slipped off and that’s when I met Rhonda.”
Pat looked over at her and smiled. “See? That wasn't all that hard.”
Becky suddenly burst into tears, and the sobs sounded like they were going to tear her apart. “I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Pat, it was a horrible thing! I knew that man was going to die and all I could think about was getting all that money, and now the people behind it are looking for me, and I know they’ll kill me, and I feel like a monster! And now I've gotten you involved in it, too. What if something happens to you because of me? I was so freaking stupid, I never should have let Mac talk me into this in the first place!”
“Hey, hold on,” Pat said. “Look, Mac may have been a great guy, but he’s the one who shouldn’t have gotten you involved. He was your husband, he was supposed to protect you, not get you mixed up in something that could get you killed! Now, it’s like you said, that much money can sway a man and make him crazy, but it’s still not your fault, Becky. He used you, and I get the feeling that it wasn't the first time.”
She smiled, but it seemed sour. “That’s what I was for. I wasn't as much his wife as his trophy. Pat—when I met Mac, I was working out near Vegas, and he was one of my—my customers. You understand what I’m saying? I—I was a…”
Pat looked at her and gave a worldly smile. “I get it,” he said. “I’m an old man, darlin’, ain’t much left in this world that’s gonna surprise or shock me.”
She chuckled bitterly as the tears continued to flow. “Well, Mac decided he wanted me all to himself, and it was a chance to stop living that way, so I agreed. We changed my name and then we got married, and I settled into being a good little wife, but he never let me get really close, you know? He loved me, in his own way, and I was definitely pampered, but the truth was that I was still just his whore.”
Pat was quiet for a moment. “So, why are you really going to Denver?”
Becky made an effort to get herself under control, and finally managed it. “There was a lot about this in the news out in San Fran, and I saw an article that said they hired a company in Denver to investigate and find out where their stuff went. I figured if I could get to them, maybe if I tell them everything I know, they can help me. I mean, if this thing is worth a hundred million dollars, maybe it’ll be worth helping me stay out
of prison and alive, you know?”
Pat thought for a moment. “Well, nobody knows you’re with me, and I don’t think there’s any way they could find out. That clerk is not going to say anything because he doesn’t trust the feds, and the only other person who knows is Rhonda. No one would have any reason to ask her about you, and she’s off work today, anyway. She’ll be out on a horse, with the weather so decent, so no one could talk to her if they wanted to. So, here’s what I think. Let’s go ahead and go see my idiot doctors, then we’ll go find this company that’s investigating whatever this is and go from there, but I’m not leaving your side until I know you’re safe. Deal?”
Becky looked at him, and the ghost of a smile came across her face. “You remind me of Mac in some ways,” she said, “the good parts of him. I know he loved me, and I loved him in my own way, but I wish now I’d never let him talk me into this. Pat, I’m scared that if you try to help me, you’ll end up getting hurt. I don’t think I could deal with that. Mac, he made his choice, and I guess I did, too, when I got mixed up in all this, but you...”
“Are you saying I can’t make a choice of my own? Becky, I feel more alive this morning than I've felt in years. I don’t give a rat’s ass where you’ve been or what you’ve had to do to make it; all I know is there’s something about you that makes me want to know you a lot better. If you think I’m gonna take a chance on losing you now, even if we’re never more than friends, then you just don’t know me yet. I never abandon my friends. Never. Now, do we have a deal?”
She smiled, then, and Pat smiled in response. “I guess we do,” Becky said.
“Good. Now, what’s the name of this company in Denver we need to find?”
“They’re called Windlass Security, and I've got a phone number scribbled down for them. I thought about calling them, but I didn’t want to take a chance on giving away my location, so I thought I’d better wait til I get there, you know?”
“Good thinking. Windlass Security—seems like I heard something about them just recently. Windlass, Windlass...” His face suddenly lit up as his memory kicked in. “Oh, yeah, they were on the news Monday morning. They put out an announcement that they hired Sam Prichard as their new top investigator!”
Becky’s lip twisted. “Is that a good thing?” she asked.
“I think it might be the best news we’ve had yet,” Pat said. “I don’t know Sam personally, but I've been following his blog for a year. He’s the guy who stopped the terrorists from dropping a nuclear bomb into Lake Mead a while back, and he’s always saving the day somewhere. If anyone can help us, honey, he’s probably the guy!”
Becky looked at the big smile on his face and felt one begin on her own. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she laid her hand on the console between them and wiggled her fingers, and Pat hesitated only a moment before wrapping it in his own.
Mac, Becky thought, no matter what, you always took care of me. Are you really up there, trying to be my guardian angel? Did you bring me to this man?
13
Summer rose with the sun and went down to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. She wasn't surprised to see Steve and Walter already there, and accepted their invitation to join them.
“So,” she said, “how was your evening?”
“Walter figured out that Williamson didn’t steal the chip himself,” Steve said. “We’re looking for an accomplice, someone who actually went in and got it and then passed it off to the doctor. We’ll be going through personnel records today to try to narrow down the suspects. According to Walter, the person we’re looking for is about his size, so that should help us eliminate at least some people. Then it’ll be a matter of interviewing the rest.”
“Wow,” she said. “That’s impressive, Walter.”
“It was easy,” Walter said, and then he fell silent again.
“Well, I,” she went on, “found the despicable Mr. Landry at a strip joint last night and got him to let me take him off alone for some quiet conversation. He was a little recalcitrant at first, but he finally got it through his head that cooperating with me was the smart move. He didn’t know who the actual buyers were, but I learned a lot about the deal. It was apparently done through one of the triads in Chinatown, and McGill was just the guy Landry hired to do the dirty work. I emailed a report back to Mr. Prichard about three o’clock this morning, so he should have it all pretty soon.”
“What about the widow? Any info on that?”
“Yeah. Apparently, McGill talked her into taking some things, namely financial documents and debit cards worth about a hundred million dollars, from Williamson’s dead body, and the triad wants it all back. I’m sure the thought of that money disappearing into thin air is more than they can handle, even if their clients were willing to let it go. Even worse, they want her, and the way I read it they want her dead. I’m guessing she knows too much and they’re worried about it leading back to them.”
“Geez,” Steve said. “A hundred million?”
“That’s what Landry says they paid for it, on top of about five million to him, though he only paid McGill a measly fifty grand. Cheap bastard.”
“I can see a hundred million making a man do something stupid,” Steve said. “Williamson must have known he was throwing his entire career and future away. I imagine he was planning to disappear as soon as it was done. Poor schmuck never got the chance to enjoy his ill-gotten gains, and it serves him right.”
“Wow, that’s harsh,” Summer said. “It cost him his life, you know.”
“Yeah, but he made the choice that got him into that position, and he made it for something as simple as money. I got no sympathy.”
They continued to talk as they ate their breakfast, and then Steve and Walter headed for CerebroLink’s offices once again. Summer headed back up to her room, and was sound asleep once more only ten minutes later.
*
Sam kissed his wife and baby goodbye, and then he and Kenzie got into his Mustang and headed off toward her school. It was far enough away that they qualified for the school bus, but Indie didn’t like letting her ride it. She had usually been the one to take her to school until now, but since Sam had to go right past it on his way to work, it was just easier than loading up the baby and taking him along.
“Daddy,” Kenzie said, “do you like your new job?”
“Yep, I do,” Sam replied. “And I like that it lets me take you to school in the mornings, too.”
“Yeah, me, too.” They chatted as they rode, talking about Bo, about their cat Samson and about school, and then Kenzie climbed up front between the seats to give him a kiss and a hug before getting out of the car and waving once more. Sam watched until she was safely inside, then put the car in gear and moved slowly with the line of parents who were dropping off their children.
He was early again, of course, but this time he didn’t have to spend hours on paperwork. He went straight to his office and immediately logged onto his computer.
A tone sounded, and then a blinking red dot at the bottom of the screen told him that he had received an email. He clicked on it and the email program opened up, showing new emails from both Steve Beck and Summer Raines.
He opened Summer’s first, and spent nearly forty minutes reading her report on her encounter with Jonathan Landry. The report detailed how she had located him at the nightclub Indie had pointed her to, then allowed him to believe that she was there to determine his fitness for future service to her “employers,” which she led him to believe were the people his clients on the chip deal answered to. He had accepted the ruse for quite a while and, after she “applied personal techniques for securing cooperation,” told her almost everything she wanted to know.
She admitted, however, that she had made an error that exposed the ruse, and had then been forced to use more standard methods of coercion, meaning that she offered him a deal he could not safely refuse: cooperate or face the wrath of the triad. He had chosen to cooperate and told her the res
t of it.
He had been approached by a triad leader who had expressed interest in acquiring the chip for a client of their own. He had turned the task over to McGill, and only later learned that both Williamson and McGill were to be eliminated. The triad had expected the payment made to Williamson—one hundred million dollars in a series of hidden accounts for which he was given documentation and debit cards—to be discovered by the police when his body was found, and they were quite upset when it was not.
Landry had figured out that it had to have been Mrs. McGill, working with her husband, who had collected the debit cards and documents, and he knew that McGill had left her a message to contact him if anything went wrong. He prepared a forged letter from McGill that instructed her to turn all of the debit cards and documents over to himself, but she had apparently suspected that something was wrong. She told him she had hidden it all and would have to go get it, so he offered to go with her right then to pick it up. When he came out from behind his desk, she had hit him with a stun gun and taken his pistol, then fled.
According to Landry, the triad had then contacted him and said they were tracking her. He was told that she had taken a bus, and would be picked up when it reached its destination, but he didn’t know what the destination was. In return for Summer’s protection, he was willing to provide all of this information to Windlass. She was confident that the information he provided was true and accurate.
Sam sat back and thought hard about what she had learned. It fit with his theory that Rebecca McGill was running scared, but it didn’t give him any better idea on where to find her. He knew she had gotten onto a bus in San Diego on Monday night, but had no idea where it could be going.
On a whim, he opened his browser and started looking at the buses that left San Diego around the time she had boarded. There were several that departed around ten o’clock, so he looked at their routes and terminal destinations.
He sat back in his chair a moment later and started laughing. The buses that left San Diego at ten o’clock were going to four main terminals: Dallas, Texas; Seattle, Washington; St. Paul, Minnesota; and Denver, Colorado. Only one of those would make any sense, as far as Sam was concerned.