Endgame

by Dee Davis

  Gabe picked it up and thumbed through the papers it held, skimming the documents. They were primarily financial in nature. IRS proceedings, notes overdue and foreclosure notices. If these were the real thing, Cullen was on the brink of financial disaster.

  "They're genuine," he said, correctly reading Gabe's thoughts. "But no one knows about them. Except the banks of course, and the government. And if the accord fails, I'll he down for the count, and believe me, there are any number of vultures out there who'll be quite happy to pick my bones."

  "And if you go down, the president's bankroll is gone." It explained a lot.

  "Thanks for the vote of confidence." Cullen gave him a wan smile. "But the president can survive losing me. However, it'd obviously be better if one of his chief contributors stays out of the tabloids."

  "Who else knows about this?"

  "I told Madison's father. He's been a good friend. And I think Jeremy had an idea what was going on. What Jeremy knew, Kingston was most likely privy to, but other than that, no one."

  "You're certain?"

  "I can't be certain of anything. But I've certainly tried to keep it all under wraps. If the Chinese got wind of it, it certainly wouldn't help the negotiations." He sighed. "Anyway, the point of telling you was to clear the air. To let you know once and for all that I am not behind any ef-fort to stall the accord. There is nothing on earth that would make me do that. It would be like signing my own death warrant, and believe me, I'm not that kind of man."

  There was absolute truth in that, but Gabe also knew. that somewhere in all the rhetoric there was a clue to what was happening and why. They just had to find it. "There's still got to be a connection between Vrycom and the current accord. Or at least the fathers and their children. Maybe Jeremy was the link?"

  Cullen shook his head, frowning. "I don't see how. I mean, the man had nothing to do with Vrycom. I didn't even know him at that time. If there's a connection it's something really obscure."

  "Well, someone is killing your colleagues, Cullen. We're not imagining that. Candace Patterson received a call from here the night she died, and someone knew that we were mistakenly zeroing in on Ernhardt Schmidt. The only way either of those things could have happened is if someone on the inside is behind all of this. And if it isn't you, Cullen, I'm betting it's someone you know."

  "It isn't Cullen," Gabe announced to no one in particular, striding into the operations room.

  "You're sure?" Harrison asked, looking up from his ever-present laptop.

  "Positive. The man's in debt up to his ass. If the accord goes down, he goes with it."

  "Any chance he fed you a load of bull?" Payton asked. "It wouldn't be the first time."

  "No." Gabe shook his head. "I've seen proof. He's leveraged to the hilt. If this thing falls apart, there isn't going to be much left of Dreamscape."

  "So he's on the level." Harrison frowned. "Where does that leave us?"

  "I don't know." Gabe dropped down into a chair, running a hand through his hair. "Any word from Madison?"

  "She called a little while ago to say that she was stuck in traffic. She hadn't even made it home yet. So I figure it'll be a while before she's back here."

  He nodded, disappointment washing through him.

  "She ran out of here looking for you," Payton said, his voice pitched low so that it didn't carry over to Harrison's cubicle. "I take it she didn't find you."

  Gabe shook his head. "I must have already been in Cul-len's office."

  "It'll work out," Payton said, his somber gaze meeting Gabe's. "You just have to take it slow."

  "Not my strong point." Gabe grimaced. He'd always gone full tilt for the things he wanted. And he wanted Madison.

  "Hey, guys, I think maybe I've got something here."

  Gabe pulled his thoughts away from Madison, and followed Payton over to the computer terminal. "What did you find?"

  "Something more about Bluemax." He pointed to the screen. "According to this, the owner of the company was a man called Edward Clinton. He patented a process for producing semiconductors that dramatically cut the cost per unit. If it had worked it would have revolutionized the industry."

  "If it worked?" Payton frowned at the monitor. "You're saying it didn't?"

  "He never got to find out. Vrycom leveraged his company, and took everything, including the patents. Clinton was left with nothing but debt. The official press from Vrycom was that the patents were worthless. But considering the fact that at least three of the men sitting on the Vrycom board had significant investment in the old process, I'd say it was a little suspect."

  "So you're thinking this Edward Clinton is out for revenge?"

  "Not unless we're talking ghosts. The man killed himself about six months after the takeover. Right after his court case was dismissed."

  "So it's another dead end." Gabe blew out a frustrated breath as his cell phone began to ring. He nodded for Pay-ton and Harrison to continue, and turned away from them, his mind already jumping to the possibility that it was Madison. "Roarke."

  "We need to talk." Nigel's voice sounded tinny on the other end, traffic noise and static making it hard to hear.

  "I thought you were on your way to London."

  "Not for a couple of hours. I'm outside the building right now. Can you meet me in front?"

  "Why don't you come up here?"

  "Not a chance. Not everyone is as understanding as you are, and I don't relish the idea of running into Cullen Pulaski."

  "I never said I understood, Nigel. It's just the way the game is played."

  "Among like minds, perhaps, but Cullen plays differently. Anyway, I need for you to come down here."

  His instant reaction was to refuse. There was nothing left to say. But instinct kicked in, and his gut answered for him. "All right. I'll come."

  "There's an alley half a block away. I'll be there." Nigel clicked off, and Gabriel closed his phone, his mind churning.

  "Who was on the phone?" Harrison's interest was cursory. His attention still focused on forcing the computer to yield answers.

  "Nigel."

  That got his attention. Payton's, too. "What the hell is he doing? I thought he'd be halfway to England by now."

  "Evidently not." Gabe started toward the door. "I'll be back in a bit."

  "You're going?" Payton's eyebrows rose in surprise.

  "He said it was important." Gabe shrugged. "It beats sitting here banging our heads against the wall." An understatement actually. At the moment he was more inclined to ram his fist through it.

  Every step forward seemed to send them back three, and he wasn't used to being on the losing end of the stick.

  Nigel Ferris stood in the shadow of the alleyway, waiting. Sooner or later, Gabe would make an appearance. He owed Gabe and he wasn't leaving until he had the chance to talk to him. A crowd surged through the revolving door of the adjacent building, and Nigel glanced at his watch. 5:30 p.m. Quitting time.

  His plane for London was at eight. Not much time. He pulled his coat collar closer around his neck and willed his friend to appear. If he'd read the signals between Gabe and Madison correctly, there was something going on between the two of them. Something significant. And if he was right about things, then they might not have the opportunity to build on what they'd started.

  As if he'd heard Nigel's silent plea, Gabe turned into the alley, his shoulders hunched against the chill of the wind. Nigel waited until he was certain Gabe was alone, and then stepped out of the shadows.

  "So what's with the cloak-and-dagger routine?" The words weren't much more than a mumble.

  "I'm the enemy, remember? I figured it was best to watch my back."

  "We've said everything that needs to be said." Gabe stopped in front of him, avoiding his gaze.

  "About my part in the operation, yes. But not about Madison."

  Gabe's head jerked up. "What the hell does she have to do with you?"

  Nigel pulled Gabe deeper into the shadows. "Nothing at a
ll, but unless I misread things she has everything to do with you. And I think we missed something important when we were at the scene of Jeremy's murder. It's been bothering me since then. But by the time I worked it out, I had been banished from the kingdom, so to speak."

  "And so you thought you'd come back to share?" There was bitterness mixed with Gabe's anger. Not that Nigel Warned him.

  "I thought it was important enough to risk your wrath. Whether you choose to believe it or not, I still consider you my friend. And if Madison is important to you then she's important to me, too."

  "So tell me what the hell it is you think you know?"

  Nigel waited a moment to be certain he had Gabe's full attention. "It's about the trajectory of the shot."

  "The one that killed Jeremy," Gabe prodded.

  Nigel nodded. "Something felt off to me at the time, but I couldn't quite place it. Then this morning it came clear. Look, Jeremy was moving from the wing chair to the drinks cart when he was shot."

  "Passing in full view of the window."

  "Right. But he was shot in the neck. And you know as well as I do that that's a risky shot. Much better to go for the head. And if the man was in plain view, the killer had plenty of time to aim for the head."

  "Maybe something jarred his hand." The remark was a throwaway, Gabe's complete attention zeroed in on Nigel now.

  "Or maybe he was never aiming at Jeremy at all."

  Gabe sucked in a breath, the importance of Nigel's words hitting with brute force. "Madison."

  "Exactly. She said she was standing to the side of the window when she thought she saw movement. And then she stepped into clear view."

  "And saw the flash." Gabe's brows drew together as he visualized the events of that night.

  "And dived to protect Jeremy." Nigel spread his hands in fait accompli. "If she hadn't moved, she'd have been hit. In the head. She's shorter than Jeremy."

  "By a head. Oh, my God." Gabe's gaze locked on Nigel's. "That's why there was a second shot. The killer had missed his target. And if I hadn't shown up there'd have no doubt been a third shot."

  Nigel nodded. "I thought you should know."

  Gabe turned to go, his mind obviously on finding Madison. Nigel stood watching, wishing he could take back the past few days. Turn back the clock and restore their friendship. But then perhaps it had all been a myth anyway.

  People in their line of work couldn't afford attachments. Allies maybe. But not friends. And certainly not lovers.

  Still, Nigel found himself wishing Gabriel and Madison godspeed.

  Madison glanced for the forty-fifth time at her watch, hoping her father hadn't given up on her, wishing that the taxi driver had taken the FDR instead of fighting the traffic on First Avenue. Patience was not one of her father's virtues. A trait she'd obviously inherited.

  Finally they rounded the turn onto Seventy-second and with squealing brakes came to a stop in front of her building. She shoved a twenty through the window separating the front and back seats, and without waiting for change slid out of the cab.

  She'd spent the ride over replaying every word of her last encounter with Gabriel over and over in her mind. Wishing there was a way to call it back. Knowing that there wasn't. One made one's bed and all that.

  The wind off the river slapped her in the face, pulling her thoughts to the case and the possibility that her father had information. Something to do with Cullen. Her heart rate ratcheted up a notch as she considered the possibility that the news might not be good. After all, he'd chosen to meet her away from Dreamscape.

  She quickened her pace as she walked under the canopy fronting her building, grateful when Harry, the doorman, gave the revolving door its usual spin. Gabriel was probably talking to Cullen now. She felt a moment's guilt for not being there to act as buffer, and then shook her head. The two of them were perfectly capable of dealing with each other. They'd done it before. They certainly didn't need her. She was far better off finding out what it was her father knew.

  A handsome older man at the front desk waved, and she struggled for the name. Ed, maybe. He was new. She'd only met him a day or so ago.

  "Ms. Harper," he greeted her, smiling.

  She nodded distractedly, still working on her courage. "Is my father up there?" she asked, hoping for a positive answer. He hadn't answered the phone when she'd tried to call.

  "Yes, ma'am. He arrived about an hour ago, and has been calling down periodically ever since." The concierge shifted on his stool, looking a bit conspiratorial. "I told him traffic had been hell."

  "Thanks, Ed." She smiled, relieved that her father was still there. "I was afraid he'd given up on me."

  The older man returned the smile, and patted her hand. "Fathers never give up on their daughters."

  She grimaced, heading for the elevator. Clearly Ed didn't know her father.

  The doors chimed open and she stepped in, pressing her floor's button, her thoughts turning again to Gabriel. She'd almost called him twice, her hand on the cell phone keys before she'd managed to stop herself. Despite what commercials said, a cell phone wasn't the proper vehicle for an apology.

  That was better done in person. On bended knee if necessary. She swallowed back a sigh. She'd made her bed, and now it was up to her to rumple it up again. She laughed at herself in the elevator's mirror. Gabriel had her so flustered she was screwing up metaphors.

  Better to concentrate on the task at hand.

  She'd deal with Gabriel afterward. If he loved her, he'd have to understand. She'd make him understand. Whatever it took. She'd waited a long time to find him, and she wasn't about to let her own paranoia screw things up between them.

  The door dinged open, and she scrounged through her purse to find her keys, walking around the corner and down the hallway to her front door. She stood for five minutes rummaging through her junk and was just about to give up and knock, when her hands closed around the reticent key.

  She slipped it into the lock, turned the key and opened the door, calling out as she came inside. "I'm home, Dad."

  She threw her purse on the table, and slid out of her coat, placing her gun beside her purse. Hanging the coat on a hook, she called out again, then rounded the corner into the living room, stopping in surprise.

  "What are you doing here?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  "Where's Gabriel?" Cullen stood in the doorway of the operations room watching Harrison and Payton. The former was ensconced at his computer as usual, the latter sitting at the conference room table, feet propped up, a fat file in his hands.

  "Not here." Payton didn't even bother to look up, and quelling a surge of irritation, Cullen walked into the room.

  "Any idea where he might be?"

  The two men exchanged glances, and then Harrison spoke. "He went out for a walk. Should be back any minute. Is there something we can do for you?"

  Closing ranks. He recognized the signs. Harrison had been absorbed into Gabriel's world. He noted the fact with no emotion. After all, it was to be expected, and despite the fact that it meant he would no doubt be shut out, it was to his advantage in the long run. "I suppose he told you all that I'm no longer a suspect."

  "He mentioned it." This from Payton, who was watching him now from beneath hooded eyes. "Sorry to hear about your financial problems."

  It was a dig. The perfect passive-aggressive attack. "I'll survive."

  Payton shrugged.

  "So where are we?" He purposely walked past Payton over to Harrison. "Anything new?"

  Harrison blew out a breath, and swiveled to face him. "We're still looking at Vrycom. Did you know that the owner of Bluemax killed himself shortly after Vrycom took over his company?"

  "I heard something about it, of course, but I don't know the details. It really didn't have that much to do with me."

  "You don't feel responsible?" Payton had walked over to stand by the window.

  "For what, the man killing himself?" Cullen frowned. "Why should I? I didn't hold
the gun. Hell, I didn't even give him a motive. We paid him more than market value for his company."

  "You'd have had to pay him ten times that to get rid of his debt. He'd sunk everything into the company. By the time he paid off his creditors there wasn't anything left," Harrison said, his expression impassive.

  "It's not my fault the man had no backbone. I'm in debt up to my ass, too, and you don't see me holding a gun against my temple." The minute the words were out he realized how cold he sounded, and wondered when he'd stopped seeing his associates as people, and begun to see them instead as markers on the way to success.

  "The game isn't over yet." Payton shifted so that the sunlight hit him square in the face, highlighting his scar, and Cullen knew in that instant that Payton blamed him for everything that had happened in Iraq. It had been his vanity, his overriding sense of one-upmanship that had driven him to prove that he could in fact get bis man out when everyone else was saying it was impossible.

  He'd been right of course, but the cost had been too high.

  Especially for Payton.

  "I'm sorry." The words were inadequate, but he meant them for what they were worth.

  "Some things aren't to be forgiven." Payton held his gaze for a moment, and then dismissed him as easily as if he were a beggar on the street.

  Cullen had made a fortune out of knowing when to cut and run, so with a shrug he turned to Harrison. "So besides the fact that the Bluemax's CEO killed himself, what else have you found?"

  "Nothing concrete. I've been trying to find out more about the man, but so far I haven't turned up much. He wasn't much of a player before Bluemax, and quite frankly I'm not sure people took him all that seriously even with the company. His one big claim to fame seems to have been his company's encounter with you."

  "Not me per se. I was only part of the process. My primary role was to identify companies that either had technology we needed, or were standing in the way of something we were trying to accomplish. Then it was up to someone else to get the dirt on them, so to speak."