Gina Cresse - Devonie Lace 02 - A Deadly Bargain, Plan C

by Gina Cresse

  I exchanged a glance with Spencer. “Morrison? We found his prints on the scuba tank. Is he the one who poisoned it?”

  “Probably—if he thought the guy who found the Gigabyte was a spy. No one’s seen him since the ship went down. That’s why the NSA lost track of it. They panicked. Billions of doses of lethal chemical weapons were sitting on the ocean floor, not far off the coast of California, and no one knew where it was.”

  I shuddered at the thought. “And then I came along and found it. And Clancy! What about Clancy and Olive?” I pointed an accusing finger at Stan Parker. “You had Clancy and Olive!”

  Stan held his hands up in self defense. “Clancy was determined to salvage that wreck. The NSA was prepared to make him disappear if he didn’t stay away. They’d threatened him and a friend of his.”

  “That would be Morgan Johnson. He was with me when we found the Gigabyte,” I said.

  Stan pointed his finger at me. “Right. Morgan cooperated with the NSA, but Clancy—he’s the most hardheaded man I’ve ever met. Anyhow, I found out about the plans for Clancy and decided to hide him and his wife until this whole thing got resolved.”

  I chuckled. “Yeah. Clancy is a cantankerous old coot. But, you’ve gotta like him. There’s just something about him.” I squeezed a fresh lemon slice into my water. “What about Carissa West and her father, Harlan? How do they tie in?”

  Dan decided to join in on the conversation. “Harlan West was Kent Morrison’s partner—two peas in a pod. Both would stop at nothing to achieve an end, no matter what the means. He used his daughter’s position with the Justice Department to hunt you down. They invented all those phony charges against you so they could haul you in. They knew you had information about the Gigabyte, and they wanted it.”

  “What’s going to happen to him?” I asked as I picked the steamed broccoli off of Jason’s plate since I knew he wasn’t going to eat it.

  “What do you mean?” Dan asked, slicing his steak with a knife.

  “Is he going to jail?” I asked.

  “For what? His tactics may be a bit unsavory, but the rules most of us live by don’t apply to everyone,” Dan replied, then dipped his steak in a puddle of horseradish sauce and bit it off his fork.

  “That’s comforting. That still doesn’t explain how Spencer found Mr. Bates,” I replied, still a bit confused.

  “If you’ll just let me talk, I’ll tell you,” Spencer piped up.

  “Go ahead, then,” I prompted.

  Spencer smiled. “Thank you. Anyhow, I read Stan’s e-mails from the backup tape and figured out that Mr. Bates was still alive. I was finally able to hack into the Bates system and retrieved some encrypted files about the rescue mission. I found out—“

  Gerald Bates pointed his finger at Spencer. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you about that. You hacked into my system? I’ve got the best firewall in the world and you hacked it? I want to know how.”

  Spencer slipped three inches in his chair. “Well, it was for a good cause. I swear, I wouldn’t have done it, if it weren’t for—“

  Bates put his hands up to stop Spencer’s self-defense speech. “You want a job with Bates Corporation? Vice President of Information Technologies?” Bates offered.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Spencer coughed.

  “Absolutely not. I’d rather have someone with your genius working for me instead of against me,” Bates continued.

  “Funny. That’s what the State of California said when they caught me hacking into their network,” Spencer confessed.

  “I imagine I can put you in a slightly better tax bracket than the State can. What kind of car you drive?” Bates asked.

  “Dodge Dart. Not quite a classic, yet,” Spencer said.

  “How does a company car sound?”

  Spencer scratched his head. “Pantera?”

  “Whatever floats your boat,” Bates replied.

  A huge smile spread on Spencer’s face. “Cool.”

  I munched on a slice of cucumber from my salad. “Are you gonna finish telling me your story, Mr. Vice President?”

  Spencer placed his fork on his plate. “Okay. So, there I am, at the United Express shack in San Francisco, waiting to get on the shuttle bus to take me to the main terminal—the day I was supposed to meet you.”

  “Yeah. And you never showed up,” I reminded him.

  “I know. I had a good reason. I’m standing on the tarmac and I see a Bates Corporation jet land. Now, being the curious soul that I am, I watch, and who should get out of the plane but Gerald Bates himself,” Spencer said.

  “That’s incredible. I bet you were giddy,” I said, picturing a star-struck Spencer chasing after his hero.

  Spencer nodded his head. “I was. Anyhow, he got into one of those little airport golf carts and drove off. I decided to see if I could follow him.”

  “You’re kidding. You chased after him?” I asked.

  Spencer shook his head. “No. I figured he’d either go to his office or home. I went back to my car and drove to his office. I knew where that was. When I got there, these two Arab-looking guys were hanging around the parking lot. One of them was puffing on a cigar. I recognized the other one as Mohammed Aziz, from that newsletter you picked up. Anyhow, when Mr. Bates showed up in his car, these two guys grabbed him and took off. I tried to follow them in my car, but it overheated going over the Altamont.”

  “So, how’d you find him?” I asked.

  “Easy. I started hacking into county records and found out Mohammed Aziz owns only one piece of property in California—the house in Coronado. I caught a flight to San Diego and checked it out myself. I ought to be a detective, don’t you think?” Spencer boasted.

  “I think you’ll have enough fun being the newest Pantera-driving employee of Bates Corporation.” I was suddenly reminded about my vehicle predicament. I caught Dan’s attention. “Oh, by the way, my Jeep was stolen. I couldn’t report it because the entire police force was after me.”

  Dan peered at me over his glasses. “You need a ride somewhere?”

  “I need my Jeep back. That’s what I need,” I informed him.

  “And what do you want me to do about it?” Dan asked.

  I rolled my eyes. “Well, shoot. You’re the FBI, aren’t you? Doesn’t the ‘I’ stand for investigation?”

  “Yeah, but not for old Jeeps,” Dan answered.

  “Old! That Jeep was as clean as the day it rolled off the show-room floor,” I argued.

  Dan patted me on the head like a little girl who has lost her doll. “Give it up, Dev. You just better hope you had insurance. Chances are you’ll never see it again.”

  “Great.” I started thinking about all the things I might not ever see again, besides my Jeep. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laid eyes on the Plan C, but I didn’t really care. It was just a thing. All my stuff—just things. I shoved my chair out from the table. “I need to make a call. Anyone have change for the phone?”

  Tom Willis dug some quarters out of his pocket. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks. Be right back.”

  I dialed the number and counted the rings. “Please be there,” I whispered to myself. He answered on the fourth ring.

  “Hey. It’s me.”

  “Dev? Where are you? I went by your boat. I went by your Uncle’s place. I’ve called a dozen times.”

  I could hear the concern in Craig’s voice. I felt terrible for neglecting the man who means more to me than anything else in the world. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s a really long story, and I want to tell it to you.”

  “Are you okay? Where are you? I was ready to call out the National Guard to find you.”

  “I’m in San Diego—having dinner with some friends. I was thinking we could go sailing tomorrow. I could tell you all about where I’ve been and what’s happened.”

  There was a brief silence. “Sailing? Okay, Dev. But what about—“

  “Cabo would be nice. What do you think about Cabo?” I
suggested.

  “Cabo? Tomorrow? I’ll have to see if I can get some time off.”

  “Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You can’t just up and set sail any time you feel like it.”

  “Well, I’m not exactly a prisoner, but I do have some obligations.”

  “Obligations. Those aren’t necessarily bad things. I suppose they’re right up there with compromises and commitments.” I watched through the glass window as an old man helped his wife out of their car. He took her hand and they strolled arm-in-arm into the restaurant. “Do you think it’s possible to be too free?” I asked.

  Craig was silent for a moment. “Are you okay, Dev?”

  I thought about the question. Was I okay? Deception never worked when I used it on myself. I searched my soul for the honest truth—the truth that would set me free. “I’m great. You know, I can wait to go to Cabo until you have the time. We can just putter around the harbor tomorrow and get reacquainted.”

  “That would be great. I’ve missed you so much,” Craig said, his voice soothing my nerves like a stroll along a quiet secluded beach.

  I watched the old couple from the parking lot find their way to a table. The man helped his wife into her chair, then leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. I smiled. “Me too. One other thing, Craig—if your offer still stands, then my answer is yes.”

  I could hear a deep sigh through the phone. I held my breath waiting for his response. “My offer stands for eternity, Devonie Lace. You name the place and date, and I’m there in a second.”

  A tiny tear rolled down my face and dropped on my hand. The weight of the world suddenly lifted off my shoulders and I felt freer than I’ve ever felt in my whole life.

  123