Total Control (24 page)

"My God," Sidney exclaimed. "And I guess the potential profits-"

"Yes, yes, we'll make billions from sales of software, the network charges-every business in the world will want to be on-line with us. And that's only the beginning." Rowe sounded distinctly uninterested in this side of the equation. "And yet with all that, Gamble still won't see, is incapable of understanding..." He stood up in his anxiety, his arms flailing. He caught himself and sat back down, his face carrying a red sheen. 'Tm... I'm sorry, sometimes I get carried away."

"It's okay, Quentin, I understand. Jason shared your excitement about the CyberCom deal, I know that."

"We had many pleasant discussions about it."

"And Gamble is acutely aware of the consequences of another company acquiring CyberCom. I have to believe that he will come to his senses over the records issue."

Rowe nodded. "One can only hope," he said quickly. Sidney glanced at the diamond studs in his earlobe. They seemed to be the only extravagance about the man, and a small one at that. A millionaire several hundred times over, Rowe lived much like the impoverished college student he had been ten years ago. Finally Rowe broke the silence. "Jason and I talked about the future a lot, in fact.

He was a very special person." He seemed to share the depths of Sidney's misery whenever Jason's name was mentioned. "I guess you won't be working on the CyberCom matter anymore?"

"The attorney who's replacing me is top-notch. You won't miss a beat."

"Oh, good." He sounded extremely unconvinced.

She rose and gripped his shoulder. "Quentin, this deal will get done." She noted his empty teacup. "Would you like some more tea?"

"What? Uh, no, no, thanks." He collapsed back into deep thought, rubbing his thin hands nervously. When he snatched a look at her, Sidney thought she knew what was on his mind.

"I had an impromptu meeting with Nathan recently."

Rowe slowly nodded. "He told me something of it."

"So you know about Jason's 'trip'?"

"That he told you he was going for a job interview?"

"What company?" The question was asked very matter-of-factly.

Sidney hesitated and then decided to answer. "Allege raPort Technology."

Rowe snorted. "I could've told you that was a joke. Allege raPort will be out of business in less than two years. They were on the cutting edge a while back, but they let the industry pass them by. You grow and keep innovating in this field or you die. Jason would never have seriously considered going with them."

"As it turned out, he didn't. They had never heard of him."

Rowe was obviously already privy to this information. "Could it have been something else... I don't quite know how to put this..."

"Personal? Another woman?"

Like an embarrassed child, Rowe mumbled, "I shouldn't have said that. It's none of my business."

"No, it's all right. I can't tell you that the thought never crossed my mind. However, our relationship recently was the best it's ever been."

"So he never indicated to you that anything was going on in his life? Nothing that would have prompted him to... to take a trip to L.A., and not to tell you the truth about it?"

Sidney looked wary. Was this all a fishing expedition? Had Gamble perhaps sent his second-in-command over to glean some information?

When she looked at Rowe's troubled expression, she swiftly concluded that he had come here on his own in an attempt to figure out what had happened to his employee and friend.

"Nothing. Jason never really talked to me about work. I have no idea what he was doing. I wish to God I did. It's the not knowing that's killing me." She debated whether to ask Rowe about the new locks on Jason's door and Kay Vincent's other concerns, but finally decided not to.

After an awkward silence, Rowe stirred. "I have those personal items of Jason's you came to the office for in the car. After I was so rude to you, I thought it best to bring them myself."

"Thank you, Quentin. Believe me when I tell you I harbor no hard feelings. It's a rough time for us all."

Rowe thanked her with a smile as he stood up. "I have to be going. I'll go get the box. If you need anything, just let me know."

After bringing in the items, Rowe said his good-byes and turned to leave. Sidney touched him on the shoulder.

"Nathan Gamble won't be looking over your shoulder forever.

Everyone knows who's really behind the success of Triton Global."

He looked surprised. "You really think so?"

"It's hard to hide genius."

He breathed deeply. "I don't know. Gamble seems to keep surprising me in that regard."

He turned and walked slowly back to his car.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

I.t was nearly midnight when Lee Sawyer's head hit the pillow after a hastily eaten dinner. His eyes, however, failed to close, although a massive weariness tugged at him. He looked around the tiny living space and abruptly decided to get up. He padded through the hallway in his bare feet, undershorts and T-shirt and plopped down on a beaten-up recliner in the living room. The typical career of an FBI agent didn't often lend itself to long-standing domestic tranquillity.

Too many missed anniversaries, holidays, birthdays. Gone for months at a time, no end in sight. He had been severely wounded in the line of duty, a traumatic situation for any spouse. There had been threats to his family from the human waste he had dedicated his life to eradicating. All for the cause of justice, of making the world, if not better, at least momentarily safer. A noble goal that didn't sound so special when you were trying to explain to your eight-year-old over the phone why Daddy was going to miss another baseball game, another recital or school play. He had known that going in; Peg had too. Being so much in love, they truly believed they could beat the odds, and they had for a long time. Ironically, his relationship with Peg was now better than it had been in years.

The kids, though, were a different matter. He had taken the full brunt of the blame for the breakup and maybe he deserved it, he thought. Only now were his three oldest kids beginning to talk to him on anything approaching a consistent basis. Meggie was completely gone from him. He didn't know what was going on in her life. That's what had hurt the most. The not knowing.

Everyone had choices to make and he had made his own. He had enjoyed a very successful career at the bureau, but that success had come with a cost. He walked to the kitchen, pulled out a cold beer and plopped back down in the recliner. His magical sleeping potion of choice. At least he wasn't into the hard liquor. Yet. He finished the beer in several large gulps, lay back in the chair and closed his eyes.

An hour later, the telephone ringing roused him from a deep sleep. He was still sitting in the recliner. He picked up the telephone receiver on the table next to his chair.

"Yeah?"

"Lee?"

Sawyer's eyelids fluttered briefly, then opened. "Frank?" Sawyer looked at his watch. "You're not with the bureau anymore, Frank, I thought the private sector lets you keep more regular hours."

On the other end of the line Frank Hardy was fully dressed and sitting in a nicely furnished office. On the wall behind him hung numerous mementos depicting a long and distinguished career with the FBI. Hardy smiled. "Too much competition out here, Lee. Just having twenty-four hours in a day doesn't seem fair."

"Well, I'm not ashamed to admit it's about my limit. What's up?"

"Your plane bombing," Hardy said simply.

Sawyer sat straight up, fully awake now, his eyes focusing in the darkness. "What?"

"I got something here you're going to need to see, Lee. I'm not clear on exactly what it all means yet. I'm about to brew a pot of coffee. How long will it take you to get here?"

"Give me thirty minutes."

"Just like old times."

In five minutes Sawyer was fully dressed. He slipped his 10mm pistol into its holster and went down to the street to fire up his sedan. On the drive over he reported in to headquarters to alert them to this recent development. Frank Hardy had been one of the best agents the bureau had ever produced. When he left to start his own security firm, every agent had felt the loss, but no one begrudged Hardy the opportunity after his many years of service. He and Sawyer had been partners for ten years before Hardy made his exit.

They had been a prolific team, beating the odds on a number of high-profile cases and bringing to justice criminals who had gone far underground. Many of their targets were now serving life sentences without parole at various maximum-security federal prisons around the country. More than a handful, several of them serial killers, had been executed.

If Hardy thought he had something on the plane bombing, then he did. Sawyer sped up and within ten minutes pulled his car into a vast parking lot. The fourteen-story building in Tysons Corner housed a number of businesses, none of them involved in anything nearly as exciting as Hardy's concern.

Sawyer was cleared through security after showing his FBI credentials and rode the elevator up to the fourteenth floor. Stepping out of the elevator, he found himself in the modern-looking reception area. Soft cove lighting illuminated the otherwise darkened expanse of the area. Behind the receptionist's desk were six-inch-high white letters proclaiming the name of the establishment: slCURTECH.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sidney Archer watched the methodical rise and fall of the small chest. Her parents were sleeping soundly in the guest bedroom down the hall while Sidney sat in the rocking chair in Amy's room.

Finally Sidney rose and went to the window to look out. She had never been much of a night person. Hectic days had demanded that when the time came to sleep, she slept. Now the darkness seemed powerfully soothing to her, like a gentle cascade of warm water. It made recent events seem less real, less terrifying than she knew them actually to be. When the daylight came, though, the calming quiet of the night would leave her again. Tomorrow also would bring the memorial service for Jason. People would be coming to the house to pay their respects, to reflect on what a good life her husband had led.

Sidney wasn't sure if she would be up to it, but that was a worry that she would allow to lie for a few more hours.

She kissed Amy on the cheek, quietly exited the room and moved down the hallway to Jason's small study. She reached above the door-jamb and pulled down half a bobby pin, which she inserted in the lock on the door. At two years old, Amy Archer could get into anything: mascara, pantyhose, jewelry, Jason's ties, shoes, wallets and purses. They had once found the title to Jason's Cougar crammed in the pancake mix along with the house keys they had been frantically searching for. Once she and Jason had awoken to find a full box of dental floss wrapped around their four-poster bed. Turning doorknobs was a simple matter for the youngest Archer, hence most doors in the place had a bobby pin or bent paper clip riding above them.

Sidney went in and sat down in front of the desk. The computer screen stared back at her, its flat face dark and silent. A part of her waited for another e-mail to burst on the screen, hoping beyond hope, but it did not happen. She looked around the small room.

Being wholly Jason's, it seemed continually to draw her. She touched certain favorite items of his as if they would, by osmosis, reveal to her the secrets her husband had left behind. The phone ringing broke her thoughts. It rang again and she quickly picked it up, not knowing what to expect. For a moment Sidney did not recognize the voice. "Paul?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late. I've been trying to reach you the last few days. I left messages?

She hesitated. "I know, Paul, I'm sorry, there's been so much--" "Jesus, Sid, I didn't say that to make you feel guilty. I was just worried about you. Finding out about Jason like that, I don't know how you're holding up. You're stronger than I am."

She smiled weakly. "I don't feel so strong right now."

Paul Brophy's voice was earnest. "You've got a lot of people at Tyler, Stone pulling for you. And one New York-based partner in particular who is available twenty-four hours a day to help."

"The support is touching, it really is."

"I'm flying down for the memorial service tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that, Paul, you must be swamped."

"Not really. I don't know if you were aware, but I made a run at taking the helm on the CyberCom deal."

"Really?" Sidney did her best to keep her voice even.

"Yeah, only I didn't get it. Wharton was rather blunt in rejecting my offer."

"I'm sorry, Paul." Sidney felt momentary guilt. "There will be other deals, though."

"I know, but I really thought I could do it. I really did." He paused. Sidney prayed that he would not ask her whether Wharton had sought her advice on the matter. When he finally did speak, she felt more guilty still. "I am coming tomorrow, Sid. I can't think of any place I'd rather be."

"Thank you." Sidney pulled her robe closer around her.

"Is it okay if I come directly to your house from the airport?"

"That's fine."

"Get some sleep, Sid. I'll see you first thing in the morning. You need anything, anytime, day or night, you just have to call, okay?"

"Thank you, Paul. Good night." Sidney put the phone down. She had always gotten along with Brophy, but she was certainly aware that under his ultrasmooth exterior lurked a pure opportunist. She had told Henry Wharton that Paul did not belong on the CyberCom deal and now he was coming down to be with her in her time of grief. Well, she may be grieving, but she didn't believe in coincidences that big. She wondered what his true motive could be.

As he hung up the phone, Paul Brophy surveyed the broad expanse of his luxurious apartment. When you were thirty-four, single and good-looking with a mid-six-figure income, New York City was a great place to be. He smiled and ran his hand through thick hair.

Six figures that would, with a little luck, turn into seven. Much in life depended on whom you allied yourself with. He picked up the phone and dialed. The phone was answered after one ring. The voice was quick and businesslike after Brophy identified himself.