Suddenly, Ward remembered Irene packing upstairs. She should have come down by now. He saw a nasty gleam in Lobec’s eyes.
Ward jumped from his seat. “Irene!” There was no response. He moved toward Lobec. “Where is she, goddammit?”
Bern tensed and took a step forward. Lobec, the smile never leaving his face, calmly reached into his jacket and pulled out an automatic pistol.
“Mrs. Ward is quite safe for the moment, but I wouldn’t want any rash behavior on your part to jeopardize that safety.”
“You won’t shoot me. Somebody will hear.”
“I know as well as you do that you and your wife are the first, and currently only, occupants on this block. I have a silencer, but there really is no need for it. Now please sit down, or I shall ask Mr. Bern to assist you.”
Seeing that he had no choice, Ward reluctantly sat. The fear that had gripped him moments before was now competing with the anger seething just below it. Despite their problems, Ward loved Irene, and the thought of these bastards manhandling her was repulsive to him.
“What does Clay want?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“First of all, he would like the $10 million you’ve stolen from him.”
Ward erupted. “I didn’t steal it! He paid me that $10 million. And he’s supposed to pay me another $20 million when he gets Adamas.”
“Second,” Lobec continued, “we want the names of every person you’ve told about Adamas.”
Ward’s eyes narrowed. “If you don’t let us go, you’ll never see Adamas, and Clay will come out of this $10 million poorer.”
“Spare us, Dr. Ward. We already have the details of your process in our possession.”
Ward sat back as if slapped in the face. That was impossible. There was only one copy of the notebook and it was stored in a safe place. The meeting tonight was to go over the details of the final transaction. On Monday, he was going to retrieve the notebook, copy it, and give the copy to a lawyer before handing the original over to Tarnwell in return for the $20 million. The lawyer would keep it and turn it over to the authorities if something happened to Ward. But something happened to the lawyer first. The lawyer was Herbert Stein, and he was murdered.
Ward sputtered, “But, you couldn’t…”
“You’ve been observed for the past two weeks, Dr. Ward. We’ve also had a chance to thoroughly itemize the contents of your office. We have everything we need.”
Something was wrong. He had hidden the notebook a month ago and hadn’t returned to the hiding place since then. He certainly didn’t keep it in his office. And he doubted even Tarnwell could get the notebook from its hiding place. He needed to know if Lobec was lying. “Then you have the videotape as well, I suppose.”
Lobec’s irritating smile finally dissolved. “You’re bluffing. There is no videotape.”
It was Ward smiling now. “So Clay doesn’t have the notebook. That’s too bad. When my friends find the videotape and the notebook, Clay is going to see a billion dollars evaporate. That is, if you don’t let us go.” This time he
Lobec’s smile returned. “Surely you learned what happened to your new attorney, Mr. Stein, or you wouldn’t have led us on this merry chase. I must say, Mr. Stein was quite forceful about his need to protect his clients’ interests. It wasn’t until I removed his second finger that he told us about your attempt to secure his services, in great detail in fact. No doubt your friends will be as obliging with the proper incentive.”
Despite his horror, Ward tried to feign confidence. “You can’t possibly know who they are.”
“No, that is correct,” Lobec said, nodding. “But I think you will be most willing to tell us. Especially if you don’t want to see your beautiful wife damaged by Mr. Bern.” Lobec glanced toward Bern and nodded in Ward’s direction.
Ward’s stomach sank. They would never let him go. They’d torture the information about the notebook’s location out of him. Once they had that, there would be no reason to keep either of them alive. In fact, with him out of the way, there would be no one to dispute that Tarnwell was the inventor of Adamas. With that realization, Ward knew he had to take whatever chance he saw.
Bern walked around the desk and bent over to grab Ward’s arm. As he did so, Bern’s jacket fell open and Ward saw a semi-automatic pistol holstered under his left armpit. Ward looked up and saw that the bored expression hadn’t left Bern’s face.
As Bern wrapped his meaty hand around Ward’s arm, Ward sagged as if overcome with despair, his 250 pounds throwing Bern off balance in the process. He plunged his free hand into Bern’s jacket, found the pistol, and yanked it from the holster.
Bern snapped back and grabbed Ward’s wrist, pointing the gun toward the ceiling. To the side, he could see Lobec aiming his pistol at them but not firing, probably not wanting to kill Ward until he got the information he needed. Bern’s other hand grabbed at the gun. He pried at Ward’s hand, but Ward gripped the gun with tenacity born of desperation.
Ward tried forcing the gun into Bern’s face. Bern deflected it as Ward pulled the trigger, and a deafening blast rended the air. A chunk of the ceiling hit them as Bern whirled them around and into the wall. He pulled Ward’s arm down, trying to use leverage to wrest the gun away. With one hand still on Ward’s wrist, Bern slid the other up the gun’s barrel and jerked downward. Another shot rang out, and the gun dropped to the floor.
Bern stepped back to retrieve the weapon. Ward ignored him, his face contorted with agony. A red stain grew on his right shoulder. But instead of reaching for that shoulder, he put his hand to the other one. The pain was excruciating, spreading to Ward’s chest. His eyes cast downward, searching for the source of the pain, but the only obvious wound was from the gunshot. Then he understood. The heart attack Irene had always predicted. The smoking, the greasy foods, the lack of exercise. She’d nagged him for years. Now it was going to keep Tarnwell from getting what he wanted. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out as only a weak gargle. He staggered forward a step and fell to his knees. Bern stood aside as Ward pitched over.
Ward looked up, his vision tunneling. Through the tunnel, he could see Lobec’s eyes hovering only a foot from his face. Lobec shook Ward and spoke. Although his voice was only a muddy jumble, Ward felt himself responding, not really understanding what he was saying. He saw Lobec’s face turn and start searching, stopping when he came to the computer screen. He followed Lobec’s gaze there. The last thing Ward ever saw was the phrase
CHAPTER 2
Slamming the apartment door behind him, Kevin Hamilton sprinted to his car. As he ran, he pulled a Rockets cap over his wet, tangled hair and shoved his wallet into the front pocket of his shorts. One of his shoes was still untied, and the laces slapped against his bare ankles. He didn’t dare stop to tie it. If he didn’t get to the South Texas University campus in 20 minutes, his life would be over.
Kevin had just finished toweling off from a late afternoon shower when he’d begun to read the letters from his South Texas University mailbox. The first one had stopped him cold, and it felt like shaved ice had poured into his stomach. He’d read the letter twice to make sure he’d understood it correctly, then frantically called the number at the top of the letter. Getting a busy signal, he scrambled into the first clothes he could find. The long-sleeved button-downed shirt he’d ripped from a closet hanger was wildly incongruous with the workout shorts and tennis shoes, but he didn’t care. Besides, he’d seen a lot worse on other graduate students.
He jumped into his Mustang and tossed the letter onto the front seat. As he inserted the ignition key, Kevin rested his other hand on the steering wheel, then immediately pulled it back with a gasp. Even this late in the day, the September sun was still strong enough to heat the steering wheel to scorching temperatures. Gripping the cooler lower part of the steering wheel, he turned the key.
The Mustang wheezed for a few seconds, then nothing. Kevin swore under his breath. He’d had the car for nine years, won it in a radio contest when he was still in high school. His parents had let him keep it as long as he
