door and walking directly inside. Penburton looked up from his desk and Henry caught a brief glimpse of terror on the man’s face. He was glad he’d caught the man off-guard.
“Good morning, Professor,” Agent Henry started, watching as the man nervously shuffled together something he’d been reading before quickly storing it away in the top drawer of his otherwise neatly ordered desk. “I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time, but there are new developments in my investigation that you might be able to address. This’ll only take a few minutes,” he said, indicating that Penburton had no choice otherwise.
“Agent Henry, what a pleasant surprise,” Penburton lied, trying to conceal his alarm. The special agent’s impromptu visit was unwelcome but not altogether unexpected, given the message he had received from Jarrod late last night. The agent’s presence at Quantum was always troublesome and mentally fatiguing, made more so ever since Holloway’s team had stolen Conrad’s antigravity research. “Please, come in. How can I help you?” he asked, hospitably, feigning curiosity.
“Professor, we have a big problem here,” Henry said, taking a seat while removing his notebook from his breast pocket. “Things are just not adding up. I’ve been working with Lieutenant Morris from PAPD, and it seems we’re both running into the same inconsistencies. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but as of this morning, Dr. Conrad is presumed missing. In addition, his cousin’s son was kidnapped from his home late last night and we’ve just learned that Dr. Sela Coscarelli, Ryan Marshall’s ex-sister-in-law, has also been abducted from her home in Maryland.”
Penburton was mortified at the report from Agent Henry. A rush of adrenalin shot through his body when he heard about Sela. He realized that Holloway had acted on his hunch that she was someone Jarrod cared about. He tried valiantly to maintain his composure and not let Henry see that he was mortified. He also needed to conceal his foreknowledge of Jarrod’s abduction, having previously decided not to divulge the late-night call he had received. Penburton realized with grim awareness that he would be considered an accessory in all these capital crimes if Agent Henry discovered his association with Holloway.
“My God, Conrad’s missing?” he asked in mock surprise, contorting his face into an anguished look. “In light of everything else that’s happened since the break-in, I’m surprised you fellas didn’t have someone assigned to protect him. Do you have any idea what happens to our research if he’s not found?” he asked firmly, attempting to deflect the subject of conversation. “What’s all this got to do with me anyway?”
“It’s looking more and more like an inside job, Professor,” Henry bluntly replied, setting a steady gaze on Penburton, looking for a flinch, a jerk, or any imperceptible sign that might give him away as the inside source. He saw it, barely detectable; the professor was scared. His eyes darted almost indiscernibly, but it was a dead giveaway. The professor was exhibiting the mammalian fight-or-flight reflex. When confronted by danger, the subject will choose to fight, or run like hell. There was no doubt: Penburton was looking for a way to bolt. I’ve got you, you son-of-a-bitch, Henry thought.
“Since you’re Dr. Conrad’s partner, I’m sure you must know things about him that most others wouldn’t be privy to. Can you tell me if there’s anyone who might be able to set up this plan? It’s remarkably complex-making it look like his long-estranged cousin was behind the break-in could have only come from someone closely allied to the professor. See where I’m going with this?”
“I understand your point, Agent Henry, but I can assure you I don’t know anything about this. As you correctly point out, I’m his partner. Why would I steal research I already own? And to imply I’m somehow involved in his kidnapping…mind-boggling.”
“Well…then you won’t mind me investigating your phone calls, bank records, credit card transactions, and past tax filings,” Henry responded officiously. “That should clear up any doubt about your involvement quite nicely, Professor.”
Jason Henry had to keep from breaking a smile. The look on Penburton’s face was priceless. It was the look of a trapped animal- inextricably caught, without recourse, and no hope of rescue.
“I can’t see how that information will help you, but if it assists in finding Jarrod and recovering his stolen research, by all means you’ll have my full and complete cooperation,” Penburton calmly replied, stalling while he assessed his next move. “But since you appear to have made me a suspect in this investigation, I’ll need to consult with my attorney, and I must insist that you produce a court order to procure the documents you request. Now, if you’ll kindly remove yourself from my office, I have a class to teach,” he finished, abruptly standing up from his desk, indicating their discussion was concluded.
“No problem, Professor. I appreciate your willingness to cooperate, but making me obtain a court order makes your offer insincere. I would advise you not to leave the city until this is resolved. Good day, Professor. I’ll be in touch,” Agent Henry said, standing to leave.
There was no doubt in his mind that Niles Penburton was dirty. He could smell a rat and this rat was the partner of Dr. Jarrod Conrad, inventor of the world’s first antigravity machine. Lie to me once, shame on you. Lie to me twice, I’ll eat your lunch, Henry thought. I’ve got my man. He’s not Lex Luthor, but this guy knows the man with the plan. I’ll make book on it.
FORTY-TWO
San Jose
08:30 HOURS
Ryan Marshall slowly awoke from a fitful sleep filled with frightful dreams: driving down a dark, steep grade, brakes and headlights failing; fleeing an angry posse brandishing rifles and swinging a noose; being forced to watch Jeremiah drown-his wide eyes looking hurt, longing for rescue. Mercifully the nightmares ceased as the dawn broke and he awoke, relieved that these dreams were just that.
But then reality engulfed him like a mine cave-in as the recollection of his circumstances returned, the certainty of last night’s events crashing down upon him. Even though he badly needed sleep, once his mind began grinding on the enormity of his predicament, he knew it was futile to try further. He looked to the bed next to his and noted that Sarah was not there; it was then that he heard the sound of the shower. He sat up on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands, feeling as though his whole world had been rocked. It was 8:39 a.m.
Ryan’s emotions were horribly conflicted. Even though he felt terrible about Jer’s abduction, he was also feeling a peculiar exhilaration being with Sarah again. Under other circumstances his euphoria from their recent reconciliation would have been boundless, but he had to quash this feeling. He took solace that they were back together, working on the problem, and hoped this interaction would spur them toward a new future.
Their work ethic had always been prominent in their relationship; given a problem, the Marshalls would doggedly pursue its resolution. They were undeterred by obstacles and considered overcoming challenges a noble pursuit. They worked like two draft horses sharing the load, undaunted by rough terrain that lay ahead. At critical times each tapped hidden reserves of fortitude to overcome seemingly insurmountable odds. Ryan knew it was time again to reach for this inner reserve and draw the emotional strength needed to locate their missing son. Even though it seemed hopeless, it was comforting that Jeremiah was presumably alive and healthy, a luxury that had not been available to the Marshalls when facing Jacob’s illness.
Sarah began the upcoming day without having slept a wink. The trauma of losing Jer was excruciatingly difficult to bear; shutting her mind off to this new horror was impossible. After the call to Ben Dare, she had experienced intermittent bouts of anger, grief, fear, and hopelessness. She felt like she’d been run over by a stampede. It was all too much and completely unbearable. Her only consolation was the acknowledgement that Jarrod had made contact with Jer and that he was okay. Throughout the remainder of the night, she reread the message a dozen times, comforted by and grateful for his words that her son was unharmed.
Sarah returned Jarrod’s message. She needed to give assurance they would find his location at all cost: JC: relieved you and Jer ok. We are on the trail. All my love…Sarah
She had composed the brief message, become introspective, and then gratefully sent it on its way. She couldn’t believe that she now held Jarrod in such high esteem, after having loathed his existence nearly every day since the New York City incident. She had no ability to explain how quickly she had moved from absolute contempt to complete forgiveness of Jarrod’s transgressions. All her hopes for Jer’s safe return were in Jarrod’s hands.
Sarah had worked on the laptop for most of the night. She had pored over every inch of the area surrounding Stanford, using Google Earth to look for warehouses within fifty-two minutes of Jarrod’s home. The
