looking for.”
“Okay, I believe you…but what do you want from me?”
“I’ve made some calls. It seems that Holloway just berthed his yacht at Hilton Head, where he also has an estate. I suggest you get to Hilton Head and interview the man. Ask him about his business with Niles Penburton. Feel him out. I’ll bet you anything he’s dirty,” Henry said, hoping he’d convinced Palmer of the connection.
“I don’t know, Jason. That’s pretty thin. You want me to approach one of the wealthiest men in the country on the hunch that a bunch of calls from his company somehow connects him in this man’s murder? And, even more far-fetched…that he’s the mastermind behind this whole conspiracy? Sounds like a boogie-man theory if you ask me,” Palmer posited, his skepticism overstepping his diplomacy.
“Look, I know I sound desperate, alright. If I were you I’d find this hard to believe too. But I’ve been on this case since the first theft at the Quantum Building. I’m convinced there’s one smart son-of-a- bitch behind the whole thing. Knowing Holloway’s history makes him my prime suspect. I really need your help on this, Emerson.” Henry was relying on their past history to carry the day.
“Okay. Since you put it that way, I’ll check out this Holloway. Hell’s bells…at least it gives me a lead,” he acknowledged. “Can you give me an address and some contact information for Triton Energy? I’ll need some reason for this guy to see me. What’s my way in?”
“I’ll fax over Penburton’s phone records and the location of Holloway’s estate on Hilton Head; everything you’ll need. Make up what you like. Tell him you’re working for a client interested in Penburton’s death and you came across his phone number. As soon as you make contact, let me know what you find. I’ll bet anything he’s involved,” Jason said, relieved he had convinced his old friend to check out the lead.
For the first time since the Quantum job he was feeling a ray of hope. From what Henry had heard about Alastair Holloway, he was certainly cunning enough to have put all the pieces of this intricate plan in motion.
“Send me your information as soon as possible. I’ll catch the next flight to Hilton Head. We’ll know later today if this guy’s hiding anything.”
“Thanks buddy. I owe you one,” Jason, said relieved that Emerson was on the case.
“Hey, don’t mention it. You just remember who I work for…and I don’t mean Senator Coscarelli,” Palmer said.
“Emerson, believe me, that’s on the front of my mind, too. Before this is over the whole damn team could be activated. I won’t forget you,” he said. If the cleaners were activated, his old friend Emerson would resume his rightful place in the group.
“It’s not you I worry about, Jason. Just sit tight. You’ll hear from me…I promise,” he said, ending the call.
Armed with a new assignment, Emerson walked to the hall closet and took out his travel bag, readying himself for a trip to question one of the richest men in the world. He had absolute faith that Jason Henry would do all he could to keep him involved. It was that backstabbing Freeman he worried about.
Wouldn’t that be something if the Holloway lead culminated in activating the ‘cleaners’? he thought. It’s way past due for an assignment. I wonder who’s left? Christ…we’re sure a bunch of old farts.
FIFTY-FOUR
Hilton Head
08:30 hours
Angelina Navarro stormed into the master suite she shared with Alastair Holloway. She was livid. She had met with Dr. Coscarelli a second time the night before when she delivered the clothes and personal items she had promised to bring. She knew Sela was desperate for a laptop computer, but had decided not to risk bringing her the device on the next visit, wary that Sully Metusack would thoroughly search anything brought into the woman’s room. Once she knew the man’s technique, she would be able to determine if it was at all feasible. As expected, Sully had searched through everything Angelina delivered, even though she assured him it was only clothes and personal women’s things. She was relieved her intuition was correct.
When she arose early to bring Sela her breakfast, however, she found the woman was no longer on the premises. She was incensed that Alastair had sent her away without considering the woman’s well-being. This was the last straw.
For many months Angelina had been struggling with the notion that she should confront Alastair about his abusive behavior-not so much toward her, even though it was excessive, but to literally everyone they met. This latest affront gave her the impetus to address the problem. She would no longer abide his rudeness. Even though she realized her protestation would bring an end to the easy life she enjoyed under his care, the thought of him mistreating Dr. Coscarelli had irreparably destroyed her loyalty. This has got to stop, she thought. From this day forward, I will no longer tolerate his mean-spirited behavior.
“Where have you taken her, Alastair?” she demanded, blasting into their suite. She stood in the center of the spacious room with her hands on her hips, a withering look of fury in her eyes. There was no mistaking that she was highly distressed.
Holloway was sitting at a small dining table overlooking the gardens outside. Before him were a pitcher of decaf coffee and a plate of croissants. The Washington Post and the Wall Street Journal were two of several papers he was reading.
He looked up from the paper and casually said, “Excuse me? I don’t see that’s any of your business. You’ve become too personally involved, Angel. When I agreed that you could care for the woman’s personal needs I didn’t intend for you to question my every decision. If you must know, she’s been taken to a more secure location…and that’s all you need to know,” he said deliberately, leaving no doubt the matter was settled.
“It…i…is…my business,” she stammered, unaccustomed to defying the man who had provided for her welfare the last three years. “These men of yours…they don’t know how to care for a woman’s needs. I don’t ask much of you, Alastair, but I asked you to let me take care of her. She’s a decent woman…not…not like me, I know. She needs someone to look out for her,” she argued, still standing rigidly in the middle of the room.
“Angel, I’m in no mood for this insolence. Coscarelli is none of your business. And she’s tougher than you think…she’ll be fine. Now, please…that’s my last word on the matter.”
“It’s not the last word. I demand to know where she’s been taken. I heard that pilot talking about flying to Kentucky. I want to join them. Please Alastair, please,” she implored less stridently, trying desperately to change his mind.
“That’s out of the question, Angel. Really…what do you think you can do that she can’t do for herself? Don’t you see she was just ingratiating herself to you to get information? Are you really that naive, for chrissake?” he said sarcastically, going back to reading the papers.
“You make it sound like I’m stupid and worthless. I’m not just a bimbo, Alastair. If you don’t agree to let me join her, then I see no reason for me to be involved with you any further. I’ll pack my things and be out of here by noon,” she said, issuing an ultimatum. She had been around Holloway enough to know that he didn’t take threats lightly. She braced herself for a barrage as she could see the anger welling inside him.
“Suit yourself, goddamnit. I always knew you were an ingrate. I’ve taken good care of you, Angel, and this is how you show your gratitude? Get your shit and get the fuck out of my house. Now! I don’t ever want to see your face again,” he yelled, gathering himself up from the table, enraged by her defiance.
Angel’s voice quavered. “You’re the…the meanest most sel…selfish man I ever met,” she said, choking back tears, fearful of his anger. But she summoned her courage and pressed forward, determined not to let him have the final word.
“I’ve tried to love you and be more than just the whore that you fuck. I curse you, Alastair. I curse you for all those people that you’ve destroyed over your lifetime. I curse you for treating your only daughter like an outcast. I curse you for all the people that you shamefully mistreat. Go to hell, you bastard.”
“You first, bitch!” he yelled, throwing the plate of croissants at Angel, who was moving quickly toward the door.
“No one walks out on me…you hear me, Angel? No one! You’re fired, you’re fucking fired!” he screamed, the blood vessels in his neck threatening to burst.
