case through. And I thought you might like to join me, as well.”
Matt grinned. “How could I say no?” he asked.
The captain introduced him to the two Net Force operatives in the official car, Agents Grandelli and Murray. Grandelli had a face that looked more Irish than Italian, with blunt features and a hint of humor hiding in the quirk of his lips. Murray had a sort of baby face that he tried to counteract with a fierce expression. He looked as though he was working himself up to storm an enemy fortress and kill everybody inside.
Murray didn’t look very welcoming, restraining his greetings to a nod and a grunt.
Grandelli, however, was more talkative as he shook hands. He gave Winters a keen glance. “After all this guy put you through, are you sure you’ll be content just to stand by and watch while he gets his?”
But Winters simply shook his head. “I don’t want to do anything that will allow our friend — or any smart lawyer he might hire — to squirm out from under the case we’ve built. If that means the best I can be is an audience member for this arrest, so be it. After the events of the last few weeks, I’ll be happy just knowing my old buddy will be going through the machinery.”
“Okay,” Grandelli said. “Then let’s get this show on the road.”
Winters led Matt over to his car while the Net Force agents started their engine. By the time he had the car in gear, they were at the parking lot gate. The captain pulled in behind them and easily trailed them to the Potomac River and the bridge to Reston, Virginia.
Reston had enjoyed a building boom about the turn of the century, and boasted a modest collection of office towers located at just the right distance from D.C.
I-on Investigations had a floor in a fifteen-story building quite close to the Newseum, the museum devoted to print and broadcast media.
Taking advantage of their authority, the Net Force operatives pulled in beside a fire hydrant right by the front door of the building. Matt noticed that Agent Murray took the precaution of displaying the Net Force seal in the front windshield.
Captain Winters had to circle around a bit, finally finding a legal spot across the street. By the time he and Matt were settled, Agents Murray and Grandelli were already inside the building.
Matt noticed that Winters remained slightly crouched behind the wheel of the car, scanning everyone on the street. “Are you expecting trouble?” he asked.
“More like preparing for the unexpected,” the captain replied. “The first time I went to nab a corporate big shot in his lair, my partner and I were held up by his receptionist while Mr. Big ran down the stairs.”
“So what would you do if you saw Marcus Kovacs running out the door?” Matt asked.
“Stop him,” Winters said briefly.
From the way his fingers gripped the wheel of the car, that seemed to translate into “Run him over.”
Matt decided this was not the time for idle conversation. They spent several long minutes in silence, until Winters burst out, “What’s keeping them?”
That was when Agent Grandelli pushed his way out through the revolving doors…alone.
He strode over to the unmarked car, opened the door, and spoke briefly into the microphone hooked under the dashboard. Then his eyes swept the street for a moment, looking for the captain’s car. When he spotted Winters, Grandelli hustled across the street.
The captain already had his window down. “Problems?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” Grandelli admitted. “We buzzed right past the firm’s receptionist, but Kovacs’s secretary told us he’d called in this morning, saying he was taking some personal time. Kovacs’s office was empty, and his absence seemed to be for real. The executive staff is running around like proverbial headless chickens. There were supposed to be some big client meetings today, and it was clear they were failing miserably to do things right without the big man in place.”
“What now?” Winters asked.
“I left Murray upstairs to make sure no warning calls get out — he’s good at that,” Grandelli said. “Then I got on the horn to send another team over to Kovacs’s home. See if we can catch him there.” The agent hesitated for a second. “We didn’t see him as a flight risk. He shouldn’t have known this was coming.”
Matt realized that two sets of eyes were turning on him. “Hey,” he said. “Nothing came out of my mouth.”
“Yeah,” Grandelli said, a little embarrassed. “Well — I’d better get back to the radio.”
Matt and the captain sat in silence again. This time it was even more tense than when they’d been waiting to see Kovacs led out.
Pretending to shift in his seat, Matt stole a quick look at his watch. It felt as if sundown should be coming soon. Instead, only a few minutes had passed since Grandelli had spoken to him.
Matt noticed the agent was inside his car, speaking into the microphone again. When Grandelli emerged, he walked slowly across the street, a puzzled frown on his face.
“Mr. K wasn’t in his lovely condominium at the Watergate,” Grandelli reported. “In fact, nobody seems to have any idea where the heck he might be.”
“Hey, folks!” Megan O’Malley called out as she came in the door. “I’m home!”
Since both of her parents worked as freelance writers, she could usually depend on one or both of them to be around when she got back from school. A brother or two might also turn up, back from college classes.
So it was odd when she got no response. It was possible that research of some sort might have sent Mom and Dad venturing out, although the in-house library had an amazing variety of resources. The last time she’d looked, her father was simultaneously researching immigration of the 1890s, the suffragette movement to win votes for women, ghosts, and the Norman invasion of Sicily in the 1080s. What amazed her was that these were all supposed to tie up in one book.
So nobody was home? The silence was almost eerie.
Still, the situation was a little weird. The weather outside was warm, and the house air conditioners were running full blast. The folks would have turned them down, Megan knew, if they planned going out for any amount of time. Megan decided to check out the kitchen.
“Mom?” she called tentatively. He voice seemed to echo oddly in the air.
“Where’d everybody—” Her sentence broke off in a big gasp when she saw her mother on the floor. Schoolbooks tumbled from Megan’s hands and crashed on the floor tiles. She rushed in and dropped to her knees.
No blood, Megan thought. Nor bruises, or any sort of burns or welts. It was almost as if Mom had gently lay down on the floor, curled up, and gone to sleep.
“Mom?” Megan gently shook her. “Hey, Mom!”
Her mother didn’t wake up.
Megan’s heart was thudding so hard, it was the only thing she could hear. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm as she checked her mother’s neck for a pulse. It was there, strong and steady. She needed to call for help.
Acting on a hunch, she popped out of the kitchen, and headed down the hall to the room Dad used as an office. She heard a faint beeping as she came into the room. A second later Megan staggered back, clinging to the door frame. No need to search for her father. He was home, sacked out in his computer chair. Not merely online and virtual, but completely unconscious. The noise she’d heard was a complaint from the machine, because his hands were mashing down on several key computer controls at once.
Megan’s heart was hammering away as if she were running the fifty-yard dash, and her breath came in short, shallow gasps. Spinning away from Dad’s office, she spotted one of her older brothers in the doorway of his room, on the floor — out cold.
