Collateral Damage (11 page)

And she really didn’t know what was going on, except Bill seemed to be a common factor. If he wasn’t already dead, then she was fast approaching the point that she wanted him to be. Well, that wasn’t exactly true, but she’d really like to clean his clock.

Jack scoffed at her answer as he leaned back and scanned the area outside the open window. He managed to do all of that and change the clip in his lethal gun at the same time. Whatever he saw or didn’t see outside satisfied him, because he faced her and leaned his shoulders back against the wall as if unhurried.

“So. Everything has been fine except today you find your house destroyed and a man appears out of nowhere gunning for you, right?”

Everything fine? Lauren thought. Things hadn’t been fine for a couple of years. “It’s more complicated than that,” she finally said. “And some of it is personal. As far as the house, this guy must be the same one who broke in last night. The dogs chased him off, but he had to have come back after the police and I left and ransacked the place without the cruisers patrolling the neighborhood detecting him. Not a real confidence booster. They gave me an all was quiet report this morning.”

Jack straightened from the wall, his every honed muscle stiffening with alarm. “What happened last night? Why the hell haven’t you mentioned this already?”

“It’s not like there’s been a spare minute with nothing going on.”

He motioned impatiently. “Tell me.”

“I was home with my twin sons. It was about two in the morning and a large man dressed in all black broke in through the kitchen. Thank God I had gotten a call a few moments before and was awake because I might not have heard him otherwise. He’d disabled our security alarm. So while the police were here, I packed up the boys and went to a friend’s house for the rest of the night.”

“Were you followed when you left?”

Lauren’s body went numb from a wave of shock. The no she’d been about to utter died in her throat. “I don’t know. It never even occurred to me.” She dug her cell phone from her pocket and hit the speed dial to Angie’s cell. It went straight to voice mail. She dialed Angie’s house phone. It rang and rang. No answer. “Oh, God,” she cried, her voice rising. “I’ve got to go.” She scrambled for the window opening, an uncoordinated mass of nerves and muscle.

“Don’t panic.” Jack helped her up with a firm hand to her thigh, then her butt when she had trouble, and then her foot when she had even more trouble. She supposed she should have let go of the towel bar, to get a better grip on the window sill.

“There could be a simple explanation,” Jack added way too calm compared to the urgency clawing at her. “I’ll take you there. How far away are they?”

Once outside, Lauren looked back at Jack framed by the window. She was so unsure and so torn and so worried that her stomach cramped hard. Every step of the way from the bathroom to the window she’d deliberated on what to do next. She had really wanted to wait for the police at that point rather than to take off with Jack. But she hadn’t wanted to hang around the house by herself either. She had planned to wait for the police at the entrance to the subdivision no matter what. Even if Jack said she shouldn’t. It hadn’t escaped her notice he might have an ulterior motive for wanting to leave before the police came. And if that was true, then she also had to question if he was rushing her off because HE wanted her just as much as their attacker had.

Jack had shown up first and he was armed.

Though he’d proven himself in one respect by protecting her, she still didn’t know who he was and what he wanted to know about Bill. And in light of everything happening, if he had a connection to Bill, she had better find out what that connection was before she trusted the man completely.

Given those considerations, even as worried as she was about her sons, she didn’t just want to hop in the car with a relative stranger. But then, if her sons were in danger Jack was the kind of man she definitely wanted around. So she didn’t want to break with him…yet.

Besides, the police weren’t exactly proving their competence at the moment. Though on patrol, they’d missed her house being trashed and currently, ten minutes past her 911 call and counting, they weren’t here.

“Tell you what. I’ll drive myself, but you can follow me.” She clenched the towel bar tighter.

Jack looked at the towel bar then he arched a deadly eyebrow, making her realize that everything about the man was lethal one way or another. He didn’t argue with her though.

“Not an ideal arrangement. But I can work it. The upside is I can make sure no one tails you now. Give me your cell number.” He exited through the window in a single, smooth step, his gun at the ready.

Lauren rattled off the number then redialed Angie’s cell. It went right to voice mail again.

Jack nodded as he motioned for Sasha and Sam. The dogs bounded up, already responding to his silent commands. Moments later, after skirting through the shadows, he had her and the dogs situated in her car, but then climbed into the passenger’s seat.

“You need to take me to my car up the street and then wait for me to lead the way out of the subdivision. I don’t know if he’s waiting ahead to ambush you or not, but there is no use taking any chances.”

Lauren was completely out of her element. An ambush ahead never crossed her mind. “Okay.” She set the towel bar beside her in the seat and started her car. She backed to the street and as she shifted to drive, she saw Jack tense. A black sedan came their way from farther down the street. She recognized the front tag. “It’s my neighbor.”

“How do you know?”

“He has a carrot on his front vanity plate. Hates his job, but can’t walk away from the perks. The company leases him a new Mercedes every year.”

Jack laughed, an easy, deep rumble. “My kind of guy. My car is the dark blue sedan up on the left.”

“Why did you park down here?” She frowned, and glanced fearfully his way. “You were expecting trouble, weren’t you? Who are you and what in the hell is going on?”

“I’m trained to expect trouble, but I’ll be honest. I wasn’t sure what kind of reception I would get, so I parked here just in case. I have reason to suspect your husband might have a connection to a radical group.”

Lauren slammed on the brakes, throwing them both forward. “What do you mean by a radical group?” Then she held up her hand. “No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know now. I just want to get to my sons.” The blood drained from her head to the point that her vision wavered a moment.

“Damn.” He opened the door and exited the car. “Just drive. And drive carefully. When you get to your friend’s street, park down the block like this and wait for me to give the go ahead before you get out. You don’t want to walk into the business end of a gun if you can help it. If I see anything suspicious, I’ll call you. Just keep in mind that I’m the good guy here, okay?”

She nodded, her throat too clogged with fear to speak. She wanted to scream. She wanted her boys safe in her arms. She wanted her life back.

Chapter Twelve

Dubai, UAE

Press conference cameras flashed, George smiled broadly, and a rush of pride over his
hijo perfecto
filled Andreas. Photographers and reporters from around the world were all loving George. Dressed in a hand-tailored suit, shirt and tie made to match Andreas’s Italian silk and sporting their ever present St. Jude medals, George was the ideal poster chimp for bringing attention to Andreas’s Primate Preservation Reserve in Africa and spinning the right public perception of GreenWorld Corporation (GWC).

By committing in advance a percentage of his soon-to-be astronomical profits, Andreas had neutralized future cries of capitalistic price gouging and created an ambience of benevolence that would pave the way for GWC’s global energy monopoly and a new world order.

Exuding presidential confidence, Andreas began the opening notes for his perfectly orchestrated prelude to power, his tone commiserating, authoritative and calm. He’d practiced hours and hours with a tutor to remove even a trace of gutter-
Mexicana
from his voice and replace it with an indistinct, European flavor, just as his plastic surgeon had transformed his face. His features and public accent were ambiguous of origin, exactly what he needed to blend and garner as few personal questions as possible. They were perfect.

Everything was perfect except for the dark blot Bill Collins was turning out to be. Fidel’s call a few minutes ago threatened to not only ruin Andreas’s shining moment, but could cause some serious problems. Guru had finally deciphered Bill’s encrypted emails, which produced delivery confirmation from FedEx on eight packages. Eight packages mailed supposedly by Bill from Sao Paulo to different places in the US a week after his death. Andreas’s instincts were screaming at him. He wanted to know who those packages went to and what was in them. He told Fidel to pull out the stops on all satellite data resources and to put more operatives on the situation with orders to kill. Andreas refused to consider that his entire operation might be in jeopardy. If no one was left alive to speak then no tales could be told.

He cleared his throat and smiled at the crowd gathered in the luxurious room. “First, I thank you for coming. And I thank my good friend, Saleem Al-Jabar, for my welcome and accommodations here at Burj Khalifa and the Armani Hotel.” Andreas nodded to the oil-rich investor who had contacted him the moment his helicopter had landed in Dubai this morning. “Considering recent unfortunate events and the international energy crises we are facing because of them, I and the employees of GreenWorld Corporation have committed to working twenty-four/seven in order to bring GXP technology to the world faster than previously planned.” Andreas continued on, explaining GWC’s purpose—at least what of it the public was allowed to know—then he opened up to answer the pre-submitted questions he deemed appropriate. “Number sixteen.”

The reporter, a doughboy with wire-rims and stubby fingers, stood, chest puffed with pleasure at being the first to speak. “Why not supply GXP immediately?”

Because everyone hasn’t suffered enough yet
, Andreas thought with a smile. He wanted desperation. He would be their savoir. “We’re working with regulators and suppliers to speed up the process. GXP’s projected launch date wasn’t until next year,” he told the crowd, though he knew two years ago, he would be launching the biofuel now. “Fortunately we are efficient and ahead of schedule with production and hope to make a difference in the suffering soon.” He called out the next reporter’s number.

“What makes GXP any different from other biofuels trying to fill the oil gap?” Unlike doughboy, this reporter had shark potential. No more questions from FVX Newsroom. Andreas wanted doughboys.

“Excellent question and one that will be answered completely a few days from now on the live tour CNN will make at GreenWorld Corporation’s main facility in Peru. I encourage everyone to tune into the broadcast. But to explain briefly, GXP has double the energy power of oil at a third of the cost and next to minimal carbon pollution. It is the perfect fuel.” Andreas saw Saleem exit the press conference, likely to assure their evening meal was being perfectly prepared.

After five more questions Andreas posed with George before handing his son to his nanny and then traveling ten meters per second to the 122nd floor. He joined Saleem at the newly opened
atmoshphere,
the ultimate dining experience at the top of the world. Moonlight had turned the Persian Gulf into a sea of silver and the nighttime cityscape of Dubai was like a magnificent scattering of jewels amid the desert sands.

Andreas surveyed the elegance with a critical eye, debating if gluttonous energy wasters like the Burj Khalifa would have to come down in order to preserve the world for George and his kindred. He’d hate to destroy such perfect luxury; perhaps he could confiscate it for his personal use.

He also knew why Saleem had sought him out this past year. The man was a gofer for UAE’s president Sheikh Khalifa bin Zayed Al Nahyan, a man smart enough to know that staying on top in the future meant he couldn’t have all of his golden eggs in the oil barrel.

“My friend,” Saleem stood and greeted him.

Andreas returned the salutation and gave a slight nod of respect. When it came to international relationships, Andreas already knew from his drug-lording, if a man bows too low he should expect to get his head chopped off. “It is good to see you.” Saleem waited until Andreas took his seat. An array of hot teas—cardamom, saffron and mint—along with delicate finger food waited on the pure linen and silver adorned table.

“Yes. The Sheikh sends his best as well. He wishes to spare no expense to see to your comfort.”

“Thank you. I am honored. Tell him my thoughts are with him during these turbulent times. I can’t quite believe what has happened.”

Saleem nodded. “We are not surprised. Something like this has been expected since Bush declared war on Islam with his Iraq invasion. Greed and not some ideology of freedom drives American tanks and guides their warheads. Already, our investigation of the terrorist attacks on Qatif and Dukhan last night are producing clear evidence of the culprits. The streets of Israel and the US will flow with the blood of the dead and dying.”

Andreas sat forward, forcing shock to stiffen his features as he bit back a satisfied smile. “What evidence? I believe hands down that Israel would act with such viciousness. But it is incomprehensible the US would. To destroy the worldwide oil market? That would be suicidal. Are you sure?”

Saleem shrugged. “We shall see. This does bring me to why I asked to see you on your visit to Dubai. I will be more blunt than ever before. The Sheikh would consider it a personal offense should the US or any of its allies have any part of your company or the production of GXP. He wants you to know that no amount of money is too high for him to either purchase your company and GXP, or to assist you in its production. What you have accomplished in the Peruvian soil can also be done upon Arabian sands.”

Andreas sat back and smiled. The gloves were off, and the fight amid the ruling super powers was about to get dirty.
¡Excelente!
He was a true genius.