FIRE AND ICE (32 page)

Wanting to move on to more pleasant topics, he said, “I enjoyed the story you wrote about Mr. Harrington. You did an excellent job.”

After a few more minutes of conversation, her father paused. “Something’s bothering you. I hear it in your voice. What is it?”

“You won’t like it.”

“I’m your father. You can tell me anything.”

She took a breath. “I did such a stupid thing. I fell in love.”

“That’s wonderful.”

“With … him.”

“Him?”

“The FBI agent.” She thought she heard a gulp. She took another breath. “There’s more.”

“You’re pregnant?”

“No. He went to law school.”

She knew how her father felt about attorneys. He was one of the best, but he understood what the unscrupulous ones were capable of; he’d witnessed it firsthand. Many years ago, as an enthusiastic young lawyer, he had unwittingly gone to work for the most corrupt law firm in Chicago: Ellis, Ellis, and Cooper. They had turned Bobby Rose into the man he was today.

The Bridget O’Reilly case had been the turning point. An automobile explosion took her husband, her three children, and her mother. Bridget was left with severe burns over half her body. Had the auto company heeded the warnings from the dealers and mechanics about the faulty connection, the explosion never would have happened.

The court awarded Bridget thirty-two million dollars, but by the time the appeals were disposed of, and Ellis and Ellis took their cut and reimbursed themselves for expenses, Bridget was left with two hundred thousand dollars. The amount didn’t even begin to cover her medical bills. Bedridden and settlement gone, Bridget couldn’t get the health care she needed. Before she could get state aid, she died of an infection.

Meanwhile, Ellis, Ellis, and Cooper celebrated their windfall.

Bobby Rose had been a young, idealistic attorney at the time. His research had helped win the case for Bridget, and in spending a great deal of time together, they had become good friends. He naively believed that she would receive the justice she deserved, but watching Bridget die penniless as the law partners went on lavish vacations and built colossal homes to match their colossal egos, Bobby changed. He resigned his position with the firm. He didn’t have to tell them why. They knew, and they had a good laugh over his moral indignation.

Six months later, some of the investments the firm was using as tax write-offs suffered unforeseen and severe losses, and that was followed by unexplainable withdrawals from several accounts. Their assets were dwindling before their very eyes. Since many of their transactions were of a dubious nature to begin with, the lawyers tried to keep the losses quiet. Not only were they afraid of the scrutiny of the authorities, but they also feared for their reputation. They were high-priced attorneys. Who could trust a firm that couldn’t even protect its own accounts?

From that time on, Bobby vowed that the fat cats who came to their wealth by underhanded and ruthless means would not enjoy
their riches. Over the years, he gained a reputation for being involved in the downfall of several notorious businessmen. Of course, to do this, he had to resort to some questionable methods himself, which was why the law was constantly looking for him. Bobby was not only shrewd, he was street smart, and when necessary could disappear. He was never sought for criminal charges, but, rather, for questioning.

His one regret was that he had not been present for most of Sophie’s growing up. Her mother died when she was a baby, and circumstances kept him from being the kind of father he wanted to be. Still, Sophie had never once doubted that her father loved her.

“Say something, Daddy,” Sophie prompted when her father didn’t speak. “I said he’s a lawyer.”

“It’s a shock, Princess, I don’t deny it, but we’ll get through this.”

“I don’t want you to be concerned. I just felt I should tell you, but it isn’t going anywhere. He’s moved on, and I will, too.”

Sophie realized she’d never really been in love before, and if this was how it felt, it sucked.

“Do you think you can get away for a while … just to clear your head? Why not join me in Monte Carlo?”

“That sounds nice,” she said, her voice lacking enthusiasm. “I’d have to wait until after Thanksgiving. There are too many people depending on me.”

“I understand. I know what you have to do. After Thanksgiving then. You go to sleep now, and don’t worry so much. Things have a way of working out.”

She pretended to believe him.

WORK BECAME HER SALVATION.
She buried herself in it, writing for hours on end. She managed to block out all thoughts of Jack … until she got into bed. She’d close her eyes, and he was right there. “Get out of my dreams,” she whispered.

What was he doing? Where was he now? Had he taken time off and found the warm beach he wanted? Or was he back at work?

Had he handed off the Inook investigation, or was he still involved? She hadn’t heard anything for days. Surely they were still looking for answers. Had they found a motive behind the men who tried to kill Jack and her? Alpha Project … four scientists … William Harrington. She fell asleep trying to connect the dots.

N
OW THAT THE FUROR OVER THE YOUTUBE INCIDENT HAD
died down, Jack was able to get back to work. His star had faded because there were two new online superstars for the world to watch. Both were gorgeous Hollywood A-list movie icons, and they were caught duking it out at a high-powered producer's swank wedding reception, the guy having had the bad taste to dump one sexpot to marry the other. What made the video so popular was the X-rated language and the footage of the scantily clad actress punching her way through the crowd to get to the blushing bride. The acid-tongued starlet throwing the first punch ended up sprawled across the ten-thousand-dollar wedding cake. This disaster movie was a huge hit.

In the meantime, Jack found himself reassigned to a fraud case, but since the investigation labeled “Inook” was ongoing, he went to Pittman and argued that he would be far more effective working on the information coming in from Alaska. His argument was valid, and Pittman was swayed.

“I know you, Agent MacAlister. You’re going to work this case with or without my permission. Isn’t that right? Never mind, don’t
answer. Okay, you’re back in. I’ll make the call and let everyone know you’re the agent in charge. Finish this soon. I don’t like my agents getting shot at.”

All the boxes of information that had been gathered from the scientists’ facility in Alaska had been shipped to Chicago. Anchorage didn’t have the manpower, and since the first crime had been committed in Chicago, the case was theirs. Agents had already pored over every scrap of paper in every box and had viewed the disks. Wolves. Hours and days and months of video about wolves. There was only one thing unusual about the recordings: they stopped before the final year. Had those last months been recorded? If so, where were the disks?

Jack watched the footage, fast-forwarding through scenes with no activity. Sophie had been right. They did eat, sleep, kill, eat, sleep, kill.

He was going through a spiral notebook when two assistants came in, rolling a cart with more boxes.

“Where are those from?” Jack asked.

“The TNI Foundation archives. The research from past years that the doctors had compiled.”

So far everything the FBI had examined had proven to be mundane scientific research, but they were leaving no stone unturned. Jack kept going back to what Carter had said to Sophie before Ricky got to him:
You kept pecking away.
What was he afraid she would find? What the hell was he hiding?

Agents had talked to the two remaining scientists several times, but they were unable to shed any light on Carter’s motives. Jack familiarized himself with the files on each of the four doctors and wasn’t satisfied with what he found. Somebody at TNI had to know something about Carter’s secret.

Jack decided that it was time he talked to them face-to-face. He would start with Dr. Marcus Lemming in Chicago. He stopped by the doctor’s office unannounced and was told by the secretary that Dr. Lemming had gone to North Dakota for a seminar. The other
scientist, Dr. Kirk Halpern, lived just outside of Minneapolis. Jack grabbed a morning flight and was knocking on Halpern’s door early that afternoon.

The scientist showed him into his cluttered living room. A slight man with hunched shoulders and an old man’s demeanor, his file indicated he was forty-five years old. His obvious fatigue made him look older.

“Could I get you something to drink, Agent?” Dr. Halpern offered. He moved some newspapers off a chair and motioned for Jack to sit. “My wife used to keep me organized. She died six years ago.” He glanced around the room. “I’m afraid I’ve let things go.”

“How did your wife handle your long trips to Alaska?” Jack asked.

His face lit up. “She went with me. She loved my work and helped. It was after she passed that I joined Eric and Marcus and Brandon at Inook”

“Tell me about them, Doctor.” Jack stood and removed his topcoat. Noticing Halpern staring at his gun, Jack draped the coat on the back of the chair and took his seat again.

“Please call me Kirk. I can’t tell you anything I haven’t already told the other agents.”

“I would appreciate it if you would go over it again,” Jack urged.

“There isn’t much to tell.” He moved a needlepoint pillow from the chair and sat down. “I’ll begin with our team leader, Brandon … Dr. Brandon Finch. He was very organized. He even made charts so that we wouldn’t waste time. Brandon got on our nerves after awhile. Things had to be just so. He was obsessive about everything from how we prepared our food to when we went to bed. It was irritating. I got along with him all right, but occasionally we bickered. After a while, the isolation and the weather gets to you.

“I felt just terrible when he died. None of us knew about his heart condition. He was overweight, but not too out of shape. He kept up with us in the field.”

“How did the other doctors get along with him?”

“They put up with him, just like I did. Every now and then they’d get into it with him, but there weren’t any hard feelings after they let off steam.”

“What about Eric Carter?”

“Young, eager, intense. He and Marcus became close friends right away since they were the same age. They worked together well and shared similar interests—at the beginning anyway. Eric began to stay by himself more. The longer we were there, the more their friendship was strained. One afternoon while Eric was examining some blood samples he’d taken, Marcus took Brandon and me aside and told us he was worried about Eric. He asked us if we’d noticed any changes. Indeed, we had. Eric had become so withdrawn, he wouldn’t let any of us look at his notes until he had them organized. Most of it was gibberish to us anyway. Marcus said he couldn’t read his scribbles.”

“You didn’t have any idea what he was hiding?”

“No, I didn’t. The agents told me that before he died, he said something to Miss Rose about a test subject. He was concerned about something she was looking for. I have no idea what he meant.”

Jack was about to move on to Marcus Lemming when he thought of another question to ask. “Which of you did the recording?”

“At first we all took our turns with the camera, but the last couple of years, Eric insisted on taking it over.”

“So there were videos from the last year?”

“Of course. Eric watched them over and over and over. It drove the rest of us crazy. We finally moved the player into the small room so we could shut the door. Hour after hour he’d watch. He loved Ricky. But then, all of us did. He was a splendid alpha male. I only wish I could have observed him to the end. Don’t imagine he’ll be around long. Arctic wolves don’t have long life spans, you know. I had to leave that phase of the study because the last couple of years Brandon wanted me to go with him to track the pups from Ricky’s second pack. I guess you could say we were creating a family tree of
sorts. I will admit we learned a great deal, but we didn’t get to film the new packs as much as we would have liked. Eric hogged the good audio and video equipment. He had thirty disk files marked. At night, he’d watch with the sound muted. He didn’t want to hear, just to watch. One through thirty—when he finished the last one, he’d start all over again. Marcus thought Eric was having a breakdown of some sort. He wanted him to go home for a while, see a medical doctor. We would have sent him home, but we were going to close up soon anyway, so we put up with his odd behavior awhile longer. I believed that, once Eric got back to the city, he’d snap out of it.”

Jack wanted to go back to the videos. “You said one through thirty disks. Are you sure of that number?”

“Oh, yes, I’m sure.”

“I’ve found only twenty-three disks.”

Kirk sat back. “What happened to the other seven?”

“You tell me.”

He scratched his chin. “I don’t know. Eric must have done something with them. Maybe he shipped them home. Did you check?” He smiled as he continued. “Of course you did.”

Jack moved to the last scientist: Marcus Lemming.