Thirst No. 5 (18 page)

Out in the street, we hail a taxi, put Mr. Larson in the front seat. Matt looks to me. “Where do you want to go?” he asks.

There’s no way I’m taking him to where the others are staying. Even though I’ve frisked Larson and found no tracking device, he continues to act like he’s being followed.

“Let’s get a room at the Hilton,” I say.

It’s a short ride; the taxi lets us out a few minutes later. Matt gives him a generous tip. He keeps Larson outside while I go in and get us a room. I actually get three adjoining rooms on the top floor. We lead the lawyer to the center one and force him to sit in a chair in the middle of the suite. Larson is fearful but confident. It’s obvious he’s waiting for help.

“How much time do we have?” I ask as I sit on the bed in front of him. Matt paces behind Larson.

“I don’t understand,” Larson says.

“We want to know when to expect your friends,” I say.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t alert anyone, I swear it.”

“No lies,” Matt says, pulling a switchblade from his pocket, releasing the steel razor, and yanking Larson’s right arm into the air. He practically pulls the limb from its socket. Holding the blade tight to Larson’s thumb, drawing a steady drip of blood, he speaks in a no-nonsense tone. “Tell us what we want to know or you’ll never be able to lift up Nicole again.”

“Who are you people?” he cries, finally getting a glimpse of how strong Matt is.

“Friends of Shanti Garuda,” I say.

Larson goes to deny knowing her but his eyes stray to his bleeding thumb and the blade Matt has pressed against it. He’s in pain, he struggles to breathe. Matt has lifted him several inches off his chair. I lean forward.

“But before I ask about Shanti, tell us how long before your buddies arrive?” I ask.

He trembles. “Not long. Ten, fifteen minutes.”

“How are they tracking you?”

“A microchip. It’s implanted in my arm. It can’t be removed.”

“Want to bet?” Matt says, waving the knife in front of Larson’s eyes.

“They already know where I am,” he pleads. “They’re assembling their team. If you want to live you should leave now.”

“Don’t worry about us,” I say. “Now tell me about your relationship with Shanti?”

“I hardly knew her. My boss ordered me to help her with whatever she needed, no questions asked. She’d call, usually to get information on people. That’s not my expertise. I’d pass the task on to private eyes. Then I’d get back to her with what they found out.”

“How long did this go on?” I ask.

“Two years.”

“Did you ever meet her in person?”

“No.”

“Who did she ask about?”

“Plenty of people. I don’t know their names offhand.”

“Did she ever ask about Roger and Sarah Goodwin?” I ask.

“A few days ago. She wanted to know where they lived, who their parents were, their grandparents. The information was important to her. She told me she needed to know fast.”

“Did you get her the information?” I ask.

“Partly. Two days ago I discovered where they live. Somewhere in North Carolina. I gave her the address.”

“Did she ask about a veil?”

Larson trembles. “She did. She wanted to know if they had it. She said it was some kind of artifact. I told her I couldn’t find anything about it.”

“Did she give the veil a name?”

“She just said it was very old and it belonged to the Goodwin family. No, wait, she said at first it belonged to the Levine family.”

“Did she tell you why she wanted it?”

“I didn’t ask. I mean, who would want a veil?”

“How did she treat you on the phone?”

“What do you mean?”

“Was she rude? Polite? Professional?”

Larson hesitates. “She was cold. She made me feel, I don’t know, dirty. I hated getting her calls.”

“Do you know why your boss had your firm work for her?”

“He said it was because of the money. But . . . I don’t know.”

“What made you doubt him?” I ask.

“Hey, I’m cooperating,” Larson complains to Matt. “Let go of my arm. I’m not going anywhere.”

Matt glances at me and I nod. Matt takes a step back but keeps his knife handy. “Answer,” I say.

“He told me once that she was connected to the big deals we had with the Pentagon. It was weird but he acted like she was more important than any general I spoke to.” Larson shakes his head. “She sounded like a young girl.”

“A cold young girl,” I say.

Larson nods. “Yeah. It sounds like you know her.”

“I did. She’s no longer with us.” I let the information sink in before continuing. “How does your law firm help the Pentagon?”

“We arrange financing for black projects.”

“Projects the House and Senate know nothing about?”

“Projects the president knows nothing about.”

Larson sounds as if he’s boasting. Everyone likes to be in on the skinny. “What type of projects are these?” I ask.

He holds out his hands as if he’s afraid Matt’s going to react to his answer. “The details were all hush-hush. I was never told anything directly. Just heard hints when the partners had a few too many after work. A lot of it sounded like science fiction. They said the air force is building aircraft that can take off from a runway and fly right into orbit.” He stops. “They said the whole shuttle program, all of NASA, was just a front to what was really going on.”

“Did you believe them?” Matt interrupts. Nothing has gotten a reaction out of him until this. He practically breathes down Larson’s neck. By this time the lawyer is terrified of him.

“It was hard to believe,” Larson says. “But the money they’re spending out there, it’s crazy. It would fund a mission to Mars.”

“Where is ‘out there’?” Matt demands.

“Somewhere in Nevada. I’m not sure where.”

“What kind of aircraft are we—” Matt begins.

“Quiet!” I interrupt, listening to what’s going on down the hall. The elevator has halted on our floor. It’s being held open. Ten very silent and well-trained men are exiting it. One guy is in charge. He leads them in our direction, slowly, cautiously. I hear automatic rifles bump against clips of ammo, concussion grenades, Kevlar vests. I
smell
the weapons. They’re worse than a SWAT team, more like a small army.

Matt hears them as well. He hurries to the window, throws it open, pokes his head out, searching up and down. “The roof is near,” he tells me.

“Good.” I pick up Larson’s laptop and speak to the lawyer. “I have excellent hearing, Michael. I’ve been listening to the men who are outside. They have orders to shoot to kill, and whoever’s behind them has told them that you’re a hundred percent expendable. This is no joke. They are not going to give us a chance to surrender. They are going to hit this room with everything they’ve got and pick up the pieces of
bloody flesh afterwards. Your only chance to live is to come with us.”

It is all too much for Larson. “Where are you going?” he mumbles.

“Up to the roof,” I say. “After that we improvise. This is your one chance. Do you want to come with us?”

“How are you going to get on the roof?”

“Sita. We have to go,” Matt says, already climbing onto the edge of the open window. I kneel beside Larson.

“I don’t have time to explain,” I say. “But you’ve cooperated with us. I don’t think you’re a bad man. I don’t think you even know what you’re involved in. For that reason, I promise I will protect you, but I can only do so if you let me. You have to come with me now.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t. My daughter, I can’t . . .”

I stand over him. “You’ll never see Nicole again if you don’t come with us.”

He’s too frightened, and I pity him. He starts to cry but makes no effort to follow. Unfortunately, Matt is right, we’re out of time. I pat Larson on the back and tell him I’m sorry. Throwing off my freshly bought coat, I run to the window.

Matt has already leapt for the roof. He hangs on the edge of it for a second and then swings his body upward. A moment later he is standing up and looking down at me. I toss him Larson’s laptop and he catches it with one hand.

“Hurry, Sita,” he says.

Heights do not frighten me, of course. And this move is nothing compared to leaping out of one jet and grabbing onto another. Still, I’m careful to balance on the ledge before I spring upward. I fly past the roof and Matt catches me on the way down. For a moment he holds me in his arms and I swear he’s going to kiss me. But the moment passes.

We hurry to the door of a maintenance shed, past a row of giant air-sucking fans that feed the hotel’s ventilation system, and I reach for the knob. Matt stops me.

“Wait,” he says.

Seconds later there’s a loud blast and the glass from the window we just exited explodes outward. A barrage of machine-gun fire follows. I was right, we were never going to be given a chance to surrender. Which means the people behind the security team that’s chasing us knows we can’t be taken alive.

“Larson’s dead,” I say.

“You gave him a chance,” Matt says.

“Not really.”

“He wasn’t as innocent as he acted.”

“His daughter won’t care about that.” I sigh. “Let’s get out of here.”

Our escape is uneventful. We take the stairs down five floors and catch the elevator to the ground level. The explosion and spray of glass have attracted New York’s Finest. A herd of cops has gathered outside the Hilton. They do not appear
to be looking for us. Holding hands, behaving like newlyweds on our honeymoon, Matt and I walk into the street and catch a taxi back to the Marriott.

• • •

I sit alone with Mr. Grey in his bedroom. He is propped up in bed and has eaten for the first time—half a chicken sandwich—but his color is not good. I try to persuade him to go to a hospital.

“I’ll take you myself,” I say.

He smiles but shakes his head. “It’s a kind offer but I’m not going to leave you.”

“What if I agree to stay with you?” I ask.

“Then I’d know you were lying. You have to find Sarah Goodwin. You don’t have time to sit around a hospital and wait until I get better. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re going to need my help to locate her.”

“Did you get anything out of Larson’s computer?” I ask. Mr. Grey has barely had a chance to study the lawyer’s files, while he was eating, but I know the man works fast. He’s already hooked the laptop up to his metal box.

“I got a shock. I haven’t been able to access his files. Not yet.”

“You’ll break in, I have confidence in you.”

“You don’t understand, Sita. It should have taken me seconds to hack through his firewall. But I can tell already it’s going to be a difficult task. Whoever set up his software is as clever as the people who wrote the code for the Internet program that’s been causing you guys so much grief.”

“You’re saying there’s a connection?”

“Yes.”

“Larson admitted to doing plenty of work for the Pentagon.”

“The Pentagon—at least the Pentagon the world knows—does not have the wherewithal to create such software.”

“But you do?”

“Yes.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Grey, but is it possible that your superiors are in cahoots with the people Larson and his firm are working with?”

“Put that idea out of your head. It’s utterly impossible.”

“But you can’t tell me why?”

“I’m sorry.” He sets aside his food tray and turns back to Larson’s laptop. “He spoke of a complex in Nevada?”

“Yes.” I pause. “Area Fifty-One is in Nevada. You must have heard of it?”

“Sure. It’s where the government is supposed to do much of their top-secret research. However, if that was the place Larson was referring to, why didn’t he call it that?”

“I wondered that myself. It was like he didn’t know the name of the place. But it’s odd that he should have such sophisticated software on his computer.”

“Not really. I suspect he had no idea what kind of operating system was protecting his files. You said he is a lawyer. Did he act like a lawyer?”

“Yes. He was quick to talk once Matt threatened him. I
don’t think he lied to us. And I don’t think he had any deep loyalties to his firm.” I pause. “I’m almost positive he’s dead.”

Mr. Grey glances at me. “You tried to save him.”

“Not hard enough. We were rushed, and he was convinced the people coming to get us would save him.” I shrug. “But they blew up the room.”

“Meaning they knew you guys would be hard to take alive. That tells us something.”

“Us? Feeling like one of the team, are we?”

He looks hurt. “I thought you’d already accepted me.”

“I have. The others still don’t trust you.”

“Another reason I can’t go to the hospital. I have to stay and prove my worth.”

I reach over and put my palm on his forehead. “You have a fever.”