“You know what?” he said. “Why don't you just tell the whole thing to the San Jose police? There's a Detective Gamez there who's investigating Hilzoy's murder. And he's in touch with the Arlington cops who are looking into the death of the patent examiner your people killed. How much do you think I need to feed them? They're going to get a warrant and examine your phone records, your e-mail; they're going to look down your throat and up your ass and whatever it is you're hiding, once they're pointed in the right direction, they're going to find it. They'll perp-walk you right out of here and I'll make sure the Merc and the Chronicle and KRON are on hand to get it on the evening news. So don't try to sell me that bill of goods about incriminating photos from Thailand. This was no hostile takeover, David. You're a silent partner. But you don't have to tell me about it. I'll just let that Usenet post run and then I'll be able to read all about it in the Merc. Yeah, that'll be fun.”
He dropped the tombstone on Osborne and turned to walk out. The trick was to really believe the bluff. It was the same as walking out during a negotiation. Whatever part of your mind knew it was a tactic had to be walled off. You really were walking out. You wanted to walk out.
He was all the way to the door and actually had his hand on the knob when Osborne said, “Wait.”
Alex opened the door and glanced back. “Forget it. You had your chance.”
“All right, all right. You win. Just close the damn door and hear me out.”
Alex closed the door but kept his hand on the knob, the posture communicating, You have about ten seconds to change my mind.
“I know some people in Washington,” Osborne said. He grabbed a handful of tissues from a box and held them against his nose. “White House people. Focused on counterterrorism.”
“Yeah?”
“One of the areas they're focused on is cyberwarfare. Systems security. So when you told me about what Obsidian could do, I made a phone call. Just trying to be helpful, that's all.”
Alex laughed. “I admire your patriotism, David. I know it didn't have anything to do with political back-scratching or creating IOUs or sucking up to people who could steer government work to your clients. You're way too fair-minded for any of that to have figured in.”
Osborne held the tissues away from his face, then reapplied them. “Think what you want.”
“So what did the White House people tell you?”
“They told me maybe I'd read about a program in the newspaper.”
“What program?”
“They didn't say. I figured it was the FISA stuff, the NSA domestic spying stuff. I'd seen something about it in The Wall Street Journaland in Wired. The Quantico Circuit, where some whistleblower said the telecoms gave the government access to customer calls.”
“What else?”
“They said a lot of private companies were cooperating and they needed our help to fight terrorism. And it's true, too. That's why the telecoms were helping, to listen in on al Qaeda-”
“Stop it. I don't care about the politics or about your justifications. What did they tell you about Obsidian?”
“That it could help with the program.”
Alex didn't get it. From what he'd seen of Obsidian, you could use it for sabotage, maybe extortion, but not this other stuff. He wished Sarah were here. She knew a lot more about what the government was up to than he did.
“That it could help them spy?” he said.
“That was my understanding.”
Alex thought. It was certainly possible Obsidian had other uses. He'd recognized as much at the hotel when he'd first cracked Hilzoy's notes. And the fact that the government was playing defense in trying to prevent other players from having Obsidian didn't mean they weren't simultaneously interested in its offensive potential, too. Good God, Ben walked into his meeting without knowing any of this. Where was he? And why hadn't he called yet?
“What else?” Alex said. “What about Hilzoy, and Hank Shiffman, the patent examiner?”
“I didn't know about any of that. I mean, they told me there were certain people they wanted to interview, but-”
Alex laughed. “‘Interview’? They murdered two people you knew about. You expect me to believe you thought they just wanted to ‘interview’ me, too? David, if you weren't so pathetic, you'd be hilarious.”
Osborne didn't respond.
Alex said, “What did they give you? What would make you…” And then he got it. The photos in the ego case. The new telecom client.
“Business?” Alex said. “You did all this… so they'd steer you business?”
Osborne wouldn't meet his eyes. “I was just trying to help.”
“Tell it to the cops.”
Alex opened the door and walked out. “Wait!” Osborne called out after him. “Alex!”
Alex was aware of the secretaries looking up from their bays as he passed, their eyes wide, their ears practically straining forward. He didn't care. He kept moving.
Osborne caught up with him and grabbed him by the arm. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “I'll make you partner. With the work I've been bringing in, the management committee will do whatever I tell them. This year, no question.”
Alex paused and looked at Osborne's hand. After a moment, Osborne withdrew it.
“You know,” Alex said, “not so long ago, I would have believed you when you said that.”
Osborne nodded vigorously. “Believe it. It's the truth.”
“But that's not the point,” Alex went on. “The point is, I don't care.”
He walked on down the corridor, Osborne's entreaties following him all the way into the stairwell.
33 JUST A NEGOTIATION
Alex tried Sarah and Ben again from his car. No answer from either. He called Sarah's secretary. Sarah hadn't checked in. He was starting to get seriously worried.
He didn't know what to do. Maybe if he could figure out some of Obsidian's other applications, the ones the government seemed so eager to exploit? But he didn't have time.
What if they'd grabbed Ben? He'd seen the way Ben had been ready to trust his commander, seen that he wanted to trust. Alex knew the look. He'd seen it a hundred times in the eyes of clients who wanted the deal so badly that they caved on critical provisions, telling themselves the provisions wouldn't matter because everything was going to go smoothly, everyone would be making so much money there'd be no time and no reason for recrimination or regret. Probably it was the same look a rich man got right before his second marriage. What the hell, we don't need a prenup. We're in love.
Damn it, what was he going to do?
His cell phone buzzed. He looked down and saw it was Ben. Thank God.
He grabbed the phone, pressed the Answer Call button, and brought it to his ear. “Ben? Where've you been? I was getting worried.”
“Ben's fine,” answered a low baritone voice with a Southern accent. “You must be Alex.”
Fear seized Alex's heart and throat. He felt it with horrifying total recall-Oh no. Oh Please God no-and he started shaking so badly he had to pull over to the side of the road.
“Who is this?” he managed to say.
“I'm someone who knows your brother well and doesn't want him to come to any harm. And you can help with that.”
“How?”
“Hand over Obsidian, son. That's all we want. And everybody walks away. Ben, Sarah, everyone.”
Jesus Christ, they had Sarah, too? He pressed the back of his phone hand against his mouth and hugged himself with the other, rocking back and forth in the seat, struggling to hold back tears. He was dead. They were all dead. If these guys could outwit Ben, with all his training and experience, what the hell kind of chance could Alex possibly have?