A car next to him honked at him. He dropped his phone. Fumbling, he managed to pick it up off the floor next to the accelerator. The light was on. And the call connected.
“Mr. Bower. Are you there?” He put his hand back on the steering wheel.
“Speaking. Who’s this?”
“It’s Benjamin White again.”
A long pause.
Tom either couldn’t remember him or wasn’t interested.
“We spoke yesterday. About Sam Reilly.”
“Oh, right. The life insurance broker!” Tom laughed. “Did you catch up with him?”
“No, I haven’t yet. Are you certain he’s out here? It really is very important that I find him. Perhaps he’s pulled off the I-70 somewhere earlier?”
“I don’t think so. I know he was keen to head to the Rocky Mountains. If I know Sam, he’ll make a quick drive of it and make the most out of his time there for the weekend. Keep going, stop infrequently and you’ll find him.”
“You don’t think I’ve missed him? I don’t even know what car he’s driving.”
“Neither do I, but I can tell you this. He spends so much time at sea he doesn’t even own a car.”
Benjamin swore under his breath. “Then what’s he driving, a rental?”
“No way. Not his style. He would have picked up one of his father’s cars. You’ll be able to recognize it.”
“What does his father drive?”
“No idea. He owns a lot of cars. All of them with price tags you and I could never afford.”
“So I’m looking for a BMW?”
“No, I could afford that — only just. James Reilly, Sam’s father is more likely to own a supercar. Only he probably wouldn’t bother with a production supercar like a Lamborghini. He would go for a hand crafted, one of a kind, special edition. Trust me. If you see it, you’ll know.”
“Okay, thanks.” He hung up and added more speed until he was doing nearly thirty miles over the speed limit. He could afford a speeding ticket. If he didn’t find Sam before they did, things were going to be a lot worse for everyone.
By lunch time he’d been on the road for nearly sixteen hours. Stopping for gas only. His nervousness was taking its toll. He would grab a quick bite to eat and then hit the road again. He drove into the parking lot of the little diner. A bright green neon light flashed, Welcome to Sweet Basil — Open 24/7!
Parked out the front was a current model Rolls Royce Phantom.
He shook his head, relieved. There was no doubt about it, Sam Reilly had inherited his father’s love of style and expensive cars.
Chapter Two
Sam watched as the young waitress brought out their food. She was probably in her early twenties, blonde, and all in all showing probably a little too much cleavage for a family restaurant. She was polite and took their order. A tuna sandwich with cucumber and tomato for Aliana, a BLT for himself, and a large bowl of chips for them to share.
The waitress dropped two large paper cups in front of him. “The soda fountains are over there.” She Smiled. “Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” he and Aliana replied in unison.
She stared at him specifically, and flashed her long eyelashes at him. “You’re welcome.”
Aliana laughed. “She must really want tips. She’s trying to flirt with you!”
Sam picked up the two cups. “Never. Not in a million years would she be so bold when I’m having lunch with someone who looks like you.”
He meant every word, too. Aliana was stunning. She was taller than the average American woman of generation by about 3 to 4 inches. She had light straw colored hair, blue eyes, and a devious smile. Lithe and athletic, her figure was perfectly shaped and well suited to an outdoor lifestyle. Her skin, radiant. She wore light almost fruity perfume that was absorbing, but not overpowering. She could have been a movie star. Never a model — her figure was too full of well-shaped, lithe, muscles built from years of climbing in the European Alps.
Sam finished filling their cups with heavily infused sugary sodas for them both. He then sat back down and returned to his BLT. It was described as having bacon, lettuce and tomato, but was covered in melted cheese, avocado, spinach and egg.
He looked at Aliana and smiled. “Good thing I stuck with ordering just the one.”
She smiled back at him. “I told you your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you didn’t need to order two, didn’t I?”
He opened his mouth and tried to figure out how he was going to eat the monstrous sandwich. Sam then flattened the entire BLT and shoved it in his mouth.
It tasted great.
A set of tin cans rattled as a stranger entered in a hurry through the main glass doors. Sam wouldn’t have paid any attention except the man nearly fell over in the process because he was that rushed. It was enough to make Sam casually examine him.
The man wore a suit, was moderately overweight and appeared to be in his mid to late forties. The man stopped, straightened his tie, and searched the diner. Sam raised the corner of his eyebrow as he examined the man. There was something about him. He looked like a disheveled professional. The kind of person who’d just discovered he had been made bankrupt through another person’s corruption and was now willing to kill someone or rob a bank or even a diner for that matter, just to get it back.
Sam instinctively reached for a weapon — the nearest being an iron stoker for the unlit fire next to them. His fingers gripped the hilt, and he felt instantly safer.
Aliana looked at him. “Everything all right?”
“Not sure. There’s a man at your seven O’clock. Something’s not right with him. Maybe he’s just crazy. I don’t know.”
Aliana turned her head to see.
The man’s face was sweaty, and his hands shook, as though he were nervous and about to snap. The man’s eyes became fixed on his own. A predator identifying another predator. Sam braced himself for the fight.
The stranger then approached via a straight line. His bloodshot eyes fixated and intense. “Are you Sam Reilly?”
“Yes,” Sam replied. His right hand gripping the hilt of the iron stoker under the table. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I’ve come a long way to find you.”
Chapter Three
The man held out his hand. His voice was coarse. Probably a lifetime of smoking. “My name’s Benjamin White. I’m a Life Insurance broker, trying to get some background information that I’m hoping your expertise might be able to provide. Is there somewhere we can talk, it’s kind of important?”
Sam relaxed and said, “Sure, pull up a chair. What’s this about?”
“Does the name New World Energies mean anything to you?”
“Not much. I think they’re working on alternative energy sources which are non-reliant on fossil fuels. Why?”
“What about the name Luke Eldridge?”
“Luke?” Sam smiled with sheer pleasure. “Of course, he and I went to high school together and raced on the same sailing team. He was older than me at school, but we still enjoyed sailing together — he and his old man were both exceptional skippers. Last I heard, he’d hit it big time with some tech start up — what’s the name of it?”
“New World Energies.”
“You don’t say. One of the smartest men I’ve ever met — how’s he doing?”
“He’s dead.”
Sam stared at Benjamin White, stunned at the news. “Wow. What happened?”
“Do you know much about New World Energies?”
“Not a lot. They’re involved in newer forms of energy — hydrogen fuels, solar, hydroelectric, ocean generated power through waves. From what I hear the company was set to do some pretty good things, amazing things.”