He turned—then jumped so high he almost hit the ceiling.
Matthews was standing right behind him.
“I really wish you hadn’t found those,” Matthews said.
Chapter 49
MIKE BLAZED DOWN THE highway toward town, burning rubber every time he made a turn.
“Which dock is it?” he growled. “Think!”
Fred pressed his hands against his forehead. “I don’t remember exactly. I’ve only been there once, and that was years ago.”
“That’s not good enough!”
“You’re with the government. Can’t you just … call someone? See where it’s registered?”
“In the morning, maybe. In the middle of the night, no. So I’m counting on you to tell me what I want to know. Think! Think hard!”
“I’m trying!” Fred turned and stared out the passenger-side window. “I think it started with an M.”
“I need more!” Mike pulled the steering wheel around hard, screeching as he made a sharp right turn.
“If your friend doesn’t know about the bonds, there’s no reason to think he’s in trouble.”
“There is. Ben Kincaid is like a magnet for trouble. He has an unequalled knack for getting himself into it—and a near total inability to get himself out of it.”
“Still, there’s no proof that—”
“I not going to sit on my butt while my friend dines with a mass murderer!”
Fred withdrew into his seat. “Okay.….”
“So you’re going to think, and think hard!” Mike bellowed. “I want the name of the dock where Matthews keeps his yacht. And I want it now!”
Even though he hadn’t begun to fit all the pieces together, Ben instinctively understood that if he didn’t get out of that boiler room fast, he never would. He rushed forward, tackling Matthews around the waist. Unfortunately, there was little room for either of them to move. Matthews slammed back against the opposite wall, still between Ben and the exit.
He grabbed Ben by the shoulders and thrust him back. For a professor, he was surprisingly strong. Ben slammed against the boiler closet, headfirst.
“I don’t suppose you’d believe me if I told you I won the lottery,” Matthews said dryly.
Ben wiped a trickle of blood from the back of his head. “That money came from the Blaylock company.”
Matthews frowned. “I suppose technically that’s correct.”
“You stole it. Millions of dollars.”
“I did not steal it.” His face became rigid. “They owed me!”
“Owed you? But—”
“I used to work for them. In the legal department. I was on the fast track to a vice presidency. Till they fired me!”
Ben glanced at the exit, still blocked by Matthews. Since there didn’t appear to be any way he could get out of here, he might as well stall for time. “Why did they fire you?”
“For telling the truth.”
“There must be more to it than that!”
Matthews made a snorting noise. “I expected better from you, Kincaid. After all you’ve been through with Blaylock.”
Ben’s eyes crinkled around the edges. “Are you talking about the blue report?”
“Of course I’m talking about the blue report!” he shouted. “I wrote the blue report! And it cost me my job!”
“You,” Ben whispered. “It was you.”
“Damn straight it was me. I told you I did some work for Blaylock in the past, remember? Small wonder I was anxious to join your team and go after Blaylock. I knew damn well they poisoned the water supply. They knew it, too; they just didn’t want to admit it.”
“But why didn’t you tell me?”
“I couldn’t. I signed a confidentiality agreement when I left the company, in exchange for a measly severance package. If I had violated the agreement, the report would’ve been excluded. And I would’ve been kicked off the case. Maybe you, too.”
“But you still had the report?”
“Yes. They thought they confiscated all the copies, but I still had one. And when it became clear we were hosed without it, I dug it up and sent it to Colby’s associate. I’d watched him in the courtroom; I knew he was wrestling with his conscience. I sent it to him—anonymously—and he sent it to you, the same way. No one knew I was involved.”
“So you were the source?”
“True. You owe your whole great success to me.” He lowered his gaze. “Now give me that merchandise.”
“Merchandise?” Something clicked in the back of Ben’s brain, something he’d wondered about for many months, since that fateful day he’d agreed to fill in for The Tiger.…
“Give it to me,” Matthews insisted.
“This is the merchandise?” Ben held tight to the bag. “You were in on it. With Fenton, and The Tiger.”
“Don’t be too smart for your own good, Kincaid.”
Ben’s lips parted as the horrifying truth set in. “You killed them. All those Blaylock employees. You killed them for the same reason James Fenton held us hostage. You were after the contents of this bag. The merchandise.”
Matthews rushed him. Ben was knocked back against the metal tank. His head slammed back, making a harsh clanging sound.
“Why did you have to be so goddamn clever?” Matthews said, grabbing Ben by the collar. “Why couldn’t you just drink your champagne and keep your nose out of other people’s business? Do you think I want to kill you? Don’t you know how tired of this I am?”
Ben tried to push him away, but he hadn’t the strength.
Matthews brought back his fist and knocked Ben in the jaw, hard. “Stupid meddling son of a bitch.” He stood up, then reached for something inside his coat.
A long, sharpened knife.
“I had expected to use this on dinner,” he said, taking a deliberate step toward Ben. “Dinner will have to wait.”
”Mermaid!” Fred said triumphantly. “Mermaid Lagoon. Or something like that.”
Mike gritted his teeth. “ "Something like that," isn’t good enough.”
“I’m sure that was it,” Fred said. “Pretty sure, anyway. I remember they had a masthead with a redheaded mermaid. Cute, busty little thing.”
Mike pulled over to the nearest convenience store and slammed on the brakes. Just outside, he saw a pay phone which, mercifully enough, still had its phone book intact. He flipped over to the Ms, found what he wanted, and tore the sheet out.
He raced back to the car. “Could that possibly be Mermaid Cove?”
Fred’s eyes brightened. “Yes. Exactly. Isn’t that what I said?”
“It’s on something called Pontoon Plaza. Got any idea where that is?”
“Jeez, it’s been so long since I came out this way—”
Mike grabbed him by the shirt and shook him. “My friends are in the hands of a homicidal maniac. Do you think you can get me there?”
Fred swallowed. “Of course I can. Let’s go.”
Matthews was moving toward Ben, knife at the ready. Ben was still lying on the floor, pinned against the closet. He saw only one possible opening. Trite as it was, it was his only shot. He clenched both hands together and brought them up as hard as he could in Matthews’s groin.
Matthews screamed. Ben scrambled forward on all fours, moving out of reach just seconds before the knife fell.
Ben crawled as fast as he could, but Matthews grabbed the heel of his foot. Ben fell forward, flat on his face. Matthews was still wincing with pain. Ben took advantage. He rammed his elbow back into Matthews’s face. Matthews screamed again, and Ben got the half-second he needed to jump to his feet and run.
He raced through the bulkhead door, carrying the bag of bonds with him, and onto the metal deck, toward the gunnel. He knew Matthews had the edge. It was his ship, after all, he knew it much better than Ben. For all its spaciousness, there weren’t that many places to go. And Ben couldn’t leave the ship—they were parked somewhere in the middle of the ocean. He could try to swim to shore, but he knew the odds of making it were slim. Especially if Matthews started up the yacht and mowed him down.