“Whew…blow me away,” Palmer replied, listening closely to Henry’s explanation. “How can I help you, Jason? The senator hired me to find his daughter, but I’m betting that the kidnappers are involved with your case in California. It seems we’ll be asking the same questions. We should team up, buddy…whether the old unit is activated or not. Got a problem with that?”
“Hell, no,” Henry replied. “I’m working with Lieutenant David Morris out here in Palo Alto. He’s the lead investigator for the locals and is pretty sharp. I’ll need to bring him up to speed, but I don’t imagine he’ll have an issue, especially since you’ll be working the other end of the case. There’s a hell-ov-a-lot of questions, though,” he said, continuing to apprise Palmer on the connections of the parties involved.
“Wow, you’ve got your hands full, pard’. Let’s see what I can pry loose out here. If anything cracks, I’ll let you know first thing,” Palmer said.
“Okay, keep in touch,” Henry replied. “Call me anytime…I mean anytime, just like the old days, alright?” making reference to the cleaners ’ maxim: It was never too late or too early to call when working a case.
“I’m all over it,” Palmer replied, referencing a term he hadn’t used in what seemed an eternity.
“Good man.”
Well if that wasn’t a fortuitous turn of events, thought Jason Henry. Just when he thought the case was about as complicated as possible, he got a call from an old partner in whom he had unshakable faith. The winds of fate are starting to blow my way, he mused.
He continued the drive toward Stanford to further his discussion with Dr. Penburton, wondering what the fallout would be of Senator Coscarelli asking about the cleaners. Regardless, the team hadn’t been officially activated, and it didn’t seem to matter if the two former associates independently worked a case together. They would learn soon enough if this case rose to the level of presidential interest.
Agent Henry found himself hoping that it would.
FORTY-EIGHT
Quantum Building
Stanford University
Niles Penburton was rifling through his office at the Quantum Building, gathering personal effects and mementos he didn’t want to leave behind. Ever since the latest discussion with Agent Henry and the subsequent call to Alastair Holloway, he determined the best course of action was to immediately leave the country. He made a last-minute plane reservation departing SFO at 7:55 p.m. for New York, where he would board an early morning flight to Athens. That was as far as he cared to plan. His primary objective was to evade further interrogation from Agent Henry and fleeing the country satisfied that purpose.
Niles was also looking for any damning evidence that Agent Henry might find. He searched his files for stray bank records, notes about Holloway prior to selling him Conrad’s share of the company, anything incriminating that proved a link to Alastair Holloway. He resigned himself that when his phone records were scrutinized, their connection would be evident, but planned to be safely out of the country by the time that happened.
Niles was stung by nostalgia as he prepared to depart Quantum for the last time. For the past two decades he had devoted himself almost exclusively to building the company, an endeavor he pursued with steadfast determination. He had started as a fledgling research physicist at MIT, but slowly attracted private investors hoping to capitalize on his singular knack for developing brilliant researchers. It was with this seed money that he first conceived of Quantum, where his reputation for initiating innovative science grew exponentially. He was ultimately wooed by the Stanford Regents and granted tenure as Professor Emeritus of the Physics Department, where his lifelong dream of leading one of the most prestigious teaching institutions in the world had been realized.
At Stanford, he became acquainted with the brilliant, if acerbic, Dr. Jarrod Conrad, and the two of them set out to make history together. Conrad introduced a fresh approach to solving longstanding barriers in physics research, but his antigravity technology was going to revolutionize the world. With Quantum holding exclusive patent rights, it was just a matter of time before they realized worldwide acclaim and indescribable wealth. But the lure of immediate greed had occluded his vision, forcing him to abandon his dream. Niles regretted to the core of his being the day he made the feckless decision to associate with Alastair Holloway. This was the single biggest mistake of his life.
Niles walked out of the Quantum Building and toward his 2006 Jaguar XKE in the faculty parking lot. He made two trips with small boxes he packed to take with him. Several students curiously observed him awkwardly loading the boxes in the Jaguar’s undersized trunk, but none asked him about what he was doing. Finally content he had collected everything of interest, he left for home, prepared to pack for his impromptu trip to Greece.
Niles sat in his car, fastened his seatbelt, and inserted the key in the ignition. Once the car started, he checked the rearview mirror and slowly backed out of his parking place. Just as his vehicle began to move forward, the car went over the first of many speed bumps in the parking lot. As it did so, the trip switch on the bomb underneath the vehicle closed the circuit and a pound of plastic explosive ignited with a powerful explosion. The detonation rocked the Quantum Building, breaking glass and sending shrapnel 200 feet beyond the impact zone. The vehicle-ignited explosive device did its job; the XKE, with Niles Penburton inside, was consumed in a tremendous ball of flame, totally annihilating the driver.
Stuart Farley was sitting in a non-descript car on the opposite side of the parking lot. He had carefully placed the magnetic VIED underneath Penburton’s vehicle earlier in the day. The bomb contained a failsafe mercury trip-switch that wouldn’t explode until the vehicle was jostled enough to cause the mercury to flow, completing the circuit. Satisfied his job was done, he proceeded to leave the campus before the fire department arrived. As he drove away, he called Kilmer.
“Penburton’s history,” Farley said.
“Good on ya, mate. How’d it go?” Kilmer asked.
“Used a VIED,” Farley replied. “He’s still burning.”
“Yer aces. How soon can ya join us?”
“As soon as I gather my stuff I’ll be on the first plane out, probably not until midday tomorrow sometime. Best I can do,” Farley replied.
“Good oh. Fly to Louisville…Colt’ll pick ya up. All ya need is personal gear…we got everythin’ else.”
“See you then.”
“Nice hit on the doc. I’ll let Holloway know it’s a done deal,” Kilmer said, ending the call.
Another loose end clipped…Holloway should be stoked, Kilmer thought. No more stallin’…time to brin’ the woman to Kentucky. Hope to hell the old man knows what he’s doin’.
FORTY-NINE
Grapevine, Southern California
15:00 HOURS
Ryan and Sarah Marshall had nothing to go on but a haphazard plan based on raw intuition. The last message from Jarrod had merely instructed them to head south. But how far south, and south of what were the obvious questions. Did he mean as far south as San Diego, or merely south within the greater Bay Area? Not knowing what Jarrod’s messages meant, they decided the best approach was to head toward Los Angeles and hope to receive more information along the way. Sarah regularly checked her email in high hopes of getting another message, although it was hard for either of them to concentrate on much beyond getting their son back safely.