The Fourth Law

by Paul Stein

  He dialed the agent’s number, which was answered after the first ring. “Henry.”

  “Good morning, Jason, it’s Niles…returning your call.”

  “What the hell’s going on there?” Agent Henry questioned. “Why didn’t you call before now? I’ve talked to the locals…they tell me Conrad’s gravity research has been stolen and a guard was killed. What’s the status at Quantum right now?” It was clear from the tone of his voice he was not happy.

  “First of all, how do you think the police knew to contact you?” Niles answered, to defuse Henry’s first concern. “In your capacity as special agent of DOD, I thought it better to have the police officially notify you. Second, we can account for everything…except Conrad’s research files. There was no loss of nuclear material,” he emphasized, checking the notes he had compiled the previous evening with Jarrod Conrad.

  “This crime wasn’t about stealing radioactive isotopes from the vault. In fact, it doesn’t appear there was an attempt to even locate the vault. The evidence suggests the perpetrators’ sole intent was confiscating Conrad’s research data. Unfortunately, the death of the security guard seems to be an unintended consequence while evacuating the premises,” he stated confidently, gazing out the window at a buxom red-haired coed rollerblading across the sidewalk. “There’s nothing to be overly alarmed about.”

  “What…are you kidding me?” Agent Henry asked incredulously. “You really expect me to dismiss the seriousness of this incident? The Joint Chiefs are on me like sand at the beach. What am I supposed to tell them in the next progress report? That the ground-breaking technology you promised has been stolen…but, good news, we didn’t lose the two ounces of fission material at the lab. Are you flippin’ nuts? Come back to reality, Professor.”

  “Okay, I get the point,” Penburton replied stiffly. “I stand corrected. I didn’t mean to dismiss the severity of our situation…this pisses me off, too. I’m just trying to see this from the bright side. Truthfully…I’m not that concerned. Dr. Conrad is very conscientious; he has the data for the gravity machine backed up on his home computer, which he believes is sufficient to reconstruct everything. We’ll get through this, Jason.”

  “What’s the next step?” Henry asked. “Are there any more leads from the preliminary investigation?”

  “As far as I know, PAPD will follow-up on physical evidence found at the scene,” he said. Penburton fully described the details of the stationery that was found and Agent Palatino’s effort to unravel the identity of the perp that hacked into Conrad’s computer terminal. “Since I’ve been here this morning, I’ve seen at least half a dozen plain-clothes officers working the case. No one’s contacted me yet… but I’m sure they will soon.”

  “Well, keep me informed, goddamnit,” Henry growled. “I need to know the moment something develops. My ass is grass and the bulls are hungry. Catch my drift?”

  “I understand, Jason. It’s not my intention to hide anything. As soon as something shakes out, I’ll call you…I promise.”

  “Okay…see that you do. I’ll be in San Francisco later this evening. I want to see you and Captain Hawkley first thing tomorrow.”

  “Fine. Call me whenever you land. I’ll be expecting you,” he said, hanging up the phone. Penburton was relieved the call had gone well. Agent Henry didn’t suspect him of anything.

  Niles continued his gaze out the window, smiling faintly, hoping to spot another coed. He sometimes wished he was closer to the street for a better view of the girls, but then remembered how content he was with the more expansive view from the corner office. He loved to look down upon the campus with all its many buildings and rich traditions.

  Agent Jason Henry has no clue about what’s going on, he mused. He exhibits the petty tyranny of a bureaucrat who was caught with his pants down.

  Niles Penburton didn’t care about Agent Henry’s superiors or anyone else. He would tolerate his trivial power trip, for now, only slightly inconvenienced from his primary goal—taking what rightfully belonged to Quantum Dimensions. He leaned back in his chair, resting his feet on the window ledge, and began to daydream about what he would do with his latest windfall.

  Easy, Professor; let’s not get ahead of ourselves, he thought, snapping back to reality. One step at a time…just stick to the plan. After this last deal, retirement in the lap of luxury isn’t far off.

  FIFTEEN

  PILAR, NEW MEXICO

  RYAN MARSHALL drove back to the Piñon Tree Motel in Pilar, planning to collect his belongings, square his bill, and exchange the company truck for Corky’s Chevy Tahoe. His thoughts were swirling and he felt thoroughly demoralized, like the whole world was caving in around him. There was no way to assimilate all that had taken place in the past few hours, but he knew in his heart Jarrod was at the center of it. He shook his head as disjointed images of their past altercations sprang into his memory. It was hard to imagine anything worse than what Jarrod had done to cause his divorce from Sarah, but this latest incident could be its equal.

  Ryan wondered about the source behind Jarrod’s hatred. It was one thing to harbor resentment, but to actually carry out retaliations as serious and destructive as Jarrod’s was mind-boggling. It was time they got to the bottom of their dysfunction, once and for all.

  Ryan looked at his watch, calculating the time he had left before Corky would release Detective Westbrook. He estimated he still had about thirty minutes. With Westbrook’s patrol vehicle disabled, he figured it would be an additional half-hour before he could alert police headquarters. It would be close, but he thought he could just make it to the Colorado border.

  Ryan was astounded by his dilemma. He was unprepared for thinking like a criminal on the run, having no experience and no clue about what to look out for. His only solace was clinging to his tightly held belief that the truth would eventually prevail. Knowing he was perfectly innocent of these bogus accusations fortified his resolve and bolstered his courage. He prayed that he remained free long enough to run down his cousin for the answers to this life-and-death struggle.

  The drive from Pilar to the Colorado border was, thankfully, uneventful. Ryan spent the time trying to imagine what he was going to do when he finally confronted Jarrod. It was hard to contain his anger; thoughts of revenge poured through him like a tropical monsoon. It was difficult to resist conjuring images of how he would torment Jarrod when he got the chance. But torturing his cousin would not ameliorate his current circumstances: wanted by the New Mexico State Police for infractions ranging from unlawfully detaining a detective to obstructing justice. Ryan felt he had reached another low point in his life.

  Just stay positive. Concentrate! There must be some reason this is happening.

  As Ryan drove toward Pueblo, he tried to imagine how Sarah would react when she learned about his situation. Since their divorce now five years ago, they seldom spoke. Their son, Jeremiah, was completing his senior year at New Mexico State, but they rarely discussed his progress or well-being. When they did interact, it was usually to discuss business and kept very professional. Sarah was in charge of the accounting, finance, and HR; Ryan directed the construction crews. In this way, they were able to stay detached while continuing a very successful business endeavor. This suited Sarah, but Ryan never gave up hope of a future reconciliation. With each passing year, his hopes dimmed, however, as each attempt was summarily spurned.

  Even with their amicable business arrangement, Ryan could never dispel his shame from losing the love of his life. He didn’t believe he would ever again be as happy as he had been with Sarah. There was a pain in his chest when he thought about how greatly disappointed she would be when she heard about this latest insane situation. She’s clearly better off without me.

  Relationships were never Ryan’s strong suit. He had spent considerable time in the past trying to discover why this was so. At Sarah’s request, he had even seen a counselor, but the results were questionable. He concluded that the strong bond most families enjo
yed was simply lacking in the Marshall family. The relationship with his mother, Regina, was anything but healthy, and the counseling exposed her as the primary factor in the dysfunction between Jarrod and himself. Had she spent the time nurturing a strong bond between the boys, they could have yoked their strengths against anyone that dared cross them. Instead, the competitive rivalry she encouraged between them resulted in nothing but contempt.

  But even through all the destructive interactions in their adolescent years, Ryan was unprepared for the degree of Jarrod’s vindictiveness in adulthood. There was clearly no boundary that was off-limits, including Ryan’s marriage. Jarrod knew how much Ryan loved Sarah and he couldn’t stand it; the envy grew in him like a cancer. But to have willfully planned a scenario meant to cause their divorce was the most unconscionable act imaginable.

  Simply remembering the circumstances in New York caused Ryan’s stomach to lurch. If there was one single mistake he could change in his life, it was his infidelity to Sarah. It was his own fault— he broke his vows to Sarah, not Jarrod. But the way it came about was Jarrod’s unmistakable handiwork. He would give anything to reverse that one decision at Dizzy’s Bar.

  Ryan was in NYC some years after the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center. Levitation Solutions, Inc. was contracted to recycle the massive amount of steel that resulted from the collapse of both towers. Typically, when the workday was over, most of the construction crew gathered in a local bar. They drank a few beers, watched sports, ogled women, and commiserated on problems with the job at hand. Ryan was generally vigilant not to imbibe too much, preferring to keep his wits about him. He was also watchful not to allow his men to get inebriated. A high-steel crewmember with a hangover could spell disaster the following day, so he grounded anyone he suspected of overindulging. In this way, the men would self-monitor their drinking; no one wanted to lose a coveted senior position on a high-steel construction crew.

  On one such evening, a modestly attractive middle-aged woman entered Moran’s Tavern on Washington and Wall, taking a booth near the back. She was dressed in a gray pantsuit with a maroon scarf, and wore two-inch heels that perfectly accented her fashionable wardrobe. She looked elegant and carried an oversized Brighton purse with a cell phone and other commonly used items conveniently attached to the outside. Once seated, she whipped out the phone and began a very animated conversation. Ryan was heading to the men’s room and happened to overhear the last part: “I’m not accustomed to being stood up. I won’t tolerate this behavior any longer,” she said heatedly, appearing to be fighting back tears. When he passed by her booth, he caught her eye—and she was indeed crying.

  On his way back from the bathroom, the woman grabbed his arm. She was still distraught. “I’m sorry to bother you, mister. Would you mind taking a seat…just for a moment?” she asked politely, keeping a light grip on his wrist.

  Even though surprised by the woman’s forwardness, he also considered it chivalrous to offer some assistance. “Can I help you, ma’am?”

  She looked up tearfully and smiled. “Oh, thank you. This is the third time my boyfriend has stood me up. We were supposed to meet for dinner across the street. I don’t normally make a habit of visiting strange bars alone. Would you keep me company…just for one drink?” she asked in an alluring voice, sliding further into the booth to make room for him to join her.

  Thinking there was nothing inappropriate, Ryan considered her request, but decided to divulge firsthand that he was happily married and in New York only briefly.

  As the evening ensued, there was never a hint of impropriety. He remembered having a couple of Heinekens while she drank Bombay Gin and tonic. They spoke about various subjects, and it seemed as though time was standing still. He was vaguely aware that several of the crew bid him goodnight, but there was no indication from anyone that his behavior was unseemly. Finally, Virginia asked him to hail a cab for the ride home.

  Once outside the bar, his body felt heavy and he seemed to be spinning. As the taxi approached, he remembered a large black man standing next to him. “Hey, buddy, you okay?” the man asked. “You look a little green. Here, let me help you into the cab.”

  Ryan would never forget his decision to get into that cab. At the time, he seemed incapable of resisting, like it was his duty to accompany Virginia home. Looking back, he understood that all his inhibitions had been stripped away; there was no other option except to join Virginia in the cab.

  Ryan didn’t recall anything beyond the cab ride, except being manhandled by the oversized black man. Everything after Moran’s was a blur. Apparently, the woman calling herself “Virginia” took him to a hotel somewhere in Manhattan, and with the assistance of her male partner, kept him hostage for the remainder of the evening. They undressed him, restraining his naked body, spread-eagle, to the king-size bed. Virginia then proceeded to have sex with him in every imaginable position while her accomplice shot a videotape and scores of photos of the lurid encounter.

  The pictures graphically presented Ryan with this woman astride him, wearing a mask, a dominatrix costume, black stiletto heals, and wielding a whip. There were a variety of pictures showing her taking him into every orifice of her body. The video recorded the plentiful guttural sounds that resulted from their sexual relations. From the tape, it appeared the encounter lasted no less than two hours before he finally passed out.

  When he awoke alone at eleven the following morning in a strange Manhattan motel room, his shock and humiliation was too much to bear. A maid had finally rousted him and mentioned that the manager was holding a message for him at the front desk. She knew nothing of anyone else in the hotel room.

  This was the beginning of an unimaginable horror to follow. Thoroughly confused, his head throbbing from a vicious hangover, Ryan feverishly searched for his clothes. What he found instead were a couple of stray pictures by the bed stand that depicted him and the woman having sex; she was on top, facing the camera, leaving nothing to the imagination. There was also no mistaking Ryan as her partner. His heart sank; never had he felt so ashamed.

  Ryan showered to get Virginia’s stink off his body, threw on his dirty clothes, and headed to the manager’s desk to retrieve the message that awaited him. He collected a note that only said: Hey, Cuz, hope you had a good time with Virginia. She’s payback for Ginner. You’re such a schmuck. J.C.

  Reading the message from his cousin made Ryan feel faint. Even though confused by how Jarrod had pulled off the con, he was more concerned about the ramifications of this egregious act. His immediate thought was not about revenge, but rather what Jarrod would do with the pictures. He wondered what form of blackmail would result. Then a lump caught in his throat at the thought of Sarah finding out. He was devastated by the realization that he would have to prepare her for the likelihood that the pictures would surface. He knew that if she found out by surprise, the ramifications of the fiasco would be far more difficult to explain.

  Unfortunately, his attempt to alert Sarah came too late. She had already received an overnight FedEx package full of lewd pictures and the DVD. She was inconsolable after watching the tape of the lascivious encounter between her husband and the woman. Sarah considered the bond of fidelity the strongest of their vows, and when she learned Ryan had committed adultery, she could not forgive him. In the days that followed, she filed for a divorce, and even though they ultimately agreed to continue operating the business as fifty-fifty partners, the affair’s resulting damage to their marriage was irreconcilable.

  Ryan was heartbroken. Ever since the affair, his one wish in life was to take back this indiscretion, returning to a state of chastity in his relationship. This wish could never be granted.

  It also took considerable time for Ryan to recover credibility with his crew. Ryan was the embodiment of honor and integrity among the men. The encounter immediately changed his reputation. Even though no one really knew the extent of what happened, the fact he hadn’t gone home with the men—and, worse, failed to show up
at work the following morning—led to rampant speculation. The gossip following his indiscretion was pervasive, remaining an overriding topic throughout the remainder of the New York City project.

  In the aftermath, Ryan received the pictures and the same DVD that was shipped to Sarah. The contents of these reproductions were indisputable and irretrievably damaging. Jarrod also included a handwritten note: Ryan—My God, man, your stamina was incredible. I’m envious. By the looks of it, you satisfied all of Virginia. She’s a cheap little whore; I have her phone number for the next time you’re in NY. All my best…J.C.

  Ryan was positive that the woman posing as a jilted girlfriend had administered a drug that slowly lowered his inhibitions and caused him to lose consciousness. From the pictures, he also guessed that he was given a large dose of an erectile dysfunction medication.

  Ryan gave Sarah the note but she remained unmoved; her mind was made up. Regardless of how his infidelity had come to pass, the fact that it happened couldn’t be absolved. The dissolution of their marriage became final within a year of completing the project in New York.

  Ryan made the trip to Pueblo without incident. He parked in the Enterprise parking lot, placing Corky’s keys under the driver’s side floor mat as they had agreed. He rented an SUV using his New Mexico driver’s license, and paid the extra cost for a one-way rental to Denver. He was not in the rental lot longer than twenty minutes before he was once again on Highway 25, heading north toward Denver.

  He tried without success to calm his anxiety, but it was impossible for him to relax. Thinking about Jarrod and all they’d been through had re-ignited the anger he thought was carefully stuffed away. He imagined there was a perfectly rational explanation for all that had transpired, searching for a silver lining, but ultimately coming up empty.