by Darin Gibby
“How much?”
“How about $4.5 million for thirty seconds.”
Addy’s stomach lurched. She’d held out hope that if she could only get the catalyst everything else would work out. Now she knew it was wishful thinking. “Ouch. I’ll quit dreaming.”
“Don’t do that,” Perry shot back. “I put down a deposit.”
“What? Are you crazy? How much?”
“A hundred grand. It’s refundable if we cancel by noon tomorrow—assuming they can resell the spot.”
“But Perry, you can’t do that.”
“It’s all for a good cause. And it’s the least I can do.”
She wasn’t going to let Perry waste a hundred thousand dollars. There was no possible way to raise more than four million dollars in a day. Or did Perry know something she didn’t? “No,” she insisted, “we can find another way to get the word out.”
“You probably haven’t been listening to the news, but you’re somewhat of a national enigma. People are wondering if there really is some sort of government conspiracy to suppress important technologies, and you’re their champion. When I pitched the idea of a live commercial about a water car to the Super Bowl producers, it had a ring of truth to it. They even called me back a couple of hours later, with news they’d floated the idea to Zissy.”
“Wait! They really told Zissy?”
“When I put down the cash, they had to. You’d be coming onto the field right after she finished her halftime show, so they had to get her approval.”
“And what did she say?”
“She was all for it. She wants to personally make the introduction.”
Perry’s voice had a level of excitement she hadn’t heard in years. She, too, knew of the belief of many Americans that valuable technologies never came to light because of some kind of conspiracy, be it a bully corporation, an illegal trust, or even the government.
Now she had the opportunity to be their champion, and prove it really was true.
“Thanks Perry,” she said. I wish you were here so I could hug you!” With Zissy on board, she knew she’d get traction. But it was too early to celebrate. “This is all great, but they still want the money.”
“They do, but I’m working on it.”
“I really don’t know what to say. I mean how are we going to come up with that kind of money? If I’m lucky, I might have fifty thousand of equity in my condo.”
“I’m not going to lie. It’s going to be a challenge. I know a few wealthy venture fund capitalists who understand the importance of technology. They’ve made their money and want to give back. I’ve got some feelers out. What else can I help you with?”
She wanted to ask him for a doctor. Her hand was throbbing, but there were clearly no time-outs for injuries in this race. “We’re going to need to build a fuel cell to demo the invention. I know you’ve got a couple of clients who manufacture models that I could modify, but I’d need access to their shop and probably a couple of their engineers to help me make the modifications.”
“Are you sure you know enough to build one that will work with the catalyst?”
“You don’t need to worry about that,” Addy said.
“You stole a copy of the patent application?”
“Let’s just say I printed off an extra copy, just in case something happened. With the help of a few sharp engineers, I know I could put one together.”
“Already have a call into them.” Perry sounded a bit smug, and she couldn’t blame him.
“Okay, then the biggest problem is that showing a fuel cell on national television is going to be pretty boring. It’s not like you can see it churning out gobs of electricity. What I really need is my Mustang. It seems like everyone knows about Hindy. She’s got selling power.”
“Agreed,” Perry said. “Then why don’t we just go pick her up?”
“How?”
“Finally got the FBI to release it.”
“When?” Addy shrieked. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I just found out last night. They kept stalling, so we threatened an interlocutory appeal to get it in front of an appellate judge. That was all it took.”
Addy looked at her dashboard clock. It was already three-thirty. Government offices never worked past five, and especially not on a weekend.
“We need Hindy today. If we show up tomorrow morning, there’s going to be a boatload of federal agents waiting to pounce on us. Besides that, I could work on the fuel cell all night. With any luck, it could be ready by tomorrow.” She stopped herself, realizing she was still short of more than four million in cash.
“You’re correct on that point. I’d be surprised if the local cops haven’t already called the feds. We’ve got to hurry.”
“Are they open on a Saturday?”
“Yes, until five and not a minute later.”
“Tell me where to meet you and I’ll be there,” Addy said.
When Perry told her it would take him about a half an hour to get to San Jose, Addy had already started her engine.
31
LONG KEPT HIS search team to a skeletal crew. He needed to execute the warrant with minimal fanfare. He often wondered the real reason for keeping the investigation of Quinn and WTG a secret. It stood to reason that big oil didn’t want Quinn’s catalyst coming to market, but delving into that issue was a sure way to end his career. Right now he wanted to know what a suspected terrorist was doing on the loose.
Long wound his Buick past a half of dozen nearly identical buildings in a sprawling apartment complex until he reached building 11. He parked the car and surveyed the scene, immediately noticing a motorcycle parked in one of the stalls. He wondered whether it was the same one used to run Addy off the road.
The judge had signed a no-knock warrant, meaning that the FBI could pound down the door. Long chose to have an agent trained as a locksmith pick the lock. The unit was 1101D, a two-bedroom apartment on the ground floor of a three-story building.
Long stood back as the lead agent checked the door handle and applied pressure. The door immediately popped open and the agents drew their weapons. The door wasn’t locked.
All three agents barged into the living room. Long followed.
The air was stale, and the room smelled like a garbage dump. It didn’t look much different. Pizza boxes were stacked three feet high, and crushed beer cans were strewn everywhere. What caught Long’s attention were the four inflatable air mattresses squeezed between a television set and a couch, half covered with bed linens.
Keeping to protocol, the agents swept the kitchen and the two bedrooms. Blankets were piled high on each of the beds, and more air mattresses were strewn on the floor.
“Okay, tear the place apart,” Long said. “See what we can find.”
In less than thirty minutes, the agents had dismantled every piece of furniture, emptied all the drawers and boxed up all the garbage. Besides extra underwear and dirty socks, they’d found nothing to link Shaun Ritter to any crime.
Long decided to slice apart the air mattresses, hoping to find any evidence. He stripped off one of the blankets and tossed it in the corner. As he did, a brass shell pinged against the wall. Long picked it up in his gloved hand and carefully placed it into an evidence bag. Far from a flare, it looked more like it was from a Glock or a SIG.
Long panned the strewn assortment of air mattresses. He wondered if Ritter was housing an army.
Long’s phone rang and he looked at the number that popped on the screen.
“What’s up Molly?” Long said.
“Where you at?” she asked.
“About to wrap up the search at Ritter’s. Place looks like a barracks. Even found an empty handgun shell. Addy should be worried.”
“How soon can you get to San Jose?”
“At least an hour. Seeing it’s a Saturday, traffic should be light, but you never know. What do you have in mind?”
“Got a homicide. Examiner Johnston. Nasty crime scene. You’re go
ing to want to see this.”
Long jumped to action. “Any suspects?”
“He had a run in with Addy Verges two hours before the time of death. It appears that Johnston placed a 911 call from Ultra Fitness reporting that Addy engaged a few large body builders to rough him up and tear apart his gym bag. Evidently that was where Addy hid the catalyst during the raid we did during the interview. Anyway, Addy tried to get away but she was attacked in the parking lot.”
“Ritter?”
“Not sure, the subject was masked and hobbled away after Addy managed to escape.”
“What about Quinn?”
“We know he’s somewhere here in the States.”
“Okay, you can fill me in later. I’ll let these guys wrap up the search. Keep everything in place until I get there.”
32
THE RAIN HAD stopped, but it was still chilly. Addy was still in her yoga outfit, wishing she had packed a jacket. The impound lot was on the outskirts of the city in an industrial part of town. After passing several blocks of weathered warehouses, Addy reached her destination at exactly four-fifteen.
The small cinderblock building was perched in front of a large, gravel-covered parking lot filled with every make and model of car and truck, and a chain-link fence topped with spiraling barbed wire surrounded the impounded vehicles.
Addy pulled into one of the empty spaces and checked the dashboard clock. Nearly five minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Perry. She reflected on why Agent Long had asked her about Jerry Wilcox. She’d done some quick internet research, but discovered nothing.
She decided to wait a few more minutes before calling Perry. Three more minutes passed.
At this rate, the shop would close before they got Hindy. She snatched up her phone and was instantly reminded of her injured hand. She winced and tried to hold her hand still, hoping the shooting pain would subside. Just as she began dialing, Perry whipped in beside her, flung open the door and squeezed out of his car. Addy followed suit.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, buttoning his sports coat. “Been busy trying to tie up a lot of loose ends.”
“Were you followed?” Addy said, glancing back down the street.
“I don’t think so.”
“Come on. Let’s get this over with and get out of here.”
At the front of the cinderblock building, Perry tugged on a heavy metal door and waved Addy inside, where they were greeted by a heavyset woman wearing a police uniform. Addy and Perry introduced themselves and handed her a set of papers he’d snatched out of the printer on his way out. “We’re here to collect the hydrogen car.”
“I know which one it is,” she said slipping on a pair of bifocals that were hanging from her neck. She flipped through the documents without looking up, “Got any ID?”
Addy plunged her non-injured, “off” hand into her purse and fished out her wallet, then fumbled out her driver’s license that Perry had obtained from the FBI after her arrest at the patent office. The officer spun it around, then swiped the magnetic stripe through some kind of reader. She studied a computer screen, running her finger along as she read.
“That’s funny,” she said continuing to run her finger back and forth.
“Problem?” Perry finally asked.
“I’m surprised they’re releasing your car. There’s a lot going on here. I’m going to need to call the station.”
“That’s unacceptable,” Addy said slamming her good fist on the counter. “We have papers from the court. That overrides anything you have there on your screen.”
The woman snatched up the papers and read them again, shaking her head. “Well I guess so, but I’m still going to call in.”
Perry reached out his hand. “Call all you want, but give me the keys first.”
“And open the gate, please,” Addy chimed in.
The woman shook her head. “It’s in stall 86. You can pull the car up, but I can’t open any gate until I get the okay from HQ.”
Perry shoved his way through a side door that led to the lot where the impounded vehicles were parked. Addy scooted in front of him, studying the stall markers. In a few moments, she spotted Hindy, tucked between a monster truck and a VW bug. Addy snatched the keys from Perry and hopped into the front seat. “There should still be hydrogen in the tank,” she said flipping a few switches. “Enough to get it back to Palo Alto.” Her right hand flinched each time she lifted it up, and the ever-present pain ratcheted up exponentially. If Perry noticed, he didn’t stop her.
Then she noticed that none of the indicators lighted. “That’s funny,” she said. “There’s no power. I put in a new battery less than six months ago.”
She reached down with her left hand and pulled a lever. The hood popped up and Perry propped it open.
“You’re not going to like this,” he said shaking his head.
Addy shot out of her seat and shimmed around to the front end. The moment she looked beneath the hood, her jaw dropped.
There was nothing under the hood. Hindy, the already-castrated Shelby, was completely gutted.
“They can’t do this,” she shouted at Perry.
“No wonder they were willing to let us have her.”
Addy stared into her mentor’s eyes. He was staring blankly at the empty shell, arms folded. What about Perry’s $100,000 deposit? What about the commercial? What about her freedom?
“How much work do you think it’s going to take to rebuild her?” Perry said without feeling.
Addy shook her head. “A ton of work. I’d have to start from scratch. Even if your client could help me build a fuel cell, Hindy’s still missing all her internal organs. There’s no electric motors, no steering column, no nothing. It would take me weeks, if not months, assuming I could even get the parts I need. No way could it be finished by tomorrow afternoon. There’s not going to be a Super Bowl commercial in our future, that’s for sure.”
Addy folded her arms, rubbing her good hand over her bare skin to keep warm. She looked skyward, trying to think of a way out of their predicament. How could she demonstrate the catalyst without Hindy? There had to be a way they could still do the commercial, even if she didn’t have a car. But how?
She looked over at Perry and noticed his jaw muscles flex. She could tell his mind was racing, also trying to find a solution.
Then it hit her and she froze for a moment before reaching over and grabbing Perry’s arm.
“Perry, let’s get out of here. This is a trap.”
She watched his eyes widen. He understood. Before he could say anything, she began using both hands to tug him toward the office. She winced and stifled a whimper when her pinky finger flexed backward. “We’ve got to give up on Hindy. We’ve got to get out of here. The police officer saw something on the screen that prompted her to call HQ. If we can’t get through that office, we’re certainly not going to be able to hop this fence.”
Together, they zipped toward the cinderblock building, weaving through the mass of vehicles. When they reached the side door, Addy calmed herself, deliberately opened the side door, and quietly made her way down the hall. As they neared the front desk, she could hear the officer’s conversation. Something about a death.
She cocked her head so she could hear the discussion. It was about Examiner Johnston. Based on the officer’s responses, Addy surmised they’d found his body, with his red curls shaved off and his eyes missing. And apparently he’d been murdered only an hour after he called the police to report Addy’s theft of the vial.
She reached out her hand to halt Perry’s progress, then motioned with two of her fingers for them to dart past the lobby and out the front door. They took off in unison, Addy’s eyes fixed on the front door.
“Hey wait!” the officer said reaching for her holster. “You’re wanted for questioning. You can’t leave.”
But Addy’s shoulder was already slammed against the door, shoving it open. They each sprinted to their cars. “I’ll find you,” Addy yelled t
o Perry, nearly out of breath. “Let’s get the fuel cell built first. I’ll figure out the rest,” she said as she threw herself into her car. Addy slammed her door and started her ignition. With tires squealing, they both peeled out of the parking lot and into the darkness.
* * *
Keeping to side streets, Addy plotted her next move. Without Hindy, she needed another plan—another car, and a new fuel cell—otherwise the catalyst was of little use. And time was running out. The gridiron classic was less then twenty-four hours away.
Her eyes were burning. Oncoming headlights were no more than blurred dots on the horizon. She’d been wearing the same pair of contacts for two days, and they had to come out, but her glasses were still in her condo—a place she didn’t dare go.
But her fuzzy eyesight was the least of her worries. Her hand was throbbing, and a visit to any hospital was out of the question. If she went to her condo, she could probably jury-rig a splint and possibly replenish her supply of painkillers at the same time she retrieved her glasses.
She meandered along vacant streets, through Los Gatos, then Saratoga, and dropped down into Sunnyvale. She was just inside the city boundaries when she noticed a lighted yellow icon in the shape of a gas pump on her dashboard. Addy looked down at the dial. The red pointer was well below the empty line. She’d been feeling so crazed and cornered she had completely forgotten to check her gas level.
Her wallet was in her purse, on the passenger seat next to her. Keeping her eyes on the road, she reached over and rummaged through the contents, wincing every time she moved her fingers. When the pain was too severe, she relented and pulled over to inspect her cash. A ten, two ones, and some change.
Using her credit cards was out of the question. If she swiped her credit card or tried to withdraw cash from her bank account, there was no doubt they’d be all over her in a New York minute.
She needed to get off the grid. She was also going to need money for a hotel room. She could get cash from Perry, but she worried that if she got him any more involved, he could end up like Johnston. For now, she could pump in a few gallons with the money she found in her purse.
