Whitewash

by Alex Kava

  Had she read his mind? Jason stopped himself from saying something stupid like, We’re not in a relationship. He had no idea what, if anything, Lindy had told her boss about their one-night fling. Maybe he was jumping to conclusions that Senator Malone meant for those two statements to be connected.

  “I leave first thing in the morning,” he told her. “How about you?”

  “I leave after the Appropriations Committee vote. Hopefully I’ll still be invited to the opening reception.”

  “Of course you are,” he blurted out. He wanted to ask why she thought she might not be. Was she telling him they couldn’t count on her vote? No, she was joking. She had to be. “Besides,” he continued, trying to tap in to what little charm he had in him, “I’m in charge of invites.”

  She smiled, and if he wasn’t totally mistaken he thought there was even a bit of a blush. Then suddenly her face was serious.

  “I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I was about Zach.”

  “I didn’t really know him all that well,” Jason said, wondering why she thought he did. What did Lindy tell her? He shifted the pile of envelopes and folders to the other arm.

  “Oh,” was all she said, but from the look on her face Jason could tell she believed otherwise.

  “We played basketball once. Some fund-raiser.” He wasn’t sure why he felt he needed to explain or deny.

  “I knew Zach and Lindy were friends. I guess I thought the three of you…” She shook her head and continued, “I’m sorry. That sounds totally presumptuous.”

  “I wasn’t lying when I told you I hadn’t met Lindy before the night of her birthday party.” Now he was explaining too much, but he wanted her to know. No matter what Lindy might have told her, suddenly Jason realized he needed Senator Malone to know the truth.

  She was distracted, looking over his shoulder at something or someone. Jason turned to find a man he didn’t recognize coming up the hallway toward them. His sport jacket was too cheap for him to be a lobbyist and he was too old—at least fifty—to be a staff member.

  “Jason Brill?”

  If Jason had been alone he probably would have claimed not to know any Jason Brill.

  “Yeah, that’s me.”

  The man flapped a badge at him. “Detective Bob Christopher. I just have a few questions if you have a minute.”

  “Actually, Detective, I don’t. I should have had all this delivered an hour ago.” Jason indicated the load tucked under his arm.

  “It’ll only take a minute.” The detective was squinting at Senator Malone like he recognized her, but couldn’t quite come up with a name.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Senator Malone said, and Jason felt her hand brush his shoulder, a sort of good-luck gesture or perhaps in this case a “sorry, you’re fucked” gesture.

  Detective Christopher watched her all the way until she turned the corner. Not a bad sight, Jason found himself thinking.

  “I do need to get this stuff delivered,” Jason prompted him. He wondered if Lindy was telling everyone, including the cops, that the three of them were friends.

  “There was a picture of you on Zach Kensor’s cell phone.”

  “What?” Jason almost dropped the stack.

  “It’s time-stamped from the night before he was murdered.”

  Of course, the party, but Jason didn’t think he’d gotten close enough.

  Detective Christopher kept his eyes moving back and forth, up and down the hallway, but there was no one else. “And we know you were at the same hotel as Mr. Kensor later that night. I believe until the next morning.”

  Jason felt his jaw clench. Lindy, he thought, but tried to keep a straight face. It didn’t work. He wanted to tell the detective about William Sidel and Zach, that he’d discovered the two of them may have stayed at the South Beach Resort at the same time. But how could he say anything when he’d obtained the information illegally? Without meaning to, he suddenly forgot all about the cool, calm attitude Senator Allen had taught him. Jason found himself, instead, reacting like Uncle Louie.

  “Am I a suspect, Detective?” He even felt the snarl of his upper lip, just like his Uncle Louie.

  “Of course not, Mr. Brill. If you were I wouldn’t be talking to you out here in the middle of the hallway.”

  “Then this conversation is over,” Jason said, and he walked away, forcing his hands to stop shaking, but at the same time keeping his free hand from balling up into a fist. At least until he turned the corner and left the detective’s line of vision.

  90

  Pensacola Beach, Florida

  Eric was surprised to come down and find that Howard had closed Bobbye’s Oyster Bar to the public. Rope barriers blocked off the boardwalk’s entrance. The signs they used—Closed for Private Party—were posted. Howard had the grill fired up, filling the surrounding air with the aroma of garlic, barbecue, pineapple and hickory.

  At first Eric thought it was all for the Minnesotans. When Eric asked, Howard laughed, waving the stainless-steel tongs at Eric. “Hell no, they rescheduled.”

  “But you’ve got the place cordoned off for a private party?”

  “What’s the use of having a place of your own if you can’t close up once in a while and make dinner for your friends? Russ mentioned we needed to come up with a plan. I figure we’ll think better with full stomachs.”

  Eric simply nodded and got to work restocking the bar. He worried about Sabrina. He hadn’t expected this “fight to make it right” attitude. She was looking at this as one of her scientific puzzles, that if only she applied logic and the appropriate formula she’d discover a resolution. Their dad was the same way. Looking at life as if everything were a mathematical equation, a sum of parts that when pieced together would be whole and complete. Life wasn’t like that.

  Eric emptied oysters from a burlap bag into a plastic bus tub. At the sink he ran cold water over the shells to rinse them before he put them on ice.

  He knew it would be easier if Sabrina would accept the new identity, at least temporarily. It’d give him time to come up with something better. He could eventually figure out what to do with their dad, if she insisted. Though he wanted to tell her that in his current mindset their dad was already out of their lives. She obviously hadn’t accepted that yet. For scientists with an answer for everything, Sabrina and their dad were pretty good at denial.

  Howard brought some shrimp over to be cleaned.

  “You mind doing these when you’re finished?”

  “No problem.” Eric drained the bus tub and filled it with ice before he realized Howard was still at his side as if he’d forgotten something.

  “Those friends of mine from Miami,” he said, waiting for Eric to nod that he remembered. Of course Eric remembered. He’d been looking for their boat since last week.

  “They’re supposed to be here about midnight,” Howard told him, glancing out at the bay. “You mind sticking around and meeting them with me?”

  No matter how much he liked Howard, Eric felt like he had plunged his hands elbow deep into the ice. Was that what all this talk about friends was for? To prepare Eric for meeting his Miami friends? What a great time for Howard to trick him, take advantage while Eric was preoccupied with helping Sabrina.

  “Sure,” Eric told him. He wished Sabrina had taken that new identity and gotten far away from here before Howard’s drug-trafficking buddies arrived.

  91

  A week ago Sabrina remembered whining about being alone. Now suddenly sitting at the beach-bistro table she had a group of strangers plotting her future. She wasn’t surprised that Eric had surrounded himself with what, at first appearances, seemed to be misfits. After all, he was the one always bringing home stray dogs and later in college bringing home kids who had nowhere to go for the holidays. “Mr. Charming,” as their mom affectionately called Eric, had no problem making friends, getting dates or even getting jobs. It was the keeping part that usually tripped him up.

  Between bites of Howa
rd’s smorgasbord of shucked oysters, grilled scallops, shrimp, scampi and vegetables, Eric and Sabrina fielded questions and relayed information. The group sat around their favorite table at the edge of the pier, tiki lamps and citronella candles the only light other than the moon. Any other time Sabrina would have enjoyed the sound of the water sloshing up against boats in their slips. The night birds were a bit different here on the gulf than the ones she and Miss Sadie listened to back in Tallahassee. She sighed and once again she hoped Miss Sadie was okay. She missed the old woman, her quiet calm and wise counsel. Sabrina couldn’t help wondering what magic the old woman had performed to make Sidel’s hired assassin just go away.

  “You said a computer software program controlled the process,” Russ said, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Yes, and Dr. Lansik was the only one with access to change it.” It was the second time Sabrina had explained this. Maybe the guy wasn’t as much of a computer expert as he pretended to be. He reminded her of male students who wanted her attention though they had no idea what they were talking about.

  “The same program would have to be used to process anything that came into the plant then, right?”

  Sabrina nodded. “Lansik designed the program alongside another scientist engineer who designed the plant before any of it was built.”

  “So anything that came through Reactor #5 would have to be done with this computer program,” Russ said, pointing a plastic swizzle stick at her as if to emphasize his point, a point Sabrina thought was pointless because they already suspected this might be the reason Lansik had been killed. Russ wasn’t finished. “Then there’s a file, a record, embedded in the network.”

  Sabrina stopped with a shrimp halfway to her mouth. Everyone else had stopped, too. Okay, so maybe this guy wasn’t just cute and flirting with her.

  “Even if they’ve gone in and erased the files from their particular computer or hard drives,” Russ explained, still waving the swizzle stick like it was a wand, “it wouldn’t have erased the copy saved on the network’s server.”

  “Wait,” Eric said. “Are you saying there may be some sort of record to prove that they’ve been processing hurricane debris out of Reactor #5?”

  “Depends on how detailed the computer program is,” Russ said, looking at Sabrina for the answer. “What are you able to see when you access the program to view the various processes?”

  “You can’t see exactly what’s inside the pipes. It tracks the flow, the temperatures, the coking times, what valves are opened or closed.” She tried to envision the computer screen and all the data that appeared.

  “Would it differentiate between chicken guts and hurricane debris?” Eric looked hopeful.

  “Everything would be different,” Sabrina said. “The entire formula is different.”

  “That’s it, then.” Eric slapped a palm down on the table. “We already have satellite photos of what’s being brought in. We just need a copy of the processing file. And Russ here can hack right in and get one, right?”

  Sabrina caught Russ’s eyes before they dropped. She already knew it couldn’t be done before he told them, “I’m afraid it’s not possible.”

  Sabrina could tell Eric wasn’t happy with that answer. She could see him sitting on the edge of his chair and even in the dim light she saw his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. He’d been on edge since she’d refused his generous offer of a new identity.

  “Not possible,” Eric said, “or you just don’t know how to do it?”

  “Easy now.” Howard laid a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

  “You know I’d do it if I could, dude,” Russ said, but Sabrina didn’t think he sounded defensive as much as hurt.

  “But you don’t know how. I understand.” Eric’s tone was one she recognized, a sort of taunt laced with betrayal. He had their mother’s talent of using words as weapons.

  “He can’t do it,” Sabrina interrupted, “because he’d have to use a computer at EchoEnergy.”

  She waited for Eric’s eyes to leave Russ and find hers. When they finally did, some of the intensity had softened.

  “So we find a way back into EchoEnergy,” Maxine volunteered, but Sabrina guessed from her smile that she was simply trying to lighten things up.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” the Mayor joined in, only Sabrina didn’t think he was joking. She had counted him at his fifth pink lady.

  “Security is pretty tight,” she said. “There’s only one entrance into the park with a guard hut and gate. Each area can only be accessed by security key cards. I’m sure they voided mine or at the very least attached a security alert to the number,” she added, shaking her head.

  “What about the grounds?” Eric asked. Sabrina could see him getting hopeful again.

  “There’s a security fence in the front,” she explained. “The forest lines two sides and the river lines the other side.” She didn’t like where this conversation was headed.

  “Is that the Apalachicola River?” Howard asked.

  “Yes,” Sabrina answered despite the knot beginning to form in the pit of her stomach. She didn’t like this one bit and yet, what did she expect when she insisted something had to be done to stop Sidel?

  “Is there any security along the river?” Eric asked the next obvious question.

  “It doesn’t matter if we can get back into the park.” Sabrina tried to keep the anxiety out of her voice. “Key card access is required to get into every area, including the administrative building. Even the café and fitness center.”

  That stopped them. Sabrina looked from one to the next, hoping to see that she had canned the idea of going back to EchoEnergy. There had to be another way.

  “This park,” the Mayor said, his wrinkled face scrunched up in thought, “it probably has a bunch of vending machines, right?”

  Everyone turned to look at him in a way Sabrina thought you looked at someone you respect, but also expect to not make sense, polite but almost dismissive. They were probably thinking the same thing she was—how many pink ladies had he drunk?

  “I suppose so,” she answered only out of courtesy.

  “In pretty much every building?” he asked.

  Sabrina glanced at Eric. Was this guy serious? She knew Eric’s friends wanted to help, but to what extent was she expected to humor them? Especially an old drunk who only wanted in on the conversation. And yet all of them looked like they were waiting for her answer.

  “There’s a bank of vending machines in the fitness center,” she said, trying to remember. “I suppose there are others around the park. I just don’t remember exactly where. I’m a coffee drinker.”

  “Coke or Pepsi?” The Mayor wouldn’t let it go.

  She wanted to tell Eric this was ridiculous. “Pepsi,” she said with an impatient sigh, hopefully indicating this was the last answer she’d humor him with.

  “Excellent,” he said, rubbing his crooked arthritic hands together and sitting back, pleased. “I can get you inside,” he told Eric. “Piece of cake.”

  92

  Eric sat back and let Sabrina show Russ the notebook she had taken from the dead scientist’s office. It was hard to not interrupt, to not be involved even if he didn’t understand computer code.

  Howard and the Mayor were on their cell phones at opposite ends of the boardwalk, one man arranging for them to get into EchoEnergy’s park, the other pulling strings to get them access inside. Eric knew Howard would come through. He wasn’t so sure about the Mayor. The old man told great stories. Eric just didn’t know how many were true and how many were simply good stories.

  “You’re doing everything possible.” Max’s voice startled Eric from his thoughts. “Above and beyond what most brothers would do.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “I’m sorry if I disappointed you,” she said and looked out at the water, maybe so he couldn’t see her face and her eyes.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “If I hadn’t enc
ouraged her maybe she would have gone off and pretended to be Kathryn Fulton. It would have been safer.”

  “Sabrina might be quiet and straitlaced when it comes to playing by the rules, but I should have guessed she wouldn’t just walk away from something like this.”

  “I found us a beauty,” Howard interrupted, back at the table. For a second, Eric forgot the plan. “Sixteen-foot cabin cruiser with 225 hp.”

  “I think we found something, too,” Russ added as he and Sabrina pulled their chairs back up to the table. Russ held the notebook with gentle reverence, like a preacher with a Bible.

  “We think Dr. Lansik already started preparing some evidence,” Sabrina declared.

  “I recognize a lot of this computer code,” Russ said, pointing at the notebook. “I think he saved his files to the network server, only he gave them specific codes so no one would notice or be able to find them easily.”

  “That’s good news, right?” Eric said, hoping this was a turn of luck for them.

  “Good news and bad news,” Russ answered and Eric didn’t like the exchange of glances between Russ and Sabrina, like they had discussed something dangerous, but both had already made the decision what to do.

  “The good news is Lansik made it easy enough,” Russ said. “I just need someone to get in, get to a computer, open a so-called cyber door for me and leave it open. The bad news…” And he hesitated.

  “Lansik says he left a special password in his office.” Sabrina took over. “We won’t be able to download any of the coded files without it.”

  “Paranoid bastard, huh?” Eric smiled to disguise his anxiety. This was getting more and more complicated.

  “Actually, smart bastard,” Russ said. “It has to be someone who knows the lab and his office in order to find the hidden password. Which means…” Russ looked to Sabrina again.

  “No,” Eric said before she had a chance to answer. “It’s too risky to have you go back. We already decided. I’ll go in. I can find whatever needs to be found.”