Gerald N. Lund 4-In-1 Fiction eBook Bundle

by Gerald N. Lund

  At that moment, Marc passed beyond fear and felt a sudden icy calm. There was an intense burst of sorrow, not for his own life, but because he wouldn’t have one last chance to gather Matt and Brett in his arms and tell them how much he cared for them. And Valerie. That brought a pain so sharp and intense that he had to bite his lip quickly and felt a burning in his eyes.

  The man who had ridden next to him made a last check of Marc’s bonds, then backed away. The driver stepped forward, pistol steady.

  “Gerritt,” the first man called sarcastically. “You want to do this?”

  The president and chairman of the board of Gerritt Industries dropped his head, feeling suddenly sick.

  The other man laughed contemptuously. “What’s the matter? Haven’t got the stomach for it?”

  When Gerritt still didn’t answer the first chimed in again. “We can stop right now if you want. We’ve all but scared this poor dude to death anyway.” He laughed raucously, and Marc felt a tiny surge of hope.

  Gerritt’s head came up, and he was staring at the two men. “Whaddya say, Gerritt?” the first needled. “Shall we call it a night?”

  “No!” It was a hoarse, desperate cry. “Just do it!”

  “Gerritt,” Marc called softly.

  Gerritt’s head jerked up, and he stared at the dark shape standing apart from the other two.

  “You think you’ve won, Gerritt.” Marc’s voice floated to him out of the darkness. “But you haven’t. I—”

  There was a sharp but muffled crack. A massive hammer blow hit Marc full in the chest. He stumbled back. Crack! The second shot caught him in the stomach, knocking him over the incline. There was a brief sensation of falling, a dim awareness of his body hitting water with a tremendous splash, a sudden rush of coldness, then darkness—a suffocating, all-encompassing darkness.

  Gerritt stared at the two dark shapes standing in the night. One moved to the edge of the incline and peered at the water. Gerritt heard a soft grunt of satisfaction, then the two men moved toward the car. Only gradually did Gerritt become aware of the sound of lapping water and crickets off somewhere in the night.

  “Get the car turned around,” Gerritt heard the one say. “Let’s get out of here.”

  The sharp buzzing of the phone brought Hadlow up from his book, and he checked the clock on the mantle. It was past eleven. He set the book down and reached for the phone.

  “Yes.”

  It was the guard at the front gate. “Mr. Hadlow, a Mr. Gerritt and two other men are here, sir.”

  “What?”

  “They say you wanted to see them.”

  Hadlow’s face twisted with anger. “Put Gerritt on.”

  “This is Gerritt.”

  “What are you doing here?” Hadlow hissed. “Are you crazy? I told you to go home.”

  “What am I doing here? It’s your men that insisted we come and report.”

  “They what?” Hadlow bellowed, the fury boiling over.

  “They said you wanted a first-hand report. So let’s get it over with. I want to get out of here.”

  Hadlow swore. “Those fools! I told them to stay in San Diego.” He slammed a fist against the table. “All right, get up here!”

  When Hadlow opened the door two minutes later, Gerritt was standing on the step, the two men close behind. The angry rebuke forming on his lips froze as he gaped at the men with Gerritt. “What!” he shouted. “These aren’t my men!”

  As Gerritt whirled, the nearest man jerked open his suit jacket, and the .38 Smith and Wesson was instantly in his hand. The other man, the gunman who had shot Marc Jeppson, reached inside his coat and brought out a thin leather wallet. He flipped it open to an ID card. “FBI, Mr. Hadlow. You’re under arrest.”

  Chapter Thirty

  There was a soft knock at the door.

  “I’ll get it,” Ardith said and walked quickly to open it.

  Marc and Valerie were seated next to Alex’s hospital bed and looked up curiously as Ardith stepped back and a man entered the room.

  “Lynn!” Marc jumped up and gripped Braithwaite’s hand, pumping it hard. They were both grinning like old combat buddies who had just found each other after the war.

  “Come in, come in,” Marc said. “Let me introduce you. This is Ardith Barclay, Alex’s wife.”

  Braithwaite nodded. “Mrs. Barclay.”

  Marc turned to where Valerie sat next to Alex. “You can probably guess which of these two is Alex.”

  Braithwaite laughed and stepped forward to shake Alex’s hand. “I think I can. You’re looking very well, Mr. Barclay.”

  That was true. The week that Marc had spent in Saudi Arabia had brought a notable improvement in Alex’s condition. The color was back in his face, he was much stronger, and more of the old Alex was evident when he talked.

  Marc motioned toward Valerie. “You already know my fiancée.”

  Yes. Hello, Valerie.”

  “Hello again.”

  “Come in and sit down,” Alex said, smiling. “We were just talking about you.”

  “Then I’d better sit down. I can imagine what this guy has been telling you.”

  “I’ve been telling them I have some questions for you,” Marc said. “What kind of a guy are you anyway? First, you have me shot. Then you pull me out of the reservoir, shake my hand, and disappear into the night.”

  Braithwaite shrugged. “I wanted to be sure you were okay, then I had to join the strike teams. We had a busy night that night, as you’ll remember. Sixty-four warrants, forty-two arrests, including Gerritt, Perotti, and Hadlow.”

  There was no attempt to lessen his feeling of pride. It had been a great night, the culmination of several years work for Lynn Braithwaite. “And then you left for Saudi Arabia first thing the next morning. When did you get back?”

  “I just got back last night.”

  “How did it go?”

  “Oh, no you don’t. I want some answers. How did you engineer that whole thing?”

  “It was simple enough. We had Hadlow’s phone bugged and recorded the full conversation with his two hit men. That made it easy to pick them up and substitute our own. Gerritt had never seen them, so that ploy was safe. Actually, you deserve the credit. We had tape recorders in the car and on both men. I’ve listened to those tapes again and again, and you played your part to perfection. Even your voice was trembling there at the last.”

  Marc pulled a face at him. “It was your men who were convincing. I wasn’t playing a part. I was scared. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “If you had known those were our men, what would you have done?”

  “Been much more relaxed!”

  “Exactly the point. We had to be absolutely sure Gerritt thought this was for real, to see if he would follow it through all the way. He did, and now we’ve got him.”

  Valerie shuddered, even now hearing the horror that tinged Marc’s voice as he described those last final moments.

  “Besides,” Braithwaite went on, “you had on that bullet-proof flak jacket. Didn’t you remember that?”

  Marc shook his head. “Not till after! Remember, I had worn that thing for several days by then. I wasn’t even conscious of it anymore. And when I entered the house and saw that both men had guns, all I could think of was, ‘When is Braithwaite and the cavalry going to ride in and put an end to this?’ Then we lost you…” The memory welled up, and he had to stop for a moment.

  “Yes, losing your tail. That was a nice touch, don’t you think?” Braithwaite grinned.

  Alex laughed right out loud at Marc’s expression.

  “But why did you have to use real bullets?” Valerie demanded. “What if your men had missed the jacket, or if it didn’t stop them?”

  “You’ve got to remember that we had to have Gerritt accompany our two men back to Hadlow. If Marc’s ‘death’ had been the least bit suspicious, we would have had trouble. But actually, we didn’t use ‘real’ bullets in the full sense of the word. We used what we call
a wad cutter. We use them in target practice. It takes less powder, uses a flat slug, and has only about half the regular muzzle velocity.”

  “Don’t tell me they weren’t real!” Valerie retorted. “You should see the bruises on his chest.”

  Braithwaite nodded. “I know. That’s why I have complete confidence in those flak jackets. I took a direct hit in the stomach once from a three fifty-seven magnum at point-blank range. It never even pierced the skin, but I couldn’t move for a week. So we knew we’d be all right with the wad cutters.”

  He turned to Marc. “The trigger man moved in close to be sure he hit you where you wouldn’t be hurt. He also happens to be our best marksman.”

  Ardith shook her head, then looked at Alex. “Well, it was one thing for Gerritt to change your medicine and cause a heart attack since he didn’t think he was going to kill you. But to participate in the cold-blooded murder of Marc—” A shiver ran down her spine, and she gripped Alex’s hand.

  “Gerritt’s first mistake” the agent said, “was when he accepted the Hadlow/Perotti money without questioning the conditions. From there he just got in deeper and deeper.” He turned to Marc again. “A lot has happened since you left. Things are wrapping up nicely. So how did it go with your trip?”

  “Good.”

  “Good!” Alex exclaimed. “Not only is this boy one of the best negotiators in the business, his humility is downright disgusting. Go on, tell him, Marc.”

  Marc blushed slightly before beginning. “Well, as you know, Gerritt Industries was dependent on the funds Hadlow and Perotti put up. Those automatically cut off when the arrests came, and so Gerritt Industries went back on the blocks. I was able to convince the crown prince that if the banks here took Gerritt Industries into receivership again, we could kiss the radar system good-bye for some time to come. The bottom line is, the Saudi National Bank will fund Gerritt Industries until they get on their feet.”

  Alex beamed. “With the stipulation that two new members be put on the board of directors to see that things are run properly.”

  Braithwaite’s eyes widened with surprise. “You two!”

  Marc nodded.

  “Putting Alex on the board was Marc’s idea,” Valerie said proudly. “Putting Marc on the board was General Amani’s.”

  “I’ve talked with Taggart,” Marc went on. “His contract with Gerritt for the radar system is null and void, of course. So we’ve renegotiated his contract, with the original asking price plus a bonus for what he’s been through. We are also going to make him the chief project engineer, with a substantial increase in salary.”

  “So you did it. You dumped Gerritt and still saved the deal.” Braithwaite was obviously impressed.

  Marc nodded. “Thanks to you and a lot of others.”

  “That’s not all he saved,” Ardith said in a whisper, her eyes shining. Embarrassed she leaned down and kissed Alex soundly on the lips.

  “Do the Saudis know the Israelis have the VSM-430?” the FBI man asked.

  Marc, who had been touched by Ardith’s sudden emotion, turned back to the agent. “What?”

  “The Saudis. Do they know the Israelis have the radar system?”

  Marc shook his head. “No more than the Israelis know that the Saudis are funding Gerritt Industries. Oh, they’ll know soon enough, I suspect, but they won’t hear it from me.”

  Braithwaite stood. “Well, you’ll be happy to know the judge denied bail for all of our three main defendants. After what they tried with Marc, they’re not going to take a chance on letting them out.”

  Valerie gripped Marc’s hand tightly. “Is there still any danger they’ll try to retaliate against Marc or Mr. Taggart?”

  The agent shook his head. “No.” He saw the dubious look on her face and raised his hand to start ticking off the reasons on the fingers.

  “Number one, if their convictions depended solely on testimony from Marc and the engineer, we’d be more worried. But we already have sworn depositions from both Marc and Taggart, and a whole body of other evidence that would be enough in itself to convict them. Second, we’ve busted Perotti’s organization wide open. Arrests are still being made. Whoever is left has fled the country. Third, word on the street is that the other crime families are not heartbroken to see Perotti go. They warned him against this whole Gerritt tie-in in the first place. The one thing those people hate more than anything else is high profile. So they’re going to let it die.”

  Valerie stood to join Marc and put her arm around his waist. “That’s wonderful.”

  “Well, I’ve got to be going,” Braithwaite said. “I heard you were back and just wanted to see how things were.”

  “Come on,” Marc answered. “We’ll walk you out.”

  Braithwaite had pulled away, and Marc and Valerie had just reentered the hospital when the loudspeaker boomed.

  “Mr. Marc Jeppson. Mr. Marc Jeppson. We have an emergency call for Mr. Marc Jeppson. Please report to room 405-A immediately. Mr. Marc Jeppson.”

  Valerie clutched at Marc’s arm. “Oh no!” she cried.

  “Come on, let’s go!” He grabbed her hand, and they broke into a run for the elevators.

  To their surprise and immense relief, as they burst in the room, Alex was sitting up in bed, and Ardith was standing near his side. There were no doctors, no nurses, but Alex was gray, and his face a mask of shock.

  “Alex, what’s the matter?” Marc asked.

  He stared at Marc, unseeing.

  “Ardith, what is it?”

  She looked up, deep lines of concern tightening her mouth. “Do you remember Russell Whitaker of the State Department?” When Marc nodded, she went on. “He just called from Washington.”

  Marc spun back around to Alex. “What did he want?”

  “The sale is off,” he said woodenly.

  “What!”

  “The president has backed down. The F-22 deal is off.”

  “But they can’t…What happened?”

  “Whitaker doesn’t know. We may never know.”

  “But they can’t do that! We’ll fight it.”

  “No, Marc.”

  “Yes!”

  He grabbed Marc’s arm, his eyes urgent. “No! Don’t you understand? That’s the way it is in this game. You can spend months on a deal, then suddenly one phone call ends it all. You never fight it, Marc. If you do, you’re out of business permanently.”

  “Just like that? All for nothing?” Marc’s shoulders sagged.

  “Oh,” Alex said, the life completely gone from his voice. “We’ve got Gerritt Industries and the radar, thanks to you. We’ll come out all right. But the deal is off.” He lay back on the pillow and averted his face, his mouth a tight line. “Just like that. All for nothing.”

  An hour or so later, Marc and Valerie were walking slowly across the parking lot to their car. As they reached it and Marc started to unlock the doors, he suddenly stopped and looked up. An old man in a black suit and Homburg hat was shuffling toward them.

  “Yaacov?” Marc said in surprise.

  “Boker tov, Marc,” the old Israeli said with a slow smile.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I called your office. Miss Ashby thought you’d be here at the hospital, so I took a chance.” He bowed slightly toward Valerie. “Valerie. I am most happy that things have worked out so well and that you and the boys are safely back with Marc.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Tell Mr. Weissman I appreciate his protection for them,” Marc said.

  Yaacov brushed that aside. “You did your work too well. Hadlow’s men never even got close.” He paused. “And your work with Gerritt. Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!”

  “Thank you,” Marc said, a little embarrassed by the effusiveness of the praise. “It was really Lynn’s basic idea.”

  “Of course,” Yaacov said with a laugh. “But I have already told Mr. Braithwaite, and he gave much of the credit to you.”

  “Well, tell Weissman for me an
yway.”

  “He has gone back to Israel, but I will tell him when I get there. I am leaving tonight.”

  “Really?” Marc was surprised at the stab of disappointment. In spite of it all, he had developed a deep affection for this whitehaired philospher.

  “Yes, that is why I wanted to come. To say good-bye and to thank you for what you have taught me.”

  “Taught you?”

  “Yes.” There was a twinkle in his eye. “About the Coventry dilemma. I can hardly wait until fall when I teach my philosophy class again.”

  Marc was still puzzled, so Yaacov asked “Surely you see it?”

  “No,” Marc admitted ruefully. “I guess I don’t.”

  “Another solution to the dilemma is to not accept the fact that there are no more than two possible solutions.”

  Suddenly Marc’s head snapped up. “You did it!”

  Now it was Yaacov’s turn to be puzzled. “Did what?”

  “The sale of the F-22s was cancelled today.”

  Yaacov nodded slowly, solemnly. “Yes, I had heard.”

  “You found another option for solving your dilemma.”

  “I played only a small part. There were many others.”

  “Don’t you be modest on me, you old rascal!” Marc said, surprised at the affection he felt for the man.

  Yaacov shrugged. “As in the arrest of Gerritt, you must share in the credit. It was you who broadened my perspective of the Coventry dilemma.”

  Marc laughed right out loud. “Thanks a lot! Just promise me you won’t say that to the Saudis.”

  Yaacov chuckled softly. “That’s a promise.” Then he straightened. “Well, I must be going.” He took Valerie’s hand. “Good-bye, Valerie. Happy life with this man. He is a good one.”

  There was a sudden catch in her voice and her eyes were shining. “I know,” she whispered.

  “I’ve promised Val to take her to Israel soon,” Marc said. “Then you shall call me when you arrive, and you will have a complete, escorted tour. And you shall meet my Esther. I have already told her much about you.”

  He stuck out his hand, and Marc gripped it hard. “Shalom, Marc.”

  “Shalom, Yaacov.”

  Instead of going directly home, Marc swung north, then took the Foothill Freeway east. The traffic was light, and he was moving along at a leisurely speed. Valerie sat close to him, her arm through his.