Deadly Errors

by Allen Wyler

  Another pause.

  “Get on with it. What else do you want?!”

  “My my, a tad bit testy, are we?” Benson laughed. “Well, dear boy, it’s quite simple … I want that CD you burned.”

  “What CD?” Tyler’s eyes drilled Khan, who was hanging on every word.

  “Don’t irritate me any more than you already have or you’ll really piss me off. And that I you can’t afford to do.”

  It hit Tyler: the only reason Benson could know about the CD was if Jill told him. He hadn’t told any one else, not even Nancy. Or had he? Suddenly he wasn’t certain anymore. Did that mean Benson was bluffing about Nancy? Did he have Nancy with him? Unable to think clearly, Tyler tried to come up with a bluff of his own. If only he could get hold of Ferguson. Could Khan help?

  “You know, I don’t really give a rat’s ass if you get pissed off or not.”

  “Tyler, Tyler, Tyler … that is not the right attitude. Let me see if I can help provoke an appropriate adjustment. Hold on, will you?”

  Tyler heard movement, then a bell in the background, the kind of bell you might hear from a boat. A moment later came the clatter of the phone being picked up. He recognized Nancy’s sobbing, but she couldn’t seem to get a word out. Finally she was able to gasp, “Tyler, there’s water all around me. I’m terrified.”

  “Nancy?” Tyler’s legs weakened, almost sending him to the floor. The room started to spin. He reached out to keep from falling.

  Far off, in the background roar of his brain he heard Benson’s voice say, “Take her back to the room,” then directly into the phone, “Still so cocky, you little prick?” Another laugh. “Oh dear, maybe you don’t really care about her and I’ve made a huge mistake. Oh my, now wouldn’t that be something!”

  A white-hot ember engulfed Tyler’s brain. “You hurt her, Benson, so help me I’ll kill you.”

  “Oh my, so you do care. How auspicious for me. Does this mean you’re ready to deal?”

  “Where do you want me to bring the CD?”

  “That’s the spirit! No, where is it?”

  “It’s in my storage locker.”

  “At your apartment?”

  “No. It’s a rental down in Georgetown.”

  “Very good. Meet me in my office, in, say, 10 minutes. Once we have completed the appropriate paper work we can drive over and pick it up.”

  “Nancy better be there or no deal.”

  “At my office? Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll see her after I have the CD and signed papers. No sooner.”

  “No deal. I want to be certain she’s not harmed.”

  “Oh, all right. She’ll be in my office waiting for you.”

  “So help me, Benson—” But Benson had already hung up.

  Tyler tapped off the phone, his mind still a blur, images of what might be happening to Nancy distracting him. If Benson so much as lays a finger—

  Khan gave him a funny look. “Benson?”

  For the first time tonight, Tyler saw an ally, and it filled him with a subtle sense of relief. He wasn’t alone after all. He explained Benson’s demands.

  Khan asked, “You agreed to hand it over?”

  “Yes, of course. What other option do I have?” he asked, interested now. Perhaps Khan saw an angle he’d missed?

  “Well, we’d better get going then. Don’t want anything to happen to … Nancy? Is that her name?”

  Tyler slid out of the booth, Khan right behind him.

  “Let me come with you.”

  Tyler started toward the door now considering Khan’s request. Having a friend along seemed comforting, but … “You want Benson to know you’re in on this?” He stepped out the front door onto the sidewalk, the police car still idling across the street. He flashed on asking the cops for help but immediately rejected the idea as stupid. Any story he told them would sound crazy.

  “At this point it makes very little difference what the pompous ass thinks. If we succeed in exposing his cover up, it will be immaterial.

  Tyler turned in the direction of where he had ditched his Range Rover earlier, Khan on his right in lock step. He thought again of what Nancy must be going through. His pace quickened. They turned onto a deserted side street. He felt a tug on his arm and turned.

  Khan said, “Hold on.”

  “Look, I don’t have—”

  Khan’s gun was pointed at his chest again.

  “The CD, Mathews, I want it.”

  37

  “CHRIST, YUSEF, STICK to our plan.” He started to move again when Khan cocked the gun, said, “We have no plan.”

  Tyler stopped. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Simple enough. Prophesy will pay handsomely for that information. One lesson I learned well as a young lad is to be loyal to my employer. I have no intention turning that CD over to anyone else.”

  Tyler studied the Khan’s eyes. “You’re shitting me … you’re working for Prophesy?”

  “Surprise.”

  “Jesus, Yusef … Nancy … I can’t let them harm her.”

  “And I can’t let you give Benson that information.”

  “One way or another, word’s going to get out about the flaw. What the hell difference should it make to you or Prophesy if the end result is knocking Levy’s company out of the running? They win, Med-InDx loses. Right?”

  “Not necessarily”

  “How so?”

  Khan shook his head as if to say, stupid question. “It’s a basic tenant we professionals adhere to. The only way to know for sure that the job’s done right is to do it yourself. Prophesy can’t afford to trust you or even me, for that matter. Too much money’s at stake.”

  “But Nancy. They have her.”

  Khan shrugged. “Easy enough handled, I suspect. Tell Benson I double crossed you. By the time he can do anything about it, it will be too late. He’d be a fool to do anything to her … especially if you go to the police. Where is this storage locker of yours?”

  Tyler turned and started to walk away. “You won’t kill me. You do, you don’t get the CD.”

  The bang was deafening. For a second Tyler waited for the pain to hit. None came. He realized Khan had shot a pile of black garbage bags filling a doorway. Khan said, “I’ll shoot to maim, not kill.”

  Tyler thought of Nancy. “Maim me and you still lose your sweet deal.”

  “I disagree.” Khan stepped closer, aiming the gun at Tyler’s kneecap. “You see, there’s a good chance the information I have will be enough. On the other hand, if I combine it with what you have, well … let us just say it is icing on the cake. I take out your kneecap and I beat Benson. Now tell me the instructions. We do not have much time here, now that I have attracted much attention with that gunshot, the police should be here soon. If so you lose. I will give you five more seconds to decide. One … two …”

  Seeing no other option Tyler told Khan the locker number and combination. When Tyler finished, Khan said, “One final detail. Which computer burned the CD? Your office?”

  It took a moment for Tyler to realize what he was getting at. With the evidence still on the hard drive, another CD could easily be created. “I did it from home,” he lied.

  “Want some advice, Mathews? Don’t play poker unless you learn to bluff much more effectively.” Khan backed up a step and began to raise the gun.

  In a flash Tyler understood Khan’s intention before being able to even verbalize it. He feigned a move then reversed, shifting his weight onto the painful ankle. Caught off guard by the quick fake, Khan swung the gun in the wrong direction and fired milliseconds before Tyler’s shoulder rammed directly into his chest, pushing him backwards into a brick wall.

  Tyler heard the rush of air as the impact collapsed Khan’s lungs, then, pinning the smaller man against the wall, brought his knee squarely into Khan’s groin. Khan’s body seemed to sag and Tyler released, letting him slump, gasping for air, to the asphalt. He kicked the hand still holding the gun and saw it drop away.

&n
bsp; For a moment Tyler stood still, mentally sorting through various options. Pick up the gun? I wouldn’t know how to use it.

  Ferguson.

  Tyler kicked the gun away from Khan. “Anything happens to Nancy and I’m coming back for you, asshole.”

  He ran for his car while his thumb punched through his cellphone list.

  THE LAND ROVER’S tires screeched in lateral protest as Tyler raced the vehicle down the spiraling ramp into the underground parking garage for his office building. Deserted this time of night, the industrial neon lights cast a deathly reflection off bare concrete. Having his pick of any spot, he chose the stall closest to the main entrance and killed the engine. The cold cloud of anxiety floating in his stomach lining intensified.

  For a moment he sat very still, struggling to rein in his anger and anxiety, watching to see if anyone was waiting for him here. A moment later he leaned over, opened the glove box, removed a blue plastic Mylanta bottle, took a deep swig, then tried capping it but couldn’t quite thread it. Disgusted, he slammed the bottle in the cup holder and threw the cap on the floor.

  He surveyed the area one more time before stepping down onto the desolate concrete, his footsteps echoing off bare walls.

  He used his ID swipe card to unlock the door then headed for the main floor and Benson’s executive suite, berating himself with each step for allowing Nancy to become involved in this mess. He would never forgive himself if anything bad happened to her. Correction: if anything worse than what was already happening.

  This part of the deserted, dimly lit first floor was populated only with administrative and support offices. The closer he got to Benson’s office, the more intense the anxiety grew. He dried both hands on his pants thighs and, just like in basketball, forced himself to push through the distraction and focus.

  The side corridor to Benson’s suite appeared darker than the main hall and ended in a dimly lit outer secretarial office, a parallelogram of yellow light slicing out from Benson’s inner office. He entered the office. A deep gravelly voice from the shadows, said, “Hold it.” A strong grip clamped his arm.

  He stopped.

  “Spread your legs.”

  “Where’s Nancy?”

  “Fuck you, Ace. Spread ’em.”

  Tyler shrugged and did as told. Confidence, he coached himself. A set of hands slid expertly over his clothes. “You can go in now.”

  Tyler found Benson standing, butt propped against the top of his desk, arms folded casually across his chest, talking to another man he didn’t recognize. Benson glanced at Tyler with a smug smile. “Well, well, the return of the prodigal son.” That’s when Tyler noticed Jim Day sitting at the far end of the conference table nervously playing with a laptop computer. The moment they made eye contact, Day glanced away.

  Tyler’s fists balled involuntarily as his eyes continued searching the room for Nancy. They passed over, then snapped back to a picture on the massive credenza. A framed color shot of Benson, his arm wrapped around the shoulders of a woman about his age, both backed up against a railing overlooking water. Although out of focus, Tyler recognized the background: Lake Union with Queen Anne Hill in the distance. Tyler sensed Benson staring at him so he continued to glance around the room.

  Benson became rigid. “You think I’m stupid, Mathews? You think I don’t know about your FBI contact … what’s the name? Ferguson?” Benson’s face turned red with anger. “Is that it? You think I got to where I am by being an ignorant paper pushing administrator? That’s what you physicians think about us, isn’t it? We’re nothing more than trivial bean pushers who can’t succeed in business—isn’t that the party line?”

  The other man said, “Art. Keep your voice down and stay focused.”

  Benson wiped spittle from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand as he walked a tight circle. “Here’s the deal, Mathews. Unless you sign these papers,” he grabbed a manila folder off the conference table and shook it at him, “right now,” he slammed it on the table along with a fountain pen, “and get me your CD within the next few minutes, your precious little slant eye is going to die. Here.” He pushed the folder and pen toward Tyler.

  Tyler’s gut cramped, almost doubling him over. “You agreed to have her here.”

  Benson beamed, eyebrows raised in mock surprise. “Really? Oh well, in that case, I guess I lied.” He pushed off the desk and stood.

  “We had a deal.”

  Benson’s face reddened. “Fuck the deal. The deal is, your wife’s not coming back until this is signed, sealed and delivered within the hour. That’s the deal, Mathews. Now let’s get on with this.” Benson’s hand slammed down on the manila folder. “I’m losing patience with you. Sign these.”

  “Where is she?”

  “Ahhhh, well … that little bit of information is not forth coming until we’ve settled our agreement. Just in case you’ve tried to engineer something heroic … like call your FBI buddy … Ferguson, isn’t it?”

  That clinched it. Jill was Benson’s information source. No one else knew about Ferguson. He thought of Nancy, how terrified she must be.

  “So help me, Benson …”

  Benson flashed a smug smile. “What?”

  Looking at the folder, Tyler shook his head in disgust at himself for being unable to find the words to express his anger.

  Legs trembling, unable to take his mind off Nancy, Tyler moved numbly to the large conference table and opened the folder. Without reading the two typed pages, he scribbled his name on the last page not caring what the wording said. Had Khan already gone to the storage locker? Tell Benson about him? And Ferguson … did he get the message and would he be there? He had to get Benson to the storage locker before either Khan or Ferguson.

  “Afraid I have some bad new for you, Art.”

  “Oh?” For the first time a hint of doubt crept into Benson’s voice.

  “Yes, you see, it seems Yusef Khan’s been working for Prophesy.” Tyler capped the fountain pen, picked up the heavy bond paper and blew across the drying ink. “He’s had our phones and computers tapped … and knows everything, and I mean everything. He was waiting for me tonight … he was with me when I got your phone call. If you want that CD, we’d better hurry.”

  Benson’s face grew crimson, his jaw muscles rippled. “You little shit …” He came at Tyler, his right arm back ready to swing, but stopped abruptly and drew a breath. “How long ago?”

  “We started at the same time. I came straight here.” Tyler’s mind was racing, trying to calculate how much time it’d take Khan to destroy the hard disk.

  “Where is it?”

  “At a storage locker I rent.”

  Benson shoved Tyler toward the door. “Get going. You’re going to take us there. And goddamnit Mathews, if that CD’s already gone, Nancy’s dead.”

  TYLER RODE IN the front passenger seat of Benson’s gray Mercedes CLK 420 coupe with Jim Day silently in the back seat clutching the laptop while Benson’s two thugs followed in another car. Tyler remained rigid, unable to release the aching muscular tension, nervously brushing his thumb against each fingertip—back and forth endlessly—while he mentally stormed through various scenarios, all bad. Had Ferguson picked up the page and voice mail? He hoped not. When making the phone call he’d naively believed Nancy would be in Benson’s office. Stupid. The anxiety ice cloud froze in his stomach.

  After a fifteen-minute drive that seemed to take an hour, Benson turned into the parking lot fronting the storage area. Behind a 10 foot cyclone fence topped with razor wire, parallel rows of increasingly large buildings occupied an entire city block, reminding Tyler of a prison camp. Benson’s thugs pulled up alongside and killed their engines.

  “The fuck you waiting for?” Benson had his door open.

  Tyler stepped onto cratered asphalt and pointed to a section of fence down the block in relative shadows. “There’s an area down there where we can climb over without being seen.”

  The bigger of the two thugs sa
id, “Fuck that noise,” and stepped around to his car’s trunk. A moment later he held up with a bolt cutter. With one whack the lock protecting the swinging gate clanked to the ground. “Any dogs in there?” the cutter asked.

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Better not be, I hate those sonsabitches.” From underneath his coat he pulled a flat black gun with a cylindrical suppressor attached.

  Benson told the other man, “Stay here and keep the keys in the ignition.” To Jim Day, “You come on and bring the laptop.” Then to Tyler, “Lead on, but don’t make any noise.”

  Tyler pushed through the gate and led them single file along an asphalt drive flanked on both sides by a monotonous series of similar sized roll-up metal doors. Other than an occasional soft footstep he heard only a dog bark in the far off distance. His gut knotted tighter with each storage unit passed. At the end of the row Tyler held up his hand, stopping the procession. He turned to Benson, whispered, “It’s just around the corner.” Only Benson was with him now, he realized. How long ago had the other man dropped away from them?

  They turned left. Tyler’s rental was the third one in from the road. The vertical rolling steel door was half open, light spilling out onto the asphalt. Quietly, Benson moved forward, Tyler and Day following. Benson pulled a gun from under his suit coat, glanced around the door and said, “Find anything interesting Yusef?”

  38

  TYLER STEPPED AWAY from Benson so that he could see into the storage bin. Khan sat cross legged, on the concrete looking up at Benson. He shot a glance at Tyler.

  Benson asked, “Yusef, you have the CD yet?”

  Khan smiled as if nothing was wrong. “Yes, I just found it.” He held up the platter, the overhead incandescent bulb reflecting dancing rainbows off the smooth silver surface.