“Jack!” Curt Vandermade said, walking around the desk, hand outstretched. “I was devastated to hear about the theft.”
“You know Miguel,” Jack said, gripping Vandermade’s hand for a split second. “And this is Dr. Peter Burke.”
“The eminent bio-astronomer,” Vandermade acknowledged. “And your nemesis, Jack. How strange for you to come calling together.”
“We’ve joined forces in the interest of science,” Peter said.
“Oh?” Vandermade cocked an eyebrow. “Gentlemen, have a seat.”
No one sat. Vandermade couldn’t conceal the flush of color on his face at their blatant disregard of his command.
“We paid a visit to Dr. Hollinger yesterday,” Jack said. “He made a surprise appearance on some videotapes from the Museum of Natural History, and we thought he might shed some light on the disappearance of Sahara-Mars.”
Vandermade’s color intensified but he didn’t move.
“It turned out he was quite well-informed on the subject, and we have a very fine recording of our discussion, thanks to Miguel’s camera work,” Jack continued.
Miguel nodded in mock appreciation of the tribute, and pulled a slim plastic case from the inside pocket of his jacket. Leaning forward, he placed it on Vandermade’s desk. “I made a copy on DVD for you, in case you’d like to see it.”
Now Jack sat down in a large leather chair.
He rested his elbows on the overstuffed arms and crossed his legs, the very picture of a man in control of the situation. Miguel and Peter remained standing, flanking him. “We believe you would prefer not to have that recording find its way into the hands of the police and the press, and we’re prepared to offer an exchange.”
“I can discredit Hollinger in an instant,” Vandermade said, snapping his fingers. A vein was pulsing in his temple. “Nothing he says will stand up in court.”
“You blackmailed him into stealing the security codes,” Jack said. “As a scientist, he had access to the staff at the Museum, and he used your money to bribe them.”
“I can make your life very unpleasant,” Vandermade jabbed a finger in Peter Burke’s direction. “Princeton’s always looking for large donors. I’ll insist on some personnel changes in exchange for my donation.”
“Don’t waste your time,” Peter said coolly. “I’ve got tenure.”
“And we all know it’s impossible to get rid of a professor with tenure,” Jack said.
“I’ll make sure you never get a graduate degree at any university in this country,” Vandermade hissed.
“There’s always the University of Djibouti,” Jack shrugged.
“What about me?” Miguel asked. “I feel neglected.”
“You’re just a damned Spic,” Vandermade spat. “I’ll have you deported.”
“I was born in Union City, so that’s as far as you can deport me.” Miguel laughed. “Although I think that’s the worst threat you’ve made so far.”
Jack and Peter chuckled.
“What about that beautiful blond wife of yours?” Vandermade sneered.
Jack was out of his chair and across the five feet between them in an instant, his face mere inches from the other man’s. “If you hurt Charlie in any way, all the security guards you can hire will not stop me from killing you,” he said through clenched teeth.
“Hurt her?” Vandermade laughed nervously. “I’ll buy her. Every woman has her price, and it’s generally surprisingly low.”
For a moment, Jack leaned in even closer, and Vandermade involuntarily shifted back. Miguel took one step toward the two men, then relaxed as his friend straightened.
“I’d like to see you try,” Jack said as he strolled back to the chair and sat down. “This conversation has become a waste of my time. Let’s make the exchange. Get the meteorite.”
“Where’s the original video?” Vandermade said, folding his arms across his chest.
“In a safe-deposit box. Where else would it be?” Jack asked, raising his eyebrows.
“You expect me to give you the meteorite before I get the original? And how many other copies are there?” Vandermade asked. “I’m not a fool, gentlemen.”
“Perhaps I didn’t make the terms of the exchange clear.” Jack stared at Vandermade for a long moment. “You give us the meteorite you stole, and in exchange, we will promise not to release the video to the police or the media. However, the original recording will remain in my possession.”
The billionaire stood abruptly, his fists clenched, his face almost purple. “You’ve made a very powerful enemy today,” he said, his voice shaking with rage. He twisted and stabbed his finger on a button set into the mahogany surface behind him. “Bring the meteorite to my office,” he barked.
As they waited, the only movement in the room came from the pulsing vein in Vandermade’s forehead. Finally, the paneled double doors swept inward, and two men in dark suits side-stepped into the room, carrying the glass and steel cube between them. They took it to a round, leather-topped table and lifted it carefully onto the smooth surface. Vandermade flicked his fingers at the men, and they went swiftly out of the room, pulling the doors shut behind them.
Peter strode over to the table. “At least your goons had the sense to steal the meteorite in its case. You didn’t open it, did you?” he asked sharply as he searched for the light switch.
“They’d have to use an acetylene torch,” Miguel said. “I built that case, and they’d never figure out how to open it.” He walked to the table and ran his fingers along one edge of the cube. The interior light came on, and Sahara-Mars gleamed darkly in its frozen flight.
Jack watched the scientist devour it with his eyes, and a sympathetic smile played around his mouth. “Well, gentlemen, we have what we came for. Miguel?”
Miguel swept the case off the table and walked to the doors Peter held wide.
“Curt,” Jack said, turning back toward the desk, “I hope I never again have the misfortune of being in the same room with you.”
Then he strolled through the doors, leaving them gaping open behind him.
The Land Rover rolled up to the glass doors at the entrance to the Rose Center.
A phalanx of security guards met it, but Miguel refused to hand over his precious burden, so the three men entered the sleek, modern foyer surrounded by a cordon of uniforms. Museum-goers turned to watch the silent procession as it passed under the giant silver sphere of the planetarium and up the steps to the Hall of Planet Earth.
Another group of guards stood at the top of the steps to keep visitors out of the hall, parting to let the meteorite and its escort through. Miguel walked to the pedestal and set the case on top. Pulling a small set of tools from his pocket, he made several adjustments, punched a series of numbers into a keypad and stepped back.
Sahara-Mars once more spun glittering in the brilliant light of a simulated sun.
“Let ‘em in,” Jack said to the guards holding back the considerable crowd.
As the curious onlookers formed a line between the velvet ropes, Jack and Peter stood and watched. One young boy read the plaque aloud to his older brother, “‘Inside this meteorite could lie the answer to the question: is there life on Mars?’ How cool is that?”
“It’s an alien egg,” his brother said, flapping his hands like jaws. “It’s going to hatch and eat us all. Watch out!”
“You dork,” the younger boy said, scornfully. “It’s not that kind of life. It’s like amoebas or something.”
Jack watched the boys examine his meteorite. “I have a brother,” he said, after taking a deep breath.
“I do too,” Peter said. “He likes to pretend I don’t exist, so I go out of my way to annoy him whenever possible.”
Jack turned to stare at the man beside him.
“Yeah, I know you’re my brother,” Peter acknowledged. “I figured it out years ago.”
“Why the hell didn’t you say so?”
“Why the hell didn’t you?”
Jack’s gaze shifted back to Sahara-Mars. “Because who would want a brother who’d murdered his father?”
“That’s ancient history, and the bastard got what he deserved,” Peter said. Suddenly he grinned. “Besides, you dork, I want a brother who catches stars.”
“What?” Jack glanced sideways.
“That’s what Mama told me my big brother did. She’d take me outside for every meteor shower we could see and tell me that my brother was out there catching all those stars falling to earth. For years, I visualized you as some sort of cosmic baseball player.”
“I don’t believe this! Why didn’t Mama tell me you knew?”
“Because I wasn’t going to force myself on you.”
“We’re both dorks,” Jack said, a matching grin lighting his face as he grabbed his not-so-little brother and wrapped him in a bear hug.
Miguel strolled up, his eyebrows arched in inquiry. “Are we celebrating the return of Sahara-Mars or something more private?” he asked.
The two men turned toward him. “It’s a family reunion,” Jack said.
“It’s about time,” Miguel said, shaking Peter’s hand. “Jack would never admit this, but he’s been following your career with brotherly pride. Even when you were complaining loudly about his commercialization of scientific materials.”
Peter shrugged. “I didn’t get to break his toys when we were young, so I had to find ways to make up for it when I got older. By the way, where did you get the name ‘Lanett’? It makes you sound like some shady cardsharp.”
“The bus I took out of prison passed through it. Population 7,897. It seemed pretty snappy to a juvenile delinquent.”
“Let’s go have lunch and celebrate,” Miguel said, chuckling.
“Great idea! Especially if Jack’s buying.”
“We have a lot of lost time to make up for, little brother,” Jack said, his tone serious as he gripped Peter’s hand. “And we’ll do it, but there’s something else I have to make up for first.”
Miguel locked eyes with his old friend. “Would that something have happened last night?”
Jack nodded. “I owe her an apology…and a thank-you,” he added, glancing at Peter.
“I’m glad you’ve come to your senses, amigo,” Miguel said, smiling. “Go mend your fences. I’ll take care of your hermanito here.”
“Remind me to tell you to stay out of my business the next time I see you,” Jack said. “In the meantime, I owe you a thank-you too.”
As Jack cut through the shifting crowd of meteorite gazers, Miguel said to Peter, “I think your brother has finally decided to rejoin the human race.”
Twenty-Five
Charlie had been very grateful that Sallyanne was out when she got home. She’d gone straight to her bed where she’d tossed, turned and cried all night.
This morning she just felt spent.
After picking up Sallyanne and getting the scoop on the slumber party, she retreated to her room with Major padding along behind her. When she stopped in front of her dresser to stare at her reflection in the mirror, he flopped down on the bedroom rug with a long-suffering sigh.
Puffy eyes. Hair carelessly twisted into a lopsided bun. Still wearing her pajama shirt tucked into a pair of ratty blue jeans. She noticed the gleam of her so-called wedding ring, and her breath caught on a sob. She slid it off her finger and held it up at eye-level, tilting it back and forth to watch the crisscrossing lines flicker in the morning sunlight. Then she tossed it onto the dresser where it settled with a small vibrating clatter.
“Face it, Charlotte Elizabeth Berglund,” she said to the mirror, “you just don’t inspire long-term commitment in the male of the species.”
She thought she’d learned that lesson. Certainly Nick and her husband Greg had done their best to instill it in her. Of course, she’d hoped Jack would be different, that he would have the strength and good taste to appreciate her unique qualities. She snorted at her reflection. “Where’d I get that idea?”
Charlie couldn’t bear the pain in her own eyes so she turned away, her hands pressed to her gut as she tried to physically soothe the agonizing ache of Jack’s rejection. A sob wrenched itself from her throat, and she doubled over. An image of Sallyanne floated through the haze of misery, and she found the strength to stand straight again. She glared at the mirror. “You’ve got a daughter to worry about. Moping is not an option,” she said, heading for the shower with a determined stride.
She would get dressed and take Sallyanne shopping at the local bookstore.
That would cheer both of them up.
As she lathered her hair, she allowed herself to consider the fact that Jack hadn’t called, even to let her know what had happened with his visit to Curt Vandermade. “Coldhearted creep!” she said aloud as she ran her fingers through her hair to rinse it.
“Are you sad about something, Ma’am?” Sallyanne asked when Charlie joined her for a glass of milk in the kitchen.
Charlie’s heart gave a little lilt every time Sallyanne called her “Ma’am.”
“No, sweetheart, I think I’m just coming down with a cold,” she said.
“Take some vitamin C,” the little girl said wisely. “It works real well.”
Major sat up abruptly. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he looked toward the door into the living room.
“What is it, Major?” Charlie asked, heading into the other room. Everything seemed fine. “He must have had a nightmare,” she said to Sallyanne, as she patted the big dog’s head. He sat down, but his eyes were open and his ears were cocked forward.
Sallyanne carried her glass to the sink, then went to retrieve her book bag from beside the front door. Charlie was wiping down the table when she heard the little girl cry out, “Papa!”
Charlie raced into the living room, but she was too late. Sallyanne had already unlatched the French door. Don McGraw was stepping inside as she skidded to a halt. “Don, you’re not supposed to be here,” she warned, wishing the police guard hadn’t left when they assumed Don was on the plane to Tennessee.
“My little girl thought I didn’t want to say good-bye to her,” he said, sweeping Sallyanne up into his arms and hugging her. “I couldn’t let that stand.”
“I sympathize, but we have a legal agreement,” Charlie pointed out. Major punctuated her statement with a growl. She laid her palm on top of his shoulder to calm him.
“Well now, don’t they say possession is nine-tenths of the law?” Don said with a smile as he held his daughter against his chest. “I believe I am now in possession.”
“What does that mean, Papa?”
“It means you and I are going to be together, honey pie.”
“You’re squeezing too hard,” Sallyanne said as she started to squirm. “Please put me down.”
Don let her slide to her feet, but kept his arm firmly wrapped across her chest.
“I’m going to call the police,” Charlie said, starting for the telephone.
“I wouldn’t do that, missy.”
She turned to see him pull a hunting knife from behind his back.
Sallyanne screamed. Major hurled himself forward and Charlie shrieked, “Down, Major!” as she saw the knife flash toward the dog’s head. Don’s hold on Sallyanne loosened, and Charlie yelled, “Run, Sallyanne! Run to Isabelle’s!”
She just had time to see the child stumble off the porch when she felt Don’s arm snake around her waist. He yanked her back against him and held the knife to her throat as he dragged her away from the door.
“You shouldn’t have done that, pretty lady. Now we’re going to have to go see Isabelle, aren’t we?” He spoke right into her ear.
Charlie stood very still. Out of the comer of her eye, she could see Major’s body stretched out on the floor. She couldn’t tell if he was breathing, but she couldn’t see any blood. Don pressed the knife closer against her neck and let his free hand roam up to close around her breast.
“Maybe I’ll take you with us. You’d make a
real fine whore until Sallyanne gets old enough to make some money for her papa.”
When Charlie didn’t respond, he slid his hand downward between her legs. She tried to twist away but he laughed and forced his hand between her thighs. “Or maybe you’ll decide to pay me the money I asked you for,” he whispered in her ear as he pushed his fingers hard against the denim of her jeans. “Except the price has gone way up.”
“I’ll pay you,” Charlie whispered. The knife was so tight against her throat she was afraid to speak any more loudly.
“We’ll discuss my terms later. Now let’s go see Isabelle.”
Don let go of her crotch and started to move her toward the back door. A flicker of shadow on the throw rug caught her eye. Please let it not be Sallyanne, she thought. Then the French doors crashed open, the glass shattering.
Jack Lanett stood braced in the doorway.
Charlie almost flinched at the expression of lethal intent etched on his face.
“Let her go,” he said in a deadly flat voice.
Charlie felt Don shift behind her. She closed her eyes for a moment. Then her brain kicked into gear, and she began to run through every extreme survival course she’d ever participated in. Of course, any self-defense course she’d taken advised a woman not to try to defend herself when a man was holding a knife to her throat…
She opened her eyes and smiled weakly at Jack. He might be a coldhearted creep, but she was glad to see him right now.
Jack’s gaze never wavered from Don McGraw’s face. “I called the police before I came in, McGraw. They’ll be here soon, and I’m not moving until you let her go.”
Don pressed the knife even harder against her throat. Charlie gagged.
Jack twitched at the sound.
She felt something warm tickling her throat and realized with a shock she was bleeding. That did it. She wasn’t going to let him slit her throat without a fight. She did a quick mental calculation, blinked at Jack twice, then cut her eyes down and to the left in hopes that he would understand her signal. Please understand, Jack!
Nancy Herkness Page 25
