Shattered Legacy

by Shane R. Daley

  Several reporters began blurting out questions, but Tyler raised his hand and spoke over them. “At this time, I am directing all Templar employees and contractors to offer complete support to federal and state authorities. In addition, I plan to meet with representatives of the Justice Department to discuss how we can best handle this matter in an open and transparent manner. As for today’s events here at the Thomas Dorian Space Center, I ask that we put aside our legal troubles and enjoy a moment of history.”

  He glanced to his left. Ramona Vargas stood beside the stage, staring at him, her face ashen.

  Tyler picked up his notes and turned away from the podium, ignoring the pandemonium that erupted around him. Some reporters reached for their phones and rushed out of the room. Cameras flashed as more questions were shouted at him.

  Tyler walked off the stage and headed for the waiting room. Ramona slammed the door shut behind them, and before Tyler had a chance to speak, she shouted, “What the hell was that?”

  He walked over to the makeup table and leaned into the mirror. “In the beginning of all this, I was led to believe that our problems were due to some sort of political payback by Dorian’s enemies. My first instinct was to fight back. But I wanted an internal investigation to be sure that we were clean.” He glanced up at her in the mirror. “But it turns out we weren’t clean, and that my investigation threatened to uncover some nasty truths about the company. That’s why you and I were both pressured to quickly settle the matter. When I didn’t play ball, they decided to use me as a scapegoat.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You’ll see. But the bottom line is that we were both played, Ramona.”

  “We?” She frowned, not quite getting the picture. “What are you getting at?”

  “Think about it. After my place was set on fire and I received that death threat, who put me under bodyguard protection?”

  “I did.”

  Tyler rose to full height and turned around. “And who first suggested the idea?”

  “Well, Jacob had suggested… Wait, you’re not saying -”

  “Who first supported an internal investigation to prove nothing was wrong, and then swamped the legal department with more data than we could possibly handle? Who then pushed to settle the whole matter? Was that really your idea, Ramona? Think about it.”

  She shook her head with a serious expression. “You should have told me about this.”

  “I didn’t put it all together until now. Besides, you wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.”

  Ramona looked away, teeth clenched. “You should have told me what you were going to do.”

  “No one knew what I was going to say out there.”

  “But I thought Sinclair ordered you to…”

  Tyler shook his head. “Sinclair didn’t know, either.”

  She looked back at him. It took her a moment to understand. When she did, her expression darkened. “But you told me that -”

  “I lied. It was the only way I could get on that stage.”

  She stared at him, open-mouthed. Then her expression shifted to a scowl as the full impact of Tyler’s action became apparent. She stabbed a finger at the door. “Do you know what you just did out there? You admitted on national television that we harbored criminal activity! And now you’re telling me that one of the founders of the company was behind it all?”

  Tyler spread his hands and shrugged.

  She sneered. “You’re done, Samson. Your career is over.”

  “Ramona, this goes back way before you and I were even involved with the company. Believe me, there are things about Templar’s past that you don’t want to know about.”

  “We’ll see about that, asshole.”

  She tightened her jaw and brushed past him toward the door.

  He watched her leave, then slumped back against the wall and lowered his head. This wasn’t his proudest moment. He had lied to his boss in order to expose his company’s fraud to the world. At the very least, his career at Templar was over. Branded as a whistleblower, he would probably never again find work as a corporate attorney.

  Lynn leaned inside the doorway and cleared her throat.

  “The FBI is here,” she told him. “They want to talk to you.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Just outside. Security says more Federal agents are on their way.”

  “Okay, then we are getting out of here. Is the plane ready?”

  “It’s in the private hangar area in the Vehicle Assembly Building.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “But what about the agents?”

  “They can find their own ride. I’m not talking to anyone until I get back to New York.”

  The two left through the side door to avoid the press.

  “For what it’s worth,” Lynn said quietly as they strode away, “I think you did the right thing at that news conference. Telling the truth, I mean.”

  Tyler threw her a frown.

  “Thanks, Lynn. I feel so much better now.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Merrick stood behind a row of automated backup servers in Templar’s Network Operation Center. She had been escorted to the Administration Building’s sub-basement by the floor manager. The manager was called away, but Merrick remained near the port racks, keeping her eye on Lanton, who was pretending to do work at the other end of the room. She didn’t know what he was doing. As far as she knew, the man was not a computer expert.

  Over the steady drone of the servers, she heard a small commotion. She peeked around the aisle and saw a group of dark-suited FBI agents near the main entrance, flashing badges at anyone who came near them. She ducked back, pressed herself against the machinery, and swore under her breath. The FBI was the last thing she needed right now.

  This was not part of the plan, and she hated improvisation.

  Her hand dropped to the screwdriver on her tool belt, and that made her feel a little more at ease.

  Technicians within the glass-enclosed area in the center of the room stared at the agents as the floor manager led them across the main floor. The agents were looking around, clearly impressed with the neat rows of servers and terminals that comprised the computing heart of the Thomas Dorian Space Center.

  As they neared, Merrick took a deep breath, released it, and stepped out into view. Then she took a quick step back and looked at the agents as if she were surprised to see them there.

  “How are we doing with the repairs?” asked the floor manager.

  Merrick stuffed her screwdriver into her back pocket. “Problem solved. It wasn't as big a deal as I thought.”

  “Good.” The manager relaxed a bit as she turned to the agents. “This woman is from the phone company. We were having some sort of a connection problem.”

  Merrick shrugged. “Technically, our responsibility stops at your port rack. But seeing as we did the new drops only a few months back, it's professional courtesy, right?” She noticed someone leaving through the main access. It was Lanton. Then she glanced back at the agents and smiled innocently. “This isn't about the line problem, is it?”

  The manager shook her head.

  “Then I’ll get out of your way.”

  Releasing a deep breath as she left the operations center, she started down the hallway. She had to find Lanton before he did anything stupid. The man was out of control and needed to be dealt with immediately.

  As Merrick turned the corner, a figure stepped into view and plunged a fist into her gut. Merrick doubled over and gasped in shock. Then she was shoved up against the wall.

  “Merrick,” said Lanton, his voice dripping with menace. He leaned close and pulled back his lips to bare his teeth. “Why are you following me?”

  “To keep you out of trouble.” She wheezed, trying to draw breath. After a few moments, she was able to speak normally. “I told you to stay out of this, Lanton.”

  “If you had done your job right, I wouldn’t be here.”

&
nbsp; “I’ve taken care of the details. And while I’ve been wrapping things up, all you’ve been doing is trying kill my mark.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Samson Tyler is the final link between us.”

  “No, he’s not,” Merrick replied, shaking her head. “He’s not my insider.”

  “Sure he is. You talk with him, you meet him. You’ve even been to his apartment.”

  Merrick was shaking her head, trying not to laugh, despite her pain. “You don’t get it, do you? Samson Tyler is being set up to take the fall.”

  Lanton cocked his head to one side and frowned as he digested that bit of information. Then he blinked. “But I thought you were working with Tyler to -”

  “No.”

  “But -”

  “You’re an idiot, Lanton. An idiot.”

  Obviously realizing that he had been dead wrong about Tyler and Merrick’s relationship, Lanton glanced around, bewildered. He quickly grabbed Merrick by the collar, turned to the nearest door and swiped his ID badge through the lock. Then he pushed open the door and shoved Merrick inside. In the darkness, Lanton swept his hand along the rough concrete wall, searching for a light switch.

  When the fluorescent lights sputtered to life, Merrick saw that they were in a large utility closet. Pipes and electrical conduits ran across the ceiling and walls. A sink, mops and cleaning supplies stood in the corner.

  Lanton shook his backpack free, tossed it aside, and pushed Merrick ahead. She stumbled, catching herself on a metal support pillar. She spun around as the door clicked shut. She stopped short when she realized that Lanton was holding a pistol. She backed up a half step, her eyes widening in surprise. Then her expression hardened.

  “What are you going to do, Lanton? Kill me? Is that your big plan? Are you going to kill everyone who was ever remotely involved in this operation?”

  Lanton inclined his head. “That works for me.”

  “The operation is over, Lanton. Let it go.”

  He regarded her carefully. “Have you gone soft on me, girl?”

  “Please. Just let it go.”

  “I have my interests to protect.”

  She took a step forward, her eyes never leaving his face. “I’m going to ask you nicely one time, Lanton. Let me go. Please.”

  Lanton gave a crooked smile and shook his head.

  With a quick flick, a screwdriver dropped from Merrick’s sleeve to her empty right hand. She flexed her wrist, causing the tool to flash under the lights.

  As Lanton shifted his pistol defensively, Merrick stepped forward and batted the weapon aside.

  Lanton shuffled back, but Merrick was faster. She jabbed his throat with her fingertips. His pistol clattered away as he fell to his knees, gagging and gasping for breath.

  Then she grasped his collar with both hands and shoved him sideways. With a wet crunch, his head smashed against the cement wall. He flipped back from the impact and fell to the floor face up, groaning and wheezing. Blood was already matting his hair.

  She crouched over him, her fist raised high, clutching the screwdriver, poised to plunge it into his chest.

  She hesitated.

  Was this what it was going to take? Would it end with the murder of her closest confidant and friend? She was so tired of the blood and lies. It had to end somewhere. It just had to stop.

  She threw the tool aside. It clattered into the corner. Then she stood and backed away, breathing heavily.

  Lanton glared up at her, rubbing his throat.

  Merrick was tired of living fake lives. She was tired of deceit and fighting and murder. And most of all, she was tired of trying to escape from her past.

  But now, as always, there was just one more job to do.

  She picked up Lanton’s fallen pistol and slipped the weapon into her pocket. Then her eyes shifted to his fallen knapsack. “What do you have there?”

  “Leave it alone,” he croaked as he tried to sit up, but Merrick was already rummaging through the bag.

  She held up a pair of plastic flex-cuffs and raised an eyebrow. “And what were you planning to do with these?” She pushed him to one side with her foot, bent down and bound his hands behind his back without much effort. Then she continued to rummage through the pack. “What’s this, explosives?” she asked, holding up a large wrapped bundle and a small, remote-controlled detonator. “C-4. Nasty stuff. What were you going to blow up?”

  “This building,” he said, grunting as he struggled against his bindings. “Figured I could take everything out in one shot. Maybe take out Samson Tyler, too.”

  “Samson Tyler? He’s here?”

  Lanton nodded, swallowing hard.

  “Impossible. I would have known.”

  “Maybe you were too busy keeping tabs on me. By the way, your buddy outed you not more than twenty minutes ago. Spilled his guts on national television.”

  “That’s not funny.”

  “You have to kill him, Merrick.”

  “No.”

  “What do you mean, no? What the hell? Are you growing a conscience or something?”

  She continued to rummage through the backpack. She held up the bomb detonator and slipped the device into her pocket. “I wouldn’t want you accidentally blowing yourself up. That’s the easy way out.”

  She pulled out Lanton’s pistol.

  He grimaced and spat out a wad of blood. “Guess I’m the last victim in your campaign to ‘go legitimate’.”

  “I’m not going to kill you, Lanton.”

  He frowned. “You’re not?”

  “Consider this my parting gift to you.”

  She raised her arm and brought the butt of the pistol down across the back of Lanton’s head. He slumped to the floor. Merrick put the weapon back in her pocket, crouched down and cut Lanton's bindings.

  Then she stood, straightened her overalls and gave the unconscious man a mock salute. “So long, partner. It was nice knowing you.”

  ***

  Merrick walked the empty corridors of the basement.

  Cleanup on this operation had been tough. There had been unexpected complications, but it had all worked out in the end. She didn’t care what happened to Lanton. He would wake up within the hour and slip away. He wouldn't be stupid enough to ever cross her again.

  The Templar job had been very lucrative. She doubted that she could ever again set up such a sophisticated operation. Ending all this had meant severing valuable connections within both Templar and the DOD - some of them literally. It would take months, perhaps years, to build another insider network of such depth.

  She was glad that she would never have to try.

  As she passed an open lounge, she stopped short when she heard a familiar voice. She turned and saw Samson Tyler on the wall-mounted television. Tyler was standing behind a podium, addressing an audience. The news crawl on the bottom of the screen indicated that he had just made a public announcement regarding Templar’s legal problems.

  She frowned. So Lanton had told the truth. But none of this made sense. Samson Tyler could not have been in a position to speak for the company, and she would have certainly been told if the situation had changed.

  Slowly she approached the set. She watched and listened carefully. Her eyes widened as Samson Tyler told his story.

  Her jaw dropped steadily as he revealed her operation, her cover name, and even her photograph for the world to see.

  “Son of a bitch,” she spat through clenched teeth. He had just blown her identity on national television!

  Samson Tyler was supposed to be frightened, disoriented and cut off from support. The noose was tightening around him. He was supposed to be boxed in with the knowledge that he had a hand in this mess. Hell, he should have been in Federal custody already!

  Instead, the man had ruined everything. She shook her head. Her Templar personnel record was supposed to have been deleted ages ago. Now that one identity was compromised, she had to assume that they were all
compromised. She would have to dump everything. All her property would have to be abandoned or liquidated. Her safe houses, her vehicles, everything. Money would have to be switched to new accounts. It would take months to straighten it all out.

  The farm in Vermont? That dream was over. Leaving the country was the only option now.

  As she stared at the screen, she thumbed the detonator in her pocket.

  At that moment, she decided that she was going to finally bury her past, once and for all.

  And damn the collateral damage.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “Get Jacob Jackson.”

  “Are you sure about this?” Dustin O’Dell asked as he exited his office and started down the hallway with his cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “Did you see the press conference?” Tyler's voice was coming through the phone slightly garbled.

  “Yeah, I saw it,” Dusty replied as he turned the corner and rushed past the cubicles of the accounting department. “All I know is that you better not get caught out there in New Mexico.”

  “I’m on my way back right now.”

  “Are you sure it’s Jacob? I don’t like accusing a senior member of management -”

  “You don’t need to accuse him of anything. Just make sure he doesn’t leave the building.”

  “Will do,” Dusty said.

  “And give my regards to Agent Lowell.”

  “You got it.”

  Dusty disconnected and slipped his phone back onto his belt. He was glad that Samson Tyler was taking charge again, because they were about to face one hell of a mess.

  He turned left and stopped before the last office. The door was open. Someone was still inside. Hands draped behind his back, Dusty stood in the doorway, watching Jacob Jackson crouched behind his desk, frantically rummaging through his desk drawers. Stacks of files and papers were scattered all over his desk. Dusty had never seen the place in such a mess. He shook his head slowly; Jackson was cleaning house, a sure sign of his guilt.