The Paradise Key (Harvey Bennett Thrillers Book 5)

by Nick Thacker

  The problem was that his mind wasn’t occupied by a cruise — it was just drinking, eating, and… fun — nothing to give him a challenge, nothing to keep him thinking about the solution to a problem.

  And that was his problem — he had to constantly be thinking about the answer to some problem or another, trying to figure out the solution to an issue he had. A cruise offered plenty of time to think, but without a specific problem to think about, it was just constant, mindless emptiness.

  A place like this, a ‘science park,’ bringing together the best in entertainment and education — whatever that meant — seemed to him like a brilliant idea. It would be relaxing in the best way. All food and drink included, combined with a life-sized encyclopedia to walk through for inspiration.

  The helicopter banked and flew over the helipad on the largest of the three circles and prepared to land. They hovered in midair as the pilot righted the craft, then he throttled down and Ben felt the chopper sliding downward. Their pilot performed a perfect landing, the skids dusting the ground and bouncing only once before finally settling on the asphalt pad, and Ben looked over at Julie.

  She strained through a smile. There was tension in her eyes, but she wasn’t as mad at him as she had been when they’d left. She wasn’t exactly content with him, either. “Here goes nothing,” she said.

  He nodded. “I sure do hope it’s nothing,” he said.

  14

  THE MAN WHO CAME TO greet them at the helipad could have passed for a politician. Perfectly coifed hair, dark but not too black, the beginnings of some salted coloring on the sides, just above the ears. He wore glasses that were obviously more for show than anything else, black thick-rimmed frames. He had a dimple on his left cheek, and it seemed as though he knew how to use it.

  Reggie watched him carefully, assessing the man as he approached the open door of the chopper. Reggie was the first one out, and he extended a hand. The man gripped it between both of his, unsurprisingly squeezing it just the right amount but continuing to look Reggie in the eye.

  “Welcome, friend,” the man said. “I’m Adrian Crawford.”

  “CEO and President of OceanTech,” Reggie said.

  If Reggie wasn’t mistaken, it seemed to him as though Crawford’s smile was sheepish, as if he were playing the role of the humble praised.

  “Well, yes,” Crawford replied, waving away his statement. “But more importantly, I will be your personal concierge and representative during your stay.”

  Reggie grinned in reply. “An honor, in that case. And what prestige have we been bestowed with that lends us this recognition?”

  Crawford didn’t even flinch. “You are here as the Civilian Special Operations. Your own reputation bestows upon you that honor.”

  Reggie nodded. “A couple of news reports and magazine editorials, nothing to write home about.”

  “And yet the actual truth of your accomplishments still found a way to reach my ears.”

  Okay, then, Reggie thought. We’re working with a pro here. The man was a politician, of that he had no doubt. The question now was which side this man was playing, and what those sides were. I’ll crack you, he thought.

  “Still,” Reggie continued, “we are grateful for your allowing us to pop in on such late notice.”

  Crawford again waved away the statement. “Truly, it’s nothing. We have plenty of room, and aside from a group of insufferable investors and advisors, you will be the only ones in the park. Our staff, while still thin, has plenty of margin to take on a few more guests.”

  He turned to the side, opening up the dialogue for the others who had just disembarked from the heli. “Besides,” he said, “I am anxious to show off our little slice of paradise here. I believe we’re on to something quite spectacular.”

  Reggie nodded. “And in that regard, your reputation precedes you. We are looking forward to our stay.”

  Ben appeared next to Reggie. He waited for Crawford to notice him, extend a hand, and look him in the eyes before shaking. “Ben Bennett,” Ben said.

  “Harvey Bennett, I presume?” Crawford asked. He performed the double-handed shake and eye contact maneuver on Ben, but Ben seemed to be completely unfazed by the man’s charm.

  “Yes,” Ben said. “Pleasure.”

  Crawford turned to the two women in their group. “And you two are Dr. Sarah Lindgren — big fan of your father’s — and Juliette Richardson. Soon to be Juliette Bennett, if I’m not mistaken?”

  Julie smiled. “Yes, that’s right. Two months, unless he keeps dragging me around the world like this.”

  Crawford threw his head back and laughed. “Well I understand the sentiment, but I do anticipate you will find the accommodations here quite luxurious. I take pride in the fact that OceanTech’s first foray into the world of entertainment and research attractions has been lauded as one of this century’s most ambitious hospitality projects.”

  Reggie allowed him to finish, feeding off the man’s excitement. “Well we certainly are excited to see the place, Mr. Crawford. And personally, I’m excited to see the bar.”

  Crawford smiled at an angle, pushing his dimple out toward the group that was now assembled around him. “Which one?”

  “Now that is an answer worthy of a five-star review, friend,” Reggie said.

  Crawford beamed, soaking in the praise, and the others shifted uncomfortable by Reggie’s side.

  “Let’s get on with it then, shall we?” Crawford said, waving them toward him as he began walking away from the helicopter. They had been nearly shouting at one another in order to hear over the sound of the rotors, and Reggie was grateful for the reprieve. “The first bar we’ll pass is on your right,” Crawford explained, and Reggie could see the cabana house situated near the outer edge of the ring they were walking on, facing inward. “It’s open, but I will have to fetch a bartender for you, which could take a few minutes. I do recommend waiting until we reach the main hotel, however. I’ve sent for some specialties for each of you, and I feel they will all be to your liking. If you’d prefer something else, however, please don’t hesitate to reach out to one of my staff and let them know.”

  Reggie exchanged a glance with Ben. Seems a bit too good to be true, he thought.

  Ben nodded, and Reggie could imagine his response. Yeah, it does.

  Reggie smiled, the large, face-wide grin plastered on his face. The grin that hid himself from the world. He’d worn it well for years. Learned how to use it.

  Crawford was a nice man, practiced and perfected. He was a salesman, and in and of itself that was perfectly fine to Reggie.

  It all just depended on what exactly this man was selling.

  15

  “BEN,” SHE SAID, “CAN YOU believe this place?”

  Julie was still mad at her fiancé, but she couldn’t help but break her cold shoulder temporarily on account of the room she found herself in.

  “Seriously,” he said. “I think this place is even nicer than the ship.”

  The room they’d been led to by Crawford was one of the ‘diamond’ suites, part of a wing of rooms classified as the ‘Great Reef Wing.’ The four of them were all in this wing, separated into three rooms total: one for Ben and Julie, one for Reggie, and one for Dr. Lindgren.

  And the ‘diamond’ label certainly appeared to be a fitting description. The room had the softest, finest carpet Julie had ever stepped onto, dark maroon and ordained with an embroidered floral pattern that was subtle but striking at the same time. The carpet faded nicely into a light hardwood floor that surrounded the immediate area next to a large glass wall that looked out over the water. The hotel was in the central ring of islands, and she could see the outer two lit by the bright mid-afternoon sun, the brilliant greenish-blue ocean resting between each of the circles, and stretching out toward the horizon.

  The glass wall was curved, outlining the edge of the hotel itself. Both of the side walls in the room extended outward from the main entrance hallway at a diagonal toward th
e longer ocean-facing edge, giving the entire room a somewhat triangular shape.

  The bed sat on the carpet against the left wall, a bathroom closed off near it, and a large flatscreen television sat on an entertainment center on the opposite wall. Two armchairs sat on either side of the television, and another poked out from beneath a desk in the corner of the room.

  “Yeah,” she said. “I think this place is a little nicer than the ship.”

  The centerpiece of the room was located between the end of the king-sized bed and the television. An oval-shaped piece of thick glass, about eight feet long and five feet wide, rested on the floor, providing a view directly into the ocean beneath the room. A pair of floodlights shot their beams straight downward from their mounts beneath the room, lighting up the entire oval — and reflecting off the walls and ceiling of the room — in a wonderful array of bluish-green colors.

  “It’s amazing,” Ben said. “They even have automatic curtains. Check this out.”

  Julie watched as Ben reached for a remote control on the table next to the bed, poked at a button, and the curtains began to slide closed over the curved glass wall. The curtains were a mahogany brown, both matching and contradicting the carpet and lighter wood floor colors in a perfect way. The entire space had been meticulously appointed, and Julie couldn’t help but wonder at the genius of it all. It had been designed as a complete package — every piece fit into the whole before it had even been constructed.

  The room slid into darkness, the only light emanating from the orange glow from the two floodlights beneath the glass oval on the floor. The shadows they cast up and into the room were soft, just blurred lines and waves, matching the shimmering lines of the ocean itself underneath them.

  “Ben,” she whispered. “It’s unbelievable.” She looked up to find her fiancé holding on to the top of one of the closed curtains, his body swaying slightly. Suddenly she realized what he’d done.

  She laughed. “Ben…”

  “I always did look better in soft light,” he said, still swaying.

  “You never were one for dancing, though,” she answered. “You going to put on a little show for me?”

  He let go of the curtain and stalked over to the bed, kicking off his shoes on the way. “Takes two to tango, my dear,” he said.

  “Good lord,” Julie replied. “You could at least be original.”

  She found herself sliding closer to the bed as well, opposite Ben. She slid out of her flats, her bare feet cold on the carpeted floor but surprised at just how soft it was. This place isn’t just for looks, she thought. It’s the real deal.

  Ben was already tossing the twenty or so throw pillows that sat on the bed haphazardly in every direction. It was like watching an animal rip through a carcass. She shook her head, still laughing.

  “Someone’s going to have to clean all that up,” she said.

  He looked up, not stopping. “They’ve definitely got someone for that.”

  Ben had reached the bottom of the pile, finally finding the two pillows on his side that were intended for sleeping, and he yanked them up and away from the comforter, which he pulled down halfway.

  Julie was fiddling with her earrings, small diamond studs that Ben had gotten for her before the trip, when a knock sounded at the door.

  She looked at Ben, a slight frown on her face.

  He groaned. “We were just about to —”

  “I’ll get it,” she said. Julie walked over to the door and turned the handle. She cracked it open and looked out into the curved hallway.

  A man, dressed in a black shirt and long black slacks, with shined black shoes, greeted her. “Your bags, miss…” the man said, ending the sentence with an upward lilt.

  “Richardson.”

  “Miss Richardson, indeed. Welcome.” The man smiled and raised an eyebrow, implying that he wanted to carry the bags inside. She opened the door further and he rolled in their suitcases, leaving them along the wall near the closet. He didn’t look at Ben.

  The man shuffled back out and nodded at Julie. “If you need anything, I am number 4 on your phones.”

  “Thank you,” she said. The man nodded again and turned and started walking down the hall. She shut the door.

  Ben was waiting, shirtless, next to the bed.

  “Wow,” she said. “You’re really feeling this place, huh?”

  He grinned, then shrugged. “It definitely has the right mood, wouldn’t you say?”

  She walked over to the bed and began working on her earrings again. She knew there was more to talk about with Ben, but she also knew he’d be more apt to want to talk if they’d spent some time reconnecting first.

  Besides, if the goofy grin on his face told her anything, it was that he wasn’t going to be willing to do anything until they’d ‘reconnected.’

  She was about to pull her side of the sheets down when another knock sounded on the door.

  Ben groaned again, this time nearly running to the door. “I’ll get it this time,” he said.

  She walked to the hallway and stood next to the bathroom to listen in. He opened the door, swung it open quickly, and put a hand on his waist.

  It was Reggie. “Hey there, bud,” he said, smiling. “Thanks for taking your shirt off for me, but I’m afraid we don’t have time.”

  “What are you talking about?” Ben asked.

  “Crawford wants us up for dinner, stat.”

  “Well Crawford can wait, Reg—”

  “It’s a seafood special tonight,” Reggie said. “All-you-can-eat anything, from lobster to crab legs to scallops, from what I heard.”

  Ben paused. Julie rolled her eyes. Unbelievable. If there was anything the man was drawn to more than her, it was food.

  As if on cue, her stomach growled. She reached up and started putting the earring back into its designated spot on her ear, and walked over to where she’d laid her shoes on the carpet.

  “You hear that, Julie?” he asked. “I’d love to stay, but Reggie says we have to leave now to get there on time.”

  “Yeah, I heard. Your stomach’s bigger than your —”

  “We’ll be out in a minute,” Ben said to Reggie, cutting her off. “Sorry. Hold up for a bit?”

  She heard Reggie confirm, then the thick door swing shut.

  16

  ALL OF IT IS INCRIMINATING, he told himself. Every single piece of data. Every single file. Every single thing I’ve touched in this blasted —

  Dr. Lin stopped, thinking. Stop it, he thought. You’re smarter than this. That’s why you’re here in the first place. You’re smarter than all of them.

  He forced himself to slow down, to think. He used a trick a colleague taught him once. He took a few deep breaths and focused on the walls, the floor, and the table in front of him. Noted the coolness of the metal surface, the off-white color of the paint on the walls. Sniffed, noting the stale clinical odor, almost like a hospital. By focusing on the physical characteristics in his immediate area, he forced his mind to relax and worry only about the present. No good can come to one who worries about the future, he thought. An old idiom his father used to repeat. No good can come…

  It was a cheap trick, but it worked. He was a doctor, so he hated such ‘hacks’ that didn’t rely on articulated, data-backed science. It felt gimmicky, like something a shrink would use on a patient for job security.

  But again, it worked. It always had. Dr. Lin struggled with anxiety when he allowed his mind to race forward into the future, extrapolating a problem to its worst possible conclusion. He often went to bed dreaming of a solution to a particular problem, only to awake in the middle of the night sweating, anxious about the same problem’s sudden tenfold increase.

  He took a few more deep breaths, let them out. Calmed himself as best he could. He tried to focus on the positives: this was only a temporary setback, this problem, like all problems, had a solution.

  But he knew the truth. Unlike his irrational mind in the middle of the night, turning a
niggling nonissue into a life-sized bites of terror, this problem was real. This problem was life-sized.

  Literally.

  And, worst of all, Crawford knew about it.

  There had been no getting around that. Dr. Lin had opted for honesty during the board meeting, and he was now second-guessing that decision.

  What good has come of my telling the truth? he wondered.

  He picked up his flattened palm from the top of the metal table and slid around it to the other side. The computer he’d installed and set up sat there, the blank screen waiting. He shook the mouse and the desktop — no icons or clutter to be found on it — immediately stared back at him.

  All of it is incriminating.

  He knew the answer.

  There was research here that he could not destroy. Research that existed outside the realm of what a computer’s hard drive could recall. Research not based on the 1s and 0s of binary computer-speak but the biological binary of DNA and molecules and amino acids.

  Living, real proof.

  He couldn’t do a thing about that. He wouldn’t do a thing about that.

  But he could get rid of the evidence that existed in front of him.

  He opened a shell prompt and typed a few commands. Unix-based, as he preferred, and his fingers flew over the keyboard with the consistency and familiarity of a professional programmer. His genius extended beyond his primary role and day job into all realms of science and mathematics, allowing Lin to explore and prosper in many areas unrelated to medicine. Computers were just one of many ‘languages’ he had thoroughly conquered.

  The prompt dialog box stared back at him, and he read it quickly, three times, just to be sure.

  When in doubt, there is no doubt.

  He’d read that in a book somewhere, some time long ago. He had never really known what it meant — it seemed as though if there was doubt, there… was doubt. The statement reeked of untested postulation, the sort of fancy non-speak he prescribed to the type of folks who thought holistic and homeopathic medicine was real medicine.