A Powerful Secret

by Dr. Kevin Leman

  His contact flinched at the tone. “We’re tracking it as we speak. I should know soon.”

  “I want to know when that call was placed and to whom, and triangulate the origination.”

  His contact nodded and placed other calls rapid-fire. Within five minutes, he announced, “The call was placed midafternoon yesterday.”

  “Yesterday! So why are we just finding out about it now? And to whom?”

  “An Elizabeth Shapiro. I’ll have a bio and other details shortly.”

  But the man didn’t need the bio and other details. He knew who Elizabeth Shapiro was. It was his business to know. His contact didn’t know everything about him. He’d learned early in his career that the best way to keep matters private was to keep them to yourself. So he only nodded. “She is a secondary issue for now. Focus on the triangulation of the call.”

  “Got it, Boss.”

  52

  FLORES, AZORES ISLANDS

  As soon as Sean stepped off the fishing boat in Flores, he sprinted to the nearby hotel where he’d retained rooms for himself and his pilot while he was on Corvo.

  He was right. The pilot was sunning himself and enjoying being waited on by the local women. A dark-haired beauty was holding a fruity drink out to him as Sean approached.

  Sean waved her off with a finger. “Hey.” He nudged the pilot. “Gotta go.”

  The pilot sat up, looking disoriented for a minute. Then he was all business. “Okay, sir. Where to?”

  Sean liked that. The pilot didn’t argue or ask why he was almost a week earlier than they’d planned. He simply asked for next instructions.

  “To Ponta Delgada as soon as you get the plane ready and fueled. Then when we’re in the air, I’ll let you know where to next.”

  The pilot nodded once. “On it.” A split second later he’d grabbed his towel and was off the chaise lounge, striding toward the hotel building.

  The pilot was a man of few words, didn’t pry or need to know reasons, and moved quickly. He also didn’t seem to be the gossipy type, and he’d been paid well not to reveal anything about his passenger.

  Sean had learned a thing or two about secrecy as a Worthington. Whenever he didn’t want to be splashed across the press, he used his middle name and no last name in any arrangements. He’d done that this time to hire the pilot and had paid for everything in cash. When that many Ben Franklins were handed over, the pilot seemed more than happy not to press for any other details.

  Sean headed back to his room. While he waited for his cell to charge, he sat with his head in his hands. He knew the call he needed to make next—to Jon. He had to apologize for his actions and come clean about his jealousy. In the meanwhile, he took a shower to clear his head. The last time he’d had one was when the rain washed him on the mountaintop in Corvo.

  NEW YORK CITY

  Drew shut the door, then took a seat across from Will in his office. “You know what it means as well as I do.”

  Will nodded. “Sure. When Sandstrom is arrested—and that’s a foregone conclusion from what Sarah has been able to tell me—they’ll be looking for a new or at least an interim CEO.”

  There were rumors of the board being nervous and restless. Sandstrom continued to claim to the inside circle that any proof the DOJ had was circumstantial only—that the internal memos revealed his purpose to make oil economical to the American people. That was what would hold up in court, Sandstrom was confident. But several board members had been heard muttering that they should have listened more closely to Will, instead of being swayed by the silver-tongued Sandstrom.

  “Nobody knows more about AF than you.” Drew studied Will.

  “Except Frank Stapleton. His business experience is broader than mine. After all, he’s the guy who took me under his wing.”

  Drew lifted a brow. “Yes, but sometimes the student can learn to outperform the teacher.”

  Will laughed. “Your proverb for the day?”

  Drew’s eyes twinkled. “Maybe. But Stapleton isn’t in the direct loop of all your research before AF drilled in the Arctic. He doesn’t have the combination of scientific knowledge and business acumen that will be required to guide AF through the Arctic crisis.” He paused. “Neither has he been following every move of AF’s and Sandstrom’s like you have, even since you left the board.”

  “Okay.” Will shrugged. “You got me. You know I can’t let it go.”

  Drew tilted his head. “Maybe that’s because you aren’t supposed to let it go.”

  “But we sold the Worthington shares,” Will argued for the sake of arguing, even though the tactic rarely worked with Drew.

  Drew lifted his hands. “So? Shares are bought and sold every day. You said so yourself. There are lots of places to invest in New York. That means nothing. But it does pave the way for you to be clearheaded about the decision, should you be asked.”

  “And you know this because . . .”

  “The way I know everything. Now is the time to start thinking about how you might want to respond.”

  “Already have. You know I can’t say no to that challenge. I’ve been groomed for it. I thought I wanted it, that it was mine to take on. Got sidetracked for a while. Never thought I’d need to take it on when it was in the worst crisis of its history, though.”

  Drew got up from his chair, smiling. “That’s exactly what I thought you’d say.” He strode to the door, then swiveled right before he grasped the handle. “Interesting about companies in crisis. That’s when the greatest change for the good can occur.”

  He didn’t have to say anything else. Will knew what he was implying. They’d talked about it before. There was no one better prepared or more able to tackle AF’s needed move toward clean energy than Will Worthington. He already had a road map. Had planned the sign markers along the way for several years. The fossil fuel era was ending. The clean energy revolution was dawning. Great business leaders recognized these tectonic changes in the marketplace. Will did in a way that Eric Sandstrom never would. Now was the time to create a new blueprint for American Frontier that would be good for the bottom line—and even better for the planet.

  As Drew exited the office, Will stared out the large glass window with the impressive overview of Madison Avenue. Yes, he could and would make that blueprint happen. Now all he needed was the opportunity, which he had no doubt would come his way.

  EN ROUTE FROM PONTA DELGADA TO FLORES

  The contact’s phone rang again. “Okay, got it.” As soon as he ended the call, he announced, “Corvo.”

  The man’s eyes widened. So Sean was alive. The other two options fell by the wayside. He twirled his finger in a single circle.

  The contact hurried toward the cockpit.

  Within a few minutes, the plane had changed course toward the small island of Corvo.

  53

  PONTA DELGADA

  Sean took a deep breath before he phoned Jon.

  “So you definitely didn’t jump off a bridge,” Jon said in his usual unruffled manner. “I told Elizabeth there was no way. That wasn’t you. She was frantic.”

  Elizabeth, frantic? About me?

  “I’m not going to ask where you’ve been—or why,” Jon added. “But you’ve had a lot of other people frantic too, including your sister.”

  Remorse flooded Sean again. “I, uh, needed a little time away.”

  “Nice line, but I’m not buying it. Tell me you’re on your way home to face the music.”

  “Yes, as soon as I can get there. Looks like tomorrow.”

  “And you’re not going to call them until then, are you? You’re just going to show up?”

  “I have things to tell them that I need to say in person,” Sean explained. “But I called Elizabeth. I also need to say something to you.”

  The newsroom noise faded into the background as if Jon was moving to another room.

  “I’m listening,” Jon said.

  “Remember the last time we talked? When you said you wanted to pursue E
lizabeth, and I said that was fine with me?”

  “Sure do, but—”

  “Wait. Let me get this out. It isn’t fine. When we were on board the Cantor, I realized something but didn’t have the courage to act.” He paused, knowing his next words might irrevocably alter his friendship with Jon. “I love Elizabeth and have for some time. But I will never act on that love, if you feel that way about her—”

  “Sean—”

  “Shut up, man.” Sean paced the hotel room. “It’s hard enough to get this out without you interrupting. I recently learned something about myself, and that’s why it’s so important I explain this to you now. I refuse to make the same mistake that someone else did. Betray the two friends most important to me in the world.”

  “Okay, now you shut up,” Jon retorted. “Because you’re not making sense. But there’s something you don’t know since you’ve taken your trip to . . . well, wherever you are. When Elizabeth thought you might be dead, she was a mess. She said her last words to you weren’t kind. Evidently you two got in an argument.”

  “Yeah, I was stupid—”

  “Hey, don’t want to know why. That’s between you and her. I could have told her at that point that I was interested in her. But I kept hearing this little voice in my head saying, ‘It’s not her. But you’ll know when you find her.’”

  “Wait—you mean you’re not interested in Elizabeth?”

  “Are you even listening to what I’m saying?” Jon said more loudly. “Elizabeth is my friend. You’re my friend. I thought I might be interested, but when she thought you might be dead, I knew why the voice had told me to wait. She loves you, not me.”

  Sean was stunned speechless.

  Jon’s voice broke through the fog in Sean’s head. “Hello? You still on the planet?”

  “You’re sure?” he managed.

  “Of course I’m sure. So when you get your miserable carcass back to New York and make things right with your family—good luck with that—you better get on the first flight to Elizabeth and make that declaration. Time’s a-wastin’.” Jon laughed.

  “So you’re okay with it?”

  “Absolutely.” The single word rang with Jon’s usual tone and confidence.

  Sean sighed. “I’m so glad.”

  “There’s one thing I’m not okay with, though.” Jon chuckled.

  Sean frowned. “What’s that?”

  “Standing any longer in the bathroom to have this conversation. It’s the only quiet place to talk around here.”

  NEAR CORVO

  The man peered out the jet’s window as the lush island of Corvo came into view. His phone rang.

  He listened briefly, then hung up.

  So, Sarah Worthington would be nominated as attorney general. The vetting would be a brutal process, with no certainty that she’d be confirmed by the Senate. The Worthington name carried both prestige and political baggage, even though no family member had ever cashed in their deep political and financial chips for a seat in the Oval Office. Senators on both sides of the aisle would praise and condemn her, for their own reasons.

  The man stroked his lip. Suddenly the reason for the sudden promotion became clear.

  It’s Frank Stapleton, isn’t it? He’s the power broker. Stapleton had convinced Spencer he had to buy Sarah off. What did she know? Or was this solely an attempt to end her passionate search for connections on the AF bombing?

  Word had reached the man that Darcy Wiggins, a DHS veteran not known for giving up, and New York Times reporter Jon Gillibrand had teamed up with Sarah to research the case about the Polar Bear Bomber. The man frowned. Anyone else in the know his contact had talked to seemed to think the case was dead, just like the bomber. End of story. Why then did Sarah and her colleagues continue to pursue it so relentlessly?

  And why was Stapleton working so hard to distract her? What did Stapleton, AF, and Spencer have to lose besides a little potential embarrassment in the media? Sure, they were connected to the Arctic crisis and thus were smarting. But it wouldn’t take long for the press to refocus all the heat on the CEO, Eric Sandstrom. He’d be the scapegoat, and AF and the board would simply look caught in the middle of a dirty-dealing CEO.

  The man scowled. So why would they pull so many strings to get a hot young DOJ attorney from one of the most prominent families in America off the case?

  Something more was brewing. And it had to be big. The man wouldn’t rest until he ferreted out what it was.

  But first things first. Soon they’d land on Corvo. With any luck, they’d be able to finish the mission that had taken them to an archipelago of tiny islands that many hadn’t even heard of out in the Atlantic Ocean.

  54

  NEW YORK CITY

  Sarah was glad for days like today, when work had been so busy she’d barely had time to think about anything else. It dulled the deep ache of her brother still being missing.

  But when her world slowed down and she entered the door of her suite, loneliness descended. She tried to shake it off. Maybe it was because she’d waved off the requests of a couple of co-workers to join them for Friday night dinner and had headed home instead.

  She slipped into yoga pants and a simple T-shirt. As she contemplated what to have for dinner, the doorbell sounded.

  She frowned. People didn’t show up unannounced in her building if the bellman was doing his job. He knew her family, though, and which frequent visitors were approved, and he had her permission to let them come on up. But her mother and father were at their home in Chautauqua, and Will would always call. So that left Darcy. She grinned widely as she opened the door. “Hey, Darc—”

  But it wasn’t Darcy. It was Jon, holding a large bag of aromatic Thai food.

  “Called work and was going to stop by there,” he explained, “but you’d already left. Thought you might like an easy dinner. Maybe some entertainment.” He extended several movie rentals in his other hand.

  “Wow, perfect. Who am I to turn down an offer like that?” She waved him in. Leave it to Jon to charm his way in through the friendly doorman. Then again, maybe the doorman had gotten used to seeing Jon when he, Sarah, and Darcy had been working on the Polar Bear Bomber case at her penthouse.

  They unpacked the food on the kitchen countertop, pulled up stools, and dove in like neither of them had eaten in days.

  “You have no idea how much I needed this.” She gestured with her chopsticks. “Or the company. Thanks.”

  His gentle gaze rested on her. “Maybe I do.”

  Why did she have the feeling he knew more than he was telling her?

  CORVO

  The man peered out the bedroom window of a small white house. There were no hotels on the island, but a villager had told him he knew of a house recently vacated and had escorted him there. His contact would bunk on the miniscule sofa in the living room that was a breath away. The pilot was staying with a local family nearby.

  The villagers were friendly but seemed wary. They must not receive visitors often. Good, he thought. It would be easier to track Sean. A stranger, especially a redheaded Easterner, would stand out.

  But rain had descended, sending the villagers scurrying inside and turning the paths into mudslides. His contact had come back drenched and filthy and said it was hopeless finding anything out tonight. He’d try again in the morning.

  The man sank onto the thin mattress. He tried to roll over and almost fell off the narrow bed. As his hand swept the floor, he touched the corner of something hard. He reached further under the bed and pulled out a book. A Bible.

  Disgust swept over him. Even here, in the middle of the Atlantic, he couldn’t get away from it. Lately he’d had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being pursued. All the mistakes he’d made in life had loomed even larger.

  He flipped open the book to the first page. In the dying light he squinted at what was scribbled there.

  To Sean. Light for your path. Love you to the moon and back. Sarah.

  He sat up, then ju
mped up, nearly hitting his head on the low ceiling.

  So Sean had been here, right here, not long ago.

  But where was he now? Still on the island? Or had he already left?

  It would be way too long until morning.

  55

  NEW YORK CITY

  As soon as Sean’s private plane touched down outside New York City, he hailed a cab and headed immediately for Will’s place. One peek at his face reflected in the cabbie’s rearview mirror and he winced. They’d left Portugal at dawn. He was grizzled and grubby, looking too much like a mountain man. He hoped he didn’t smell like one. But he didn’t want to stop at his apartment first. He had to set things right with his brother.

  Sean admitted it. He needed Will’s wisdom—his brother’s clear thinking—even if it came with a boatload of sternness and the lecture Sean knew he deserved. Half of him hoped Will knew about Thomas Rich. The other half dreaded it if he did.

  Sean knew that Will would be home. His brother was predictable, his weekly schedule like clockwork. At this time on a Saturday he’d be home. There was no time like the present for a reunion.

  After smiling at and greeting the doorman, who did a double take at Sean’s appearance, Sean took the elevator to Will’s place. He rang the doorbell and waited.

  Footsteps neared the door, and then the door opened partway.

  Will stood there, dressed casually. He looked tired. Upon seeing Sean, his eyes widened and he sagged against the door. “You’re . . . here,” he managed. “Alive!” Hurt, confusion, and happiness warred for a place on his face. He seemed unable to move.

  “You’re right,” Sean said brokenly. “You’ve always been right. I don’t think through my actions, how they’ll come off to others. I am so sor—”

  Will grabbed Sean in a fierce embrace. “I thought you were dead. All of us thought you were dead.”

  Then the distanced, upright, proper Will did something uncharacteristic. He began to cry like a baby. “Sean,” Will whispered, “I . . . love . . . you.”