by Dee Davis
The room was silent for a moment as the three board members digested the information. Only Jeremy seemed genuinely surprised. But then, Cullen had already known, and Kingston Sinclair was notorious for holding his thoughts close to the vest.
"So did your friend find anything in the existing autopsies?" This came from Nigel, his lilting accent definitely not American. According to his dossier, he'd started life in rural England. A village in Gloucestershire. His accent, however, belied the fact, the product no doubt of intensive private schooling.
"Nothing that points to foul play," Madison told him. "She did ask for tox screens on Bingham Smith, though. Hopefully, we'll have those back tomorrow."
"Weren't they already run?" Payton asked, frowning.
"Not with the amount of detail Tracy wanted. She's looking for trace elements."
"Something to explain the heart attack," Gabriel said, getting it in one.
Madison nodded. "She's also checking to see if there were tissue samples for any of the others. If so, she'll probably request them and run some of her own tests."
"All of which will take time." Cullen's voice held a trace of frustration.
"It's a start, Cullen." Gabriel's voice had lost its edge. In fact, it almost sounded conciliatory. Madison bit back her surprise. "And we're making inroads in other places, as well. Nigel had a talk with the M.E. who handled Bingham's case."
"Nobody mentioned the fact to me." The words were out before she had time to think about them, and she immediately wished them back.
"There wasn't time." Gabriel's tone was mild, but his eyes spoke volumes, their icy depths reprimanding.
She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it, forcing a smile. "No problem. You just caught me by surprise."
Amusement flitted across his face. And Madison dug her fingernails into her palms, hanging on to her control by a thread. Harrison was right, the man knew how to push her buttons. But there was no sense rising to the bait. Instead, she turned her attention to Nigel. "Did the M.E. have anything to add to his report?"
"Not much." Nigel shrugged. "Only that he was surprised at how healthy Bingham's heart tissue was."
"He was in excellent shape," Jeremy interjected. "Worked out at least three times a week."
"Being healthy doesn't necessarily preclude a heart attack." Payton's voice was deep, almost inaudible, but there was an air about him that made a person want to listen anyway. As if when he deigned to talk, it was because there was truly something important to say.
"I just meant that..." Jeremy trailed off uncertainly.
"We know what you meant, Jeremy," Cullen reassured him. "It's what's been bothering us all. But Payton is right. Healthy men die every day from heart attacks."
"So why the bloody hell are we here?" Nigel summed up everyone's feelings in a sentence.
"Because I think there's something more," Cullen said simply, as if his word was enough. But then maybe it was. After all, they were all here, their respective agencies jumping when Cullen came calling. That kind of power could be heady. The sort of thing that led to God-complexes.
Fortunately, Cullen seemed to be immune to that. Not afraid to use his power, but holding off until all other avenues had been exhausted. It was one of the things she loved about him.
"If there's something there, we'll find it." Gabriel smiled, the gesture not quite reaching his eyes. "We'll just have to keep digging. Nigel also talked to Mrs. Smith."
"Tiffany?" Cullen snorted, and Kingston laughed. An inside joke, no doubt. "Sorry." He sobered. "It's just that she isn't known for her astute powers of observation."
"I'm guessing a second wife?" Nigel asked, amusement cresting in his eyes.
"Fourth," Jeremy offered.
"Ah." Nigel nodded as if that explained everything. "I did find her a bit incoherent, but I wrote it off as grief."
Another snort from Cullen, this time skeptical. "The only thing that would make Tiffany Smith cry is if someone took away her credit cards. Did she have anything at all helpful to say?"
Nigel shook his head. "Only reiterated what we already know. That Bingham was a healthy man."
"I know he played a crucial part in the negotiations, but why don't you spell out exactly what his role was?" Gabriel frowned, eyeing Cullen.
"Bingham had worked in China for years. Even when there were economic sanctions, he still dealt with Beijing."
Payton tipped his head slightly, his attention focused on Cullen, bis gaze speculative. Madison wondered if he was familiar at all with the negotiations. According to Gabriel, he'd been in China when the call went out. An interesting coincidence.
"Bingham's contacts were crucial in establishing the foundation that led to our current negotiations. Without him we'd never have gotten a foot in the door."
"But surely now with things more established, his role was diminished?"
"On the contrary," Kingston said, "as chairman, he was taking a lead initiative in the talks. In fact, he was representing us at the upcoming summit in place of Robert Barnes."
"The man killed in the fire." Madison consulted her notes.
"Correct." Cullen leaned forward, his expression inscrutable. "He also had extensive dealings with the Chinese. They were our primary negotiators. But the others, Stewart, Macomb, Aston and Dashal were also involved. Stewart and Macomb were on the original steering committee. Aston was a close friend and confidant of Bingham's. And Dashal was coordinating our efforts with the Department of State. The president's been very interested in our work, and has given us his full support, and at least to a limited degree, governmental resources."
"Who is serving on the committee now?" Harrison asked, looking up from his laptop. As usual, he was multitasking.
"The steering committee disbanded when negotiations began in earnest. Kingston has replaced Dashal working with State. And of course, I, as chairman, have stepped into Bingham's role, with the aid of others on the negotiating team."
"We'll want a list of those participating in the negotiations. And anyone else you can think of that's connected to the summit." Gabriel jotted something down on a notepad, his brows drawn together in thought.
"Maybe I'm the only one here in the dark, but what exactly is the purpose of this accord, Cullen?" Payton's voice again commanded attention.
"I'm sorry. I should have stated that at the outset. I'm afraid we've all lived with it so long, we take it for granted that everyone knows what we're talking about." He paused to take a sip of his coffee. "Put simply, the accord is an attempt to trade U.S. technological expertise—specifically intellectual capital—for Chinese favored-nation status on certain U.S. technological exports."
"But with the Chinese propensity for communism, not to mention their record on human rights, why would the U.S. government be interested in an agreement like that?" Harrison stopped typing, his full attention on Cullen.
"Money, my dear boy. It's as simple as that. Despite the fact that the economy is beginning to recover, changes won't occur overnight, and for those of us in technology the battle is even harder. Even with increased spending power, large expenditures and capital equipment will be the last to recover. And with so many companies holding on by a thread..."
Harrison nodded. "You need an untapped market. And an agreement for favored-nation status would be just that. Not to mention a political coup for a first-term president."
"Exactly." Cullen smiled at Harrison as if he were a prize pupil. "Unfortunately, your original assessment was correct, too. There is a lot of opposition to the accord, both here in the U.S. and abroad."
"Foreign companies who stand to lose their own contracts if the accord goes through." Gabriel was still studying his notes. "As well as countries who don't want to see the Chinese grow in technological strength."
"But haven't we been dealing with the Chinese under the table all along?" Madison asked. "You mentioned Bingham. Surely he wasn't the only one?"
"There were loads of others," Jeremy said. "But noth
ing on this grand a scale. And certainly nothing as well organized."
"Don't you worry about how the Chinese will use this technology?" Nigel didn't say it, but his meaning was clear. Although the accord was delineated as nondefense, much of the technology being discussed could easily be used for military purposes.
"The truth is they're going to get it one way or the other. The black market is booming. The Israelis and Russians are making a killing. Seems foolish for us to bury our heads in the sand, both financially and militarily."
"That's a pretty hawkish position, surely?" Nigel's question was off the cuff, intended to sound almost flippant, but Madison could tell he was more interested in the answer than he was willing to let on.
"It's a financial position, Mr. Ferris," Kingston said. "Survival of the fittest."
"Gentlemen," Cullen interrupted, "we're not here to argue politics. The summit, and any resulting accord, has the full blessing of the current administration, and that, for the moment, is all that's necessary." There was a finality to his words that precluded further argument. "Our job," he gestured to his two colleagues, "is to make certain that the Chinese continue to work with us toward agreement. Your job is to find out if there is in fact a conspiracy to upset the accord. And if so, you are to eliminate that threat. Am I making myself clear?"
Despite the testosterone levels in the room everyone nodded. Cullen Pulaski commanded respect. Period.
"Good." His smile was genuine. "Why don't we turn this over to you now?" He shot a telling look at Madison and then at Gabriel. "I really just wanted Kingston and Jeremy to meet all of you, and to give you the opportunity to meet us. Obviously we'll want to be kept apprised of your progress and discoveries. And you can always come to us if you have questions." He stood up, and everyone else followed suit.
"I've tried to think of everything you might need." He gestured to the equipment-filled walls. "But I'm sure I've forgotten something. Don't hesitate to ask. I meant it when I said I'd spare no expense. I'm sure you can understand now how important this accord is to the well-being of our nation. It's the beginning of a new age, and I, for one, am not willing to see some disgruntled splinter group try to take it down."
It was a rousing political speech, but unfortunately Cul-len had the wrong crowd. These men might be patriots, but they weren't the kind to worry overmuch about political correctness. What mattered to them was bringing down the bad guys—whatever the reasons.
And just for the moment, Madison was in total agreement.
"You really think this team of yours is necessary?"
"I do." Cullen Pulaski steepled his hands on his desk, and met Kingston Sinclair's worried gaze. "If I'm right about this, everything we've spent the last three years working for could fall apart just as we come into the home stretch."
"But you're basing all of this on a hunch." Jeremy Bos-ner walked over to the mahogany credenza that served as a bar, and poured himself a glass of juice. Tall to the point of seeming gaunt, he looked more like a befuddled professor than a business tycoon, a fact which he used to his advantage more often man not. "It seems to me that this task force of yours only serves to reinforce the Chinese delegation's concerns on the matter."
Cullen sighed, bis gaze encompassing both men. For industrial giants they could be incredibly shortsighted at times. "If anything, it will assure them that we're serious about protecting our interests and theirs."
"Maybe. If there's something to protect us from." Kingston fiddled with the earpiece on his glasses, a ploy he often used when playing for time. "It's within the realm of possibility, you know, that Bing actually died from a heart attack. The police certainly seem to believe that."
"Bing was in perfect health and you know it," Cullen snapped.
"Look, whether you're right or wrong, Cullen, the point is that we're dealing with a delicate situation here. Bing-ham's death, whatever the reason, is going to cause problems in negotiations. He had connections that we can't just reproduce at the snap of a finger." Jeremy ran a nervous hand across his graying hair, smoothing it into place. "And I, for one, can't help but worry that even the rumor of it being something other than a tragic accident has the power to squelch the negotiations altogether."
"That's why I called in Gabriel Roarke. The man's a spook. If anyone can stay under the radar, he can." Cullen waited as the other two men digested the information.
"What about Madison? She's FBI. That's certain to raise some eyebrows." Jeremy gulped the juice, almost choking, a sure sign he was worried.
"She's also Cullen's goddaughter, which means her presence here is already accepted." Kingston surprised Cullen with the defense, but he'd take his allies any way he could get them. "That's part of the reason I wanted her on the team."
"You were in on this?" Jeremy's anger made his face blotchy.
"I discussed it with Cullen, yes." Kingston shrugged.
"But you just asked him if it was necessary." Jeremy's expression grew skeptical.
"I'm still not convinced it is. But Cullen was going to take action with or without us, and so I figured I might as well have some say in the matter."
"I see." Jeremy sat down across from the desk, still clutching his cup. "So it's two against one."
"I wouldn't put it like that." Kingston's tone turned defensive, and he fingered his eyeglasses again.
"Look, gentlemen, we're all in this together. We've invested time, money and a hell of a lot of sweat into making this agreement a reality. And I'm not about to let anyone or anything get in our way. This task force is insurance. A way to appease the Chinese and at the same time hopefully get to the bottom of what may very well turn out to be nothing." Cullen didn't believe the last bit, but that didn't stop him from trying to reassure them.
He needed their cooperation, and he needed their continued financial backing. But he also needed the task force. The truth was he had a hell of a lot more than they realized riding on the accord. And Bing's death had been a major setback.
Hopefully, with everyone's attention focused on the idea of terrorist intervention, other more pressing things would be overlooked. There was simply too much at stake to risk an ill-advised confidence.
Jeremy Bosner and Kingston Sinclair were barracudas. And if they smelled blood, he wanted to be absolutely certain it wasn't his.
CHAPTER FIVE
"I think the first thing to do is pull together what we know." Madison stood in front of a white board, her cool facade apparently running straight to the core. Gabe wondered what it would be like to pull her hair from its pony-tail and loosen the buttons on her white blouse. Madison Harper could use a little rumpling.
He discarded the thought almost before it was finished. The last thing he needed was to involve himself in anything that even resembled a relationship. If he needed release, there were other ways. Right now he needed to concentrate on the task at hand.
"Of the six deaths, how many were from medical causes?" Nigel was studying the names written on the board—dead men who had to be coaxed into telling tales.
"Only two." Madison answered without checking her notes. "Aston and Smith. Both heart attacks."
"Which statistically isn't out of the norm." This from Harrison who was, as usual, typing on his computer. "What's more interesting is the positioning. Aston was the first to die, and Smith the last."
"With four accidents in between." Payton had retreated to a corner, protecting his space.
"An electrocution, smoke inhalation, a car wreck and an apparent drowning." Harrison stopped typing to look up at the board.
"Apparent?" Nigel asked.
"He fell. Hit his head and landed in the bathtub with the water running. Without an autopsy there's no way to know if he died from the fall or the water."
"So why wasn't there an autopsy?"
Harrison shrugged. "Happened in a remote part of Colorado. Way up in the mountains. Doubt they've got the manpower to deal with something like that. Easier to rule it an accident. And at least on the
surface, it certainly looks like it was."
"You've got the police report?" Gabe asked.
"It's right here." Madison left the white board and reached for a file, handing it to Gabe. "The only one of the four we have an autopsy report for is Robert Barnes."
The insistent ringing of a cell phone broke the conversation, and everybody scrambled to find their phone. "Mine," Madison said, flipping it open, moving to the far side of the room so that she could hear.
Gabe turned back to the group. "Robert Barnes was the man who died in the fire." He scanned the file, trying to remember the details. "A warehouse, right?"
Harrison nodded "His own. The autopsy said he died of smoke inhalation."
"Was there an arson investigation?" Payton had moved to stand by the window.
"Yeah." Harrison answered. "For insurance purposes. There was talk of arson, but nothing conclusive. The most likely person to have torched the place was Barnes, and since he died in the fire—"
"They were quick to close the case." Gabe finished for him. "Who was the beneficiary?"
"The bulk of his estate went to charity." Harrison searched his computer screen. "With the odd bequest to staff and friends."
"I take it there was no family?" Gabe asked.
"A couple of ex-wives. No children." Harrison shrugged. "Certainly no one with motive to kill the guy, if that's what you're getting at."
"In order to have a conspiracy," Nigel's voice had turned cynical, "you have to have something to go on. And other than their business connections, I don't see a bloody thing."
"How about proof of murder?" Madison closed her cell phone with a decided snap, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "That was Tracy Braxton. She got the tox screen back, and guess what she found?"
"I assume you're going to tell us?" Gabe snapped, impatience making him speak more harshly than he'd intended.
Her mouth tightened into an angry line, and he wished his words back. Harrison reached over to touch her arm and she relaxed. "She found traces of potassium chloride."
