“IT’S UP THERE.” Kendra pointed to a two-story building that blended with the desert around them.
It was the first sign of life they’d seen since pulling off the freeway ten minutes earlier and Kendra still wasn’t sure they had arrived at their destination. “It’s not what I expected.”
“It used to be a junior high school,” Lynch said. “It had been abandoned for years when Brock Limited took it over. It came in handy for training their agents in simulated hostage situations. School shootings, workplace violence…”
Her brows rose. “Isn’t that the police’s job?”
“In most places. But there are countries where local law enforcement just isn’t very good at that stuff. It’s easier for companies to recruit top talent for overseas positions if they can assure their safety. That’s where Brock security comes in. They’re not just bodyguards. They’re trained to handle any dangerous situation that might come up.”
“Even if it means stepping on a few toes?”
“It’s amazing how a few thousand dollars to the right person can make local police forgive just about anything. Brock is famous for their little black doctor bags stuffed with cash.”
“Institutionalized bribery. Great.”
“Trust me, sometimes it’s the easiest way to get the job done.”
“So you give away little black doctor bags, too?”
“I prefer jackets with cash sewn in the lining.”
She rolled her eyes. “You probably should be working for them.”
“Absolutely not. My methods differ from theirs in a number of ways.”
“The more you say that, the less I believe you.”
“Believe me.”
She did believe him. His voice was quiet but emphatic and she was suddenly curious what experiences had led to that very specific directness. “Still, Brock seems to think you’d be a good fit.”
“If it gives us access, I’ll let them keep believing it.” He nodded to a tall bearded man standing in the building parking lot. “There’s our welcoming committee. Josh Blake himself. As I told you, he heads this training facility at the moment.”
She gazed at Blake appraisingly. “He doesn’t look so tough. I thought he’d be one of those he-man, special forces types.”
He shrugged. “He’s no pussycat, but he actually has a corporate background. His value to Brock lies in the fact that he’s both efficient and can be totally ruthless if the occasion demands.” He pulled into the lot and parked.
Blake approached as they climbed out of the car. He was obviously amused at the sight of Lynch’s Ferrari. “You’re still driving this hunk of junk?”
Lynch shrugged. “There’s nothing better.”
Blake smiled, flashing a set of teeth that was slightly too white. He was tanned, fit, and appeared extremely sure of himself. “I’m joking. I own two Ferraris. But lately I’ve been tooling around in that Gallardo.” Blake pointed to a bright green Lamborghini sports car behind them. “You haven’t lived until you’ve driven one of those.”
“I have driven one,” Lynch said. “I just like a car that hugs the road a bit more.”
“To each his own.” He extended his hand to Kendra. “Josh Blake. And who are you, pretty lady?”
Lots of white teeth and his voice had lowered to what he must have believed was sexual intimacy. She tried not to look too repulsed by his smarmy charm as she took his hand. “Kendra Michaels.”
He smiled as his hand tightened on hers. “Perhaps I can give you a ride and you can cast the deciding vote.”
She pulled her hand away. “I always leave it to men to decide the relative merits of their sports cars and reproductive organs. It appears to be the two things you guys always seem to love talking about.”
Blake laughed out loud and glanced at Lynch. “Wow. I would be offended, but I think she’s probably right.”
“Right about some of us more than others,” Lynch said.
“I won’t deny it.” Blake cocked his head toward the facility behind them. “Shall we? I’ve been wanting you to see this place for quite a while.”
They followed Blake around the other side of the building to what appeared to be a copy of an army basic training camp, with barracks, shooting ranges, and a challenging obstacle course. Every square inch of the facility was in use.
“This place is packed,” Lynch said.
“We just can’t hire all the people we need. Business is booming. The world’s getting scarier every day and our clients pay us well to make it a little less frightening for them.”
Kendra jumped at the sound of gunshots in the building behind them.
“Sorry about that.” Blake motioned toward the building. “We’re running a drill in there today. An elementary school hostage situation. In some overseas markets, we hold workshops for local law enforcement personnel.”
“You’re teaching them?” Kendra said.
“Where we can. It’s all a part of being good guests in their countries. Our tactical teams actually have contracts with several foreign governments as well as with the U.S.” He motioned for them to follow him to a small trailer parked next to the building. “You’ll be interested in this.”
They entered the trailer, which looked like the control room of a small television studio. Eight men sat at consoles, watching monitors that displayed what appeared to be a very authentic schoolhouse assault. One man spoke into his headset. “Attacker Two, move out of the stairwell.”
On the screens, Kendra saw a black-garbed man with a rifle climb from the stairs and surprise an armed woman standing there. He fired his rifle, and the woman’s armbands and baseball-style cap started flashing.
“That means she’s dead,” Blake said. “It’s her first time in this simulation. She’ll learn.”
“I have to admit it’s an impressive operation you have here,” Lynch said. “How long is the training?”
“A minimum of sixteen weeks. It’s a long time by the standards of our industry, but it separates us from our competitors. Our instructors are ex-special forces, FBI, and CIA.”
“I know a few of them. You have some good people.”
“The best. That’s why we want you.” He cocked his head toward the door and led them outside. He stopped and turned back toward Lynch. “But you know … Somehow I don’t think you’re looking for a job, Lynch.”
Lynch nodded. “You’re right about that. Not at the moment. Though I always keep my options open.”
“And I’ll try to make certain you keep us in mind when you see what a good team we’d make. So why are you here?”
“As it happens, we’re helping the FBI on a murder investigation. I thought you might be of help.”
Kendra stepped forward. “Elena Meyer. Did you know her?”
Blake thought for a moment. “Meyer…” He shook his head. “No.”
“That’s a little strange. Since she was part of the legal team that handled a case for you here in San Diego.”
“Really? I know almost everyone on that team. Are you sure—?”
Kendra raised her phone and showed him Elena Meyer’s portrait photo. “This is her. Ring any bells?”
He studied the screen. “Yeah … Yeah. But she was from another office. An assistant?”
“A paralegal. She was from the firm’s Connecticut office.”
He looked up from the screen. “She’s dead?”
“Murdered,” Lynch said. “Killed on a street downtown. You haven’t heard about it?”
“If I did, it didn’t make an impression. And I certainly didn’t realize it was anyone I’d ever met.”
“No one can tell us why she was here in town,” Kendra said. “Was it something about your company’s case that brought her back?”
“No. The case was over. It was actually one of the least contentious cases we’ve dealt with lately.”
“You get sued a lot?” Kendra said.
“Goes with the territory.” His white smile flashed. “When you’re as successful as we are, there’s a lot of jealousy. Hundreds of millions in income come from the government, so that opens us up to all kinds of oversight committees, congressional review, media scrutiny, you name it. If we’re too aggressive in protecting our clients, we can get sued. If we’re not aggressive enough, our clients might sue us for failing to deliver. We settle most cases, then go to court for the others.” His smiled faded. “I’m being honest with you when I say there was nothing special about this case. Have you spoken with her firm?”
“We have,” Kendra said.
“And?”
“They agree with you. They say the case—and the outcome—were strictly routine.”
Blake nodded. “Still, it’s a tragedy what happened to her. We have some world-class investigators on our payroll. Why don’t I put a couple of them on the case? It’s the least I can do.”
“We’re fine,” Lynch said.
“My people are good. You said so yourself.”
“If we need help, we’ll ask,” Lynch said. “But thanks for the offer.”
Blake raised his hands in surrender. “Fine. Just trying to help.”
“You can help by asking the people in your organization if anyone has any idea who may have done that to her,” Kendra said.
“Done.”
“You know how to reach me,” Lynch said. “If you think of anything—”
“Wait a minute. You don’t get away that easily. I cleared my schedule because I thought I finally had a shot at reeling you in.”
Lynch shrugged. “Sorry for your inconvenience.”
“You can make it up to me.”
“How’s that?”
Blake smiled. “Walk with me just a few yards. To the target range.”
“Why?”
“Your shooting scores at Quantico were through the roof. One of our guys was even in your class. He says it was quite a thing to behold.”
“He was probably exaggerating.”
“He wasn’t. I’ve seen your scores.”
Lynch cocked an eyebrow. “I thought those things were confidential.”
“They are. I just happen to be extremely well-connected.” He motioned toward the shooting range, which was set up to resemble a typical city street. “Please.” His tone was wheedling. “It won’t take you long and I want to see if you’re worth the effort I’ve been exerting.”
Lynch shrugged. “Whatever.”
He and Kendra followed Blake to the range as he continued. “You’ve seen setups like this before. Life-size human-shaped targets will jump out periodically.”
“Of course,” Lynch said. “Kill the bad guys, spare the children and nuns. Fairly straightforward.”
“The way I understand it, there’s nothing straightforward about the way you shoot.”
Blake reached into his shoulder holster and produced a large Walther semiautomatic handgun.
“I’d be honored if you would give it a shot.”
Lynch took the gun. “No pun intended, I’m sure.”
“None whatsoever.”
Lynch ejected the magazine, checked it, and popped it back in. He turned the gun over in his hands. “Nice.”
“She hasn’t let me down yet.”
Kendra smiled. “You’re the first man I’ve ever met who thought of his gun as a ‘she.’”
“Do I sense another phallic joke on the way?”
“No. But it does make me wonder about the relationship you have with women.”
Blake smirked and shook his head. “If you’re that interested, maybe I can show you.”
She had let herself in for that one, Kendra thought. But she still had to look away to hide her disgust. Ugh.
Lynch nodded toward the practice range. “Where do you want me to start?”
“All the way at the left end. Work your way to the right as quickly as you can.” He glanced at the button a few inches away on the side of the building. “All I have to do is press this button and the fun begins.”
Lynch glanced into the gun barrel, then turned to angle it into the sun. He looked back up at Blake. “You have a problem.”
“What’s that?”
Lynch handed the gun back to him. “You have a barrel obstruction. A serious one.”
Blake looked inside the barrel.
Lynch said with dangerous softness, “I don’t need to tell you what might have happened if I’d tried to fire it. The gun probably would have blown up in my hands. I could have been killed.” He glanced at Kendra. “And anyone close to me could have been killed.”
“Killed? I don’t know about that.”
“You want to fire that gun? Go ahead. Just give us time to move away from you.”
Blake inspected his gun more closely. “Looks like the inside of the barrel stripped and fused in a mass. Don’t know how that could have happened. Sorry, Lynch. Let me get another one for you to use.”
“I don’t think so. Inefficiency annoys me.”
“Aw, come on.” He unfastened a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “I’ll have another one brought over from—”
“No, thanks. I’ve decided I don’t have the time.” Lynch’s gaze was ice cold. “Ask around, see if anyone has anything to share about Elena Meyer. If you dig up something for us, then maybe we’ll come back.”
Kendra was warily watching Lynch’s expression as he turned away. He was usually cool and ultracollected in any situation. She had seldom seen him this close to an explosion.
Lynch turned toward Kendra and jerked his head toward the parking lot. As they started walking, Lynch called over his shoulder. “And get that gun repaired. Someone could get hurt.”
The anger was still there. She could sense the explosion was still on the horizon.
She murmured, “Lynch?”
“It’s okay. I just don’t like the game he was trying to play with—” He broke off and stopped, standing very still. “Oh, what the hell! Why not?” He whirled on Blake, his eyes gleaming recklessly. “I’ve changed my mind. I do have the time.” His fingers brushed under the lapel of his jacket and his semiautomatic was suddenly in his grasp. Before Kendra could comprehend what she had seen, he fired a spray of bullets at the large wall-mounted metal button. The block-long shooting range whirred to life.
Then he was on the move!
Kendra gasped at the figures that suddenly appeared on the street. They looked incredibly real from a distance, given away only by their gliding, rather than walking, over thin tracks in the pavement.
There was a postman, a little boy, a couple making out on a bench …
Lynch spun around and shot the young couple, blowing the tops of their heads away.
Only then did Kendra see that the figures were using their closeness to hide small assault weapons.
Several curtains and window blinds slightly parted, mimicking the effect of witnesses peering out from their homes and businesses.
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
Lynch fired at three of the second-story windows, leaving the rest undisturbed. Glass shattered and simulated blood sprayed across the windows. A gun barrel fell through one of the sills.
“Holy shit,” Blake whispered. “He got all three.” He looked at his tablet computer, which showed Lynch’s rapidly-tabulating score.
More pedestrians appeared and Lynch extended his gun in front of him, holding it with both hands. He spun around as he moved down the street, keeping the entire target range in his field of view.
Next up was a police officer, a kid on a skateboard, an old lady carrying groceries …
BLAM!
Lynch shot the old lady, firing through one of the bags in her arms. The bag ripped, showing that it was covering a sawed-off shotgun aimed at Lynch. The lady target fell to the ground.
“An old lady with a shotgun?” Kendra said. “Seriously?”
Blake shrugged. “You never know where the next threat is coming from.”
Lynch passed what appeared to be a homeless man. He ducked behind the figure and fired two shots through a shop window.
More breaking glass, more fake blood, and a “dead” sniper figure slumping though the opening. Lynch fired a shot into the homeless man’s head, and the target flipped back to reveal he was wearing an explosive vest.
“Rough neighborhood,” Kendra said.
“Yeah.” Blake was looking in amazement at Lynch’s score on his tablet.
Lynch spun around, ejecting the ammo cartridge and snapping another in place before the first even hit the ground. He fired two more shots at second-story windows. More splattered blood, and an “Aieeee” scream.
Kendra cocked her head. “I know that yell.”
“That’s because you’ve heard it in almost every movie ever made,” Blake said absently. “It’s called a Wilhelm. Our sound guy couldn’t resist.”
Lynch whirled toward a messenger carrying a large tube on a bicycle. He let the messenger pass but focused his attention on a white pickup truck moving down the street. The truck veered onto the sidewalk heading toward a group gathered around a small produce market. Lynch fired two shots into the drivers-side windshield. The glass shattered, and the truck veered harmlessly into a lamppost.
Then Lynch was running to the end of the street.
He raised his hands. “Time!”
Blake pushed a button on his tablet and looked at the result total. “Unbelievable.”
Lynch holstered his gun and strode back to the start of the course. “Ready to go, Kendra?”
“Sure.”
Blake held up the tablet. “Don’t you even want to see your score? It’s a course record.”
“No, thanks. I’m done here.” He took Kendra’s elbow and nudged her toward the Ferrari. “I’m satisfied. We can leave now.”
Kendra was looking over her shoulder at Blake standing dumbfounded as he gazed at the scores on his tablet. “I don’t believe Blake found the last couple minutes in the least satisfying,” she murmured. “But I enjoyed them enormously.”
“He irritated me,” Lynch said. After they climbed in the car and shut the doors he added, “And it was a way of getting my own back without actually killing the son of a bitch. Though I would have been willing to go that route, too.”
“You were … phenomenal.” She was silent for a long moment. “You don’t think that damaged gun was an accident, do you?”
“No.”
“Neither do I. I’d say today was the first time that gun was in his shoulder holster. It usually holds a gun quite a bit smaller than that one. You could tell by the impressions in the leather.”
Lynch smiled. “Well, you can tell.”
“Anyone could tell, if they paid attention. Before this morning, that holster has probably held only one gun and it wasn’t that one. That damaged Walther was there for you.”
“That’s what I thought. But for what reason? It could have been used to test me, one of Blake’s little games, but that would have been risky. I don’t respond well to games and Blake would know that. Or it could have been a warning.” Lynch started the car and peeled out of the lot. “I tend to go in that direction. You know … outside of a government spy agency, if there was anyone capable of pulling off that cloak-and-dagger style attack on you, it was Brock Limited. And now, thirty-six hours later, the company vice-president puts what amounts to an explosive device in my hands.”
“But why?”
“Obviously they don’t want us pushing on this. I suspect they’re more afraid of you than me. Elena Meyer was trying to get to you when she was killed. But there’s more to it than just one dead woman on a city street.”
“But where does this leave us? We still don’t have anything on Brock.”
“They’d make damn sure we didn’t. They’re good at what they do.”
Lynch turned the wheel as they climbed a hill and took a curve in the road. The car sped up as they rounded the bend.
Kendra gripped the armrest. “Slow down. All that talk about Ferraris and hot cars did not impress me.”
Lynch wrinkled his brow. “I know it didn’t.”
The car’s engine raced.
Something was wrong. “What’s happening?”
“Shit.” Lynch gripped the wheel as his car spun dangerously around another curve in the road. He jammed his foot on the brake, but the car slowed only slightly as a metal-against-metal scream sounded from the undercarriage.
The car lurched forward.
“We have a runaway engine.”
“A what?”
The wheel vibrated harder. “A runaway engine.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Afraid so. Bad oil seal, fuel injectors, maybe an onboard computer glitch.” He pulled the emergency brake, but it only made the car even more difficult to control.
“Lynch…?”
“We’re in trouble.”
They rounded another bend on the desert road, kicking up gravel as the left rear wheel skated over the edge.
“The brakes aren’t working?”
“The brakes are the only thing keeping us from flying off the road at 200 miles per hour right now.”
The rear end fishtailed!
Kendra looked ahead, where the road climbed higher and even more curvy. “Lynch…”
“I see it. Shit.”
The car sped up and went airborne as they jumped a small hill in the roadway. The front bumper struck the road as they landed. Lynch fought to keep the car on the pavement.
“It’s getting harder to handle. Twelve cylinders is a hell of a lot of car.”
The Ferrari roared over another bump in the road.
Kendra’s looked at Lynch’s face. She’d seen him in many dire situations before, but this expression was one she hadn’t seen on him before.
Fear.
The steely focus was still there, but there was also perspiration on his brow and a clenched jaw. His sweaty hands tightened on the wheel. “This car isn’t stopping. At least not in one piece.”
“What do we do?”
“We need to get out without killing ourselves or anyone else. A little difficult to do at eighty miles an hour.”
His eyes flicked to a foothill towering over the road ahead.
“I’m going to try something.”
He drove for a moment longer as his face contorted into a grimace.
“That promising, huh?”
“Hold on to something. We’re about to leave the road.”
“What?”
“It’s going to get bumpy.”
She braced herself against the console. “Where are we going?”
He pointed to the ridge. “Straight up.”
“This is insane.”
“Probably. But it’s the only thing that can slow us down enough to jump out.”
“We could also flatten ourselves against it.”
“Trust me.”
“I do.” She moistened her lips. “It’s the laws of physics I have a problem with.”
“You have to do exactly as I say, when I say. Do you understand?”
She shook her head, her pulse leaping crazily. “Insanity.”
“Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Get ready…” He turned the wheel hard right and spun off the road.
She felt her teeth and spine vibrating in her skull. The Ferrari rocketed over—and through—brush and small stones on the unpaved hillside.
Rocks kicked up and peppered the windshield with spider-web cracks.
If anything, they seemed to be going faster.
“It isn’t working!” Kendra shouted.
Lynch squinted to see through the cracked windshield. “I’m taking us up. Get ready to unfasten your seat belt.”
Kendra placed her hands over the release and looked at the speedometer.
85 MPH.
80 …
70 …
Smash!
A large rock flew up and completely shattered the windshield in front of her face.
Kendra flinched, instinctively turning away.
“Are you all right?” Lynch shouted.
“Yes.” She turned back toward the speedometer as more rocks struck the windshield.
60 …
55 …
50 …
Lynch swerved to avoid a pair of boulders embedded in the hillside.
45 …
40 …
“Unbuckle your seatbelt. Now.”
Kendra looked at his face. This was the Lynch she knew. Calm in the face of overwhelming danger. Totally in control. As potentially deadly as their situation had become, his confidence was exactly what she needed.
She unbuckled her seatbelt.
“When we drop below thirty, open your door and jump. Roll away as fast and far as you can.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
“Your seatbelt’s still on.”
“I’m staying behind the wheel until you get out.”
“Lynch…”
“Don’t argue.”
The car suddenly felt as if it was travelling straight up, though she knew it was impossible. Gravity pulled her back into her seat.
“Get ready,” Lynch said. “Thirty-five…”
He steered the car toward a grassy expanse of the ridge. The engine roared as the tires slid and chewed up the soft earth.
“Now!”
Kendra threw open the door and jumped out. Her right hip landed hard on the hillside as she rolled away. She stopped herself and looked up just in time to see Lynch tumbling down the ridge above her.
She looked up to check the runaway car’s trajectory.
The car.
It was rapidly approaching a sheer ninety-degree angle, which meant …
Oh, God.
It flipped backwards and flew downward.
Directly toward her!
“Kendra!” Lynch shouted.
There wasn’t time to stand. She scrambled across the hillside, half-rolling, half-crawling, with no idea if she was moving toward or away from the car’s path.
The roaring engine filled her ears.
Where in the hell was it?
Bammm. The car rocketed past her, tumbling down across the spot where she’d been only seconds before.
Her gaze followed the car down as it hit the bottom in a cacophony of twisted metal and broken glass. She smelled gasoline. Flames danced in the wreckage.
Lynch was climbing down to join her. “You okay?”
She wasn’t sure. Her heart was pounding, her hands were shaking. “Yeah. I think so.” She panted, “You?”
Lynch nodded. “Better now.” Then he was next to her, pulling her into his arms. “Be still.” The words were smothered in her hair. “Don’t move for a minute. Just let me hold you. I was scared to death.”
She wasn’t about to move. She was clinging to him and the world was slowly beginning to right itself.
It took her a few minutes but she finally managed to let him go. She looked up at him. “It was Brock, wasn’t it?”
“No question.” Lynch stared at his burning car. “I’m sure of it.”
“But we were only away from the car for ten or fifteen minutes.”
“I’ve known people who could do far more in far less time.” Lynch reached into his pocket. “I’ll call Griffin. We’ll have the FBI tow in my car and inspect it. Not that it will probably do much to—”
The Ferrari exploded, casting chunks of burning debris hundreds of feet!
Lynch sighed. “Or at least inspect what’s left of it.”
* * *
THE FBI EVIDENCE RESPONSE Team arrived within ninety minutes and Griffin and Metcalf arrived soon afterward.
Griffin stared at the burned-out husk of Lynch’s car at the base of the ridge, forty feet from the road.
“Wow,” he murmured. “Adam Lynch without his Ferrari. Only now do I realize that my mild annoyance at seeing you in that car was rooted in pure envy. Lord, it was a beautiful machine.”
Lynch looked at him in surprise. “And here I thought you just came out here to gloat.”
“I may have. But the sight of that wrecked car put things in perspective.”
Metcalf joined them and nodded solemnly. “Tragic.”
Kendra looked in disbelief at the three men staring so forlornly at Lynch’s car. “You’re joking, right?”
They weren’t joking.
Kendra stepped between them and the car. “Forgive me for not giving that Ferrari due appreciation at this automotive wake. But, in case anyone’s forgotten, this is the scene of an attempted murder.”
“We realize that,” Metcalf said. He motioned toward the car. “You’re right, but that beauty deserves a little respect, please.”
The twinkle in his eye told her he wasn’t being entirely serious.
“Look, I expect Lynch to go into mourning, but there’s no excuse for anyone else here,” she said impatiently. “I’ve seen some of these same Evidence Response people making jokes while stepping over dead bodies. But for a smashed-up Ferrari, they’re downright grief-stricken.”
“Okay, okay,” Lynch said testily. “I know you’ve never understood. It takes a certain mind-set.” He looked between Griffin and Metcalf. “Any theories about what may have happened here?”
Griffin approached the still-smoldering car. “I talked to Jerome in the garage. He won’t know until he looks at it, but he thinks it could have been a computer hack.”
“I had the same thought,” Lynch said.
“You think someone hacked your car?” Kendra asked.
“Most modern cars have computers more powerful than anything we have in our homes. If someone can access them, they can do a lot of damage.”
“But how could they access it? I know how you coddle that car. That Ferrari was locked and alarmed tighter than a Brinks truck.”
“Much tighter. It was a custom alarm system made especially for me. The key fob and my phone would shriek if anyone even attempted to break in, no matter how far away I was.”
“And we were never more than a hundred yards away from your car while you were playing Superman. Wouldn’t we have known if anyone tried to tamper with it?”
Metcalf looked intrigued. “Superman?”
“You would have had to have been there,” Kendra said.
“It’s good they weren’t. We didn’t need anyone else to stumble over when we were dodging that runaway car chasing us down the hill.” Lynch knelt beside a charred object that may have been a headrest. “And we wouldn’t necessarily know about any tampering. You’ve enjoyed my car’s onboard Wi-Fi. Even though I had CIA-level encryption, nothing’s uncrackable. They could have hacked in and burrowed into my car’s computer system from a mile away.”
“That’s scary.”
Lynch frowned. “I took every precaution, but I guess the only thing that would have worked is if I’d bought that 1963 Aston Martin DB5 I was looking at.”
Metcalf, who had been looking through the rubble, instantly raised his head. “If you get one, can I drive it?”
“We’ll see.”
“Just once, Lynch.”
“We’ll see. In any case, I think a breach of my car’s computer system is a good guess.”
“And can you guess who might have done this?” Griffin asked.
“Kendra and I both have a guess. That’s not the same as proof.”
Griffin looked back at the training center. “Brock?”
“Possibly. It’s too great a coincidence that this happened on their doorstep.”
Griffin nodded. “I agree. And I’m surprised that explosion didn’t bring them running. We’ll go talk to them in a few minutes.”
Lynch glanced behind him. “Or now?”
Kendra turned to see Josh Blake’s green Lamborghini Gallardo pulling over to the roadside, just a few yards from where they stood.
Blake climbed out of his car, clutched his heart, and gave Lynch a sympathetic look. “Dude!”
“Not the reaction I was expecting,” Kendra murmured.
Blake started to join them, but Griffin raised his hand. “You’ll have to stand back. This is a crime scene.”
Kendra moved toward Blake and made the introductions. “FBI agents Michael Griffin and Roland Metcalf, this is Brock Limited VP Josh Blake.”
“Crime scene?” Blake said. “You’re joking. One of my instructors drove by and told us there had been an accident involving a Ferrari. I was worried.” He grimaced at the sight of the burned-out wreck. “You’re lucky to be alive, Lynch.”
Lynch fixed him with a cool stare. “Yes. We are. Twice in one day. How could that happen?”
“But a crime scene?” He shook his head. “It sounds a bit paranoid. Did someone force you off the road?”
“Paranoid?” Lynch’s expression was no longer cool but icy, Kendra thought. He took a step forward as if he was about to demonstrate the head-twist-neck-break move on Blake.
Griffin probably thought so, too. He quickly stepped between them. “Mr. Blake, we’ll be happy to fill you in. But we need to talk to you about what happened here today.”
He looked puzzled. “Why?”
“Just a few questions. Would you mind if we stopped by your facility in a few minutes?”
“I’d be delighted. But I’m afraid that conversation can’t happen until I have one of our attorneys present.”
Griffin stared at him in disbelief. “What?”
“Company policy. Brock Limited employees can’t speak to any law enforcement officer about anything without an attorney.”
“You spoke to us,” Lynch said.
“If I’d known the purpose of your visit, our attorney would have been there.” He turned back to Griffin. “I’m happy to cooperate in any way I can, but first we’ll have to make arrangements for counsel.”
“Do you realize how suspicious this makes your company look?” Kendra asked.
“It shouldn’t. It’s been our company policy for over a year. Check it, you’ll see. I’m afraid my hands are tied.”
“Such a shame,” Lynch said.
“Well, I’m glad the two of you are all right. That’s what’s important.” His smile was beaming. “We have a helicopter heading downtown in a few minutes. If you’d like to hitch a ride, there are two extra seats. I don’t think that Ferrari is going to get you very far.”
“No, thanks,” Lynch said. “We have a ride.”
Blake looked at the Evidence Response Team sifting through the wreckage and his smile didn’t falter. “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He turned and walked back toward his car.
“Huh,” Kendra said quietly to Lynch as her gaze followed Blake. “Can’t imagine why you wouldn’t want to work for that guy.”
Lynch turned back toward Griffin. “How quickly can your people take a look at my car’s computer system?”
“Assuming there’s anything to look at, I’ll have them start this afternoon. And if we have to send it to Washington, we can have it there by early tomorrow.”
“Good.”
“Any news on Elizabeth Gelson?” Kendra asked.
“None. Her husband was supposed to have gotten back from Asia today, so we’ll talk to him. We’ve pulled some traffic cam footage of her neighborhood and our people are combing it for a silver SUV or van. No leads yet.”
Kendra turned back to watch Blake climb into his car and speed away. “What in the hell are they hiding?”
Lynch shook his head. “I have no idea. But they don’t deal in small change. And whatever it is, they appear to believe it’s worth killing both of us to protect.”
“And maybe Elena Meyer?”
“Maybe.”
Kendra thought for a moment. “You have some contacts in the Justice Department and the Department of Defense. Can they tell us more about Brock Limited?”
“I actually reached out to them last night. We’ll see what they come up with.”
She smiled. “I just remembered that I have a source, too. One with a military background who has an uncanny habit of knowing where bodies tend to be buried. She might be able to dig up something on them.”
Lynch raised an eyebrow and then his lips suddenly lifted at the corners. “Sounds very familiar. Anyone I know?”
“Oh, yes.” She met his eyes. “Don’t you think it’s time to call Jessie Mercado?”
* * *
DEREK LOOKED AT THE VIDEO playing on his van’s in-dash DVD player. It was the only movie he’d watched in the past few weeks, but he still wasn’t even close to growing tired of it.
There was a momentary video glitch as the maid of honor lifted her glass to her friend, the bride. “Lizzie and I have shared everything … a dorm room in college, eyeliner, study notes, and our embarrassing affection for sappy Kelly Clarkson songs.”
The crowd generously chuckled.
People would always smile at Barbara Campbell, even though she had violated a cardinal rule of maids of honor.
She was prettier than the bride.
Barbara couldn’t help the fact that she was a natural beauty, but she had obviously spent a lot of time with her hair, makeup, and tanning for the wedding. She was positively luminous.
Bad girl, Barbara. Mustn’t upstage the bride.
He’d have to discuss that with her. And he would, very soon.
Derek looked up from the console screen. He was parked on Collins Drive, across from the clothing boutique Barbara owned with her sister. It was almost closing time, which meant Barbara would soon be locking the store and walking around the corner toward her blue MINI Cooper.
“What can I say?” Barbara’s voice sounded tearful as she continued on the video. “Lizzy, you’ll always be my best friend, my partner in crime, my soulmate…”
Lies. All lies. He knew they never saw each other anymore. But that was okay. They would soon be reunited.
The boutique’s glass door swung open. It was her!
Derek started the van.
It’s showtime, Barbara!