CHAPTER 38
Nick Fowler finally finished searching Kevin’s apartment, which he’d gone to immediately after searching Sheila and Burton’s place. “Damn,” he muttered in frustration. He’d found absolutely no clues as to the current whereabouts of any of the scientists involved with John Palmer Ashby. Either they were very good, or they were very lucky. It was not often that amateurs like these could leave a room completely without any clues that a veteran FBI agent like Fowler could find.
Exhausted from the search, Fowler sat on Kevin’s threadbare couch and took some deep breaths. He had to get in shape, he told himself. That damn desk job had caused him to put on thirty or forty pounds since his glory days when he was a field agent. He laughed, thinking he’d been lean and mean in those days, instead of fat and sloppy like he was now.
When he finally got up, he happened to glance at his reflection in a wall mirror—his face was red and blotchy. Fuckin’ blood pressure probably sky-high, he thought.
He decided, what the hell, and he made himself a cup of Kevin’s coffee and sat at the small kitchen table.
Taking out his cell phone, he scrolled through the contacts list until he came to one labeled DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY. He dialed the number and asked for Agent Sam Coburn.
When Sam came on the line, Fowler spent a few minutes catching up with his old friend from their early days in their agencies, and then he got to the point. “Sam, I need a huge favor.”
“Yeah, well, you know I’ll do anything I can to help you, Nick, as long as it doesn’t put my ass in a sling.”
“Nah, this is nothing like that,” Fowler replied. “I’m working a deep-cover case, and I need to know if any heavy hitters from out of town have been caught on your surveillance tapes entering Houston in the past couple of weeks.”
“You mean like terrorists or bomb throwers?”
“No, no. I mean ex-spooks or ex-agency types, maybe working as a PI now or something on the fringes. This guy I’m tracking has some serious skills and he took out a couple of agents I had tailing some suspects like they were newbies.”
“You mean took out, as in killed?”
“No, but he neutralized them without doing any permanent damage, which as both of us know, is even harder than simply killing them.”
“So, you’re thinkin’ ex-CIA or ex-NSA, something like that?”
Fowler shrugged, even though Coburn couldn’t see him over the phone. “Probably, or maybe some sort of special forces, but all I really know is the guy is talented, and he knows how to go underground. My suspects have dropped off the face of the earth.”
“Okay, pal, I’ll dig around and see if anyone has popped up on our radar lately.”
“And, Sam, could you check with that friend of yours over at the NSA? I don’t have any current contacts there whom I can ask.”
“Sure, we share stuff like this all the time. I’ll get back to you within the hour. Take care, Nick.”
Fowler grunted his thanks and hung up. Before he took his last sip of coffee, he pulled out one of his blood pressure pills and swallowed it with the coffee.
Now it’s time to go and review the latest tapes from the Ashby home surveillance, he thought. Maybe he’d get some clue as to the scientists’ new location from them.
* * *
It was almost eight o’clock before Alexander arrived at Ashby’s house in the limousine the billionaire had sent to pick him up at the airport.
When he entered Ashby’s bedroom, Ashby didn’t waste any time. “Goddamnit, Tom, when the hell am I . . .”
Alexander held up his hand and shook his head slightly. “Now, John, calm yourself before you have another stroke.”
Ashby stopped, openmouthed; Alexander had never spoken to him in that tone before.
Alexander moved to his bedside and leaned over, his face close to Ashby’s ear as he pretended to fluff his pillow. “Keep your mouth shut—we’re being bugged,” he whispered.
After a moment, he straightened up. “There, that better?” he asked. “You looked a little uncomfortable.”
Ashby stared at him through narrowed eyes. “Yeah, it is. My neck was getting a little stiff until you fixed it.”
“You know, John, it is a great night, nice and cool for a change. I think I’ll have your nurse put you in your wheelchair and take you out on the patio. While she’s doing that, I’ll go to the bar and fix us both a drink. How about it?”
Ashby nodded, his head canted to the left from the weakness of the neck muscles on his affected side. “Sure, why not? I haven’t been out of this bed for at least a week, ’cept for my daily sponge baths.”
Thirty minutes later, Ashby was bundled into his wheelchair with a blanket over him, even though the Houston weather was warm.
As soon as they were settled, each with a drink in their hands, Ashby got right to the point. “Okay, Doc, what’s with all the whispering, and what do you mean we’ve been bugged?”
He made a downward motion with his hands, “Keep your voice down, John. We’re probably safe out here, but I don’t know how sensitive the microphones are. Kevin called me earlier today, and he said they’re being followed, and not only by the detectives he said you’d hired, but also by the FBI.”
Ashby had the grace to blush when Alexander mentioned the detectives he’d hired, but the mention of the FBI really got his attention. “What? How has the FBI gotten involved in this affair?”
Alexander smirked and shook his head. “Yeah, well, we’ll talk about you hiring detectives to follow my nephew and his friends later ’cause the important thing is the involvement of the FBI. Kevin and his friends think the FBI has been surveilling your house and phones for some time, and when I brought Kevin’s proposal to you about the Phoenix Formula and showed you the videos of the dog and later the test subject, he thinks it sidetracked the FBI off of whatever they were watching you for originally, and it got them onto the Phoenix Formula and all that entails.”
“Son of a bitch!” Ashby exclaimed. He wagged his head vehemently. “Those bastards have no right to bug my house and phones. Just wait till my lawyers get ahold of their sorry asses!”
Alexander took a deep swig of his drink and held up his hand. “No, John, that is just what we can’t do. Kevin reminded me that if we let the Feebs know that we are on to them, we will lose a great advantage.”
“What advantage?”
“The advantage that we know about their surveillance but they don’t know that we know. It’s a perfect opportunity to tell them just what we want them to know and to keep them from knowing our true plans.”
“So, I’m supposed to just let the bugs stay where they are? How the hell am I supposed to conduct my business, not to mention go through with the formula thing without them hearing and maybe even seeing what we’re doing? Hell, you saw that it took almost half an hour to get me out to this patio. We sure as hell can’t do that every time we want to have a confidential talk. That alone would let them know that we are on to them.”
Alexander finished off his drink and set the glass on the patio table. “That is why I think it’s time for you to take a little vacation. How about I mention that you’re looking pale and drawn and that I think you should take some time at your house up in Maine? As I recall, your cabin is on an isolated lake with no neighbors for miles around, and if we plan it right, we can have your people precede us out there to secure the place and make sure the Feebs can’t get in to plant more surveillance equipment.”
When he saw Ashby nodding, he added, “Plus, it will get us out of this fucking Houston heat and will also be a perfect place for us to use the formula and keep our changes from being seen by anyone in the government. You can have enough men coming and going that when we’re younger-looking we’ll just blend in with the other employees when we’re ready to leave.”
“What about my supposed death? How do we manage that?”
“I’ve got that covered. There are plenty of old cemeteries up in that part of Maine. We just dig up a couple of recently buried bodies, place them in the cabin, and have an accidental fire kill both of us. Those small towns don’t have real medical examiners, and it should be easy enough to bribe the local mortician to certify that the bodies in the fire belonged to us.”
“Damn, Tom. That’s a great idea. And the best part is that the cabin is insured for more than it is worth, so I’ll come out okay on that.”
Alexander laughed. “You cheap bastard, who cares about the damn cabin? The important thing is we’ll be free to start our new lives without having to look over our shoulders for the FBI or anyone else who might be looking for us.”
Ashby laughed, too. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Speaking of our new lives, has your man got our new identities all worked out?”
“As a matter of fact, the paperwork came in yesterday. We are all set.”
“And you’ve got your will all set up so your new identity will inherit all of your property?”
“Yeah, all of that is ready. Now, if your nephew will come through with the formula . . .”
“That’s the other thing we need to discuss, John. Kevin now says that since you’ve betrayed them by hiring detectives, they will not send the formula until all of the money is paid in advance.”
“What? Why those dirty—”
Again Alexander held up his hands. “Don’t even go there, John! You brought this on yourself, and after you promised me you wouldn’t try any double-crossing on my nephew and his friends.”
“I only hired those detectives so that I could make sure they didn’t try to get the money and not deliver the formula.”
“Yeah, right,” Alexander said sarcastically. “And stealing the formula for your own use never occurred to you, did it?”
Ashby held up his good hand. “Tom, I swear . . .”
Alexander laughed again. “You wily old bastard. I guess ten billion dollars just isn’t enough for you, is it?”
Ashby, too, laughed. “Uh-uh, nine billion and change after I pay off Kevin and his friends.”
When Alexander just shook his head, Ashby added, “But, Tom, it wasn’t about the money, but about the power that whoever owns that formula will have. We could rule the fucking world with a fountain of youth in our possession.”
“I don’t want to rule the world, John. Like I told you, I just want to start over with enough money to be able to travel and enjoy life and not have anything to worry about.”
Ashby got a faraway look in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do that, Tom. I’ve been fighting and scrambling for so long, it’s become a way of life for me. I just don’t know whether I can sit back and just enjoy life without the excitement of living on the edge.”
Alexander picked up his glass and stood up. “I’m having another, want one?”
Ashby nodded.
“Well, no one says you have to sit around and watch soap operas on TV, John. All your life you’ve been in the oil and gas business, which I think it is fair to say you’ve conquered. However, there are plenty of other worlds out there—communications, electronics, media, even sports teams. With nine billion and change, and being younger and smarter, it’ll be the perfect opportunity for you to find something else to go and conquer.”
Ashby nodded, his eyes far away, “You’re right, Tom,” he said faintly, “it is the perfect opportunity . . .”
“And besides, to tell the truth, John, I don’t give a damn who owns the formula, as long as you keep your word and make sure no harm comes to my nephew.”
“I am a lot of things, Tom, but no one has ever accused me of being a liar to my friends, especially not one as close to me as you are. I say again, nothing bad will happen to Kevin at my hands.”
“Good. Now we’ll have another drink, and then we’ll go back into your bedroom and play out our little subterfuge about you going up to your summer cabin in Maine.”