Olen Anders nodded along to what Sheriff Dayle was saying, silently willing the man to talk faster. Most of the policeman’s points were painfully obvious. Make sure Anders stayed available in case additional questions proved necessary. Make sure the officers had the names and numbers of all guests and of anyone who might have been aware that Mr. Bao was on the island this week. Make sure to call if any of the staff found anything or remembered anything. Make sure, make sure.
The only certainty Anders was concerned with was that Chen Li might be boarding one of the floatplanes back to Seattle at that very moment. Anders needed to have a conversation—make sure that Sebastien had a conversation—with Chen before he left. After might be too late.
Anders shook the sheriff’s hand, complimented him on how adroitly he and his deputies had handled this terrible situation, and strode to the dock as swiftly as his long legs could carry him.
He needn’t have worried. Chen sat on one of the benches along the stone path outside the south wing, intended for island guests to pause and watch the sunrise if they happened to be up that early. Chen’s man Zhang stood a yard off his superior’s right shoulder. Nearer than Anders thought necessary; Zhang’s attitude practically announced bodyguard.
Then Anders remembered that Bao was dead. Naturally Chen and Zhang would both be on edge, no matter how little of it showed on Chen’s composed face.
“Mr. Chen,” Anders said as he drew near, slowing his pace a bit so as not to worry Zhang. “We should talk about what happened.”
“Yes,” said Chen. “I’ve already called for them.”
Anders followed Chen’s glance. Sebastien Rohner and Bill Flynn were coming from the main house, Flynn talking in his usual impassioned manner, hands gesticulating.
“It’s really in our best interest,” Flynn concluded before catching the mood and going silent.
“Thank you for coming,” Chen said.
Rohner stepped forward. “I should be thanking you. I’m very sorry for what happened to Nelson Bao. He seemed like a good man.”
Sebastien had barely met Bao, Anders thought. But what else did one say in such circumstances?
Chen indicated the dock and the conveyances tied to it. Most of the people on the island were already preparing to leave, the household staff aboard the motor cruiser and the planes waiting to receive the guests.
“Time is limited,” Chen said. “I suggest we speak plainly. Nelson will not mind.”
“The sheriff seems to be leaning toward a finding of misadventure,” said Rohner.
Flynn crossed his arms. “What do you believe?”
Rohner looked at each of the men before responding. Anders was familiar with the tactic, which didn’t mean that it was ineffective. Sebastien was expert at making each person in any gathering feel engaged and included.
“I believe two things are possible,” the Droma CEO said. “One is that Nelson slipped and struck his head. I feel strongly that will be the sheriff’s conclusion. As soon as the police allow us all back on the island, we can resume our business.” Rohner inclined his head in sympathy. “The other possibility is that Nelson was attacked. However unlikely that is, we should consider it. If so, then he was assaulted for some reason, and the most logical assumption is that he was carrying something his attacker wanted.”
Rohner turned to Chen. “Was Nelson holding anything for you? For us? Perhaps he noted some details of our deal on his computer or phone . . .”
“My concern is identifying Nelson’s assailant,” Chen replied.
“I’ve been thinking about that as well,” said Rohner, as if Chen had not ignored his question. “To state the obvious, all of us have a substantial interest. We still have validation tests to run, but we all share the confidence that those tests will be successful. None of us here has anything to gain from delaying our deal.”
Chen nodded.
“This would point to an outsider,” Rohner continued. “Someone seeking to steal one of our components or inhibit our progress. I don’t have to remind you of the potential value of our collaboration.”
“And how would that person know what to steal?” Flynn said. “How would they know about any of this?”
“Inside information,” Anders said. “It would have to be.”
“Yes,” said Rohner. “Information provided by someone aware of our tests here this week and how much the resulting solution could be worth. But not one of us.”
He looked at the three other men in the circle. None of them volunteered anything beyond frowns.
It was Zhang, of all people, who broke the silence. “The caretaker. Shaw. He is not a caretaker.”
They looked at him. Chen didn’t turn around but inclined his head slightly to one side. An invitation for his man to continue.
“He is too . . .” Zhang reached for the words in English. “He watches too much.”
“Observant,” Chen said.
“Yes. He is military, or government. A high percentage of training.”
Chen hummed agreement. Zhang seemed to take that as a sign that he’d said enough.
“Shaw did strike me as capable,” said Anders.
“A tough-looking SOB,” Flynn said. “No question. You’re the one who brought him on, Sebastien.”
“He was recommended,” Rohner clarified. “But let’s not run ahead of ourselves. Shaw was the one who found Nelson Bao. Though he also called Anders to the scene. Would he do that if he were Bao’s attacker?”
Flynn shrugged. “Maybe Shaw thought someone spotted him on the beach. He had to cover his tracks.” He pointed to Chen. “He kills your guy for what he’s carrying, hides it somewhere, and pretends to find the body. Which leads me back to the first question. Is anything missing?”
They all looked at Chen. After a moment he nodded.
“Shit,” Flynn said.
“You’re certain?” Rohner had gone stone-faced.
“A portion of the chemical sample,” said Chen.
“Not the whole thing, then? Is there enough left to test?”
“Perhaps.”
Flynn paced. Not so close as to distress Zhang, who Anders noted might be spoiling for some flavor of conflict. “What kind of answer is ‘perhaps’? If we can test it, let’s move forward.”
“We cannot,” Chen said without changing the even tone of his voice, “until I have a new chemist.”
That stopped Flynn abruptly. “We’ve got Morton.”
“No.”
“You can trust his skill. I only hire the best.”
“I require independent verification,” said Chen. “Someone I will engage.”
Flynn fumed. Rohner stepped in before the impulsive Bridgetrust man said anything else. “How long will that take, Mr. Chen?”
“I will be in touch when I know. Gentlemen.”
Chen rose. Zhang fell into step next to him as they walked toward the dock.
The Bridgetrust CEO waited until the two were out of earshot.
“Our Mr. Chen is playing games,” he said.
Rohner was still looking after Chen and Zhang. “His employee is dead. He’s cautious.”
A moment passed before the other man turned to Rohner. His heated emotion gone, as if his face and spirit had been wiped clean by a damp cloth. Even the blue eyes had dimmed to a flat steel.
Anders stared. It was a surprising transformation, even knowing that Bill Flynn was merely a mask that the man had donned for Chen’s benefit.
When he spoke, even the voice was hollow. Stripped down to icy syllables.
“A few billion on the table, you’d think Chen could see his way past one chemist,” he said. “Call me the moment you hear from him.”
When Rohner and Anders didn’t reply, he marched away in the direction of the estate.
When he was gone, Sebastien Rohner turned to his chief of staff.
“If Shaw truly is to blame for Nelson Bao, then we have a larger issue to contend with.”
Anders’s lips tightened. “I should never have sent Kilbane to oust Shaw from the island.”
“No.”
“A miscalculation,” Anders said. “I thought that with Shaw’s intractability, having him leave sooner than planned would be better. We could still have blamed him for the theft once the solution went missing.”
“And now a key element truly is lost. And Shaw may have it. I don’t enjoy the irony, Olen.”
“No. Of course not,” Anders said.
“If Shaw took the sample from Bao, he can only be a pawn. We hired him barely a day before coming here.”
“I agree. Someone must have made Shaw aware of the chemical’s value—or simply paid him to betray us.”
Rohner glanced in the direction of the man who had just left. The one whom Chen Li and the rest of the guests knew as Bill Flynn.
“It has to be Hargreaves,” he said. “We know how he operates. Infiltration. Duplicity.”
Anders considered that. Sebastien was at least partially right, of course. James Hargreaves was not to be trusted. Anders had no difficulty imagining the man resorting to violence if it suited his aims.
But the timing was wrong. If Hargreaves had been behind the theft, maybe with Shaw as his catspaw, then surely he would have waited to steal the chemical sample until the tests had proved its worth. Else he might be left with nothing.
The same reason that he and Sebastien had chosen to wait. There was little point in purloining the solution from the gallery—and making enemies—before they were certain of the rewards.
“It may be Hargreaves behind the theft,” Anders said. “Though I don’t believe even he would risk upsetting the deal this close to victory.” He cleared his throat. “There is one other person within Droma familiar with Shaw. And our history with the chemical.”
Rohner’s brow creased. “Linda?”
“She knows all of the particulars. She could easily have contacted Shaw before he arrived here, and come to a mutual agreement.”
“No. I won’t entertain the idea.”
“It’s doubtful, I agree. I’m merely weighing the possibility. We’ll investigate. Lay our fears to rest.”
The sputter and roar of a seaplane engine came from the dock. Anders had taken the initiative to call the pilot of the larger yellow aircraft, who had lifted off from Seattle shortly after the police arrived. It would return to the city with most of the guests, while C.J. would fly the remainder to Friday Harbor. The staff would have to make the brief trip aboard the Vóllmond.
Rohner looked at the stream of people leaving.
“We need this to happen, Olen,” he said. “To keep all that we’ve built, we need this.”
It was rare that Sebastien allowed a chink to show in his armor of confidence. Anders treated his friend’s openness with the care it deserved.
“I know,” said Anders. “We’ll see it through.”