Adrenaline (7 page)

“Look, why don’t you go find this guy and get the sword cane back? You know Jammer’s going to be crazy until he gets it. He talks about it being his trademark—I think he’s got it confused with his dick.”

Carly laughed. “Maybe you should explain that to him.”

“Oooh, not a good idea.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got no clue where the guy went. He was just a stranger. But even if I did, I wouldn’t give it to Jammer, he’d kill me with it.”

“Naw. He gets it back, he’ll be all right.”

Carly shook her head. “Not when he finds out about Raul. Jammer might kill you too, just for exercise when he finds out about that.”

Darlene paled. “What about Raul?”

Carly lifted a straight razor from her purse. “You know a couple weeks back, you were on that weekend call down at the Cape? Well, he sent me down that way, too.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

“I didn’t tell
anyone.
And don’t you either. Anyway, Jammer said Raul might be ‘a little rough.’ But when I came in, he had a video camera and tools set up like a frigging torture chamber. He started hitting me and said I was going to be out of commission for a while, but that he’d make it worth my while.”

“Oh, shit.”

“He meant broken bones. He meant cutting me.”

“What did you do?”

“I cut the bastard first. On the arm. He’d sent his guys away for the night, and I got away.”

Darlene eyebrows lifted. “And Jammer didn’t do
anything
to you? Raul didn’t send Strike or Lee around?”

“No. Nothing happened.”

“Why?”

“I don’t have a clue. Jammer doesn’t know. I’d be dead by now if he did. As for Raul, I just don’t know.”

“This doesn’t make sense, honey. Guys like him don’t forgive and forget.”

“I know. Believe me, I’m afraid of every car that pulls up on the street that they’ll be inside.” She laughed, bitterly. “A hooker afraid of strange men in cars. That’s why I need to find the guy who cut Jammer for me.”

Darlene was confused. “I thought you weren’t going to find the sword.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m going to find the man.”

Chapter 7

Geoff belayed the top rope as Harrison struggled up the rockface. The fat boy was doing pretty well. Seems that there was some muscle under the flab after all. Harrison’s face was pouring sweat, and he looked scared, but he was still climbing. Fighting the rock harder than necessary. Scrambling rather than setting his feet as Geoff had taught him, not leaning back much, not trusting his grip. But making upward progress. Harrison was nothing if not a climber, Geoff decided.

Or maybe it was just the top rope giving him confidence he didn’t deserve. Geoff had free-climbed the rockface himself, with the coil of rope tied to his backpack. The two kids who were acting as guides—hell, as camp counselors—hadn’t been too thrilled. But they had too many other people demanding their attention. And by the time one of them could have hiked up the back trail to the rockface, Geoff was already up and dropping down the line. Geoff knew he could climb better than either one of them, and they probably recognized it too.

He handled the rope for Harrison now, thinking of all the negotiating he should be doing, building his bridges with the other members of the executive team. That’s why Jansten had arranged the little outing. Plus the old man was an old-time jock himself. High school football quarterback, middleweight boxer in the marines, a half-dozen tennis trophies in his office, and an even more impressive array of sailing trophies.

Normally, Geoff would have been working those points, highlighting their similarities. But almost without knowing it, Geoff had crossed a bridge within the past few weeks. He was too weary of the nonsense to do all that. After what had happened with the bike messenger and Kelly—and then that pimp—Geoff recognized that his personal wiring had changed permanently.

He wondered briefly if he was going crazy. He knew some people would judge him so, maybe call him a psychopath, if they had followed his actions for the past few weeks. His grandparents certainly would have said so years ago, if they had ever dared.

But he wasn’t sure himself. It was as if all of that cold ruthlessness of his earlier days was a prelude to a capacity that was now coming alive within him. And this “capacity” wasn’t so cool. It wouldn’t necessarily hold back for his own good. He looked at his hands, his muscular arms still gleaming with sweat. His belly was hard as a rock from thousands of sit-ups, his legs and chest layered with muscle from years of rock climbing, windsurfing, martial arts training.

His body, his mind, weren’t meant for office politics.

The thought energized him. He wouldn’t—couldn’t—play Jansten’s games any longer. Not even for the money. There were other ways a guy like him could make money.

Still … he had made one fortune within the company … could he really walk away so easily?

Geoff looked down at Harrison and then over at Jansten and Dern.

Steve Dern. His new boss.

Christ.

Geoff decided abruptly to give Jansten Enterprises one more chance.

If it didn’t work, then the place truly wasn’t his kind of company anymore.

Harrison had to claw over the last bit, his eyes wild. He rolled onto his back, gasping for air. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” His face was beaded with sweat, and his white shirt was gray and black with dirt. His knees and elbows were flecked with blood.

Harrison had been acting as if the incident in the bar hadn’t happened; maintaining the buddy fiction. Geoff had let that stand for a while, even to the extent of pouring on the charm to Geena, Harrison’s wife. She was thin, dark-haired, and, Geoff suspected, an equal partner in Harrison’s driving ambition. She had smiled gaily the whole time, her eyes searching Geoff’s face sharply, trying to measure his intent.

Geoff slapped Harrison’s belly with the back of his hand, inwardly repelled by the touch of the man’s sweaty gut. “You wild man,” he said. “You sure showed me something there.”

“Yeah?” Harrison looked over at him, and Geoff could see wariness competing with gratitude in his eyes. “I appreciate that.”

Pathetic.

“Well.” Geoff looked away, feigning embarrassment. “It’s true. And I owe you an apology anyhow, for the way I blew up.”

Harrison sat up. Like a dog, but trying to show some dignity. “Yeah, you do.”

Geoff sighed and was about to continue with his line when Harrison surprised him.

He said, “Hey. I got a couple of things for you.”

“What’s that?”

“Jerry Cahill was in from Dern’s division.”

“Don’t know the man.”

“No reason you would. He’s a senior designer down in Charleston, got lots of years under Dern. I ran into him and got to talking about his old boss. Guess the word is pretty good on Dern.”

“Has this got a point?” Geoff asked, sourly.

“One is that Dern’s kind of quiet. Only has a few real friends. He’s supposed to be crazy about his wife.” Harrison sat up and looked at Lisa climbing easily up a rockface more difficult than the one he had just scaled. “Can’t say I blame him.”

“What else?” Geoff asked.

“Okay, next is a small point. One of his good buddies just moved into the area. Guy by the name of Alex Martin. Was with Steve in the navy. Runs a marine salvage business.”

“So?”

“So Jerry told me an interesting story that is part of the lore back there. You know that Dern was a salvage diver after the navy, right?”

“Everybody knows that.”

“Yeah. But does everybody know Dern and his partner got into a jam diving—and that Dern left him to drown? And that Dern quit diving professionally right after?”

Geoff cocked an eyebrow.

“I went to the library and read the articles. No real blame was assigned to Dern. Fact is, he probably did everything he could, and the other guy’s luck ran out. But Cahill says Dern came out with a case of the shakes as far as diving in tight spots, caves and shit. Even that boat he lives on now, he supposedly did some diving on that salvage job, but it was his buddy Alex who was responsible for bringing it up.” Harrison shivered. “I’m not saying you’d get me in one of those spots either, but, hey, maybe you can jab him with it someday. Guy like him, it probably still eats at him.”

Geoff let his face communicate his appreciation for Harrison’s work. In truth, Geoff was disgusted that Harrison wanted to be told he did a good job rooting garbage.

“That’s good insight,” Geoff said. “You’re really coming through now.”

He paused, letting the fool enjoy the compliment. Then he said, quietly, “I know I drive the people who work closely with me too hard. I push myself just as hard to deliver extraordinary performance. I expect the same from my right-hand man.”

Harrison shrugged. “I’ll give you that. Like climbing this rockface. I didn’t think I could’ve done that.”

Geoff shook his head. “I watched you. You could handle a lot more.”

“You think so?”

“Sure.” Geoff let the full weight of his attention rest upon Harrison. “I’m going to tell you something.”

Harrison sat up slightly. Geoff could count on one hand the times he had confided genuinely important business to Harrison, and the man was flattered—just as he should be.

Geoff told him what Jansten had proposed.

Harrison grinned delightedly. “Holy shit. Number two man in the company! Hell, it paid off, everything we’ve been working toward.” Here Harrison glanced sidelong at Geoff, checking out the reaction on the “we’ve.”

Geoff kept his face blank while Harrison continued, stumbling a little now. “Hey, man, I know long-term that you had your sights on the presidency. But, shit, there’s
going for
something and there’s
getting it.
Really getting it. You shot high, and while Dern’s going to be in your way, who knows what will happen in a few years after Jansten is gone? Dern fucks up, and you’re right there. You’ve still got a good chance of getting the whole thing.”

“I’m not waiting that long,” Geoff said, lifting his binoculars to look at Steve and Lisa. Both were climbing the rockface to the right of Geoff. He had to admit to himself, they both looked good. Not in his league, perhaps, and they set chocks for protection—which, to him, missed the point. But there was no denying that they were strong, competent climbers. Geoff watched Lisa for a while, thinking that on looks alone, Kelly had the edge. Not by much, but there. Of course, she was a good eight or nine years younger. Nevertheless, he had to admit that he wouldn’t mind having Lisa by his side. Those classic features, dark hair and blue eyes. A nice body, a little leaner than Kelly’s. Holding herself well on that rock, sweat beading her brow. Strong woman. When Dern had introduced them before, she had shaken Geoff’s hand firmly, looking him in the eye. “We want to have you out on the boat,” she’d said. “I know you and Steve have a lot to talk about.”

Friendly enough, giving him a chance. But he could sense a toughness in her, a wariness.

He switched the binoculars back to Jansten. The old man was sitting not too far away, looking up at some of the other climbers. Geoff saw him wince slightly, then rub his side. Geoff said, “I’m counting on there being something left inside that old guy besides the Pollyanna I’m seeing now.”

Geoff put the binoculars down. Harrison was practically bursting, clearly wanting to ask what Geoff’s promotion meant for
him.

So Geoff told him.

Harrison’s face went slack. He looked over at the steep wall across from them. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“You wanted to go along for the ride.”

“After all I’ve done …”

“All you’ve done earns you the right to win it. It’s the difference between going for it and getting it. Now shut up while I show you how to rappel down.”

Geoff sat beside Jansten and watched the others climb the easier rockface, the one with the guides.

“I heard our guides yelling at you some,” Jansten said.

“I didn’t ask permission to climb without protection.”

Jansten smiled. “Never your strong suit.”

Geoff kept his eyes on the opposite rockface, looking out at the small ledge that sloped down toward the ground. “I’ve got to ask you something.”

Jansten smiled thinly. “I would expect you do.”

“I’ve got to ask you if any of the man who has been running this company for the past forty years is still left inside you.”

“I think so.” Jansten’s tone remained even.

“You’re sure now? You’re sure he hasn’t been entirely consumed by nice breakfasts, sailing days, and all the sweet nonsense I heard out at your house?”

“I’m sure,” Jansten said, comfortably. “And I can prove it by kicking your ass out of this company any time you want to continue this line of conversation.”

“Not a problem,” Geoff said, looking at Jansten frankly. “Because this second-in-command shit has nothing to do with me. I’m not staying here in that capacity—not for long anyhow.”