Bringer of Fire (12 page)

“My family needs protection until this is resolved.”

Denton nodded. “I understand. I’ll see what I can do. At the very least, we should be able to temporarily enlist the help of local police for additional protection,” he said. “In the meantime, you don’t do
anything
without running it through Sanders first. She takes the lead. I’m not turning you loose on some sort of personal agenda. Got it?”

Sanders appeared quite pleased with herself.

But Denton turned his attention to Sanders and pointed his finger at her.

“And
you
, keep his ass alive. I don’t want any heroics, special abilities or not. We do this as a team, got it?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “By the book.”

Denton drew in a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, well, I think we’re already operating in the gray on this case. At the very least, I’m getting really creative with the rules.”

“Sounds fine to me,” I said. “Now, how about a visitor’s badge?”

This guy’s a real comedian
, Denton thought.

I tapped my temple with one fingertip. “I heard that.”

Chapter 9

Maria Edwards
.

I was obsessed with finding her. And the quicker that we did, the better her chances were of being found alive. Fortunately, Agent Sanders shared both my concern and growing sense of urgency.

The foremost problem? Where to start.

Given that Maria was employed by the Nuclegene Corporation, Sanders determined that our first destination was the company’s local offices, located in the prestigious thirty-story Hamilton Financial Tower downtown. The towering structure was located amidst a two-block square area of prime real estate; the center of corporate powers within the city. A number of the highest-profile financial companies and businesses maintained offices in the Hamilton building.

As we waited for an elevator to take us up to the twelfth floor, Sanders prompted, “Let me do the talking. Just listen in for anything useful.”

“Got it,” I replied, eyeing my khaki slacks and golf shirt and then glancing at her charcoal grey pantsuit.

“You look fine,” she assured me. “And, Bringer?”

I stared into her hazel eyes.

“Stay out of my head,” she warned.

I winked at her as the doors opened to reveal a professionally decorated entry area for Nuclegene Corporation’s local offices. The company had secured two floors of the exclusive building, which seemed considerable given the powerful competing interests sharing square footage in the tower.

After Sanders flashed her credentials, she repeated the whole “we’re with the FBI” routine, which came off as rather impressive, given that I wasn’t on the receiving end of it.

“I’ll just ring Mr. Feinstein’s office for you,” said the receptionist.

“Mr. Feinstein?” Sanders asked.

“Yes, Mr. Feinstein is Director of our Nevis Corners offices.”

Moments later, an administrative assistant quickly escorted us to a nearby spacious office that appeared nondescript, most apparent by the lack of visible personal effects amidst the small stacks of paperwork and folders. However, a nameplate was slightly askew at the front of the desk with the name Max Feinstein inscribed.

“Someone will be with you shortly,” the administrative assistant said, and then quickly extricated herself from the room.

I looked at Sanders with a curious expression but she merely shrugged.

A lady dressed impeccably in a crisp-looking business suit stepped into the office.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “I’m Betty Haskins, Director of Personnel Services. How can I assist you?”

“We’re here to meet with the local director or administrator. Would that be Max Feinstein?”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible as Mr. Feinstein is no longer with the company,” Betty Haskins said.

“Since?”

“Earlier today, in fact,” she said.

Sanders and I exchanged curious glances.

“Then who’s in charge here?” Sanders pressed.

The woman’s former confident-looking composure faltered slightly, so I closed my eyes and tried to clear my thoughts.

“I’ll have to inquire further,” Haskins said.

…runaround from these people
, Sanders projected.

…asked that we not refer anyone to Mr. Bernard
, thought Haskins.

Guy’s gotta cute butt
, came a passing woman’s thoughts.

I opened my eyes and turned to gaze at the curvaceous brunette who looked in at us as she passed by the open doorway. When I turned back to look at Sanders, she glared at me before turning to Ms. Haskins.

“No need. We’ll speak with Mr. Bernard then,” I interjected.

That seemed to catch the director off guard, and she stammered, “I see. Well, I’ll have to check first.”

Minutes later, we stood before another desk that was part of a far more elaborate wing of the floor. Everything surrounding us screamed money.

However, it struck me as peculiar that the entire area seemed new, as if recently remodeled. I also noticed a fellow in a crisp business suit following behind us as soon as we entered the area. His bearing hinted at a military background.

The lady at the desk before us, Sandra Yalesin, was a petite woman with long blonde hair and blue eyes. Yet, she carried herself with the air of someone who bore some authority; evidently somewhat higher in the pecking order than Ms. Haskins.

I focused on clearing my thoughts as much as possible.

“Mr. Bernard is a very busy man, I’m afraid,” Ms. Yalesin hedged. “Perhaps I could arrange an appointment for him to meet with you another time?”

Before Sanders could reply, I said flatly, “Please tell him that Logan Bringer is also here to meet with him.”

Now, what’s he up to
, Sanders thoughts passed across my heightened awareness.

The woman’s eyebrows arched slightly.

“And are you acquainted with Mr. Bernard?”

“Not as such, but he’ll likely still want to see me,” I replied.

I was playing poker on a whim, hoping that Maria’s corporate conspiracy theory was prevalent upward through Nuclegene’s leadership.

An intercom abruptly activated.

“Ms. Yalesin, please invite our visitors in, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

The silent fellow who’d been shadowing us opened the large oak door leading into an expansive corner office with two glass walls looking out onto the city. A tall, barrel-chested fifty-something-looking man with graying hair walked around an oversized desk to greet us. He sported a dark suit that must’ve had a better thread count than most any Arabian prince had in his closet.

“Welcome, Agent Sanders and Mr. Bringer,” he offered with an outstretched hand. “I’m Clive Bernard, President of Nuclegene Corporation.”

As we shook hands with Bernard, the quiet man who’d been following us closed the door behind us and stood at semi-attention.

“It’s a pleasure to meet both of you, but particularly you, Mr. Bringer. I believe you’re one of our company’s most recent cancer success stories,” Bernard said.

…is why Bringer would be here
, came a stray thought from him.

“I hope so,” I replied.

“Yet, such a horrible tragedy about our Wallace Building center; all those wonderful staff and patients,” Bernard added. “I hope the FBI brings good news of progress.”

“As a matter of fact, we’re here concerning the investigation,” Sanders said.

“Please, have a seat,” Bernard gestured to a set of regal-looking leather chairs before his desk. “May I get you something to drink? Coffee, perhaps?”

“Thank you, no,” Sanders replied. “For the record, Mr. Bernard, are you the chief authority within Nuclegene Corporation?”

Bernard sat in an oversized leather chair behind his desk that threatened to engulf the man. I opened my thoughts and waited to listen in on anything useful.

She’s very direct
, came a stray thought.

“Essentially, I’m the company’s head of operations,” he replied. “However, Nevis Wallace, the company’s founder and chairman of the Board of Directors, remains in hierarchical control of the company.”

“So, Mr. Wallace would essentially be the Chief Executive Officer, which means that you work directly for him,” Sanders speculated.

“Precisely,” said Bernard. “Although Mr. Wallace rarely presides over the company’s day-to-day operations.”

“Isn’t it unusual for the company’s president to be presiding here when your corporate headquarters are based in New York?” Sanders asked.

“I temporarily relocated here due to the Wallace Building disaster in order to preside over corporate affairs and the rebuilding effort,” he said. “It was at the request of Mr. Wallace, you see. Many are unaware that, as one of the Nevis Corners’ principal founders and city namesakes, Mr. Wallace has more than a passing interest in what takes place here.”

Too close to home this time
, I silently eavesdropped.

“Do you know Ms. Maria Edwards?” Sanders asked.

I should’ve anticipated that
,” Bernard thought.

“Yes. Ms. Edwards is a physician’s assistant who formerly worked in the Wallace Building,” he replied. “I believe the poor woman has gone missing, according to a news report I saw this morning.”

…still waiting on our team to report back
, came another fleeting thought.

I honed in on Bernard’s thoughts, hoping to glean as much information as possible about Maria.

“Do you know anything concerning Maria’s whereabouts, Mr. Bernard?” Sanders asked.

“No,” he smoothly replied. “Although I wish I did, for her sake.”

…Continuance Corporation outmaneuvering us
, he thought.

“Really nice office, Mr. Bernard,” I said. “Too nice for a local administrator. Mr. Feinstein’s wasn’t nearly so nice, I noticed. Yours is much more presidential-looking. Are you considering relocating your corporate headquarters here on a more permanent basis?”

Sanders frowned at me with a look of stark disapproval. However, Mr. Bernard seemed momentarily unsettled by my question.

What does he know?
Bernard projected.

“Although this topic isn’t currently public, I’ll confide to you that the company is preparing to undergo some restructuring,” he replied. “Quite naturally, companies reorganize from time to time, which occasionally involves relocation of assets or changes in staffing.”

“Like Max Feinstein?” Sanders asked.

“Precisely,” Bernard said.

“Have you chatted with anyone recently about a reduction in staff? Say, perhaps, a tall fellow with red hair,” I asked.

Dammit, Bringer
, Sanders projected.

Bernard’s face turned to stone.

…maybe not the FBI after all
, came a gruff voice in my head.

I flew out of my chair just as the man behind us started moving forward. I half-imagined punching him, even as my fist was propelling forward, and he flew back against the wall with a thud.

My fist never even impacted him!

His right hand snaked inside his suit coat under his left arm as Sanders kicked her chair aside and drew her pistol in one smooth movement.

“Freeze!” she commanded, her pistol pointed directly at him.

“Wait!” Bernard ordered, still seated behind the desk. “Scott, these aren’t the enemy.”

Bringer’s abilities manifested
, came a stray thought.

“Slowly remove your weapon and place it on the floor,” Sanders ordered. “Now, move slowly to stand behind your boss with your hands where I can see them.”

Sanders remained standing with her weapon trained.

“Bernard, you’d better give me a damn good reason why I don’t arrest you both for attempted assault and obstruction.”

Wow, what a fireball of a lady.

She looked over at me and frowned. “You okay?”

I quickly wiped the smirk from my face.

“Agent Sanders, events are transpiring behind the scenes that are well beyond the destruction of a building, dozens of innocent deaths, or a missing employee,” Bernard calmly stated as he slowly folded his hands on the desktop before him. “Frankly, an agency like the FBI is in way over its head here.”

“Go on,” Sanders prompted.

“Governments rise and fall, politicians come and go, but in the past two centuries, corporations continue to thrive,” Bernard continued. “The struggle between such entities reshapes not only the business landscape, but the development of the world’s cultures and societies.”

Great, this guy turned all Gordon Gecko on us all of the sudden. Even his thoughts mirrored his words.

Concentrating only on his speech for the time being, I righted our chairs. Sanders perched on the edge of hers with her pistol balanced in one hand.