Firestorm (11 page)

“I'm a little chilly.”

“Shock.” He got up and headed for the bathroom. “I'll get you some instant coffee. There's a hot-water dispenser in the bathroom.”

“I don't need—” She was talking to the air. She could hear the water running and a moment later he returned with a steaming cup. “Why are you doing this?”

“I told you.” He handed her the cup. “My prime job is to fix what's broken, and this is the only way you'll let me do it.”

She took the cup and cradled it in her hands. The heat felt good on her cold palms. “Fix what's broken . . . Is that really what you try to do?”

“It's what I prefer to do.” He sat down in the chair again. “I can't deny I've done my share of spoiling. I'm not perfect and sometimes I get off on other tracks, but putting things back together gives me the most satisfaction.”

“By interfering.”

He shrugged. “I can't deny it. But when I decided to take charge of my talent, I had a choice to make. I could either use it destructively or constructively, and either way I couldn't pussyfoot around. It's not my way. So what you see is what you get.” He leaned back and gazed at her. “Right now you're pretty messed up, but I think you can work it out for yourself. I just wanted to tell you that I'm here if you need me.”

She nodded slowly. “Thank you. That's very kind of you.”

He grinned as he rose to his feet. “And you're shocked as hell. You've been thinking of me as the bogeyman. Well, I'm a selfish son of a bitch and I'm not always pure as the driven snow.” He headed for the door. “But I have my moments.”

Evidently he did. These last few moments had completely surprised her. “And you came up here to try to make me feel better?”

“Yes.” He opened the door. “But I also have a hunch you're at a crossroad. I wanted to give you all the information you need to decide which path to take.”

The door closed after him before she could reply.

He was wrong. She was upset and shocked, but she wasn't torn by indecision. She just needed a little time to recover her balance after the death of that poor woman. Why had he thought she was? She rejected immediately the answer that occurred to her. He hadn't broken his promise.

How could she be sure? Of course, she couldn't be sure, but she was beginning to know Silver.

Putting things back together gives me the most satisfaction.

Those words had rung true. An important missing piece of the puzzle that was Brad Silver.

And she believed he was trying to keep his promise.

So if he seemed to have insight into her thought processes, it was because he probably knew her better than anyone on earth.

And he thought she was at a crossroad.

Sam whined and rolled over on his back for a belly rub.

She absently stroked him as she lay back down on the pillows. Having Sam here was a comfort. Another thing that Silver had guessed. That didn't mean he was right about her inner turmoil. Perhaps he was nudging her toward this mythical crossroad.

But she was beginning to think he was right about that too, dammit.

Y
ou look more rested,” Silver said as he watched her coming down the staircase with Sam at her heels. “I peeked in your room a couple hours ago and you were sound asleep.”

“I went to sleep almost immediately after you left.” She grimaced. “So if you expected me to lie there and soul-search, you batted out.”

He shook his head. “I'm glad you slept.” He took her arm. “Come on. I'll ask George to have the cook make you something to eat.”

“A sandwich will do. And I don't need a cook.” She glanced at him. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little. I don't need much.”

“Is there anything on the news about Joyce Fairchild?”

He shook his head. “Ledbruk must have managed to cover it. God only knows how.” He gestured to the kitchen chair. “Sit down. I'll make you something. Ham and cheese okay?”

She nodded. “I can make it.”

“I know where everything is.” He went to the refrigerator. “It's more efficient if I do it.”

“Then by all means.”

He glanced at her over his shoulder. “You're being very agreeable.”

“You're offering me a service.” She smiled faintly. “And you're making sense. As you said, it's more efficient.”

He stopped, then turned and leaned back on the refrigerator. “Are we still talking about the sandwich?”

“Among other things.” Her smile faded. “Damn you.”

“And that means?”

“It means that Michael Travis was right. That you were right.” She moistened her lips. “And that if I'd had more control instead of just being a damn sponge, I might have been able to save Joyce Fairchild.”

He didn't answer.

“You're not going to argue with me?”

“Do you want someone to soothe you and tell you lies? It won't be me, Kerry. There's a strong possibility that you're right. On the other hand, it might still have gone down the same way. Who the hell knows?”

“I know. I have a gut feeling.”

“Then it's probably true. I believe in gut feelings. So where is this taking us?”

“I think you know. You said you fix things. Can you also build things?”

“Maybe. What do you want me to build?”

“A wall to keep out all the flak and poison Trask throws at me. It's like being in the middle of a tornado. I can't sort out what's important and what's not. All I can do is try to keep from drowning in the slime.”

“That's not too difficult to do. It's what Travis wanted to teach you to protect yourself years ago.”

“And while you're at it”—she met his gaze—“do you think you can show me how to influence Trask, push him to do what I want him to do?”

He shook his head. “I've never run across anyone who had the same talent I have.”

“I know I can't change his reality. All I want to do is push him a little, maybe find a way to slow him down or divert him so that we can catch the bastard. Is that possible?”

He thought about it. “I don't know. It's possible, I suppose. It depends how well you can defend yourself.”

“Defend?”

“Even if he's unaware of what you're doing, the psyche's defenses are automatic. You'd be safer not trying anything fancy.”

“Will you try to teach me how to do it?”

“If that's what you want.”

“That's what I want.”

“Are you sure you know what you're getting into?”

“Hell, no, I don't have any idea. Tell me.”

“You want me to teach you. I can't be subtle. I can't sneak in and just change everything. You're going to know I'm inside your mind and you're not going to like it. I'm going to have to show you. There's nothing more intimate or intrusive. Do you understand?”

“Do you think I didn't consider every disadvantage you could dream up? You're damn right I'm not going to like it. I'm going to feel like kicking and screaming. I'm going to
hate
it.” She paused a moment to gain control. “But I don't see any other way I can handle this. I won't let anyone else die if I can find any way to prevent it. There are three more people at risk out there.”

“Five. You forgot about you and me. Not to mention the thousands who might be victimized if Trask sells Firestorm to an unfriendly nation.”

“So stop warning me and worry about how you're going to teach me to push.”

He shook his head. “Defense first.” He paused. “And you're going to have to learn to trust me.”

“I'll try. You can't expect me to—”

“I expect everything from you. Just as you'll have to expect everything from me. Total interdependence.”

“Is that supposed to intimidate me? I can handle it.”

He smiled. “But you're scared shitless.”

“That doesn't change anything. Let's go for it.”

“Right now?”

“Now. This minute. I don't want to put it off.”

“Like a dose of castor oil. It doesn't work that way. I set the pace, Kerry.”

“I don't see why I can't—” She shrugged. “So how do we begin?”

He opened the refrigerator door. “We begin with a ham-and-cheese sandwich. Do you like mayonnaise?”

W
hat the hell happened in Tyler Park?” Dickens asked when Trask called him. “The feds were all over the place.”

“How do you know?”

“Did you think I wasn't going to keep an eye on what was going on? I'm the one who did the legwork scoping the park out for you. I'm the one who might be remembered and recognized.” He paused. “What did you do?”

“You don't want to know.”

Dickens swore softly. “I didn't buy into anything that might get me hung out to dry. I'm not getting paid to take those kinds of risks. Ki Yong said that all I had to do was some basic tailing and bugging.”

“But I'm sure Ki Yong said you were to obey my orders. I don't think you'd like me to tell him I'm not happy with you. He might decide to finesse you into Guantánamo with those other terrorist suspects.”

“Jesus, I'm no terrorist.”

“It's a fine line. I don't consider myself a terrorist either, but Homeland Security might have a different view. And you're my accomplice, aren't you?”

“Accomplice to what?” He paused. “Did you kill her?”

“Of course. You knew it was going to happen. That's what makes you an accomplice.” His tone hardened. “Enough, Dickens. It's over. I didn't call you to discuss what happened in Tyler Park. I need to know about Kerry Murphy. What have you found out?”

Dickens was silent a moment. “You know about her brother and his wife. Her father, Ron Murphy, is still alive, but she doesn't see much of him. He's a journalist and seems to be closer to his son. She has friends, but no one very close. You're looking for a hook?”

“No, I'm looking for bait. Someone to draw her out and away from Silver.”

“I thought Silver was your next—” He stopped. “You had me find out everything I could about him.”

Trask chuckled. “You see, you are an accomplice. So stop wobbling, Dickens. Silver is a target, but Kerry Murphy has a special appeal for me.” And excitement. He'd thought that the Fairchild killing would cause that excitement to abate, but it hadn't happened. What was it about Kerry Murphy that made him feel this sense of closeness to her? The fact that Silver had brought her here to track him down? The fact that he had failed in killing her and her family that night?

No, it was something else, something he couldn't put his finger on. Oh, well, it would come to him. “I'll stay in touch, Dickens. Keep on the woman. Don't just tail her. I want to know everything about her. Watch her, get a tech van, and monitor her phone calls. Let me know when you find a hole in her armor.”

“If I find a hole.”

“No, Dickens, when. Everyone is vulnerable—even you.” He hung up before Dickens could reply. He didn't want Dickens to have a chance to stammer or ask questions. It was important to strike just the right note with people of his caliber. You had to instill fear and never let them get the upper hand. Ki Yong had furnished him with a tool that was only adequate and had to be constantly sharpened.

Until it was worn out and had to be destroyed and tossed away.

8
                                                                                                                                                

I
can't see you right now, Gillen. Perhaps in a day or two. Just be patient and—” Silver looked up as Kerry marched into the library and plopped down in the visitor's chair in front of the desk. “I'll call you back.” He hung up and stared warily at her. “May I help you?”

“You're damn right. It's been two days,” Kerry said. “And I'm tired of waiting for you to start teaching me something useful. I thought we'd agreed on what needed doing.”

“And I told you that I was running the show. Just be patient.”

“That's what you just told that Gillen person on the phone. I'm not buying it. While I'm being patient, Trask is probably setting up his next kill.”

“No doubt. But Fairchild's death had a sobering effect on the other people on Trask's hit list, and they're being much more careful. We have a little time.”

“But it doesn't make sense that we don't move ahead and—” She broke off as she saw he was staring at her with a complete lack of expression. It was like talking to a wall. “Damn you.” She stood up and started for the door. “I'm not going to wait forever. I want your help, but if you stall me much longer, I'll go after Trask on my own. I can't
take
this.”

Silver flinched as the door slammed behind her.

He had been expecting a blowup from her, but he'd hoped he could put it off for another day or so. Well, he hadn't gotten lucky. It had happened and now he had to deal with it.

A discreet knock and then George opened the door. “I beg your pardon, sir, but I ran into Ms. Murphy on the stairs. I'm forced to advise you that you're handling her with incredible stupidity.”

“Oh, am I? And would you like to tell me how I should handle her?”

“I wouldn't presume.” George shrugged. “Well, actually, I would. She's a woman who's used to action, and this inactivity is driving her crazy. I can fully sympathize.” He met Silver's gaze. “Because I feel the same way. So when are you going to get off your duff and do something?”

“I am doing something.”

“You'll forgive me, but I see no sign of it.” He added thoughtfully, “Yet I judge you to be a man who hates to spin his wheels. You could be telling me the truth.”

“Thank you.”

“Sarcasm isn't necessary. People who try to make a mystery of their lives should expect both skepticism and questions.”

“Mystery?”

George smiled. “I'm not really complaining. I enjoy a good whodunit. It stimulates my mind and imagination.” He turned to leave. “And I've been stimulated with some rather bizarre ideas since I met you.”

“Would you care to discuss them?”

“Presently.” He opened the door. “But I'm not your primary worry right now. I assume Ms. Murphy is important to you, and you may be losing her.”

“I won't lose her.”

“Such confidence. It makes one wonder on what it's based. . . .”

The door shut behind him.

Damn it all. Silver grimaced as he rose to his feet. George was too perceptive and his instincts were sharp. He was coming very close to the truth about Silver, and Silver didn't know whether that would be good or bad. Privacy had been a way of life to him for too long.

But George had been right about Kerry. He couldn't afford to lose her even though she might not be ready.

And it was too dangerous letting her simmer while he waited for the ideal time and situation to come together.

He might have to go for it.

D
amn him.

She strode over to the window and stared blindly out at the driveway below. She should have known better than to try to budge Silver when she knew what an arrogant bastard he could be.

No, she'd been right to confront him. She hated this lack of control in their relationship, and she didn't like the idea of this delay. Trask might be moving closer to his next victim. How could Silver be so sure that they had time?

She was getting upset again. She should probably go for a walk or something and stop letting this impasse eat at her.

The hell she would. She wasn't going to trot meekly off and try to forget that she was right and Silver was wrong. She was feeling angry and hurt and helpless and there was no way she was going to stay that way.

She went to the closet, pulled out her suitcase, and tossed it on the bed.

There was a knock on the door. “Kerry.”

Silver.

She didn't answer it.

“Kerry?” He opened the door and stood watching her throw two T-shirts and underwear into the suitcase.

“May I ask where you're going?” He answered his own question. “For God's sake, be patient. You can't go after Trask by yourself.”

“I'm not going to be patient.” She threw a pair of jeans into the suitcase. “I'm going to do something.”

“What?”

“Oh, don't worry. I was angry with you downstairs. I'm not going to go after Trask and risk losing him.” She closed the suitcase and snapped the lock. “But I can't sit around and wait for you to teach me how to get to him. You just take your time. When you're ready, you come after me.”

“Where are you going?”

“Marionville.”

“The place where Trask grew up? Why? Surely you don't think he's gone to ground there?”

“No, but his roots are in that town, and I may learn something about him that wasn't in that dossier. Knowledge is power, and I need all the power I can get. I don't like feeling this ineffectual.” She gave him a fierce glance. “And don't tell me to be patient again. I'm sick of it.”

“I gathered that you were. What do you think you're going to learn?”

“How the hell do I know? Maybe the way he thinks. Maybe a clue to what makes him tick so that I can push the right buttons.”

“You do know there's a possibility you may be followed?”

“And that might not be bad either. At least it would mean something was happening.” She dragged the suitcase from the bed and started toward the door. “I'll see you when you get around to doing what you promised.”

“You'll see me before that.” He took the suitcase from her. “I'm going with you.”

“You're not invited.”

“I'm used to barging in where I'm not wanted. It's a way of life to me.” He opened the door for her. “So stop spitting at me and let's get going.”

“I don't need you. Ledbruk's agents aren't going to let me go anywhere without surveillance. If you think you're going to protect me, I can—”

“Oh, I know, you think you can protect yourself. Well, maybe you can. But that's probably what all of Trask's deceased targets thought,” he said. “Anyway, it wouldn't stop me from worrying, and I'm not going to go nuts wondering what's happening to you. I'd rather be on the spot and know.” He started down the stairs. “So are we going to take Sam?”

She stared at him for a moment before she slowly followed him down the stairs. “No, he'd be in the way. We'll leave him with George.” It was clear he was absolutely determined, and it didn't really matter whether he came with her or not. Maybe it would give him a nudge to start working with her. “I don't intend to be gone more than a day or two.”

“I noticed you didn't take much more than the bare necessities.” He put down her suitcase by the front door. “Now, can I trust you not to jump in the SUV and take off while I run upstairs and pack an overnight case?”

“What would you do if I did?”

“Go after you.”

She shrugged. “Then it would be a waste of time and effort.” She leaned against the door. “I'll wait for you.”

S
he's left the estate,” Dickens said when Trask answered the phone. “She and Silver took off about three hours ago in the SUV and took Highway 66 and then 81. They just crossed the West Virginia border. I followed them, but I had to be damn careful. The Secret Service was right on their tail.”

“Highway 81,” Trask said thoughtfully. “Now, why would they be going . . .” He started to chuckle. “Of course.”

“You know where she's going?”

“Yes, I know. It's always smart to know your enemy.”

“You want me to stay with her?”

“For the time being.” My God, Marionville. He hadn't been back to that one-horse town since he'd left it to go to Europe on his Fulbright scholarship. He'd thought he'd put those memories far behind him, but they were suddenly bombarding him. All the bitter humiliations and the delicious triumphs . . . “Yes, I want to know where she is every minute.”

“You can't touch her. I told you, she's being followed by—”

“I heard you. I'll get back to you.” He hung up.

Marionville.

He could visualize Kerry Murphy digging, searching, stirring the embers of long ago. The image was curiously alluring. Maybe that was her intention, to draw him into following her.

Marionville . . .

D
rop me off at the local library,” Kerry said. If this tiny town
had
a library, she thought in discouragement. It was hardly a bustling metropolis. The sign they'd passed when they entered Marionville had laid claim to eleven thousand people, but that could have been an old sign. It appeared that half the stores were closed on the main street winding through the center of the town. “I want to go through back newspapers and see if I can find any reference to Trask.”

“How far back are you going?”

“All the way. I'll start the year he was born.”

“I doubt if he was into any shenanigans in the cradle.”

“I don't care. I want to know everything about him.”

Silver nodded. “Well, I noticed an elementary school when we first hit town. Schools and libraries usually go together.” He turned the corner and doubled back. “If we don't see the library, we'll ask at the school.”

“Okay.” She gazed out the window as they passed several small shotgun houses with peeling paint and rickety front porches. “This is depressing. It looks like the town's dying.”

“It probably is. Evidently when the mines closed down so did the town.” He pulled into the school parking lot and got out of the SUV. “I'll be right back.” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ledbruk's surveillance car was within view. “This shouldn't take long.”

She watched him go up the steps toward the front entrance. The elementary school was red brick but still managed to look as old and shoddy as the houses they'd passed. Had the town been this decrepit when Trask was growing up?

Silver came out of the school ten minutes later and walked up to her side of the SUV. “I found out the only local newspaper is the Marionville
Gazette
. It's been in business for the last seventy years. The library is two blocks from here. You turn left at the corner and it's on your right.”

“You're not coming?”

“I decided to check back records while I was in the office, and Trask went to grade school here. The chances were good since this is such a small burg. I thought I'd get copies of his records and then check out his high school. It's in Cartersville, about five miles from here.”

“They'll give you access to his records?”

“I'll persuade them. I'm a very persuasive guy.” He stepped back. “I'll call you when I'm done and you can pick me up.” He turned and went back into the school.

She scooted over into the driver's seat. That had been a stupid question. Of course Silver would be able to get the information.
Persuasive
was definitely an understatement.

T
he computer at the Marionville library was a dinosaur. She did a search on Trask. After the first hour the work went smoother. It was still slow but not excruciating. It took Kerry nearly thirty minutes just to stumble through the first year of Trask's life in the newspaper she'd chosen to access. Not that there was anything there but a birth announcement that Charles and Elizabeth Trask were now the proud parents of a healthy baby boy.

The next mention of Trask was when he won a local spelling bee at age seven. Two years later he came in first at a statewide science fair. There was even a picture of him holding the blue ribbon, with his parents beaming with pride. After that there were numerous mentions, as he took prize after prize that the academic community offered. Until the final awarding of the Fulbright.

She leaned back and rubbed her eyes. A brilliant student, a son to be proud of. No indications of any false steps. But this couldn't be the true picture. Trask couldn't have gone through his entire maturing years as a role model and then turned around and become a monster. The seed had to be there.

The seed.

She sat up straight in her chair.

And in this case the seed was the obsession that dominated Trask's life. Silver had said that it went back only fifteen years, but she had told him that she knew it went back much, much further.

She leaned forward and typed in one word.

Fire.

S
he didn't pick Silver up when he called her from Cartersville High School. “I've found something—I think. Call Ledbruk to come and get you. Check into a motel and call me and let me know where you are. I'll meet you there as soon as I'm done.”

“I'll get to a motel on my own. I don't want you left alone.” He paused. “I'm glad one of us has gotten lucky. With a few exceptions, all I've learned is that Trask was a golden boy.”

“I want to hear about those exceptions.” She glanced back at the computer screen. “I've got to go. I have two more years to cover and the library closes in an hour.” She hung up and leaned forward, her finger clicking on the mouse as she went through the newspaper page by page. She stiffened as her gaze fell on an article on the back pages of June 3.

There was another one. . . .

She pressed the print button.

S
o what did you find?” Silver asked when he answered her knock at his motel room. “It took you long enough.”

“I persuaded the librarian to keep the library open an extra hour.” She dropped down on the couch and handed him the papers in her hand. “And I didn't have to use any of your ‘persuasiveness.' All I said was please.”