Razing Beijing: A Thriller (47 page)

Perry looked at Stuart with concern in his eyes. Stuart stifled
a laugh.

Sensing there was nothing more that he could contribute,
Stuart looked around for a convenient way out—his eyes landed on Thackeray. He
waved him over and Thackeray shouldered his way toward them.

Stuart introduced Thackeray to the senator. “Dr. Thackeray
is our chief technology officer. Thack, how long...?”

Thackeray thrust his chin at the timer on the far wall of
the well. “We start the four minute count-down in about five minutes. For the
uninitiated, that’s about nine minutes.”

Stuart said to the senator, “You can see Dr. Thackeray has
a gift for shedding simplicity on the most complicated technical issues. You
should feel free to pepper him with questions. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.”

Thackeray arched his eyebrows and jabbed his thumb toward
the flurry of activity at the control console. Perry cast him a curious glance
as he proceeded to slip away for the third time that afternoon. Outside the
observation deck, Stuart hurried to his office and closed the door.

Marlene Schwegman’s voice came over the phone. “How may I
help you?”

“Marlene, Bob Stuart calling. I guess you’ve heard the news
that the Canadians have given up hope of finding Paul.”

“Yes, only this morning. How upsetting to think that young
man was here just a few weeks ago, smiling and happy in his job.”

“It truly is. Marlene, uh, this is going to sound
indelicate. A sticky little problem regarding Paul’s estate has been brought to
my attention by, well, one of his offspring.”

Marlene gasped. “You mean, but he wasn’t...he never...oh my
word.”

Stuart lowered his voice. “I’m afraid so. For the time
being, we should keep it a secret. This young woman, I think she’s only
nineteen, apparently she knew Paul and I were acquainted. She approached me
hoping that Paul over the years might have acknowledged his having a daughter. This
poor girl doesn’t know who else to turn to. It’s really sad. She looks just
like her father.”

More gasps and mutterings.

“I don’t recall his ever mentioning a child, and my hunch
is he never drew up any sort of a will. I really don’t have any idea how to
approach something like this. My lawyer suggested that we start with his
personnel file.”

“Well...”

“Would you mind checking to see if he listed any dependents?”

“But you’re no longer a Thanatech employee. We’re really
not allowed to discuss employee records. I could lose my job.”

“I hired the guy. If you take a look, you’ll find my
signature on the bottom of the file.”

“Oh...”

“You can say you were only trying to help a wronged orphan.
I’m sure Paul isn’t going to complain.”

“Next time you’re in town, it’s going to cost you dinner.”

“Deal. At your favorite place.”

The phone went down with a clunk. In the background he
heard the office door shut, the sound of a filing cabinet slide open. A few
minutes later her voice was back on the line in a harsh whisper. “Paul has the
number zero typed in the box labeled ‘children.’ So, he was a dead-beat dad. That
scoundrel.”

“Hard to believe. Damn. I guess I’ll have to start
somewhere else—oh. There was something else. Did you know Paul to drink?”

“Alcohol? Mmm, no. Come to think of it, I don’t believe he ever
drank at all.”

“That’s what I remember. Had you heard Paul might have been
drinking when his boat flipped over?”

“Yes.”

“See, that makes me wonder if the Canadians haven’t made
some sort of mistake.”

“There isn’t anything in his medical records that might suggest
some peculiar malady was involved.”

It was possible that the guy simply decided to get drunk
and put an end to it all, something Stuart seriously doubted. “Mum’s the word
on the paternity suit. It might turn out to be fraudulent. We wouldn’t want to
smear an innocent man’s name.”

“Remember dinner,” Marlene responded hopefully.

Stuart smiled. “Better not stand me up.”

Minutes later and still staring at the phone, Stuart had
completely forgotten about racing down the hall for the senatorial demo. When
the phone rang again it was Perry to harangue him over missing the test, which
as everyone had expected was another halfway success.

VAUGHAN KEILIG
and
Steve Reedy followed Emily’s gaze to find Stuart standing in the doorway to her
office, hand raised and ready to knock. They gathered their papers from the
surface of Emily’s desk and departed with cordial goodbyes.

Stuart sat beside her desk with lingering uncertainty in
his eyes. “I’m sure you heard about yesterday’s test.”

“Yes, more of the same. We were just going over that.”

“So how’s Blue Team treating you?” he asked, referring to
her departed visitors.

“As if I actually know what I’m talking about.” Emily
smiled. “They seem really enthused about being involved in something that might
really clean up the environment. Of course, it’s always fun working with such
intelligent people.” Emily frowned. “Someone told me Vaughan Keilig was only
twenty-seven when CERN put him in charge of particle physics research.”

“Who cares about Keilig. How do you like your new job?”

“I really like it.”

“You’re sure?” Stuart studied her.

“It’s just...I’ve had a lot of catching up to do. This
place is so much different than what I’d gotten used to at Thanatech. Working
here sort of reminds me of being back at university.”

Stuart’s uttered grunt was vaguely disapproving. He averted
his eyes to her desk—there was something weighing on his mind. She realized after
a moment that he was watching her nervously toy with the silver bracelet on her
wrist.

Emily folded her hands. “Is everything all right with you?”

“I meant to stop by the other day. They said you were out,
and then I got caught up preparing for the senator’s visit. Actually, we might
have a problem.”

Emily explored his face with her eyes.

“I was interrogated again by the FBI.”

“When?”

“Day before last.” Stuart explained the FBI’s request that
he help them evaluate their latest evidence in the Thompson murder
investigation. “I was surprised to learn that they’re suspicious of Paul
Devinn. And they seem to have expanded their investigation beyond the Thompson
murder.”

Emily remembered ‘their latest evidence’ ploy was what the
FBI had used in luring her. “Why Paul Devinn?”

“I’m not sure. The problem is that Devinn’s missing and
presumed dead.”

She felt her eyes welling with tears. “He’s dead? Another Thanatech
person is dead?”

“Looks that way. They asked a lot of questions about my
past affiliations with him. If I’m not already a suspect, I get the feeling...are
you okay?”

Emily took a deep breath. “They can’t really believe
you
had anything to do with Sean’s murder, can they?”

Stuart looked at her as if struggling with the dilemma of
correcting somebody who’d missed the intent of his words. “What I think the FBI
are actually investigating now is the cause of the Mojave plane crash. Whether
we like it or not, the authorities are involved. What we need to consider is,
if and when the saboteurs discover this, will they conclude that you tipped off
the FBI? Would they then take action against your parents?”

Emily felt suddenly small and selfish. Stuart sought to
protect her parents—he had no idea they were beyond protection, in their
separate ways. For all his trouble, now he stood to pay a personal price. And how
could the CIA
not
have given the FBI her explanation for the crash? She leaned
her elbows on the desk with her face in her hands.

Stuart asked softly, “Have your parents been harmed?”

Emily wiped away her tears with the inside of her wrist. She
whispered, “I believe my mother is already dead.”

Stuart became very still. “I’m sorry. Are you sure?”

“No.”

“Then, I certainly hope not. Listen, sooner or later the
authorities have to be informed of the facts. It may be time.”

“I’ve already told them. That’s where I was a couple days
ago. And that’s what I don’t understand.”

Stuart rose from the chair and gently closed the door to
her office. Returning to his chair, he appeared totally confused.

Where do I begin? Emily steadied her hands. “Something I
have not discussed with you was that the best available medical treatment for
my mother’s cancer was here, in the United States.” Overcoming reluctance, she
explained her plan to illegally smuggle her parents into the country, there
being no way she could simply allow her mother to die with the means for a cure
within her grasp. Stuart listened patiently to the saga of her parents’ capture
while they were attempting defection. Finally, she told Stuart about her
desperate plea to the CIA that they right their incompetence by somehow securing
her parents’ release.

When she was finished, Stuart’s eyes appeared sympathetic. “Sounds
like nobody really knows where your mother...I’m not sure what to make of your
father’s imprisonment, although I guess I assumed all along they were both being
detained somewhere.”

“I should never have let you get tangled up in this.” However
hopeful she remained, it was impossible not to fear the worst—that her mother
was somewhere alone and afraid, barely clinging to life, or had already died
that way.

“You shouldn’t feel ashamed about the smuggling ordeal. Is
that why you didn’t tell me you’d been to the CIA?”

“The CIA instructed me not to say anything.”

Stuart looked at her. “They specifically singled me out as
someone not to tell?”

“They seemed more interested to know why I had followed you
to work here at CLI. At the time I was too upset to question their concern...I’m
sure they think I’m a bitch. This FBI attack on you is just a misunderstanding.”

Stuart smiled. “They didn’t attack me. They only asked me
some questions.”

“I don’t care. Obviously the
stupid
CIA hasn’t given
the FBI my explanation for the sabotage.”

“I’m not sure they would necessarily tell the FBI anything.
Let’s not confuse the issues. We really can’t be certain Thompson’s murder had
anything to do with the crash. You presented the CIA with evidence suggesting
the crash was the result of sabotage. By the same token, I’m not aware of any
evidence that necessarily absolves me of being the saboteur.”

“That’s pure nonsense! If it weren’t for you, we would
never have known it was sabotage.” Emily felt a spark of optimism. “I’ll just explain
to the FBI, like I did at the CIA, what happened at Thanatech. Then you will be
absolved.”

“I’m not sure that you should, at least not yet. The
interesting thing to come out of this is Devinn. I hadn’t a clue of some of the
things they told me, so I can begin to understand their interest in him. Some
of it doesn’t add up, which I fear won’t matter to them so long as they’re
convinced the guy’s at the bottom of a lake.” Stuart narrowed his eyes. “I’ve
begun a little digging of my own into Paul Devinn’s disappearance.”

“Then, I’m going to help you.”

Stuart eyed her. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. Are you busy?”

A smile parted her lips. “What did you have in mind?”

“Actually, I promised to take my daughter for a sail. Would
you like to come along?”

*     *     *

STUART HAD ROUNDED OUT
the
crew aboard
Mystic
, his forty-foot sloop, to an even four by inviting
Ashley’s godmother, Joanne Lewis. Not only would he spend the afternoon fulfilling
a promise to his daughter, he would also begin his effort to piece together the
untidy leads of a conspiracy.

As he watched her being lectured by Ashley, Stuart wondered
whether Emily might regret having admitted to this being her first time ever
aboard a sailboat. Shocked by Emily’s admission, Stuart’s daughter had taken
upon herself the burden of familiarizing Emily with every conceivable sailing
task she could think of, from grinding and tailing to trimming the sails.

The afternoon’s weather had remained ideal, blustery and
bright, but the twilight sky turned overcast with cumulous clouds swollen by
rain. Stuart surveyed the surface chop kicked up by the increasing breeze; the
Potomac River estuary to the Chesapeake could quickly become rough. As he was
sailing with novices, he reached down and started the sailboat’s engine. Time
to head for the channel to Nomini Bay.

Stuart watched from the helm as Ashley joined Emily Chang
forward of the cockpit to impart her final lesson of the day, furling the
sails. Emily had chosen to wear practical clothing, a light-blue cowl-neck
sweater and smartly fitting jeans, tennis sneakers, her silky black hair
gathered in a pony tail out through the back of a Baltimore Oriole’s baseball
cap. Joanne Lewis had arrived at the dock wearing the sort of droopy cotton
sweater in fashion these days, no doubt selected to highlight her snug white
shorts. Whenever they tacked the sailboat, Ashley tailed the sheet while Joanne
obligingly bent over to grind the winch. At such times it was all Stuart could
do to train his eye on the compass, or crane his neck to gaze at the windex
atop the mast, so as not to have Emily see him leer at Joanne. Upon trimming
the sail Lewis would then park herself on the leeward bench with her legs
outstretched, giving him that satisfied look to convey her approval of the fact
he’d been unable to keep his eyes off her. As the afternoon progressed, her
glances between him and Emily turning gradually suspicious, Stuart was
beginning to worry the outing had not been so good an idea.