Trifecta (59 page)

Sabrina nodded and the doctor put his head uncomfortably
close to her's and started meticulously parting her hair every inch or so, inspecting
the scalp.  It felt like he was grooming her for insects, like one of the primates
who practiced such behaviors.  He looked under the hair at the back of her head
and checked thoroughly behind her ears.  He diligently tried to fix her hair style
after he finished. 

The doctor then inspected Eve and pronounced, "No
surgery on either of the women."

There was a burst of Japanese, all of Hashimoto's staff
talking very fast.  It only lasted for a couple of minutes, but they all looked
seriously upset and indignant.

"Gentlemen.  Gentlemen,"  Alexander said, and
they quieted down and regarded him with frowns.  "I told you that there would
be no evidence of surgery.  And Mr.  Hashimoto and I have discussed that the process
of the implantation would be another issue altogether."

"Mr. Steinbrenner, how do you expect me to believe
your ridiculous allegations? I can not be assured that you really know this technique
of your father's, or if it has any basis in fact at all.  Now that his laboratory
is destroyed, there is no evidence of a special computer, or that any kind of surgery
was performed.  We have before us Eve Miller, who says there is no computer, and
my esteemed doctor who says there was no surgery."

"We do have proof that the computer is very powerful."

"Oh?"

"She's somehow more dense than the normal person. 
I have a crutch she bent like a pretzel."

It suddenly dawned on Sabrina that Hashimoto was trying
to discredit the Steinbrenners so that he could negotiate alone with two women,
whom he probably thought were fragile and absolutely no match for him.  He would
try to get out of paying the enormous finders fee.  Sabrina realized that Eve was
already helping him.

"Are you strong enough to bend a metal crutch," 
Eve asked Sabrina.

"Of course not." 

"I didn't mention that Eve Miller broke both of our
legs.  She may be a little deranged, or maybe she has no morals, but she does have
a computer and she's very powerful."

"I would probably have a broken toe, at the very least," 
Sabrina muttered softly, but loud enough for Hashimoto to hear.

"What did you say?"  Hashimoto asked.

"I just meant that both of the Steinbrenner brothers
are large men.  I don't think I could break their legs." 

"Listen, it's just going to be her word against ours. 
For some reason these women have taken a disliking to us.  Why don't you perform
that test you were talking about?"

"I was curious about the broken legs,"  Hashimoto
said.  "I inquired and was given a police report saying that both of you had
been attacked by a large man using karate.  I talked to a Sergeant Montgomery, who
took your statements."

"We were simply trying to protect our father's creation," 
Alexander protested.  "Do you think the police would really believe a girl
had broken our legs?"

"You expect me to?"  Hashimoto asked.

"I mean, we have a reputation to uphold, and, of course,
our father to protect.  He was expecting to get the Nobel prize for science for
his extraordinary work."

"Which I see no sign of,"  Hashimoto said.  He
began gathering up his briefcase.  The bodyguards stood up as though they had all
received, telepathically, an order at the same instant.

"You can't just leave,"  Stephan protested. 
"We had an agreement."

"Do these men control either of you?"  Hashimoto
inquired.

Eve and Sabrina said No simultaneously. 

"But you and I have an agreement, Mr.  Hashimoto," 
Alexander exploded angrily.

"If there is no computer, there is no agreement. 
You cannot prove your allegations.  There is no agreement."

"Have your doctor do that test.  Then you'll know." 
Alexander was almost shouting in frustration.

"I am extremely annoyed that I was brought here under
false pretenses.  I have better things to do than travel half way around the world
on a gigantic hoax."  Hashimoto's voice was very quiet and he sounded dangerously
angry.  He got up, clicking his briefcase closed. 

They all left Alexander and Stephan at the table.  Two
of Hashimoto's bodyguards preceded the four small men.  Eve and Sabrina got up and
the remaining three bodyguards followed them out of the conference room. 

Sabrina looked back at the two brothers.  They saw her
staring and looked back at her with deadly hatred.

Sabrina whispered to Eve that Alexander looked angry enough
to try to kill them both, and Eve, using a hushed and deadly voice said, "Make
my day." 

Sabrina felt like tap dancing down the long plush halls. 
They had an identity and money for Eve.  And they had humiliated the big bullies. 
She considered that the two main emotions she had experienced since awakening in
the tanning salon, with Eve staring and unblinking at her, had been either fear
or exultation.  Right now she was feeling the heady triumph and jubilation she had
felt the night they had dismantled Ferd's laboratory. 

She stopped smiling though, when Hashimoto dropped behind
his staff to walk with them.  The three muscle men were still behind them all. 

"It's sad that was such a waste of time,"  Hashimoto
said.  "Now why don't we make this sorry event useful, and have lunch? I would
be honored to have you both accompany me."

Sabrina was afraid that Eve would say yes, never having
known her to refuse food, so she quickly said that they had to get back to the shop.

"We do need to have a discussion,"  Hashimoto
said.

They had stopped by the elevators.

"But as you know, there is no computer,"  Eve
said.

"On the contrary, I believed everything Alexander
Steinbrenner said, but I refuse to negotiate with greed-hungry men, disloyal to
their own father.  They are beneath contempt.  I think you would be well advised
to come with me, and learn about the information I have gathered."

B
urgess Whitcomb was annoyed when he noticed he
didn't have the access card to unlock his own office.  He couldn't remember taking
it out of his coat and he patted down all his pockets.

Burgess went to the Building Manager's Office and ordered
a new lock.  A security guard accompanied him back to his office and opened the
door.

Burgess noticed the lights were on.  He did not notice
the form attached to the front desk in the outer office immediately, as the man
was small and very still, obviously asleep, with his chin resting on his chest,
in quite an obscene and vulnerably spread position.

Burgess read the note from across the room.  He turned
and roughly pushed the security guard standing behind him out of the office, slamming
the door in the man's astonished face. 

He tried to remove the note without touching it with his
own fingers, or waking Willard Modert, but Modert did awaken and started whimpering
and struggling.  He wasn't very loud, because of the adhesive tape over his mouth,
or very forceful because he was tightly bound to the desk, but Burgess told him
to shut the hell up.  When he got the note off of Modert, Burgess held it daintily
by his fingernails and put it in the top desk drawer in his own office.  Then he
untaped the man's mouth and eyes.

Willard's eyes were rolling and his mouth twitched spasmodically,
dripping spittle.  He cleared his throat several times.

"What in hell happened to you?"  Burgess asked,
as he started cutting Modert's arms and legs free.

"Someone came in here last night.  Practically killed
me.  Then he tied me to the desk.  He was enormously strong.  After that I heard
him going into the files.  He used my key."

"Did he say anything?"  Burgess asked, watching
the small man flexing his arms and trying to get the cramps out of his legs.

Modert shook his head.  "I put up quite a fight. 
He might be hurt."

Burgess helped Willard to his feet and steadied him when
he almost collapsed. 

"Oh, God.  He used the shredder,"  Modert said
urgently.  "We have to check the files!"

"I'll take care of it.  You go home and get some rest."

Modert protested, but Burgess was his boss and he had to
leave without finding out what Burgess learned in the next few minutes.  Everything
was gone.  Even the pictures and tapes, both audio and visual.  Burgess checked
the safe for the duplicate files and found it empty.  He was furious.  Modert had
given the combination to the thief.

He had the office dusted for the prints he knew would not
be there.  Then he frantically called the hospital where Sergi Malcovich was still
residing.  He was too late.  Sergi had undergone plastic surgery early that morning. 
All physical proof that one of the Miller women had bitten Sergi was gone.  The
precise pictures of the bite that matched Sabrina's dental records were part of
what the thief had taken.  As all the information was top secret, everything from
the lab had been sent back to Whitcomb's office.

Burgess had the telephone records for his office faxed
to his him, but could find nothing incriminating.  He talked to the telephone company
and found that the office telephones had a call-transfer service.  Modert attended
to all such mundane details. 

Burgess soon found that there were calls placed at his
own office that had been transferred to a phone at a flea-bag hotel room not far
from the office.  The hotel room was checked and it was vacant.  Paid for in advance
with cash.  From those phone records there were calls to Moscow, Leningrad, Washington
and Japan.  There were also local calls.  Secret calls.  When Burgess traced the
numbers they proved to be those of his own investigators, Sergi Malcovich and Ivar
Cousin.

Burgess went to the hospital, the solicitous boss checking
on one of his trusted employees.  He found Sergi, recovering from surgery, watching
television in a room with two other men.  He pulled the curtains around the bed
so the two would have some privacy and told Sergi that he would be required to press
legal charges against the woman who had bitten him.

Then Burgess talked to the surgeon who had performed the
plastic surgery.  He wondered if the doctor had a picture of Sergi's wound before
the surgery was performed.  He did.  It had become infected, so the injury showed
discolored puffed skin around the actual hole.  The wound was too infected to show
individual tooth marks. 

Burgess had to listen at length to how the surgeon had
cut away the contaminated tissue and taken skin from the man's left buttock for
the graft.  There were many disgusting pictures of both neck and buttock that Whitcomb
politely perused, but none that would incriminate Sabrina or Eve Miller.

Sergi Malcovich had another visitor a couple of hours after
Burgess Whitcomb left him.  Ivar Cousin found Sergi sleeping and closed the curtains
around the bed.  Ivar felt a unique type of loathing for the man lying helplessly
on his back, snoring out of a wide open mouth.  Sergi reminded him of a bovine swine,
and not because of unusual girth, but due to the smug, arrogant expression he held
even in sleep.  Ivar identified in Sergi a person who took pleasure in causing others
pain and suffering.

Ivar took hold of Sergi's shoulder and shook it to wake
him, knowing that the proximity of his neck surgery to where he was shaking would
be painful.

Sergi screamed, but Ivar had prepared for that by placing
his large hand over the man's mouth.

"I want you to listen to me, and listen well," 
Ivar said, speaking very softly in Russian.  "I know who you are, where you
come from, and who you really work for.  And I'm going to tell the American authorities. 
You will be imprisoned here in the United States.  You will never see Russia again. 
Your family will be disgraced.  Unless you do one easy thing."

"I'll kill you,"  Sergi said furiously. 

"Shut up and listen."  He shook Sergi's shoulder
again and the man winced but did not utter a sound.  "I want your silence about
how you got that bite.  This is what really happened.  You will remember now...you
heard a dog growling...and then you turned around and were attacked.  It was a boxer
dog.  Large and tan colored.  Do you understand?"

"What the hell kind of stupid game are you playing,
Ivar? When I get out of this damn place I am going to hunt you down and kill you. 
For shooting me."

Ivar shook his head.

Sergi looked at him sullenly, "I was bitten by a dark
haired woman of approximately six feet in height, weighing almost nothing at all,
with an angel face.  She attacked without warning, as I was innocently talking to
her."

Ivar knew Sergi would try to hit him so he leaned over
the bed and grabbed his other arm, pinning him to the bed.  He put his face so close
it repulsed him; the man had the terrible breath that comes from a combination of
rotting teeth and poor digestion.  Ivar knew he had to appear very threatening or
he would be forced to hurt Sergi.  Impotent men, weak in the brain and easy to rage,
respected nothing but brute force. 

"Listen,"  Ivar said softly and slowly, so Sergi
would understand the gravity of his situation.  "Modert is blown.  He was your
operative.  Now Burgess Whitcomb knows Modert is KGB.  Burgess is inches away from
finding out about the whole operation.  There is nothing and nobody to protect you. 
Nothing but me.  If you tell anyone that you were bitten by a woman, I promise I
will tell the American authorities about you."

"You wouldn't,"  Sergi insisted.

"I did.  Modert is a lot higher in the hierarchy than
an underling like you, who can't even speak English without a Russian accent.  You
better believe I'll cut you loose.  You're in serious trouble, Sergi.  You will
rot in jail forever."

"I can't do anything without an operative," 
Sergi whined. 

"I am your operative.  All you have to remember is
that you were attacked by a dog."

"There wasn't any dog."

Ivar sighed deeply.  He would have to torture the man. 
Despite the fact that he felt no warmth for this Neanderthal, he did not relish
the thought of violence and only wanted to scare Sergi so he wouldn't accuse Eve
of attacking him.

"I'll pull off that patch of skin on your neck."

"Don't you dare,"  Sergi said frantically.

"You're a disgrace to your country.  I personally
despise anyone who would shoot a man sitting in a wheel chair.  I didn't hesitate
to shoot you then, and you better believe I will hurt you now.  Now let’s go over
the scenario again." 

"Burgess was here an hour ago and said I would have
to press charges against the woman."

"The dog."

"Ivar, you are a fellow Russian with the proud knowledge
that you are the elite.  The KGB.  Why are you doing this?"

"I am no longer Russian,"  Ivar said, feeling
suddenly very sad.  "So I feel nothing when I turn you over to the Americans."

"You are now American?"  Sergi asked contemptuously.

"What I am is not American, no,"  Ivar said,
taking his hand off of Sergi's shoulder and reaching in his pocket for his knife. 
"I don't enjoy hurting you, but I will blow your cover if you don't obey me. 
I will also use this."  Ivar put the knife to Sergi's neck.  It was a switchblade
Ivar had bought when he first came to the United States, believing everyone in America
was a gangster and used knives or guns.

Ivar began poking under the dressing on Sergi's neck very
delicately.

"Oh, all right.  I was bit by a dog."

Ivar put a little pressure on the blade so that it just
pierced the skin.  "You will remember?"

"Yes.  Yes!" He whined.  "A boxer.  I was
bit by a dog."

"Fine.  One other thing.  If you do not obey me, I
will make sure that you will be branded a traitor and end up in the KGB's private
prison." 

Ivar watched Sergi's face and struck home with the name
that produced instant fear in anyone from the Soviet Union.  "Lubyanka.  Do
you understand?"

"Modert said you knew nothing about the plan to abduct
the women." 

"I knew all about it.  Modert had to go.  He was a
triple agent, leaking information back to the Americans."  Ivar really didn't
know anything of the sort, but he thought Modert must have sold information to the
Japanese.  Those Japanese were very wealthy and Modert was very clever. 

Sergi sighed and nodded.

"Burgess told you to rewrite your reports?"

Sergi nodded

"We will write them together.  We don't want the Americans
to know anything about the two women."