Terminal

Sean opened his door, but he didn’t get out. “True, Helen was a college student. But it’s also true that her father is founder and CEO of one of the world’s top software companies.”

“What are you trying to say?” Janet asked.

“I just want you to think about all this,” Sean said as he finally got out of the car. “And when we get upstairs, I want you to look at the thirty-three charts we copied and think about the economic demographics. Just let me know what they say to you.”

Sean was pleased that no new guard had come on duty. He retrieved his cardboard box from behind the front desk. Then both he and Janet ducked under the turnstile and took the elevator to the fifth floor.

Sean first checked the refrigerator to make certain that Helen’s brain and sample of cerebrospinal fluid had not been disturbed. Next he got the charts out from their hiding place and gave them to Janet. He eyed the mess at his lab bench but didn’t touch it.

“While you’re perusing the charts,” Sean said casually, “I’ll be heading out. But I’ll be back shortly, maybe in an hour.”

“Where are you going?” Janet asked. As usual, Sean was full of surprises. “I thought you needed lab time. That’s why we rushed here.”

“I do,” Sean assured her. “But I’m afraid I’m going to be interrupted because of Alvarez and also because of that group I locked in the closet in Key West. They must be out and fit to be tied by now. I have to make some arrangements to keep the barbarians at bay.”

“What do you mean by arrangements?” Janet asked warily.

“Maybe it’s better if you don’t know,” Sean said. “I came up with a great idea that’s guaranteed to work, but it’s a bit drastic. I don’t think you should be involved.”

“I don’t like the sound of this at all,” Janet said.

“If anybody comes in here while I’m gone and asks for me,” Sean said, ignoring Janet’s concerns, “tell them that you have no idea where I am, which will be the truth.”

“Who might come?” Janet asked.

“I hope no one,” Sean said. “But if someone does come, it will probably be Robert Harris, the guy who saved the day on the beach. If Alvarez calls anyone, he’ll call him.”

“What if he asks what I’m doing here?”

“Tell him the truth,” Sean said. “Tell him you’re going over these charts to try to understand my behavior.”

“Oh, please!” Janet said superciliously. “I’m not going to understand your behavior from these charts. That’s ridiculous.”

“Just read them and keep in mind what I just told you.”

“You mean about the economic demographics?” Janet asked.

“Exactly,” Sean said. “Now I’ve got to get out of here. But I need to borrow something. Can I have that container of Mace you always carry in your purse?”

“I don’t like this at all,” Janet repeated, but she got the container of Mace and handed it to Sean. “This is making me very nervous.”

“Don’t worry,” Sean said. “I need the Mace in case I run into Batman.”

“Give me a break,” Janet said with exasperation.

SEAN KNEW his time was limited. Alvarez would be regaining consciousness soon if he hadn’t already. Sean was quite confident the guard would eventually get the message to someone that he was no longer guarding the Forbes research building and that Sean Murphy was back in town.

Using the rental car, Sean drove to the City Yacht Basin near the municipal auditorium. He parked the car and went into one of the marinas where he rented a sixteen-foot Boston Whaler. Leaving the yacht basin, he drove the boat across Biscayne Bay and around the Dodge Island seaport. Since it was Sunday afternoon, a number of cruise ships were lined up at the dock with people boarding for Caribbean adventures. There was also a horde of pleasure craft, from jet skis to large oceangoing yachts.

Crossing the sea lane was treacherous because of the chop created by a combination of wind and other waterborne traffic, but Sean made it safely to the bridge connecting the MacArthur Causeway to Miami Beach. Passing under the bridge he saw his objective off to the left: Star Island.

It was easy to find the Masons’ home since their huge white yacht, Lady Luck, was moored to the pier in front. Sean angled his Boston Whaler in behind the yacht where a floating dock was connected to the pier by a ship’s ladder. As Sean expected, by the time he secured his boat, Batman, the Masons’ Doberman, was at the top of the ladder growling and baring his formidable teeth.

Sean climbed the ladder saying “good dog” over and over. Batman leaned out from the pier as far as he dared and responded to Sean’s cajoling by curling his upper lip into a menacing snarl. The volume of his growling rose as he showed more teeth.

Coming within twelve inches of the canine’s canines, Sean gave Batman a blast from Janet’s Mace canister that sent the dog howling toward its lair on the side of the garage.