Terminal

“Brian, there’s more involved here than meets the eye,” Sean said. “Please don’t interfere right now. Obviously I’m going to need your legal talents later, so don’t go away. Just cool out for a few hours.”

Brian took another step closer to Sean, bringing him within arm’s reach. “Give me the gun,” he repeated. “I’m not letting you commit this kind of crime. Abduction with a deadly weapon is a serious felony. It carries a compulsory prison term.”

“I understand you have good intentions,” Sean said. “I know you’re older, and you are a lawyer. But I can’t explain everything right now. Trust me!”

Brian reached out and jammed his hand into Sean’s jacket pocket, groping toward the conspicuous bulge. His fingers wrapped around the gun. Sean grabbed Brian’s wrist in an iron grip.

“You’re older,” Sean said, “but I’m stronger. We’ve been through this before.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” Brian said.

“Let go of the gun,” Sean ordered.

“I’m not about to let you throw your life away,” Brian said.

“Don’t make me do this,” Sean warned.

Brian tried to wrench his arm from Sean’s grip while maintaining a hold on the gun.

Sean reacted by throwing a left uppercut into the pit of Brian’s stomach. With lightning speed, he followed his punch with a sharp jab to the nose. Brian went down like a sack of potatoes, curling into a tight ball as he struggled to catch his breath. A bit of blood trickled out of his nose.

“I’m sorry,” Sean said.

Dr. and Mrs. Mason, who’d been watching this exchange, bolted for the garage. Sean leapt after them, catching Mrs. Mason first. Dr. Mason, who had hold of Mrs. Mason’s other arm, was pulled up short as well.

Having just struck his brother, Sean was in no mood for further argument. “In the car,” he growled. “Dr. Mason, you drive.”

Sheepishly, the Masons complied. Sean got in the back seat. “The lab, please,” he said.

As they pulled out of the driveway, Sean caught a glimpse of Brian, who’d managed to push himself into a sitting position. Brian’s face reflected a mixture of confusion, hurt, and anger.

“IT’S ABOUT time,” Kurt Wanamaker snapped as he, Sterling, and Wayne stumbled out of the storage closet. They were dripping with perspiration. Despite the air-conditioning in the main lab, the temperature in the unventilated closet had soared.

“I just heard you,” the technician explained.

“We’ve been shouting since noon,” Kurt complained.

“It’s hard to hear from downstairs,” the technician said. “Especially with all the equipment running. Plus, we never come up here.”

“I don’t understand how you couldn’t have heard,” Kurt said.

Sterling went directly to a phone and dialed Dr. Mason’s private number. When Dr. Mason didn’t answer, Sterling cursed as he pictured Dr. Mason spending a relaxing Sunday afternoon at a country club.

Replacing the receiver, Sterling considered what he should do next. With decisive speed, he rejoined Kurt and Wayne and said that he’d like to go back to the airport.

As they descended the stairs, Wayne broke the strained silence. “I never would have picked Sean Murphy for somebody carrying a piece.”

“It was a definite surprise,” Sterling agreed. “I believe it is further evidence that Sean Murphy is a far more complex individual than we have surmised.”

When they got to the front of the building, Kurt Wanamaker was thrown into a panic. “My car’s gone!” he moaned.

“Undoubtedly compliments of Mr. Murphy,” Sterling said. “He seems to be thumbing his nose at us.”

“I wonder how Murphy and his girl got out here from the center of town,” Wayne said.

“There’s a motorcycle in the back that doesn’t belong to anyone who works here,” the technician said.

“I guess that answers it,” Sterling said. “Call the police and give them the details about your missing automobile. Since he took the car I think it’s safe to presume he’s left the island. Perhaps the police can pick him up.”

“It’s a new car,” Kurt whined. “I’ve only had it three weeks. This is awful.”

Sterling held his tongue. He felt nothing but contempt for this nervous, tiresome, balding man with whom he’d spent more than five uncomfortable hours crammed into a tiny closet. “Perhaps you could ask one of your technicians to give us a ride to the airport.” He took solace in the hope that this would be the last thing he’d ever have to say to the man.

12

March 7

Sunday, 2:30 P.M.

As soon as Dr. Mason pulled into the Forbes parking lot, Sean tried to peer into the research building foyer to see if anything had changed since he’d left. With sunlight reflecting off the windows, it was impossible to see in. Sean couldn’t tell if another guard had come on duty or not.

It was only after they’d parked, and Sean entered the building, keeping the Masons close ahead, that he saw another guard had indeed come on duty. The man’s ID badge read “Sanchez.”

“Tell him who you are and ask for his pass keys,” Sean whispered as the trio neared the turnstile.

“He knows who I am,” Dr. Mason snapped.