Killer of Killers (33 page)

The room filled with laughter, after which
Debra and her co-workers decided the distraction had passed and it
was time to get back to work.

* * * *

Pressing forward, Trent slipped into a large
electronics room containing massive computers that spanned the
length of the floor. He had never seen computers so big, except in
movies or in old TV shows. The constant buzz of moving mechanics
assailed him from every direction. Two technicians wearing white
lab coats were the only workers present. One of them asked, “Are
you the guy they’re chasing?”

“I’m the inspector,” Trent answered. “Would
you mind telling me how to get back to the hub?”

“Just go back the way you came.”

Trent turned his head toward the doors
through which he came. He had no doubt that Toka and his security
team would be busting through them in the next few seconds. “Is
there another way?”

“You can go through these doors here.” The
technician gestured to a set of double doors on the side wall.
“They lead back to the main entrance.”

Trent recalled that each room through which
he passed had a pair of doors located on its respective wall. “Do
all the rooms have that alternate route?”

“Yeah, it’s a fire exit. One way leads to the
end of the wing, and the other way goes back to the hub.”

“Thanks,” Trent said. He darted through the
doors and headed up the narrow corridor. While doing so, he noted
additional doors evenly spaced and likewise located. At any moment,
a security team might cut him off, and his excursion would be
ended.

Seeking a solution, Trent spotted air ducts
lined against the ceiling. The square-shaped tunnels were wide
enough to accommodate an average-sized body. Jumping up, he held on
with one hand, and with the other, swung open the mesh flap. He
squeezed in feet first and re-secured the grill.

* * * *

In the executive suite, Charles watched his
aged mentor sitting behind his desk with a phone to his ear. Karl
Manoukian and Josh Jones sat opposite him. Charles was perched to
the side.

To the security men on the other end of the
telephone line, Abraham was concluding his response to their
report. “Very well, then, proceed with utmost expediency.” He put
down the phone, and to Manoukian, he said, “In addition to the
intercom failure, it seems our cameras have been sabotaged. That
means for the time being we’re blind as well as deaf and dumb.”

Manoukian seemed uninterested in the
facility’s malfunction. “What about Eternity?” he asked. “That’s
why you wanted to meet, is it not?”

“Yes and no,” Abraham replied. “It’s true we
have a crisis on our hands regarding Eternity, but there is
something more important we must resolve.”

“What can be more important,” Manoukian
asked, “than salvaging the project on which I’ve exhausted my
entire fortune?”

The men exchanged stares for a tense moment,
and then Abraham said, “We must amend our partnership in Soriah
Enterprises.”

“Partnership?” Manoukian cried out. “Is that
what you call it?”

“Whatever you want to call it,” Abraham
answered. “After tonight, it’s going to be nullified.”

“Nullified? You can’t do that.”

“Oh, but I can. I have eyewitnesses and
documentation that you have been conspiring against me for quite
some time.” Abraham clasped his hands together as a trio of his
Specials entered the room and took positions—one in front of his
desk, and the other two at either end of it.

Manoukian widened his eyes. Then he relaxed
and smiled. “Eyewitnesses? You’d better ask Josh about that.”

Abraham turned to Josh. “What is he talking
about?”

“You sent Specials to kill Trent Smith,” Josh
gnarled. “But the damn fools killed my sister, instead!”

“You’re deluded,” Abraham responded. “I never
sent Specials to kill anyone.” He turned to Charles. “Do you know
anything about this?”

Charles shook his head. “No orders came from
my desk.” He looked at Josh. “You know we don’t operate like
that.”

“Then who were the men that killed my
sister?” Josh shouted.

“I had nothing to do with it!” Abraham
shouted back.

“Wait a minute!” Charles shouted the loudest
of all. “What did they look like?” He was suspecting a connection
with the Turks at Susie’s apartment.

“I don’t know what they looked like,” Josh
sneered. “Smith said he killed them, but not until after they shot
Samantha.” He paused with a glare that didn’t need words. “I did
what you wanted,” he continued. “I spied for you. I lied for you.
And now my sister is
dead
for you.” He leaped from his seat
and rushed Abraham, but the like-sized Specials reacted instantly
and intercepted him.
“You killed my sister!”
he screamed.
“You killed her!”

“Take him away,” Abraham commanded. “Keep him
under restraint until he gets a hold of himself.”

The Specials dragged the feverish Josh out of
the suite, leaving the two executives and Charles to sort the
issue. Silence reigned for long moments. It was Charles who broke
the impasse. “Either our Turkish division is acting alone or with
orders from elsewhere.” He looked dubiously at Manoukian.

“So, Mr. Manoukian,” Abraham said. “You have
taken it upon yourself to commandeer my Turks?”

“Why would I do that?” Manoukian asked.
“Smith was coming to kill
you
, not me.”

“It was
you
who ordered our Turks to
kill Smith,” Charles said. “They took him on at Susie Quinn’s
apartment. The only problem was he wasn’t so easy to kill. They
failed then, just like they failed this morning.
And innocent
people paid the price for your mistake
.”

“I don’t give assignments to our Specials,”
Manoukian snickered. “They take orders only from Abraham. You know
that.”

“I know blood is thicker than water,” Charles
argued, “particularly, if you’re Turkish. And you
are
Turkish, aren’t you?”

Manoukian only stared and did not answer, so
Charles added, “You’re
from
Turkey anyway, and these men you
knew personally. It was you who recruited them. For all we know,
you’re related to every one of them.”

From behind his desk, Abraham merely
listened.

Manoukian countered, “Very good, Mr. Morgan,
but you left out one very important detail.”

“You mean what was your motive? That’s the
easiest part. It’s the oldest one of all. You’ll find it in the
Bible. Cain slew Abel because he was jealous of his relationship
with God. You wanted Smith killed because you were jealous of his
relationship with a certain blond goddess.”

Charles couldn’t prove his allegation, but
when he saw Manoukian’s glum expression, he knew he was right. “You
fool
. You bumbling
fool
. For your jealousy,
innocent people
were killed,
including
our lead
scientist.”

A long quiet ensued. Ultimately, it was
Abraham who spoke. “Thank you, Charles.” He turned back to
Manoukian. “And there you have it.”

Manoukian simply asked, “What do you want me
to do?”

“I want you to go away,” Abraham buzzed.
“Eternity isn’t yours anymore. Eternity is owned by Soriah
Enterprises, and you are out of the equation. My lawyers have the
paperwork ready for you to sign. You’ll notice that you will be
paid a very generous sum. Either you sign and quit while you’re
ahead, or I will press charges against you in a court of law. And I
can guarantee that you will lose, Mr. Manoukian.”

“But the formula is lost,” Manoukian pointed
out. “What do you plan on doing about that?”

“We will find a way,” Abraham answered.
“Either we locate the database, or we start over again.”

“Start over again? But I was told there is no
record and no documentation as to how Benson and Bernstein made it
work.”

“That’s correct. Still, we’ll find a way. In
any case, I’m satisfied to tell you that it’s no longer your
concern.”

Manoukian cast a dour glare at Abraham and
then at Charles, after which he collected the papers from Abraham’s
desk and grumbled, “My lawyers will advise me on my next move.”

When Manoukian departed, Charles felt
relieved. He turned to Abraham and said, “That’s one problem
solved. I’ll go to Josh and explain to him what happened. He’ll
listen to me when he calms down. In the meantime, what will we do
about Trent Smith?” Charles waited at the door for an answer.

Abraham responded by raising his clasped
hands to support his lowered forehead. The seconds mounted until he
looked up and said, “I’m not concerned about Trent Smith. He’s
Toka’s problem now.”

Chapter
Sixteen

The Chinese Contribution

Toka Tacau slammed his
fist against the wall. His security team paced the Auxiliary
Computer Lab frustrated and clueless, but he refused to admit he’d
been outfoxed. Gigantic machines whizzed and whirled, and Toka
frowned. He never liked technology and felt less than secure in the
presence of computers larger than laptops. His extreme size had
always been an advantage, but being surrounded by such immense
equipment forced a sense of the other foot.

Two security guards hustled from the fire
exit. The first one said, “There’s no one in there, Chief. We
checked all the way down both ends. Nothing.”

Toka considered his next move. His crew
scoured A wing with no result, and now they needed to search the
entire complex. He lifted his radio and shouted, “Keep a mobile
patrol on the perimeter. If the son of a bitch slipped outside,
confine him. If he resists, shoot him!”

“We’re on it,” sounded a voice through his
radio.

Toka lifted his radio again. “Blue team, you
got anything?”

“Nothing through the hub,” answered blue
team’s captain.

“Okay, fan out. Leave two men in the hub, and
the rest of you get back to B Wing. Red team checks C Wing, and
green team checks D Wing. Move!”

Toka returned the radio to his belt and
pondered his dilemma.

One of his lieutenants asked, “What are we
going to do about E Wing?”

“That’s what I’m thinking about,” Toka
replied. “You and main squad recheck A Wing. We might have missed
him somehow. And as far as E Wing is concerned... I’ll check E Wing
myself.”

“Alone?” the lieutenant asked. “Why don’t you
take the new guy with you? Mr. Morgan hired him because he’s an ex
Kung Fu champion, but all he does is sit on his ass all day.”

“The son of a bitch killed my brother,” Toka
growled to his subordinate. “This is personal, and I’ll be damned
if I need help to kill one man.”

* * * *

Trent’s alternate route had led him into D
Wing. After checking for traffic, he slipped out of the vent just
inside the entrance to the lobby. There were two white lab coats
hanging from hooks on the wall. The nametag on one read
Fitzsimmons
, and the other had a name he couldn’t pronounce.
He slipped into the coat that read
Fitzsimmons
and commenced
his tour. Workers paid him no mind as they were focused on their
duties, and shortly, Trent discovered several caged animals in
various stages of experimentation. The comatose chimps, he was
sure, would preclude any invitation to inspectors from PETA.

Further exploration uncovered a busy workshop
about the size of a small cafeteria. Several Asian women in lab
coats and hairnets tinkered with intricate instrumentation on
countertops lined throughout the room. Latex gloves, safety
glasses, and filter masks completed their garb. It was a processing
lab of some kind, and as Trent walked in, a pungent odor assailed
his nose. He recognized it. The scent was not uncommon in the
kitchens of fine Japanese restaurants. “That smells like Fugu,” he
said to the technicians working nearby.

A young woman lowered her mask. “It is,” she
replied. “This is where we extract the tetrodotoxin from the puffer
fish.” She was the lead worker of what looked like a Japanese
assembly line dissecting the fish. They placed separate parts of it
in trays that moved on conveyer belts through rifts in the
wall.

“Well, I won’t be helping myself to any of
that,” Trent quipped. He was familiar with the deadly poison of the
puffer fish. Even though it was considered to be a delicacy in
Japan, many people died yearly from eating improperly cleaned
portions. Trent had always refrained, because even mere traces of
the toxin could paralyze a person or induce comas simulating death.
There were cases of people being buried alive after medical
examiners confused TTX paralysis with death. To make matters worse,
survivors had reportedly been fully conscious throughout the
ordeal. It begged him to ask, “Why is tetrodotoxin being processed
here?”

The woman’s eyes narrowed, and she lowered
her gaze to the nametag on Trent’s lab coat. “Are you an inspector,
Mr. Fitzsimmons?”

Trent had noticed her own nametag identified
her as Yamaguchi, so he answered, “Bokuwa anataga doku o T’sukuruno
o miteimas.”

The woman’s surprised expression prompted
Trent to add, “Ichi milliliter dakede shinu a sorega arimas.”

Trent’s fluent Japanese drew a smile from the
woman, and she responded, “Tetrodotoxin is one of the ingredients
to Eternity.”

“A deadly poison is part of a drug that
prolongs life?”

“Don’t ask me how,” she answered. “We send it
over to E Wing through the air pony. That’s where infusion takes
place. Here in D Wing we use it to keep the animals comatose.”

“That explains the chimps,” Trent said. “From
what I’ve read, the clinical applications of tetrodotoxin are only
experimental.”

“All I know is we send E Wing most of our
procurement. After processing, they send it to C Wing called
Compound X
.”