Travis pushed buttons on the keyboard and watched the screen glow blue. “I’ve accessed the secretary of state’s files. Now let me see what I can pull up.” He typed Elcon Corporation and hit Enter.
“Now this is interesting,” Travis said. “I’m not the first attorney to probe into the Elcon Corporation recently.”
“Really? Who else?”
Travis moved the cursor to the indicated line. “Thomas J. Seacrest. Moroconi’s first attorney. He did the exact same thing.” Travis checked the date. “And later that same day, he disappeared. Until he turned up murdered.”
“I can’t imagine that any great secrets are going to be revealed in documents filed with a government agency.”
“Corporations are required by law to submit certain information,” Travis replied. “For instance, the corporate charter, the articles of incorporation, and the name of the registered service agent. See? I’m pulling up the corporate charter now.”
“I’m tingling with excitement.”
Travis scanned the paragraphs of legalese that composed the charter. “Seems to be your basic garden-variety Texas corporation. No unusual clauses or provisions. Formed about thirty-five years ago. Merged with another Texas corporate entity a few years ago.”
He depressed the Page Down button, scanning as the pages passed. “Here’s the name of the corporate president. Apparently there’s a managing board of directors, although I can’t find the name of the CEO. Ever heard of this president?”
Cavanaugh read the name on the screen. “Mario Catuara. Doesn’t ring any bells with me.”
“Me neither. Here, take down his office address. I think we should check him out.”
Cavanaugh didn’t respond.
Travis glanced up at her. “Did you get the address?”
Cavanaugh placed a finger across her lips. She was looking over the top of the carrel toward the other side of the library.
“What is it?” Travis whispered. “What do you see?” He sat up and craned his neck.
Cavanaugh pushed his head down. “Stay out of sight.”
“What are you looking at?”
“A man who came in about five minutes after we did. He’s been sitting in the same chair ever since. A chair equidistant between our carrel and the front door.”
“So?”
“Maybe nothing. But that’s where I’d sit if I wanted to keep an unobtrusive eye on us and ensure that we couldn’t leave without his knowing about it.”
Travis dropped a pencil and, under the pretense of recovering it, took a look under the carrel. He saw the man right away; there weren’t that many people in the library, and the man appeared to be reading a Southwestern Reporter page by page. It was a dead giveaway. No one read case reports; someone might look up a case, but no one sat around reading them like they were Agatha Christies. He might as well be holding the book upside down; it was just a prop.
“You’re right,” Travis whispered. “He’s waiting for something.”
“Probably for us to leave so he can drill us. He’s got a very suspicious bulge inside his windbreaker.” She laid her notepad on the carrel. “I’m going to talk to him.”
“Wait.” Travis grabbed her wrist. “I’ll go. I’m the one he’s looking for.”
“All the more reason you should stay here. While I distract him you can get the car.”
“No way.”
Cavanaugh pushed him back down. “Relax. He won’t try anything here. And he may not recognize me. Let me see what I can find out. Who knows? We might actually learn something if you don’t kick his teeth out first. Just make sure you have the car waiting outside if I have to make a break for it.”
“Too risky.”
“I’m willing to take the risk.”
“For me?” He raised an eyebrow. “You’re starting to sound like you might give a damn what happens to me.”
“Perish the thought.”
Cavanaugh walked the long way around the room, past the law reviews and through the regional reporters. She came up behind the man, hoping to catch him by surprise.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Are you a law student?”
The man turned around slowly. His eyes were masked with dark sunglasses, his hair was covered by a baseball cap.
“Uh … yeah,” he answered. “I am.”
“Great. Maybe you can help me. I’m looking for the Pacific Reporters. Can you tell me where they are?”
“Uh, right. I always forget where those are shelved.” His voice was muffled and indistinct. He scanned the identifier tabs on the end of each row of books. “Yeah, here they are. I thought so.”
“Thanks a million,” Cavanaugh said. “And could you help me find this cite?” She scribbled a citation on her legal pad—512 P.2d 1204. “I’m a secretary, see, and this complex legal gibberish baffles me.”
The man shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “You know, I’m just a first-year student, and I haven’t figured those codes out either. Sorry.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I’m sorry to bother you. Oops!” Cavanaugh dropped her legal pad so that it fell almost between his legs. After a moment’s hesitation the man picked it up. While he was bent over, his windbreaker rose and Cavanaugh spotted the equipment belt strapped around his waist.
“I’m sorry,” she said, bopping herself on the side of the head. “I’m such a klutz sometimes. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“No problem.”
“I feel awful about interrupting your studies. You’ve probably got finals this week.”
He nodded. “Yeah, finals. They’re a bear.”
“Right. Finals in mid-April.”
The man moved toward her, arms extended.
Cavanaugh started to move away, but the man seized her wrist. He tightened his grip and twisted, sending flashes of pain through her arm. He pushed her backward into the relative seclusion of the stacks. She tried to pull away, but he grabbed her other arm and held fast. She tried to toss him over her shoulder, but he was too heavy and too strong.
“You’ve already blown it,” Cavanaugh said, her teeth clenched. “No one has finals in April. Just as no one could get through a semester in law school without learning how to look up a case citation. If you don’t let go of me in two seconds, I’ll scream.”
“If you scream, you die,” the man replied matter-of-factly. He pressed his thumb against a spot behind and below her ear. “Feel that? Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Cavanaugh tried to answer, but couldn’t. The sudden pain shot through her head like a lightning bolt. Her eyes watered. This man knew what he was doing.
“The right amount of pressure applied to the right point can kill someone in the blink of an eye,” he said. He pressed even harder. “And I know exactly where to apply the pressure.”
Tears streamed out of Cavanaugh’s eyes. What had happened? This man had placed her entirely under his control in a matter of seconds.
“I saw your boyfriend leave.” His lips brushed against her ear. “Take me to him.” He twisted her arm behind her back.
Cavanaugh could barely think, the pain had become so intense; it was as if he had driven an iron spike through her skull. She couldn’t take him to Travis, but she knew she couldn’t take much more of this, either. She felt as if her head might snap off at any moment. She began to pray for unconsciousness.
“Three seconds,” the man whispered. “Then I’ll finish you off. Where is he?” He pressed his other thumb on the same point behind her other ear, doubling the pain. Cavanaugh’s lips parted, but the sound she made was merely a whimper. It was all she could do.
“Let go of her.”
Cavanaugh heard a deep voice behind her. Travis? But he had gone to the car. …