“Why would COM-U-TECH need that program?”
“COM-U-TECH? I thought you said you received it from Kelno.”
“I was just making an obvious connection.”
“Not to me, it isn’t. Krayman Industries employs almost one million people. We can’t possibly be responsible for the actions of each one.”
“How did you get the disk out of the network office?” Sandy demanded, frustration feeling like an acid pit in the core of her stomach.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“It was stolen. You got it back.”
“Miss Lister, your rudeness is—”
“Was Krayman Industries responsible for the destruction of the space shuttle?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
“Does Krayman Industries control something in space capable of destroying the space shuttle?”
Dolorman’s face was flushed red with anger. “Miss Lister,” he began, struggling to restrain his voice, “this line of questioning has gone about as far as—”
“What did you do with T.J. Brown and Stephen Shay?”
“Who?”
“Two people I work with at the network who conveniently disappeared. Did Krayman Industries have anything to do with it?”
“I won’t justify that with an an—”
“I think you should.”
“Then the answer to all your questions is no. And let me spare you the trouble of posing any further ones by answering no to all of them now.” Dolorman rose deliberately, the motion obviously causing him pain. “Miss Lister, I agreed to this interview in part due to your reputation for being fair, honest, and nonconfrontational. I don’t know what you hope to gain from these wild accusations, but I will tell you now that no one in the employ of Krayman Industries will provide any assistance in completing this story of yours.” He regarded her with a maliciously bent stare. “I would threaten you with damage to your career, but I won’t because I’m sure you will do plenty of damage all by yourself before much longer. You have tarnished your own reputation this day, and the damage may well be irreparable.”
“Mr. Dolorman—”
“Miss Lister,” Dolorman interrupted louder, “our interview has come to a close. I am going to do you a great favor, though I can’t say why. There is a button under my desk that goes direct to our security department. I am going to wait two minutes before pressing it. If you leave right now, that will give you time to exit the building without an embarrassing escort.”
Sandy rose and started for the door.
“I suppose I owe you a debt of gratitude, Miss Lister,” Dolorman called after her, the pain still etched on his features. “You have confirmed my reasons for never meeting with reporters.”
Sandy left the office.
The elevator completed its slow descent, and the guard stepped out ahead of her, holding the doors. Sandy moved toward the exit and froze. Standing just outside the glass doors was a man in a cream-colored suit. He had been at the hotel that morning, in the lobby just before she left. She was sure of it. She hurried through the doors and hailed a cab, careful not to gaze in his direction.
The man in the cream-colored suit hailed one right after her.
Dolorman completed his report concerning the interview and switched the receiver from his right hand to his left.
“What she knows can hurt us, sir,” he concluded to the man on the other end. “And she will find someone who’ll listen, especially with the media at her disposal.”
“Yes, that makes sense. But of course we can’t allow it to happen. I trust you can handle things, Francis.”
“I’ve sent for Wells.”
“Good. Then I’ll see you on the island tomorrow. Dress warmly. The forecast isn’t promising.”
“Good-bye, sir.”
“Merry Christmas, Francis.”
Wells had not slept in nearly two days. But his face showed more frustration than fatigue over losing McCracken in Newport. He accepted Dolorman’s orders without expression. He had always liked military service because of its clarity. His work for Krayman Industries was no different.
“Wells, you must understand the risks involved here,” Dolorman warned. “Sandy Lister is a celebrity. We can afford no martyrs now. It must look like an accident.”
“It will.”
“And the task must be completed by this evening.”
The normal half of the big man’s face rose into a smile.
Sandy arrived back at the Four Seasons Hotel and made straight for the elevator, not bothering to watch for the man in the cream-colored suit. So what if they were watching her? They knew she was here anyway, and later this afternoon she’d let them follow her right to the FBI.
She felt bad that Dolorman had outperformed her in the interview, but she had the tape and that was what mattered. She had managed enough direct questions, and he answered them with unhesitant lies. The tape would prove that once she got it to the FBI. They would take matters from there.
Sandy rewound the tape, pushed play, and waited as it rolled past the starting leader.
Silence followed. No sounds, not even static.
The tape had been erased!
Where? How?
Sandy felt her breath coming hard. Then she remembered. The guard who rode down with her in the elevator from Dolorman’s office had brushed against her briefly as she stepped by him into the lobby. A sufficiently powerful magnet in his hand would have done the job nicely. Dolorman had considered everything.
There would be no trip to the FBI for her now, at least not yet. It would take hard evidence to make them move against Krayman Industries, evidence she no longer possessed. All she had were easily deniable accusations. Dolorman had proved that already.
But she wouldn’t need hard evidence to take her story to the media. T.J. Brown and Stephen Shay had been eliminated, but that wouldn’t silence her. There were other networks, newspapers, interview programs. People would listen to her because of who she was. At the very least, her exposure of Dolorman’s plan might give the authorities the impetus they needed to learn the truth.
She felt alive again, even excited, the fear in her pushed back. She had to think, plan an exact agenda.
It took four rings of the telephone before she even noticed it.
“Yes,” she said.
“Miss Lister?”
“Who is this?”
“I saw you at Krayman headquarters this morning,” a male voice whispered. “I know what you’re after and I’ve got it. The proof, I mean.”
“Proof of what?”
“What Krayman’s up to. The whole story.”
“You’ve got to tell me who you are.”
“It wouldn’t matter. You don’t know me. Kelno was a part of us.”
“Us?”
“There are others. I can’t talk anymore. We’ve got to meet.”
“Wait a minute, how do I know you’re not one of … them?”
“You don’t. But it cuts both ways, doesn’t it? There are risks involved, but if we don’t take them, there’ll be nothing left.”
“What do you mean by nothing left?”
The man’s voice became edged with panic. “They’re watching me. I’ve got to get off this line. I can meet you in an hour. I’ll lose them. You’ve got to come. Please!”
Proof, the man had said, what she needed most.
“Tell me where.”
The man gave her the address, Sandy jotted it down.
The connection clicked and broke.
Chapter 22
McCracken had anticipated leaving Newport would not be easy, and he was right. The town was part of an island with only three major routes of entry. Of course, Wells concentrated his forces on them, and his methods proved effective. Roadblocks were placed under the guise of construction work to slow traffic down for spotters. They seemed to be everywhere, at each corner and stoplight, their eyes peering in to inspect each car’s occupants. If their quarry was spotted, a call would be made down the road and a reception committee would be waiting.