person before. She'd seen plenty of hunting rifles in her day, but never a handgun. Now she was in room with one snuggled under the belt of a soulless narcissist. It terrified her more than she ever thought it could.
“Marianne.” said Reggie. “I want to show you some things that I hope you can explain.”
There was a manila folder sitting on the table. He opened it and removed a single page.
Binder said, “This is a hard copy of an article I came across this morning. A blogger of some sort approached me on the train into work this morning so that he could ask me my opinion about my partners. This journalist, if you can call him that, was under the belief that a mutiny was under way at this company.”
The man had been standing and now he sat. He folded his arms across her chest and watched her. Marianne said nothing. She waited for him to speak again.
“Ok.” he said. “I'll continue. This man could be a trouble maker or delsional. God knows there are more of those than there are useful people in the world. There is one piece of evidence, however, the stands out.” Reggie pointed at a quote on the page, about half way down. “He claims this exerpt was written by Rosalind Munro. In it she discusses her frustration with my leadership and assures the recipient that she will follow through with her plan to oust me from my own company.”
Binder subjected her once more to the silent stare and she waited him out.
After a minute he said, “I can confirm the authenticity of this email if I can identify the recipient. Would you happen to know who that is?”
“Why don't you ask Rosalind?”
“I'm asking you.”
“I don't know.”
Reggie nodded. “Don't be so detached. If this story is true then it is not my problem alone. Rosalind's duplicity is a threat to both of us.”
He stood again and put his hands on his hips again, flashing the but of his pistol.
Binder said, “That is true whether you are involved or not.”
SIXTEEN
“Are you okay now?” said John.
He was driving down Atlantic Avenue and past the public facade of the Atlantic Mall. There was semi-circular taxi stand and valet drive bending away from the street. Beyond that, the glass wall. It was curved and slanted toward the base of the tower above. Then John turned right down a little alley toward the entrance to the subterranean garage. The mall was on his right and a couple smaller buildings were on his left. Through the gaps he saw the marina. He caught a glimpse of what looked like two men in fist fight on the deck of a boat. He thought about backing up to get another look but then Jason answered his question.
“I'm okay.” he said. “Why wouldn't I be okay?”
“You were sitting on the ground rocking back and forth. I thought I heard you humming.”
“I do that when I'm bored.”
“So you're really okay?”
“Are you going to do something?” said Jason. “This is the place that took Alice away.”
“I'm going to do my job. We'll see what happens after that.”
John pulled his truck into the parking garage and went all the way down to the service level. He was surprised to seen and armed guard at the gate. This guy wasn't carrying a sidearm. He had an assault rifled slung over his shoulder. It seemed like these operations were everywhere lately. Everyone was afraid that a random madman might blow them at at any moment.
“It's not real.” said Jason.
“Looks real enough.”
“It's just for show. That's what my mom says.”
“I don't care.” said John. “Shut up until we're through this.”
“You used to be nice to me. What happened?”
What happened is that the entire legal system, which seemed poised to give itself up to the machine clicking away several stories above him, had decided he was a threat to his sister. After all these years of caring for her they just changed their minds.
The guard stopped them at the gate and John rolled down the window. The guard, who's name tag read Thomas Wright, was enormous and mean looking. That put John a little on edge, but what did he have to worry about? He had paperwork for everything. He pulled out a folder and handed it through the window. Thomas Wright flipped through it and tossed it back.
“Okay, Mr. Smith.” he said. “Could you open the rear doors?”
“Why? Is there something wrong with the paperwork?”
“Everything's fine. I just need to search the back.”
“You didn't even read the papers.”
“Sir.”
“Fine; just don't make me late.”
John told Jason to stay put and hopped out. He went around back and opened the doors.
The guard shook his head and said, “I don't know about that.”
Okay. John could see there was going to be a problem. He had his paperwork. Everything was in order. And yet somehow the system was gnawing on him again. He wished he had his bat. Or maybe a sub-machine gun. John closed his hand into a fist and opened it again. Then he noticed another guard leaving the booth. If this was going to be a fight, it wasn't to be one he could win. Even if the gun's weren't real, he wasn't close to being evenly matched here.
The other jack boot, whose name tag read Malcolm Price, came over and asked what the matter was. His partner, Sasquatch, pointed inside the truck. The head of the other guard and John moved together. The big man was pointing at the fire safe with the hazard label.
He said, “Can you open that?”
“How about I open your head?”
“Really?” said Malcolm Price. “Is it so hard just to show the man what he wants?”
“They must teach you something in rental cop school.” said John. “You don't open things with hazard labels unless it's the right conditions. You should know that even if you dropped out before the eight grade. Besides, there some very expensive equipment in there that you will ruin if I open that here.”
Price raised an eyebrow at his buddy.
“Well, Tommy...” he said. “Do you think a terrorist would put a label on his bomb?”
“Maybe.” said Wright.
“And the guy's got a kid with him too.”
“A kid?” He said as he walked around to the side door.
Price said, “Have you no powers of observation at all?”
John ran up behind big Tommy, shouting, “Leave the kid alone!”
“Guys, this is nothing to fight over.” said Malcolm.
Tommy said, “He's hiding something.”
“Does he have paperwork for this thing?”
Tommy stopped. He looked at John. Then he looked at Malcolm and said, “I didn't check.”
Price looked at John, saying, “Well, do you?”
John wasn't sure. He didn't have a clue what was in any of the forms he'd handed to Thomas Wright. He'd just picked them up before leaving and followed instructions. Impatient to get out of this, he nodded. Price came closer.
“That right.” he said. “You do, don't you?”
John said, “Yes.” He paused. “I do. Okay?”
To Tommy, Price said, “Check the papers again if you want, but he's telling the truth.”
“What's wrong with you?” said the other guard. “You think you're shrink now?”
John watched Price pull out a cell phone and load up a picture of a blond woman. She was good looking, if a tad on the overweight side.
Price said, “This is all the evidence you need. I'm dating a girl who does live sex chats for a living and you're jumping out of bushes at janitors. I'm a new man, Tommy. I see things differently now. I'm thinking that maybe conflict resolution is my true calling.”
“Because of the Sorter?” said Tommy.
John said, “You're kidding me.”
“Yeah.” said Tommy. “He thinks he's a genius now.”
The two of them had a laugh together.
Malcolm started to get upset. “If y
ou took the test, you'd understand.”
“I took the test.” said John. “Told me I'm not worth the skin I'm made of.”
Malcolm walked off in a huff. As he went back into the booth, John called after him.
“You should see my girlfriend. She's got a lot more going for her than that chick.”
The guard slammed the door on the booth shut. Tommy slapped John on the shoulder and gave him a broad grin.
He said, “Is that true?”
“Sure.”
John pulled out his own phone and showed the big guy a picture of Ruth.
“She a real cop?” said Tommy.
“Yep.”
Tommy walked back to the booth now, saying, “She's amazing.”
When he got to the door, he yanked it open and shoved his partner aside. Tommy flipped a button and the gate lifted and the tire teeth retracted. As John drove away, Tommy smiled and waved. John waved back.
John found a place to park the van and looked through the folder again. He found nothing that mentioned the hypoxic container.
“So?” said Jason.
“Huh? Oh, it's not in there. But it doesn't matter.”
“That guard thought so.”
“I don't think he knew any better.”
John found a list of prohibited items that were stapled to the back of the folder. These were the things that required special arrangements to get into the building. Pressurized liquid nitrogen was on the list, due to dangers of explosion or asphyxiation. So he did need a registration after all, but he didn't have one. That hardly mattered to John. In the end, it wasn't his turkey on the line. Polymath had ordered this thing. They could deal with the consequences.
SEVENTEEN
The restaurant where Dale had met his daughter was in the South End and Polymath was along the Greenway, near the waterfront and North End. The distance was a