Full Circle (29 page)

Peter's phone chirped. He answered, and though Adam could not hear the words, he knew from the way the man's features softened that he spoke with Honor. The country lane bundled around a curve, then passed a rise, then swept down to run along-side the storm-swollen river. Peter cut off his phone and stowed it back in his pocket. Adam spotted the next squall approaching from his right. The tempest stalked across the windswept ridgeline on a billion legs of white and gray. There were no other cars now, just him and the empty road. Adam pressed down on the accelerator, aiming to make the curve and enter the long straightaway before the snow masked his vision.

The snow struck just as he completed the turn. And with it came the sound of thunder. Or so it seemed.

The other car appeared with such suddenness, Adam's first thought was that it had been molded from the storm. The beast of steel and raging speed bounded down the steep farm lane, racing so fast all four wheels pitched off the surface.

As Adam's foot was already on the accelerator, he mashed it to the floor. That simple act, taken with instinctive confidence in his vehicle, saved them. “Watch out!”

Kayla gripped his shoulder with one hand and the dash with her other. But Peter was in the process of stowing away his phone and faced the opposite direction.

The Mercedes' eight cylinders bellowed with a desperate desire to reach safety. And they almost did. The oncoming car did not hit them dead center, as was intended. Instead, it struck just behind Peter's door. Despite her double-handed grip, the force punched Kayla into Adam's chest. Peter's forehead splintered the nearside window, then he bounced the entire way across the car to land in the footwell behind Adam's seat.

Adam was rigid with the effort to maintain both his death grip on the steering wheel and keep the accelerator jammed to the floorboards. The rear tires slewed on the slick pavement, then lost traction entirely.

The attacker gunned his engine so high it forced the Mercedes to vibrate in frantic unison. Adam kept his own foot jammed all the way down. The Mercedes' wheels shrieked a panic note. The car filled with the smell of burning rubber.

A sudden gust blew down the valley, clearing the space between the two cars. Adam stared through the attacker's snow-streaked windscreen. Derek Steen glared back at him, his face twisted in a screaming frenzy.

The massive car had been caught at a terrible angle. The country lane was not just narrow. It had no verge. As soon as the spinning wheels left the wet asphalt and touched the grass, Adam might as well have sought to drive on air.

Derek's car had the double advantage of momentum and traction. Derek pushed and kept pushing as the Mercedes slewed violently. It seemed to Adam like the car tipped in impossibly slow motion, as though the car tried to fight to save them. Tried and failed.

Adam's final glimpse of their attacker was Derek Steen shouting in triumphant rage as the Mercedes gave way.

The car tilted over the ledge. The angle deepened. Kayla screamed something he could not manage to hear. The leading wheels struck an indentation in the riverbank.

The car flipped over entirely.

The roof crashed into the river running alongside the road. The rain-thickened waters beat through Peter's shattered window. The car began to settle.

Water hissed in a frigid murky jet straight into Adam's face. He untangled Kayla from his chest. She had gone completely still. It took forever to undo his seat belt. Kayla was not moving. Adam took a breath and submerged down to where his face was within inches of her seat belt's clip. He tugged and wrenched and finally managed to free her.

Only when he came up gasping did he feel the cold slice his face.

“Kayla!”

She might have spoken a word. But it came out disjointed and tainted by her moan.

“Kayla, I need you!” He gripped her arms and shook her harder than he intended, because her head bounced on the seat cushion, which was now the roof. Her eyes came fully open, though. Adam moved in close enough to fill her field of vision. “Your father needs help.”

“Daddy?”

“Focus, Kayla. We've got to get out of here.”

“What happened . . . Daddy?”

Adam scrambled around so that his knees rested on the steering wheel. “See if you can crank the window open.”

He pushed himself back through the frigid murk. Peter sprawled across the rear, his head wedged between the ledge and the rear window. Which meant he had remained clear of the inrushing water. “Peter!”

Blood washed in a dirty pink stream from a cut above his temple. It was the only color to his features. His eyelids flickered. “Peter, you've got to wake up!”

Behind him he heard rhythmic thumps as Kayla worked on a door. “It's stuck partway!”

Adam felt the car shift upon the riverbed and sink another six inches. “Can you make it out?”

“It's very narrow . . . What about Daddy?”

“Get to the bank and be ready to take him!” If the opening was narrow, Adam would not be able to manhandle Peter through it. He braced himself on the opposite door and began kicking at the broken side window. The Mercedes had settled at an angle that left the smashed window at a slight upward angle. Adam fought against the inrushing water and carefully kicked away all the remnants of glass that he could find. He gripped Peter's jacket with one hand, and with the other clenched the carpet covering the drive train directly overhead. He wedged himself through the open window as far as he could go and still keep his face and Peter's clear of the water. Then a deep breath. Another. Adam ducked under the water and pried him-self through the window, dragging Peter along with him.

Peter's shoulders jammed tight. Adam shouted into the rushing stream, mashed one shoulder back, and pulled the other forward. Peter shot through the window as though ejected.

A branch raked the back of his neck. Adam heard his shirt rip. Furiously he fought off the limb and pulled Peter up to where his face cleared the water.

Adam came up gasping. The torrent clutched at him as he dragged Peter toward the shore. Falling snow and ice pelted him. Kayla appeared alongside him and helped drag Peter up the muddy, slippery embankment.

Only when they hit the level grass verge at the top did Adam give in to the tremors.

Kayla cradled her father's head and blew into his mouth. Adam pushed himself to his feet. It was a dreadfully long process. His legs felt as though they belonged to someone else, a man without the brain function to instruct them properly.

He looked down. Kayla shivered and pushed at her father's chest and then breathed into his mouth. She pushed again. And breathed once more.

Peter coughed. Sputtered. Coughed again.

Adam tried to say, “I'm going for help.” The words were so mangled he did not understand them himself. But Kayla looked up at him, blinked through the snow flaking her eye-lashes, and nodded.

Adam stumbled down the road. He looked back at the curve. The snow already obliterated Kayla, her father, and the river.

The walk took forever. He almost went down twice.

Only when he reached the highway did Adam realize he was shouting at the storm. A wordless barrage, willing his body to fight through.

He was yelling so loud he did not hear the truck until it was almost on top of him. The driver frantically mashed on the brakes as the rear end slewed slightly. Adam stumbled out of the way and went down. The behemoth shuddered to a halt just as he managed to make his feet again. The cab's door opened and a voice shouted through the storm, “If that ain't your blood, mate, it will be soon enough!”

chapter 32

A
dam found it somehow fitting to have Officer Walton enter the hospital waiting room the same moment as Joshua. The company financial officer looked weak and insubstantial next to the uniformed policewoman.

The local Oxford constable who had been interviewing Adam asked, “Is Scotland Yard taking an interest in this case?”

“In a manner of speaking.” She offered Adam her hand. “How are you?”

Bruised. Sore. Still cold at some level far below his now-dry skin. Even so, Adam was glad enough to be there to answer, “Fine.”

“And your mates?”

“The doctors say Peter probably suffered a concussion, but the scan didn't show any internal bleeding or abnormal swelling. Twenty stitches in his forehead and a possible dislocated shoulder. But he's resting well.”

“And your lady friend?”

“Kayla is in with her father.”

“Sounds like you came out the hero.”

The local Oxford policeman cleared his throat. “We were in the process of establishing that.”

Officer Walton nodded in Adam's direction. “Take it from me. This is one of the good guys.”

“You're certain about that, are you?”

“As a matter of fact, I am.” She pulled over a chair. “Appreciate the call.”

“Glad you were there to take it.”

The trucker had proven to be a good guy, once he was certain Adam's plight was real. He pulled his rig down the lane, settled Peter between the seats and bundled Kayla into the crawl space behind them. He turned the cab's heater up to toasty and made record time back to Oxford. He even let Adam use his phone, first to call ahead to the hospital, and then Honor. The only time the trucker had shown a hint of alarm was when Adam asked information to pass him through to Scotland Yard.

Officer Walton examined the surgical scrubs he wore and gave him a cop's smile, a faint tightening of the eyes. “You look good in blue.”

“At least it's dry.”

She noticed Joshua hovering in the background and asked, “Are you with this gentleman?”

When Joshua hesitated, Adam said, “Yes. He is.”

Officer Walton turned back and reported, “Derek Steen was apprehended at Heathrow Airport, in the process of boarding a flight to Manila.”

“First long-haul flight out of town.”

“No doubt. I stopped by Heathrow on the way out. The offer to extradite him back to a cozy African cell worked wonders. As they say in your neck of the woods, he sang like a parrot.”

“The correct term,” Adam said, “is canary.”

“It so happens he was fired by his company, what's it called?”

Adam looked at Joshua. “Madden and Van Pater.”

“That's the one. Took it hard, our lad did. He seemed delighted with my interest in how they sent him down to that place . . .”

Adam kept his gaze on the tightly clenched accountant. “Dar es Salaam.”

“He's confessed that he stole your lady friend's missing funds. At the company's instructions, apparently. I was hoping you might be able to clear up the issue of motive for me.”

“
MVP
has been gunning for Peter's company since he left them fifteen years ago.”

Joshua cleared his throat. “Actually, it was sixteen.”

“
MVP
is Steen's former employer?”

“That's how they're known in the City.” Adam recounted what they had learned.

Officer Walton extracted a notebook and pen and took swift notes. “So
MVP
saw Ms. Austin's project as another means by which Oxford Ventures was establishing itself within the colleges and their investment capital.”

“Basically.”

“I'll need to pass this by my colleagues in the Fraud Division. But my guess is,
MVP
is soon going to be far too busy with their own troubles to mess with you again.” She rose to her feet and said to the Oxford cop, “Why don't we go have a word with Ms. Austin, see if she corroborates his story.”

Adam asked, “What about Derek?”

“Mr. Steen requested an attorney, which was of course his privilege. He's been remanded into Her Majesty's custody and carted downtown. We'll give the lad a night alone in a cell while I meet with my mates in Fraud. Then the lot of us will all sit down and see what kind of deal we can work out.” She gave him another cop's smile. “My guess is, the prospect of seeing prison in fine Salaambay will have him hitting the high notes.”

Joshua Dobbins stepped in close enough to reveal a slight tick over his left eye. “I gather you're expecting me to apologize.”

“Not really, no.”

“I did what I thought was best for the company.”

“My only argument with you,” Adam said, “was that you didn't back Peter's play.”

“He's always been too emotional. Too involved in looking beyond profits.”

“Too determined to make his company into something more than MVP,” Adam finished. “Something greater. A firm with a higher ideal than simply making money.”

Joshua wanted to shut him down. The bitter taste of speaking with Adam at all twisted his mouth and pinched his face. “Peter has regularly allowed his enthusiasms to run away from him. My job was to keep the worst of these crazes from taking us down.”

Adam decided there was nothing to be gained by arguing the point further. “I've been preparing a list of possible deals where they've skirted the law. The folder is marked ‘Steen.' There's a copy in the bottom drawer of Peter's home office desk.”

Joshua glanced toward the doors. But when they opened to admit Mrs. Drummond and not the police, he turned back and said, “Your friend at Scotland Yard intimated they would not be bothering us again.”

Mrs. Drummond glanced uncertainly around the waiting room, then slipped out the door again. Adam said, “Whether or not the police find enough evidence to make a case, it's all going to take time. And time is the one thing we can't afford to give MVP. We need to get them off our back.”

Reluctantly Joshua nodded agreement. “How . . .”

“I hired a detective to scope out MVP. I used my funds and did it independent of the company. What you have comes from one source, not board level. I found nothing directly related to the attack on us. But there are numerous memos related to some project called Serengeti.” Adam related his confrontation with Madden at the luncheon.