The Killing Code (18 page)

“I don’t know what to say Jake.
Thanks a million! I was going to start replacing them one at a time but Sarah and I are getting married in a few months and this means I can put the money away for our honeymoon.”

“
I wouldn’t worry too much about paying for the honeymoon. Check your bank account; I put a wedding present in there for you.”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped in amazement.

“Sarah will want to kiss you on the lips when I tell her!”

“
I think she’d better save that for you my friend.”

Jake walked toward the taxi Jimmy had arranged for him.
Jimmy watched him admiringly and called out, “I don’t know how I got so lucky to work for you boss.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it
Jimmy. Your work speaks for itself.”

With that, the taxi drove off toward Jersey City and Jake’s home base.

Half an hour later, at thirty thousand feet and about fifty miles east of Jake, Alan Beach looked up as the ‘Fasten Seatbelts” sign came on with a bong and the Purser spoke over the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen; the captain has turned on the seatbelt lights for our descent into Newark International Airport.
Please fasten your seatbelts and return your seats to the upright position, put away your tray tables and turn off all electronic devices. We’ll be landing on schedule in fifteen minutes. Thank you.”

Alan turned closed his laptop and complied with her other instructions.
A flustered businessman beside him was still furiously working on his computer and obviously annoyed at the interruption. He turned to Alan, red-faced and demanding.

“Why the hell do we have to turn off our laptops?
It’s not like they really interfere with anything. Well I’m not turning mine off – what are they going to do about it!”

Alan smiled calmly at the man and opened his jacket to show his detective’s shield.
The tense businessman’s face went from red to crimson as he slammed his laptop closed, fastened his seat belt and sat bolt upright until they landed.

After disembarking the aircraft, Alan strolled down the concourse to
meet a New Jersey Police officer. He was a pleasant young fellow, who was to loan Alan a police issue Glock, since Walker hadn’t had enough time to get the necessary approvals for Alan to fly armed. He checked Alan’s identification, they signed the paperwork, and the young officer gave him the weapon and wished him luck. Alan then proceeded to one of the many competing booths to rent a car. He proceeded to the allocated car park, opened the plain white sedan and retrieved the map from the glove compartment. It was ten years since he’d been to New Jersey and it was his first time in Jersey City so he spent some time familiarizing himself with the city’s layout and main roads. Alan had a gift for understanding and memorizing maps and liked to take advantage of that gift to ensure he only needed to look at the map again once he was already close to his destination. Satisfied, he folded the map so that only the vicinity of Matt Lewis’ office was exposed and drove toward Jersey City.

As Alan’s rented car exited the car park, Jake’s thumb pressed on the starter button of his
customized BMW R1200 R and the powerful but quiet twin cylinder boxer engine came to life. He had been a motorcycle enthusiast since he started riding dirt bikes in his early teens and his secure garage housed five different bikes. Jake chose the R 1200 R for the night’s task because of its outstanding handling, constant reliable power and excellent braking. Experience had taught him that tailing a subject undetected was much more easily accomplished on such a machine than it was in a car. If there was the possibility of an active pursuit, the bike would be almost useless against a car but Jake expected no such behavior from the Columbus police detective so the bike was the best way to maintain the appropriate distance and avoid discovery.

They neared the area in which Matt’s office was located and Jake fell back further, knowing where Alan was headed.
He let the car disappear from view and cut through an alley to emerge at the other side of the row of single story store fronts where his former colleague’s office was located. He concealed himself behind a parked car, turned the bike’s engine off and pushed down the kickstand then sat watching as Alan slowly approached, looking for street numbers before pulling to a stop directly in front of Matt’s office.

Alan looked at the frontage, wondering why a successful lobbyist would locate his office in such a place
but as he approached the window, he could tell by the cheap furniture and chaos that Matt Lewis didn’t much care about appearances. The detective deduced that Lewis likely chose the spot either for its possible proximity to his home or for the sake of anonymity and privacy. There were no markings or advertising on the windows; only the street number confirmed this was the right place and Alan was sure that most anyone looking through the window might assume the unit was derelict. He reached for the door handle and expected to have to try picking the lock but instead found that it pushed open beneath his hand. Looking at the soft wooden door jamb, it was obvious that someone had forced the door open. The bolt had gone right through the latch and the metal keep had fallen onto the floor several feet inside the office. Someone had definitely broken into the office of a murdered man and any misgivings Alan held about his conspiracy theory vanished with the discovery.

He slowly entered the office with his hand on his
borrowed New Jersey Police issue Glock 9mm, and called out, “Police – is anyone here?”

As expected, there was no reply so he took his hand off his weapon’s handle and proceeded toward the desk at the far end of the office.
Alan had to carefully pick his way through the files, papers and detritus strewn about on the floor until he was close enough to see the top of the desk was just as chaotic. He could only assume that whoever had broken in wasn’t concerned about disturbing the scene or being caught. Alan brought all his skills and experience to bear as he sifted through the mess and after two hours of searching he found only some news articles about Alex Devlin and some hand written notes about the mogul’s movements. It would take days to properly examine all the contents of the office but Alan was confident from his search that there was nothing incriminating to be found and if there ever had been, it had already been removed. He sighed in resignation, knowing the only avenue left to him was to try to speak with possibly the most powerful man in America. Even if he could get an audience with the man, it was extremely unlikely the meeting would lead anywhere. Alan shook his head in disappointment as he thought about telling Jim Benson he couldn’t bring his wife’s killer to justice. He wasn’t giving up yet but the outlook was grim.

Jake watched as Alan exited the office in obvious disappointment
and couldn’t help developing a good deal of respect for the detective’s tenacity and resourcefulness. He considered the virtues of telling Beach what he knew and showing him the documents Lewis had given him for safe keeping but realized that such knowledge may bring danger to the man so he continued his quiet surveillance.

Alan got into his car and drove to his hotel in the Waterfront
District downtown. As he drove, he dialed directory assistance and was put through to Devlin Industries’ headquarters.

“Good evening, Devlin Industries.
How may I direct your call?”

“I’d like to speak with Alex Devlin’s secretary please.”

“May I ask what it concerns?”

“I’m a police detective and I need to make an appointment to see Mr. Devlin.”

There was a pause before the operator replied, “Please hold.”

The phone rang eight
times before a man’s voice answered, “This is Peter Fenwick, Mr. Devlin’s personal assistant. And you are detective…?”

“
Beach. I would like to meet Mr. Devlin to ask some questions about an ongoing investigation.”

“How does this pertain to Mr. Devlin?”

“I can’t discuss details of the case but Mr. Devlin may have information that can assist in our enquiries.”

“Mr. Devlin is a very busy man
detective. Unless you can be more specific, you’ll have to go through our legal counsel.”

“There’s no need for that.
I’m sure that Mr. Devlin will want to dispel any possible doubts about the integrity of Blue Sky Biotech’s security systems and a few minutes of his time will suffice.”

“Hold the line please.”

Alan waited as a string quartet played baroque music down the telephone line. A moment later, the music stopped and the P.A’s voice returned.

“Are you certain the Hea
d of Security can’t handle the matter satisfactorily?”

“I don’t mean
to be indelicate but the issue may concern the Security Department’s own protocols.” Alan continued the lie to gain access.

“Al
right; Mr. Devlin will see you tomorrow at eleven o’clock sharp for ten minutes only. Is that clear?”

Alan felt anger welling up at the impertinence of this
officious man but controlled his anger to ensure he was allowed to see Devlin without going through legal channels.

“Yes, quite clear.
Thank you.”

“Are you staying in Princeton?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“I want to ensure that you arrive in time.
Where are you staying?”

“
I’m in the Waterfront District in Jersey City.”

“Well you’ll need to leave there by no later than
nine o’clock to allow for traffic. I assume you have a map?”

Alan could no longer contain his contempt and said disdainfully, “Mr. Fenwick; I am a
veteran police detective. I am quite capable of keeping an appointment.”

“Indeed.
I’ll expect you at eleven tomorrow then.”

As Alan approached the hotel, he was
still seething at Fenwick’s insolence and took a moment to compose himself before stopping at the hotel’s valet stand. A cheerful young man in a smart uniform opened his car door to greet him. Alan grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and got out of the car.

“Good evening sir.
Shall I park your car for you?”

“Yes please.” Alan said, relieved to experience some civility.

“Are you staying at the hotel sir? Shall I take your bag for you?”

“
I’m just checking in but I’ll carry my own bag thank you.”

“Can I have you
r name for the receipt please?”

“
Beach.”

The young man wrote on the parking receipt and tore the stub off and handed it to Alan.

“Enjoy your stay Detective Beach.”

“Detective…How did you…?”

“I’ve been doing this for over five years, sir. I know a police detective when I see one. Welcome to Jersey City.”

Alan smiled at the amiable
valet. “It’s that obvious, is it?”

“Actually
, no but I saw your shield as you got out of the car, it pays to be observant.” he said with a wink.

Alan had to chuckle, relieved to meet someone so clever and pleasant.
The young man’s angling for a good tip was amusing and completely inoffensive so he stripped a ten dollar bill from his billfold and handed it over.

“Thank you
detective - completely unexpected though.” he continued, broadening his smile.

Alan just laughed and shook his head as he climbed the stairs into the lobby
and proceeded to the reception desk.

“Welcome
sir. Are you checking in?”

“Yes
, the name is Beach.”

“Yes
Mr. Beach; your room is prepaid. I just need a credit card imprint to cover any incidentals please.”

Alan pulled out his card and handed it to the receptionist
. She gave him his room key and asked, “Would you like someone to carry your bag sir?”

“No thanks, it’s not heavy.”

“Enjoy your stay then Mr. Beach.”

Alan went to his room for a shower then got ready to go out and find somewhere
to eat. He preferred to explore the local area over dining in hotels when he was out of town so now refreshed, he went back down to the lobby and continued outside. The cheerful young valet saw him coming and gave him a warm smile.

“Are you not dining in the hotel Detective Beach?”

“No, I like to get out and find a good local restaurant. Any suggestions?”

“Yes sir.
There are quite a few eateries on Grove Street so I would suggest a taxi then just walk around until you find something you like.”

“Great, thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure – enjoy.”

The valet hailed a taxi and opened the door for Alan and told the driver where to drop him off.
It was a short trip and soon Alan was strolling along the street, looking at shop fronts and restaurants and trying to decide what he wanted to eat. He had walked about a mile thinking the exercise would pique his appetite when he suddenly felt a sharp pull on his right arm and a violent jolt against his left shoulder as he was physically dragged into a dark alley and forced behind a dumpster. His first instinct was to reach for his sidearm but as he did so, a powerful hand smashed down on his wrist shooting a jolt of white hot pain through his joint. He felt more strong hands on him as he was spun violently backward into the brick wall and his gun was taken from its holster.