Total Control (29 page)

"Hell, I'll even buy, Ray. Nothing's too good for my partner."

Sawyer smiled and turned into the parking lot of a McDonald's.

Jackson looked over at Sawyer, mock disgust on his face. Then, shaking his head, he picked up the car phone and started punching in numbers.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

The slim Learjet streaked through the skies with power to spare.

Inside the luxurious cabin Philip Goldman reclined in his seat and sipped at a cup of hot tea while the remnants of a meal were cleared away by the cabin steward. Across from Goldman sat Alan Porcher, president and chief executive officer of RTG Group, the Western Europe-based global consortium. The tanned, slender Porcher cradled a glass of wine and studied the attorney intently before speaking.

"You know Triton Global claims they have concrete evidence of one of their employees handing over sensitive documents to us at one of our warehouse facilities in Seattle. We can expect to hear from their lawyers shortly, I would imagine." Porcher paused. "From your law firm, of course, Tyler, Stone. Ironic, isn't it?"

Goldman put down his teacup and folded his hands in his lap.

"And this troubles you?"

Porcher looked surprised. "Why shouldn't it?"

Goldman's reply was simple. "Because, with respect to that claim, you're nor guilty." He added, "Ironic, isn't it?"

"Still, I have heard some things about the CyberCom deal that trouble me, Philip."

Goldman sighed and sat forward in his cabin chair. "Such as?"

"That perhaps the acquisition of CyberCom will occur more rapidly than we thought. That perhaps we do not know the latest offer that will be made by Triton. When we make our offer, I must be assured it will be accepted. I will not be allowed to bid again. Cybercom is inclined toward the Americans as it is."

Goldman cocked his head and absorbed the CEO's words. "I'm not so sure of that. The Internet knows no geopolitical boundaries.

So who's to say the domination cannot occur from the other side of the Atlantic?"

Porcher took another sip of wine before answering. "No, other things being equal, the deal will land in the western hemisphere.

Therefore, we must ensure that conditions are decidedly unequal."

There was now a hard glint in Porcher's eyes.

Goldman took a moment to methodically wipe his mouth with his handkerchief before responding. "Tell me, who are your sources for this information?"

Porcher waved his hand distractedly. "It blows in the wind."

"I don't believe in winds. I believe in facts. And the facts are that we do know Triton's latest negotiating position. To the last detail."

"Yes, but Brophy is now out of the loop. I cannot be limited to old news."

"You won't be. As I've told you, I am currently very close to solving that problem. When I do, and I will, you can easily trump Triton and walk away with an acquisition that will ensure your domination of the information superhighway for the foreseeable future."

Porcher looked pointedly at the attorney. "You know, Philip, I have often been curious about your motivation regarding this matter.

If, as I hope and you continue to promise, we succeed in acquiring CyberCom, Triton will most assuredly be unhappy with your law firm. They may go elsewhere."

"One can only hope." A faraway look appeared on Goldman's face as he thought of the possibility.

"I'm afraid you have lost me."

Goldman assumed a pedantic tone. "Triton Global is Tyler, Stone's largest client. Triton Global is Henry Wharton's client. That is the chief reason Henry is managing partner. If Triton ceases using the firm as counsel, would you like to guess who becomes the largest rainmaker at the firm and, therefore, the probable successor to Wharton as managing partner?"

Porcher pointed at Goldman. "And I would hope that in such a case RTG matters would be given the highest priority in the firm."

"I think I can safely promise that."

Porcher put down his wineglass and lit a cigarette. "Now tell me exactly how you plan to solve the problem."

"Do you really care about the method, or just the results?"

"Indulge me with your brilliance. I recall you often enjoy doing that. Just don't sound so damn professorial when doing so. I have been out of university many years now."

Goldman raised an eyebrow at the CEO's remark. "You seem to know me all too well."

"You are one of the few attorneys in my acquaintance who thinks like a businessman. Winning is king. Fuck the law!" '

Goldman accepted one of the cigarettes from Porcher and took a moment lighting it. "A very recent development has occurred that has given us a golden opportunity to gain firsthand, almost real-time information about Triton's proposed deal with CyberCom.

We'll know Triton's best and final offer before they even have a chance to communicate it to CyberCom. Then we march in a few hours earlier, present our proposal and wait for Triton's deal to come in. CyberCom rejects it and you become the proud owner of another jewel in your far-flung empire."

Porcher slowly withdrew the cigarette from between his lips and stared wide-eyed at his companion. "You can do this?"

"I can do this."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Lee, let me warn you, he can be a little abrasive at times, but that's just the man's personality." Frank Hardy glanced back at Sawyer, and the two men walked down a long corridor after exiting a private elevator onto the top floor of the Triton Global building.

"Kid gloves, I promise, Frank. I don't usually pull out my brass knuckles on the victims, you know."

While they walked, Sawyer reflected on the results of the airport queries about Jason Archer. His men had dug up two airport personnel who had recognized Jason Archer's picture. One was the Western Airlines employee who had checked in his bag on the morning of the seventeenth. The other was a janitor who had noticed Jason sitting and reading the paper. He remembered him because Jason had never let go of his leather briefcase, even while reading the paper or drinking his coffee. Jason had gone into the rest room, but the janitor had left the area and had not noticed him coming back out. The FBI agents could not question the young woman who had actually collected boarding passes from the passengers on the in-fated plane, since she had been one of the flight attendants on Flight 3223. A number of people recalled seeing Arthur Lieberman.

He had been a regular at Dulles for many years. All in all, not much useful information.

Sawyer refocused on Hardy's back; he was moving quickly down the plushly carpeted hallway. Gaining entry to the technology giant's headquarters had not been easy. Triton's security had been so zealous that they had even wanted to call the bureau to verify the serial number on Sawyer's credentials until Hardy sternly informed them that that would be unnecessary and that the veteran FBI special agent deserved a lot more deference than he was being shown.

None of that had ever happened to Sawyer before in all his years with the bureau, and he jokingly let a sheepish Hardy know it.

"Hey, Frank, these guys hoarding gold bullion or uranium 235 in here?"

"Let's just say they're slightly paranoid."

"I'm impressed. Usually we FBI types scare the crap out of everybody.

I bet they thumb their noses at the IRS guys too."

"Actually, a former head of the IRS is their top tax guru."

"Damn, they really do have all the bases covered."

An uneasy feeling crept over Sawyer the more he thought about his chosen profession. Information was king these days." Access to information was ruled by and large through computers. The private sector was so far ahead of the government realm that there was no possible way the government would ever catch up. Even the FBI, which in public sectors had state-of-the-art technology, would have existed far down the technological sophistication list in the world where Triton Global did battle. To Sawyer the revelation was not a pleasant one. One would have to be an imbecile not to realize that computer crimes would soon dwarf all other manifestations of human evil, at least in dollar terms. But dollar terms meant a lot.

They translated into jobs and homes and happy families. Or not.

Sawyer stopped walking. "You mind me asking how much Triton pays you a year?"

Hardy turned around and smiled. "Why? You thinking of hanging out your own shingle and trying to steal my clients?"

"Hey, just testing the waters in case I ever take you up on that offer of a job."

Hardy glanced sharply at Sawyer. "You serious?"

"At my age, you learn never to say never."

Hardy's face resumed its serious look while he pondered his ex-partner's words. "I'd rather not get into specifics, but Triton is well into the seven figures as a client, not counting a substantial retainer they pay us."

Sawyer blew a silent whistle. "Christ, I hope you see a big slice of that at the end of the day, Frank."

Hardy nodded curtly. "I do. And you could too if you'd ever wise up and join me."

"Okay, I'll bite: What are we talking salary-wise if I come on with you? Just ballpark."

"Five to six hundred thousand the first year."

Sawyer's mouth almost hit the floor. "You've got to be shitting me, Frank."

"I never joke about money, Lee. As long as crime is around, we'll never have a bad year." The men resumed walking as Hardy added, "Think about it anyway, will you?"

Sawyer rubbed his chin and thought about his mounting debt, never-ending work hours and his tiny office at the Hoover Building.

"I will, Frank." He decided to change the subject. "So is Gamble a one-man show?"

"Not by a long shot. Oh, he's the undisputed leader of Triton;

however, the real technology wizard is Quentin Rowe."

"What's he like? A geek?"

"Yes and no," Hardy explained. "Quentin Rowe graduated at the top of his class from Columbia University. He won a slew of awards in the technology field while working at Bell Labs, and then at Intel.

He started his own computer company at age twenty-eight. That company was the hottest stock on NASDAQ three years ago and was one of the most sought-after acquisitions of the decade when Nathan Gamble bought it. It's been a brilliant fit. Quentin is the true visionary at the company. He's the one pushing for the CyberCom acquisition.

He and Gamble aren't the best of friends, but they've done incredibly well together and Gamble tends to listen to him if the dollars are right. Anyway, you can't argue with the success they've had."

Sawyer nodded. "By the way, we got Sidney Archer under round-the-clock surveillance."

"I take it your interview with her aroused some suspicions."

"You could say that. And something shook her up right when we got there."

"What was that?"

"A phone call."

"From who?"

"I don't know. We traced the call. It came from a phone booth in Los Angeles. Whoever placed the call could be in Australia by now."

"You think it was her husband?"

Sawyer shrugged. "Our source said the person lied about who he was to Sidney Archer's dad when he picked up the phone. And our source said Sidney Archer looked like death warmed over after the call."

Using a smart card, Hardy accessed a private elevator. While they were carried up to the top floor, Hardy took a moment to adjust his fashionable tie and flick at his hair in the reflection of the mirrored elevator doors. His thousand-dollar suit hung well on his lean frame.

Gold-plated cuff links glinted at his wrists. Sawyer appraised his former partner's exterior and then looked at his own reflection. His shirt, while freshly laundered, was frayed at the collar, the tie was a relic from a decade ago. Topping it off, Sawyer's perpetual cowlick stuck up like a tiny periscope. Sawyer assumed a mock serious tone as he looked over the very polished Hardy. "You know, Frank, it's a good thing you left the bureau."

"What?" Hardy was rocked.

"You're just too damn pretty to be an FBI agent anymore."

Sawyer grinned.

Hardy laughed. "Speaking of pretty, I had lunch with Meggie the other day. Great head on her shoulders too. Getting into law school at Stanford isn't easy. She's going to have a great life."

"In spite of her old man, you probably want to add."

record in the world with my two, Lee, you know that. You weren't the only one who missed all those birthdays."

"I think you recovered a lot better with your kids than I did."

"Yeah? Well, Stanford isn't cheap. Think about my offer. Might speed up your recovery. Here we are." Hardy passed through elegant glass doors etched with the shape of an eagle, the glass sliding noiselessly open at their approach. The executive secretary, a nice-looking woman with an efficient, firm manner, announced their arrival into her headset. She pressed a button set in a panel on top of a sleek wood and metal console that looked more like a piece of modern art than a desk, and motioned Hardy and Sawyer to move toward a massive wall of lacquered Macassar ebony wood. A section of the wall opened up when they approached. Sawyer shook his head in amazement, as he had done many times since entering the Triton building.

In a few moments they were standing in front of a desk, although a more apt description would have labeled it a command center, with its wall of TV monitors, phones and other electronic gadgetry neatly built into shining tables and impressive wall units. The man behind the desk was just putting down the phone. He turned to them.

Hardy said, "Special Agent Lee Sawyer of the FBI, Nathan Gamble, chairman of Triton Global."

Sawyer could feel the strength of the grip when Nathan Gamble's fingers closed around his own and the two men exchanged perfunctory greetings.

"Do you have Archer yet?"

Sawyer was halfway to his chair when the question hit him. The tone was clearly that of a superior to a subordinate and was more than sufficient to raise every hair on the agent's thick neck. Sawyer finished sitting down and took a moment to study the man before answering. Out of the corner of his eye, Sawyer caught the apprehensive look on his former partner's face from where he stood rigidly near the doorway. Sawyer took another moment to undo the button on his suit coat and flip open his notebook before resting his steady eyes back on Gamble.