Total Control (58 page)

Speaking of which, have you got any for me? Answers, that is?"

Jackson got up and closed the door to Sawyer's office.

"According to his doctor, Arthur Lieberman did not have the HIV virus."

Sawyer exploded. "That's impossible. The guy's lying his ass off."

"Don't think so, Lee."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because he showed me Lieberman's medical file." Sawyer sat back, stunned. Jackson continued. "When I asked the guy, I thought it was going to be like you and I talked about--his expression would have to tell us, because the man sure as hell wasn't going to show me any records without a subpoena in hand. But he did, Lee. No harm in his doctor proving that Lieberman didn't have the virus. Lieberman was some kind of health fanatic. Had yearly physicals, all sorts of preventive measures and testing. As part of the physicals, Lieberman was routinely tested for HIV. The doctor showed me the results from 1990 until last year. They were all negative, Lee. I saw them myself."

Sidney closed her bloodshot eyes for a moment, lay back on her parents' bed and took a deep breath. Wearily she made a decision.

She pulled out the card from her purse and stared at it for some minutes.

She felt the overpowering need to talk to someone. For a number of reasons, she decided it had to be him. She went down to the Land Rover and carefully dialed the number.

Sawyer had just opened the door to his apartment when he heard the phone start to ring. He grabbed up the phone, taking off his overcoat as he did so.

"Hello?"

The line was silent for a moment and Sawyer was just about to hang up. Then a voice came on the other end. Sawyer gripped the receiver with both hands and let his coat fall on the floor. He stood rigidly in the middle of his living room.

"Sidney?"

"Hello" The voice was small, but firm.

"Where are you?" Sawyer's question was automatic, but he instantly regretted it.

"Sorry, Lee, this is not a geography lesson."

"Okay, okay." Sawyer sat down in his battered recliner. "I don't need to know where you are. But are you safe?"

Sidney almost laughed. "Reasonably so, I guess, but it's still just a guess. I'm heavily armed, if that makes a difference." She paused for a moment. "I saw the TV news."

"I know you didn't kill them, Sidney."

"HOW--"

"Just trust me on that one."

Sidney let out a deep breath as the memory of that horrific night settled back down on her. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you when I called before. I... I just couldn't."

"Tell me what happened that night, Sidney."

Sidney was silent, debating whether to hang up or not. Sawyer sensed her deliberations. "Sidney, I'm not at the Hoover Building. I can't trace your call. And I happen to be on your side. You can talk as long as you want."

"Okay. You're the only one I happen to trust. What do you want to know?"

"Everything. Just start from the beginning."

It took Sidney about five minutes to recount the events of that night.

"You didn't see the shooter?"

"He was wearing a ski mask that covered his face. I think it was the same guy who tried to kill me later. At least l hope there aren't two guys walking around with eyes like that."

"In New York?"

"What?"

"The security guard, Sidney. He was murdered."

She rubbed at her forehead. "Yes. In New York."

"But definitely a man?"

"Yes, from his build and what I could see of his facial characteristics through the mask. And the bottom of his neck was exposed. I could see beard stubble."

Sawyer was impressed with her observations and said so.

"You tend to remember the smallest details when you think you're about to die."

"I know what you mean. I've actually been in that situation myself.

Look, we found the tape, Sidney. Your talk with Jason?"

Sidney looked around the darkened interior of the Land Rover and the garage beyond. "So, everyone knows--"

"Don't worry about that. On the tape your husband sounded jumpy, nervous. Answered some of your questions but not all."

"Yes, he was distraught. Panicked."

"How about when you talked to him on the pay phone in New Orleans? How did he sound then? Different or the same?"

Sidney narrowed her eyes as she thought back. "Different," she said finally.

"How? Give it to me as exactly as you can."

"Well, he didn't sound nervous. In fact, it was almost a monotone.

He told me I couldn't say anything, that the police were watching.

He just gave me instructions and hung up. It was a monologue rather than a conversation. I never said anything."

Sawyer sighed. "Quentin Rowe is convinced that you were in Jason's office at Triton after the plane crash. Were you?"

Sidney was silent.

"Sidney, I really don't give a Tinker's dam if you were there. But if you were, I just want to ask you one question about something you might have done while you were in there."

Sidney remained silent.

"Sidney? Look, you called me. You said you trust me, although at this point I can understand you not wanting to trust anyone. I wouldn't recommend it, but you can hang up now, try going it alone."

"I was there," she said quietly.

"Okay, Rowe mentioned a microphone on Jason's computer."

Sidney sighed. "I accidentally hit it; it bent. I couldn't get it back straight."

Sawyer sat back in the recliner. "Did Jason ever use the microphone feature of the computer? Did he, for instance, have one at home?"

"No. He could type much faster than he could speak. Why?"

"So why did he have a microphone on his computer at work-?"

Sidney thought about it for a moment. "I don't know. I think it was fairly recent. A few months or so, maybe a little longer. I've noticed them in other offices at Triton, if that helps. Why?"

"I'm getting there, Sidney, just bear with an old, tired G-man."

Sawyer tugged at his top lip. "When you talked to Jason, both times, you're sure it was him?"

"Of course it was him. I know my own husband's voice."

Sawyer's tone was deliberate and steady, as though he were trying to graft those traits onto Sidney. "I didn't ask you if you were sure it was your husband's voice." He stopped momentarily, took a slow breath and then continued. "I asked you if you were sure it was your husband both times."

Sidney froze. When she finally found her own voice, it came out in a furious whisper. "What are you suggesting?"

"I listened to your first conversation with Jason. You're right, he did sound panicked, breathing heavy, the works. You guys had a real conversation. But now you tell me the second time around, he sounded far different, that it really wasn't a conversation. He talked, you listened. No panic. Now, we know about this microphone in Jason's office, something that he never uses. If he never uses it, why is it really there?"

"I... What other reason would it be there?"

"A microphone, Sidney, is for recording things. Sounds...

Voices."

Sidney gripped the cell phone so hard her hand turned red. "Are you saying..."

"I'm saying that I believe that you heard your husband's voice over the phone both times, all right. But I think what you heard the second time was a compilation of your husband's words derived from the recordings taken by the microphone, because that was its real purpose, I'm fairly certain. A recorder."

"That can't be possible. Why?"

"I don't know why, yet. But it seems clear enough. That explains why your second conversation with him was so different. The second time around I gather the vocabulary was pretty ordinary?" Sidney didn't answer. "Sidney?" Sawyer heard a sob come over the line.

"Then you think... you believe that Jason is... dead?" Sidney fought back the tears. She had already lived through one episode of believing her husband dead, only to suddenly encounter him alive.

Or so she thought. The tears started to slide down her cheeks as she contemplated having to grieve again for Jason.

"I have no way of knowing that, Sidney. The fact that I believe Jason's recorded voice was used rather than the real thing leads me to think that he was not around to speak himself. Why, I don't know. Let's leave it at that for now."

Sidney put down the phone and clutched her head. Every limb was now shaking like a slender elm in a windstorm.

Alarmed, Sawyer spoke earnestly into the phone. "Sidney? Sidney?

Don't hang up. Please! Sidney?"

The line went dead.

Sawyer slammed down the receiver. "Dammit! Sonofabitch!"

A minute went by. Sawyer stomped around the small room.

Working himself into a rage, he finally slammed a heavy fist right through the wall. He leaped for the phone when it rang again.

"Hello?" His voice was shaking with anticipation.

"Let's not talk anymore about whether Jason is ... is alive, all right?" Sidney's voice was devoid of any emotion.

"All right," Sawyer said quietly. He sat down and paused for a moment, deciding what line of questioning to pursue.

"Lee, why would someone at Triton want to record Jason's voice and then use it to communicate with me?"

"Sidney, if I knew the answer to that, I'd be doing cartwheels down the hallway. You said a number of offices had them installed recently. That means that it could have been anyone at the company who could have jerry-built his mike into a recording device. Or maybe one of Triton's competitors could have done it somehow. I mean, if you knew he didn't use the microphone, other people would as well. I do know that it's no longer in his office. Maybe it has something to do with the secrets he sold RTG." Sawyer rubbed his scalp as he sorted through the additional questions he wanted to ask her.

She beat him to it. "Only Jason selling secrets to RTG doesn't

make any sense now."

Amazed, Sawyer stood up. "Why not?"

"Because Paul Brophy was working on the CyberCom deal too.

He was present at all the strategy sessions. He even made an attempt

to take over the lead role in the transaction. Brophy, I now know, was working with Goldman and RTG to learn Triton's final negotiating position and beat them to the punch. He would've known far

more about Triton's bargaining position than Jason ever would. The

precise deal terms were physically maintained at Tyler, Stone, not at

Triton."

Sawyer's eyes grew wide. "You're saying--"

"I'm simply saying that since Brophy was working for RTG, they

wouldn't have needed Jason."

Sawyer sat down and swore under his breath. He had never made

that connection. "Sidney, we both saw a video of your husband passing information to a group of men in a warehouse in Seattle on the

day of the plane crash. If he wasn't giving them information on the

CyberCom deal, then what the hell was it?"

Sidney shook in frustration. "I don't know! I do know that when

Brophy was cut out of the final rounds of the deal, they tried to

blackmail me for it. I pretended to go along. My actual plan was to

go to the authorities. But then we got in the limo." Sidney shuddered. "You know the rest."

Sawyer stabbed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a cigarette.

He cradled the phone under his chin while he lit up. "You find out

anything else?"

"I spoke with Jason's secretary, Kay Vincent. She said the other

major project Jason was working on other than CyberCom was an

integration of Triton's backup files."

"Tape backups? Is that important?" Sawyer asked.

"I don't know, but Kay also told me that Triton had delivered financial records to CyberCom. On the very day of the plane crash."

Sidney sounded exasperated.

"So what's unusual about that? They're involved in a deal."

Nathan Gamble because he didn't want to turn those very same records over to CyberCom."

Sawyer rubbed at his forehead. "That doesn't make any sense. Do you think Gamble knew the records were turned over?"

"I don't know. I mean, I can't be sure about that." Sidney paused.

The damp cold was starting ro become painful. "In fact, I thought the CyberCom deal might blow up because of Gamble's refusal."

"Well, I can tell you for a fact that it didn't. I attended the press conference today announcing the deal. Gamble was smiling like the Cheshire cat."

"Well, with CyberCom in the fold I can understand him being very happy."

"Can't say the same for Quentin Rowe."

"They certainly are an odd pair."

"Right. Like AL Capone and Gandhi."

Sidney breathed deeply into the receiver but said nothing.

"Sidney, I know you're not going to like this, but I'm going to say it anyway. You'd be a lot better off if you came in. We can protect you."

"You mean imprison me, don't you?" she said, a bitter edge in her voice.

"Sidney, I know you didn't kill anyone."

"Can you prove it?"

"I think I can."

"You think ? I'm sorry, Lee. I really appreciate the vote of confidence, but I'm afraid that's not quite good enough. I know how the evidence stacks up. And the public's perception of things. They'd throw away the key."

"You could really be in danger out there." Sawyer slowly fingered the FBI shield pinned to his belt. "Listen, tell me where you are and I'll come. No one else. Not my partner, nobody, just me. To get you, they go through me first. Then, meanwhile, we can try to figure this thing out together."

"Lee, you're an FBI agent. There's a warrant for my arrest. It's your official duty to take me into custody the moment you lay eyes nn mo ('in tnn n( that you've already red for me once."

Sawyer swallowed with difficulty. In his mind a pair of captivating emerald eyes blended together into the light of a train bearing right down on him. "Then let's just call it part of my unofficial duty."

"And if it's found out, your career is over. On top of it, you could go to prison."