Total Control (68 page)

Sidney Archer answered his knock. She was dressed in dark slacks and a white blouse, her hair flowing down over her shoulders. She had gained some weight back, but her features were still gaunt. The cuts and bruises had healed, though.

They sat in the living room in front of the fire. Sawyer accepted her offer of cider and looked around the room while she went to get it. On the side table was a box of computer disks with a red bow on top. He put the box he had brought with him on the coffee table, since there was no Christmas tree to put it under.

"Going somewhere for the holidays, I hope?" he asked as she sat down across from him. They each took a sip of the warm cider.

"My parents'. They've got the place fixed up for Christmas. Big tree, decorations. My father's going to dress up like Santa. My brothers and their families will be there. It'll be good for Amy."

Sawyer looked over at the box of disks. "I hope that's a gag gift."

Sidney followed his gaze and briefly smiled. "Jeff Fisher. He thanked me for the most exciting night of his life and offered me free computer advice in perpetuity." Sawyer then eyed the small, damp towel Sidney had brought back with her and placed on the coffee table. He slid the present across. "Slip this under the tree for Amy, will you? It's from me and Ray. His wife picked it out. It's a doll that does a bunch of stuff, you know, it talks and pee-pees--" He abruptly stopped and looked embarrassed. He took another sip of cider.

Sidney smiled. "Thank you very much, Lee. She'll love it. I'd give it to her now, except she's asleep."

"It's better to open presents on Christmas anyway."

"How is Ray?"

"Hell, you couldn't hurt him if you tried. He's already off the crutches--"

Sidney turned green and quickly reached for the towel. She held it against her mouth, got up and raced out of the room. Sawyer stood up but didn't follow. He sat back down. In a couple of minutes she had rejoined him. "I'm sorry, I must have caught a bug."

"How long have you known you were pregnant?" Sawyer asked.

She sat back, stunned. "I've got four kids, Sidney. Believe me, I know morning sickness when I see it."

Sidney's voice was strained. "About two weeks. The morning Jason left..." She started to rock back and forth, one hand pressed across her face. "God, I can't believe this. Why did he do it? Why didn't he tell me? He shouldn't be dead. Dammit! He shouldn't!"

Sawyer looked down at the cup in his hands. "He tried to do the right thing, Sidney. He could've just ignored what he'd found, like most people would have. But he decided to do something about it instead. A real hero. He took a lot of risks, but I know he did it for you and Amy. I never had the opportunity to meet him, but I know he loved you." Sawyer was not about to disclose to Sidney that the hopes of a government reward had played a prominent role in Jason Archer's decision to gather evidence against Triton.

She looked at him through tear-filled eyes. "If he loved us so much, why did he choose to do something that was so dangerous, so... It doesn't make any sense. God, it's like I lost him twice. Do you know how that feels?"

Sawyer considered this for a minute, cleared his throat and started speaking very quietly. "I have this friend who's kind of contradictory.

He loved his wife and kids so much he would've done anything for them. I mean anything."

"Lee--"

He held up a hand. "Please, Sidney, let me finish. Believe me, it took a lot to get to this point." She sat back as Sawyer continued.

"He loved them so much he spent all his time trying to make the world a safer place for them. So much time, in fact, that he ended up hurting terribly the very people he loved so much. And he didn't see it until it was too late." He took a sip of the cider as a massive lump formed in his throat. "So you see, sometimes people do the dumbest things for the very best reasons." His eyes shimmered. "Jason loved you, Sidney. Hell, at the end of the day, that's all that really matters.

That's the only memory you ever have to keep."

Neither broke the silence for several minutes as they both stared into the flames.

Finally Sawyer looked at her. "So what're you going 'to do now?"

Sidney shrugged. "Tyler, Stone lost its two biggest clients, Triton and RTG. However, Henry Wharton was very nice; he said I could come back, but I don't know if I'm up to it." She covered her mouth with the towel and then her hand dropped to her lap. "I probably don't have a choice, though. Jason didn't have much life insurance.

We've pretty much run through our savings. With the new baby on the way..." She shook her head in misery.

Sawyer waited for a moment and then reached in his suit pocket and slowly took out an envelope. "Maybe this'll help."

She dabbed at her eyes. "What is it?"

"Open it."

She pulled out the slip of paper inside. She finally looked up at Sawyer. "What is this?"

"It's a check made out to you for two million dollars. I don't think it'll bounce, considering it was issued by the United States Treasury."

"I don't understand, Lee."

"There was a two-million-dollar reward from the government for information leading to the capture of the person or persons responsible for the plane bombing."

"But I didn't do anything. I haven't done anything to earn this."

"Actually, I'm absolutely certain it will be the only time in my life that I'll give anyone a check for that much money and then tell them what I'm about to tell you."

"What's that?"

"That it doesn't even come close to being enough. That there's not enough money in the whole world that could be enough."

"Lee, I can't accept this."

"You already have. The check itself is ceremonial. The funds have already been deposited into a special account set up under your name. Charles Tiedman--he's the president of the San Francisco Federal Reserve Bank--has already put together a team of top financial advisers to invest the funds for you. All gratis. Tiedman was Lieberman's closest friend. He asked me to convey to you his sincerest condolences and heartfelt thanks."

The United States government had initially been reluctant to give the reward to Sidney Archer. It had taken Lee Sawyer a full day with congressional and White House representatives to make them change their minds. Everyone was adamant that the full details of the deliberate manipulation of America's financial markets must not come out. Sawyer's less-than-subtle suggestion that he would join with Sidney Archer in auctioning off the disk he had taken from Frank Hardy while on the cliff in Maine to the highest bidder had caused them to abruptly change their minds on the reward. That and his flinging a chair the length of the attorney general's off'ice.

"The funds are all tax-free," he added. "You're pretty much set for life."

Sidney wiped at her eyes and put the check back in the envelope.

Neither one of them said anything for several minutes. The fire popped and crackled in the grate. Finally Sawyer looked at his watch and put down the cup of cider. "It's getting late. I'm sure you've got things to do. And I've got some work back at the office." He stood up.

"Don't you ever take a break?"

"Not if I can help it. Besides, what else am I gonna do?"

She stood up too and before he could say good-bye she wrapped her arms around his thick shoulders and pressed herself against him.

"Thank you." He could barely hear the words, not that he needed to.

The sentiments were emanating from Sidney Archer like the warmth from the fire. He put his arms around her, and for several minutes they stood there in front of the flickering firelight holding each other as the sounds of the carolers grew closer.

When they finally drew apart, Sawyer gently took her hand in his.

"I'll always be there for you, Sidney. Always."

"I know," she finally said, her voice only a whisper.

As he started to the door, she called to him. "This friend of yours, Lee... you might want to tell him it's never too late."

Driving down the street, Lee Sawyer spotted a full moon planted against a clear black sky. He proceeded to hum quietly a Christmas carol of his own. He wasn't going back to the office. He'd go over and hassle Ray Jackson for a while, play with his kids and maybe drink some eggnog with his partner and his wife. Tomorrow he'd do some late shopping for presents. Max out the old plastic and surprise his kids. What the hell, it was Christmas. He unclipped the FBI badge from his belt and took his pistol out of its holster. He laid them both on the seat next to him. He allowed himself a weary smile as the sedan drifted down the road. The next case was just going to have to wait.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

The aircraft featured in the preceding pages, the Mariner L500, is fictitious, although some of the general specifications noted in the book are based on actual commercial airplanes. Given that acknowledgment, aircraft enthusiasts may quickly point out that the sabotage of Flight 3223 is rather far-fetched. My goal in writing this book was not to prepare an instructional manual for deranged persons.

With respect to the Federal Reserve Board, suffice it to say the idea of this country's economic destiny being, in large measure, controlled by a handful of people who meet in secrecy without much in the way of supervision by anyone was irresistible to me from a storytelling point of view. Truth be known, I've probably understated the Fed's iron grip on all our lives. To be fair, though, over the years, the Fed has navigated this country's economy extremely well through some very tough waters. Their job isn't easy, and it's far from an exact science. While the results of Fed action can be painful for many of us, we can be reasonably certain these actions are taken with the good of the country, as a whole, in mind. Still, with such enormous power concentrated in such a small, isolated sphere, the temptation to reap oceans of illegal profit can never be far from the surface. And the stories one can write!

of them, to the best of my research ability, are perfectly plausible if they are not already in full-scale use or perhaps even, if you can believe it, obsolete. The numerous benefits of computer technology are undeniably significant; however, with benefits of such scale, there is inevitably a downside. As the world's computers become increasingly linked into a global network, the risk that one person may one lives also increases proportionately. And as Lee Sawyer queried in the novel, "What if he's a bad guy?"

Washington, D.C.

January 1997