The Ark - Страница 2

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“No,” Sam continued, “I called you here because you’re the only one I can trust. I need your counsel.”

The businesswoman next to Sam rose to leave, and her purse slipped off her lap to the floor near his feet. Then as she went to pick it up, she knocked her salad plate to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” the woman said with a light Slavic inflection. “I’m so clumsy.” While she grabbed the plate and plastic fork, Sam bent to pick up the purse for her. He held it out to her, switching it to his right hand and flicking the fingers of his left.

“Watch your sleeve,” Sam said. “I think you got some dressing on your purse.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” She took the purse and gingerly cradled the bottom of it using a handkerchief. Sam wiped his hand on a napkin, and the woman motioned for him to dump it on her salad plate so she could get rid of it for him. She smiled at Sam and Dilara and headed for the napkins on the condiment stand.

“You’re as gallant as ever, Sam,” Dilara said. “Now why do you need my counsel?”

Sam looked around again before speaking. He flexed his fingers like he was working out a cramp. His eyes returned to Dilara. They were creased with worry. He hesitated before the words came out in a rush. “Three days ago, I made a startling discovery at work. It has to do with Hasad.”

Dilara’s heart jumped at the mention of her father, Hasad Arvadi, and she dug her fingers into her thighs to control the familiar surge of anxiety. He had been missing for three years, during which she had spent every spare moment in a fruitless attempt to find out what had happened to him. As far as she knew, he had never set foot in the pharmaceutical company where Sam worked. What the connection between them was, she couldn’t guess.

“Sam, what are you talking about? You found something at your work about what happened to my father? I don’t understand.”

“I spent an entire day trying to decide whether to tell you about this. Whether to get you involved, I mean. I wanted to go to the police, but I don’t have the proof yet. They might not believe me before it’s too late. But I knew you would, and I need your advice. It’s all starting next Friday.”

“Eight days from now?”

Sam nodded and massaged his forehead.

“Headache?” she asked. “Do you want some aspirin?”

“I’ll be okay. Dilara, what they’re planning will kill millions, maybe billions.”

“Kill billions?” she said, smiling. Sam was pulling her leg. “You’re joking.”

He shook his head solemnly. “I wish I were.” Dilara searched his face for some hint of a prank, but all she could see was concern. After a moment, her smile vanished. He was serious.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re not joking. But I’m confused. Proof of what? Who’s ‘they’? And what does this have to do with my father?”

“He found it, Dilara,” Sam said in a lowered voice. “He actually found it.”

She knew immediately what ‘it’ was by the way Sam said it. Noah’s Ark. The quest her father had dedicated his whole life to. She shook her head in disbelief.

“You mean, the actual boat that…” Dilara paused. The remaining color had drained from Sam’s face. “Sam, are you sure you’re all right? You look a little pale.”

Sam clutched his chest, and his face twisted into a mask of agony. He doubled over in his seat and fell to the floor.

“My God! Sam!” Dilara threw her chair back and rushed over to him. She helped him lie flat and yelled at the teenagers with the cell phones. “Call 911!” After a paralyzed moment, one of them frantically started dialing.

“Dilara, go!” Watson croaked.

“Sam, don’t talk” she said, trying to keep her composure. “You’re having a heart attack.”

“Not heart attack… woman who dropped purse…salad dressing was contact poison…”

Poison? He was already delirious. “Sam…”

“No!” he yelled feebly. “You have to go…or they’ll kill you, too. They murdered your father.”

She stared at him in shock. Her deepest fear had always been that her father was dead, but she could never allow herself to give up hope. But now—Sam knew. He knew what had happened to her father! That’s why he had called her here.

She started to speak, but Sam gripped her arm.

“Listen! Tyler Locke. Gordian Engineering. Get…his help. He knows…Coleman.” He swallowed hard every few words. “Your father’s research…started everything. You must…find the Ark.” He started rambling. “Hayden…Project…Oasis…Genesis…Dawn…”

“Sam, please.” This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not when she might finally get some answers.

“I’m sorry, Dilara.”

“Who are ‘they’, Sam?” She saw him fading and grasped his arms. “Who murdered my father?”

He mouthed words, but only air came out. He took one more breath, then went still.

She started CPR and continued the chest compressions until the paramedics arrived and pushed her back. Dilara stood to the side, crying silently. They worked to revive Sam, but it was a futile effort. They pronounced him dead at the scene. She made the obligatory statement to the airport police, including his baffling allegations, but for such an obvious heart attack, they shrugged it off as incoherent babbling. Dilara collected her backpack and walked in a daze toward the shuttle that would drop her off at her car in the long-term parking lot. Sam had been like an uncle to her, the only family she had left, and now he was gone.

As she sat in the shuttle bus, his words continued to ring in her ears. Whether they were the ravings of a demented elderly man or a warning from a close friend, she couldn’t be sure. But she could think of only one way to check whether Sam’s story had any truth to it.

She had to find Tyler Locke.

TWO

As his Hummer limo glided up to a bright blue jet parked at the ramp of the Bob Hope Burbank Airport’s executive terminal, Rex Hayden took another swig of Bloody Mary in an attempt to take the edge off his pounding hangover. He’d been up all night partying after the Friday night premiere of his new movie. Now he was paying the price for two girls and three bottles of Cristal. Even with his shades, the morning sun made him wince. Thank God Burbank allowed celebrities like him to bypass all that crap at the security checkpoints.

Sydney would be the first stop on a grand tour of Asia to promote his latest action blockbuster. His customized Boeing Business Jet didn’t have enough fuel to make it all the way to Australia in one shot, so they would have to go out of their way to refuel in Honolulu. But spending more time on the plane wasn’t a hardship. He had purchased the modified 737 because it was the most luxurious thing with wings. A private bedroom, full galley, gold fixtures, enough room for his buddies to come along, and two smoking hot flight attendants that he’d selected himself. The plane was a flying hotel. It cost $50 million, but so what? He deserved it. At the age of 30, he was already one of the biggest actors in the world. His last film had made more than a billion dollars worldwide.

Hayden tossed back the last of his drink and staggered out of the limo, his entourage following. Billy and J-man were on their cell phones, and Fitz handled the luggage. Three more cars pulled up behind carrying the gaggle of people that managed his career: agent, manager, PR person, personal trainer, nutritionist, and a dozen others. Traveling with such a large group made the plane a necessity, and the best part was that his contract required the studio to reimburse him for the operating costs during the trip.

“Which bags do you want with you on the plane, Rex?” Fitz asked. “Or should they all go in the cargo hold?”

Hayden didn’t need Fitz’s stupid questions right now. His hangover threatened to make him sick. He couldn’t do that out on the tarmac. Not in front of everyone. Man, he needed some caffeine.

“Dammit, Fitz, what do I have you around for?” he said. “Maybe my brother was right about you. I’m sick of making every little decision for you. Just get it all on board.”

Fitz nodded quickly, and Hayden saw the fear in his face. Good. Maybe next time he’d grow a pair and do his job.

“Okay, you heard him,” Fitz said to the driver. “And make sure they all get on. Miss one, and you couldn’t get a job driving a hearse.”

“Yes, sir,” the driver said meekly and started handing suitcases to the airport’s baggage handler.

Hayden climbed the stairs and ordered Mandy, one of the flight attendants, to pour him a coffee. Billy, J-man, and Fitz quietly sat around him while the rest of the passengers took seats in the front section. Hayden sank into one of the lambskin recliners and watched the limo pull away. He pushed the button linking him to the cockpit.

“George, let’s go.”

“Aloha, Mr. Hayden,” the pilot said. “Looking forward to the islands?”

“I’m not getting off the plane in Honolulu,” Hayden said, “so just cut that crap. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mandy closed the door. The jet’s engines spooled up, and the 737 began to taxi toward the runway.

The caffeine did the trick, and Hayden’s headache began to ease. Now that he was feeling better, he let his eyes settle on Mandy. He knew how he was going to use his private bedroom over the next 15 hours.

* * *

After exiting the executive terminal parking lot, Dan Cutter stopped the Hummer limo along the side of Sherman Way and threw the driver’s hat onto the passenger seat. He got out and popped the hood to make it look like he had engine problems. Then he sat in the driver’s seat and flipped on the radio scanner to listen to the control tower communicating with the taxiing 737.