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“But you do undertake this sort of research?”
“Well, yes, we have to in order to do the work we’re contracted to do. But it stops with the military applications.”
“But someone could commercialize it?” said Puller.
“It would have to do with who controls the patents. The IP rules my world. You control that, you control everything.”
“And you don’t know about that? The ownership of it?”
“You’d have to talk to legal about that.”
“Right,” said Puller, tapping his spoon against his cup.
“Is someone stealing technology? Is that what this is about?”
Puller fixed his gaze on her. “I don’t know. Can you steal from yourself?”
Shepard never had a chance to answer.
Puller had grabbed her arm and thrown
her under the table.
The bullet hit right where Anne Shepard had been a second before.
Chapter
59
JOSH QUENTIN WAS driving fast.
And he didn’t look happy, because he wasn’t.
He could have been killed at the Grunt. Just the thought made him want to pull his Maserati off the road and throw up.
He feared death because he simply had too much to lose.
Hell, I have everything to lose.
He was young, handsome, charming, and the ladies loved him. On top of that, he was wealthy. On top of that, he was on the cusp of far greater wealth. And he was only thirty-two.
No one was going to take that away from him. He had come from nothing and there was no way in hell he was going back there.
He pulled into the garage of the beach house and saw her car parked in the next bay.
Well, this had better be good. He was a busy man.
He opened the door into the house.
A moment later everything went dark.
* * *
Quentin slowly opened his eyes and saw his knees and then the floor.
He raised his head slowly. The pain shot through his skull with just this simple movement. He felt like he might be sick.
Then something grabbed the back of his neck and jolted him straight up. He cried out with the pain before his gaze came to rest on Rogers.
“What the hell are you doing?” he screamed.
“You took your time getting here. Myers called you last night.”
“What the hell business is it of yours?”
“I have some questions for you.”
“Questions? For me? You’re a fucking bar bouncer.”
Rogers tightened his grip on the man’s neck just enough to see the slight bulge in Quentin’s eyes.
Quentin swung a fist at Rogers, who easily deflected it.
“Questions,” said Rogers again. “And you take another swing at me, I’ll break every bone in your body.”
Quentin’s gaze fell on Myers, who was seated across from him and tied to the chair she was in. “You bitch! You set me up.”
“He was going to kill me, Josh,” said Myers pitiably.
“Great!” spat Quentin. “Now this psycho’s going to kill us both!”
Roger cuffed him on the jaw. “Shut up.”
Quentin howled in pain until Rogers gripped him by the chin and twisted him around so they were eye to eye.
“Questions. You answer them, I don’t kill you.”
“Bullshit. You think I’m stupid?”
“I don’t want you. I want her.”
“Who?” said a bewildered Quentin.
“Claire,” answered Myers. “He wants Claire Jericho.”
Quentin took a moment to process this and then a wary look came into his eyes. “You want to kill Claire? Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Josh, don’t be crazy,” barked Myers.
“Shut up, Helen,” snapped Quentin. “I’m not giving up my life for hers.”
Rogers looked at Myers. “It’s your only way out.”
“And you won’t kill us if we deliver Jericho to you?” said Quentin.
“That’s what I said.”
“But we can identify you,” pointed out Myers.
“I’m not going to be around.”
She looked at his pale face. “Those scars. Are…are you dying?”
Rogers didn’t answer her. He turned back to Quentin. “Where is she?”
“Not so fast,” said Quentin. “If I’m talking about my life, I need to have some assurances.”
Rogers gripped Quentin’s neck harder.
Quentin gasped, “Look, if you kill me you’ve got no shot at her.”
Rogers relaxed his grip. “Where is she?”
“She’s in one of two places. Chris Ballard’s place near here. Do you know where that is?”
Rogers nodded.
“Or at Building Q at Fort Monroe. Do you know it?”
“Intimately,” replied Rogers. “But which one?”
“I can find out. It’ll take one phone call.”
Rogers was about to say something, but Quentin added, “You can listen in. I’m not screwing around with my life, okay?”
Myers said, “Quentin, please don’t do this.”
He ignored her. “But she has security. There’s nothing I can do about that.”
“That’s not your problem, it’s mine.” Rogers held up Quentin’s phone, which he’d taken from his coat jacket. “Text her. Tell her you need to meet her here.”
“I’m not sure she’ll—”
Rogers gripped Quentin’s neck again. “Be persuasive.”
Rogers watched as Quentin took the phone, gave his message a few moments’ thought, and then started to type.
When he was done he looked at Rogers for approval.
“Send it.”
Quentin hit the send button and Rogers took the phone away from him. “Now we wait,” he said. He looked over at Myers, who was quietly sobbing. “Look, if Jericho shows up I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you crying?”
