The Protector

12

"This is Rutherford," the deep voice said.

Outside a gas station, Cavanaugh clutched a pay phone. "Do you still hate Chinese food?"

Rutherford hesitated only a moment. "That was quite a war zone you left us."

"Self-defense."

"You'd be a lot more convincing if you'd stuck around to explain what happened. Do you have any idea how many agents are looking for you, how many laws you've broken? I don't suppose you'd like to tell me where you've been."

"Be glad to, since your caller ID system will tell you anyhow. Carmel."

"Nice to have the leisure for a vacation." Rutherford's voice thickened with sarcasm. "Someday, I'll take one"-several voices spoke chaotically in the background-"when I'm not up to my ears helping investigate Prescott and his lab. The Justice Department thinks it's identified Prescott's military controllers, but with the lab destroyed and Prescott missing, there's no way to connect them with the lab or to prove it was manufacturing an unsanctioned biochemical weapon. The same goes for proving the weapon was tested illegally on civilians and military personnel."

"Maybe I can help get the proof," Cavanaugh said.

"Earlier in the week, you had the chance to stick around and do that, but you bugged out."

"I've had a change of heart." He gripped the phone with such force that his fingers ached.

"How do you explain this miraculous turnaround?"

"My wife's missing." Trying to keep his voice steady, Cavanaugh explained what had happened to Jamie and what he needed to do to get her back. "Will you work with me on finding Prescott and using him as bait?"

"Work with you? Hey, you wouldn't include us before, so why should we include you now?"

"Because that's what it'll take for me to tell you where to look."

"In Carmel? I already figured that much."

"I can give you a lot more focus than that, but listen to me, if this isn't done right, she'll be killed."

The voices in the background, presumably an office, were all Cavanaugh heard for several moments as Rutherford thought about it.

"So what's the right way?" Rutherford finally asked.

"Check all the golf courses in the Carmel/Monterey area. Get the name of every golfer who contacted them within the past three weeks to make an appointment to play."

"But that could be thousands."

"Then talk to all the Realtors in this area. Get the names of everybody who bought or leased property around here in the past three weeks. If Prescott leased, he might have done it through someone other than a Realtor, but we've got to start somewhere. Compare those names to the golf lists. Look for the common denominators."

Rutherford became briefly silent again. "A lot of people to talk to. This'll take time."

"I don't have time. This afternoon, John. I'll call you back this afternoon." He almost slammed the phone's handset down in helplessness. As he ran toward the car, he couldn't help thinking that phoning Rutherford was exactly what Jamie had wanted him to do in the first place.