At The Edge

30

They were to meet in the lobby of the Palmer Inn. Sitting in front of a mammoth stone fireplace in a brown overstuffed couch, she browsed through a New York Times that she had managed to find at the front desk. They had reserved a private booth at the back of the restaurant. It was 4:00 p.m. She wasn't hungry, her insides were in turmoil, and her feelings bounced from anger to desperation to hope, while her mind fought to see a rational path out of her quandary. They really needed a very private place-a place she could yell and pace. When she agreed to meet him here, she hadn't thought of that.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned around, and there was Dan, smiling and relaxed.

"You aren't getting yourself all worked up, are you?"

"Yes. I am getting myself all worked up."

"Well, let's go in the coffee shop and have a talk, then maybe we'll go for a drive."

"OK," she said.

They were greeted by a friendly waiter who had no one to wait on. Apparently gauging Maria, he handed them their menus immediately after seating them and said he would return in a while. No chitchat.

The decor was blush pink and black, a little worn, but not nearly as tough as the conversation she contemplated.

"I'm grateful to be alive."

"Yeah. It must feel good coming so close on the heels of almost dying."

"It does. We've been saying…" She paused and started again. "We've been talking about the Highlands and our-" She hesitated, trying to think of how to say it.

"Maybe I could help out here. I mean, you might not have to carry all the water yourself."

"Why don't you just grab a bucket and have at it?"

"Well, I'd like to change venues if I'm going to help you out. I'm sure the waiter will forgive us. I'll leave a generous tip."

"OK," she said, uncertain but willing.

''You have to promise to hold this discussion in abeyance until we reach our destination."

Dan rose, pulled out his wallet, and offered his arm. As they walked, the waiter rose from his perch with a quizzical frown. Dan smiled and slipped him a five.

''I'm sorry, I just realized there was some important business that I need to attend to," Dan said.

"Where are we going?"

"My house. Pepacita's just leaving and Nate's with Katie."

"I see." They were quiet during the walk to the car.

"I'm really curious now. Do you have food, or what? You look so devilish. I'm almost worried."

"There's no crew at my house chopping down all the trees if that's what you're concerned about."

"The suspense is killing me. Can't you just give me a hint? Just a little one."

"We'll be there in just a minute."

"Have you talked to my dad?"

"Now, now, you promised."

"No," she groaned. "That's not the same subject."

"Oh, come on. You'll have to do better than that. Everything to do with your family is the same subject."

In minutes they turned into the driveway.

"We're here. I promise we'll deal with everything inside."

They went in through the front door this time. Just as they went in, Pepacita slid past them, smiling mysteriously and kissing Maria on the cheek as she went. Everything looked normal, neat and thoroughly groomed, just as she remembered it. Then they proceeded through the dining area and soon nothing looked the same. Down the hall to the kitchen and family-room area, she could see flowing white diaphanous fabric. Through the doorway there was a soft glow.

She tried to form a question but found herself speechless.

The family room had been converted to a tent with fabric over the bookcases and across the ceiling. There were soft candlelike lights and two candelabras with live, burning candles-Pepacita must have just lit them. The furniture had been cleared, and there was one very large recliner couch that looked like a holdover from the Roman Empire. On it lay a single red rose. Beside it stood a silver champagne bucket packed with ice and a large bottle. A lacquered cart held strawberries and a marvelous array of sushi. There were four flower arrangements-each head-high with lilies, orchids, and irises in an Asian motif.

Dan put his hand on her shoulder and guided her toward the recliner.

Reaching down, he picked up a filmy peignoir and a partly translucent gown. Beside them were men's silk pajamas.

"You'll need a costume," he said.

"You are completely crazy."

"I can't help you with that bucket of water if you don't put on your costume. You can use the back bedroom."

"I thought I could deal with anything. But I'm not so sure about this."

"Relax. It's only a gown. The lights are soft. You'll be safe as safe can be." She looked at him. "I promise."

"OK,", she said.

On the bed in Dan's room, she found this note:

Eyes can speak things only the soul can hear; Minds can intertwine with greater bliss than touch; A look can stir the heart, never slipping a button; A face has magic enough for heart, soul, and loins. I don't need to see the rest until you're ready.

Feeling her old confidence and deciding the gown wasn't bad at all, she walked back to the living room to find him waiting.

"Right this way," he said, inviting her to slide under a heavy silken sheet. As she did so, she turned on her side, facing him. In a second his face was a foot from hers; he also perched on his elbow.

"Now I would like to take up where we left off."

"This is nice," she said.

"I'm thrilled you like it. It was planned just for you."

"Did Nate see this?"

Dan nodded. ''Most of it. He thought it was pretty cool."

"It is crazy but in a very charming way."

"So I think it's my turn now."

"Yes."

"I think we were about to say that Dan Young has fallen utterly in love with Maria, and this presents some interesting dilemmas. In order for you to decide how you might approach that thorny subject, you need to have a talk with him. And we were about to have that talk."

"Yes."

"May I take your hand?"

She held it out. He lay back and took it in both of his and began caressing her palm. Instantly her hand seemed intimately connected to her whole body. Lying supine on the angled couch, he continued with her hand while he slid up close. Putting her head down, she watched him until he kissed her eyelids. She was going to say something, but decided to wait, enjoying the feel of his lips on her face.

His thoughts were dancing in his eyes and he seemed terribly alive, his look making her body warm.

"I love you. I'll do whatever it takes," he said.

"Oh God, I was so hoping you would say that. But how can I ask more from you than I would give?"

He looked at her as if he were waiting.

When she said nothing, he said, "Trust me."

Something inside her exploded. Crawling on top of him, she began kissing him. He pulled her tight and kissed her back, his tongue exploring hers. She felt bound and pent up. While she pulled at the peignoir, he slipped it over her shoulders. Reaching beneath her, he stopped kissing her only long enough to slip the gown over her head. They collided so hard she heard their teeth click. With her gently tugging his arm, he rolled on top of her as she began popping buttons on the pajamas.

"Slow down, lover," he said when she had stripped off the pajamas. "Remember I haven't done this in a while."

''You look fine to me,'' she said, holding him and stroking him.

He kissed her nipples while she held the back of his head. Her breasts were large and firm, the nipples dark rose. Then he pulled her on top and began using his hands on her back, caressing in long deep strokes. He could feel her relax and move to his touch. All the time he planted kisses on her face and neck.

''Oh God," she said as he went to work on her shoulders. "This is so good."

Gradually he moved his hands once again to her lower back; then as he felt her telling him, he moved to her bottom and the tops of her thighs, making his touch feather light. Gradually he could feel her hips start to move, grinding on him, trying to find the place. She reached for him to put him inside her.

"My tongue is an instrument of peace," he said with a grin.

"Noooo," she said as he rolled her over. "I haven't-"

''Trust me,'' he said, licking her as she laughed nervously. For a while she was quiet and slightly tense. He went everywhere but the core of her sensitivity. Then gradually he began to flick his tongue.

"Oh my God,'' she cried out as he began the little circles. On her thighs his hands listened for the subtle tremors that guided his tongue.

She grabbed his hair and he knew to keep on and on. Then she pulled him down tight. From deep inside, the groans began as he moved his tongue in rhythm with her hips.

"Trust me, trust me." The words echoed in her body without his ever speaking them again. It was a fierce dance and he could feel her falling into abandon, giving herself away. Tossing her head, she moaned as if in delirium, and chills went up his spine as he felt her going with him. Her glistening belly moved like rippling grass with the tremors through her body. She breathed as if she had sprinted a mile, her whole body finally falling rag-doll limp.

"Now you've done it," she said between breaths, and held his head gently.

''Only once,'' he whispered, moving on top of her, feeling her open like a flower.

Slipping inside her, he could feel her exquisite sensitivity and knew to keep his movements slow and gentle.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear. Her hands gripped his shoulder blades, her nails digging into him. He made his tongue gentle on hers. Then she let her head sink into the pillow, held his face, and looked in his eyes; he knew she saw his hope, his desperation. Gradually he felt her body start to quicken; then he saw her eyelids flutter. Kissing her deep and hard, he knew her wanting even as he lifted his weight so she could move beneath him. Gradually he found her rhythm, then understood it and rolled her on top of him, putting his tongue to her nipple in an echo of her thighs. Perspiration dripped from her as she rode him, her whispers turning to moans in the candlelight until at last his mind lost itself in desire and he gave himself to climax.

Later, she lay draped over him facedown on his chest, enjoying a piece of sushi.

"Don't move," she said when he reached for the tray. She popped a California roll into his mouth. "You're trapped," she said. "You can't go anywhere. You're mine and I've got you."

"I like being got."

"Good."

"This is the deal," he said.

"Oh. Tarzan." She laughed in mock, breathless wonder.

"I will have nothing to do with the Highlands. After that, you do any kind of environmental law you desire but never against timber owned by Otran. Never. Not even a smidgen.''

"Yes?"

"And I will do no timber law except Otran."

"Will Otran go for this?"

"He already has."

"I'll need to talk to Patty."

"We already have."

"We? Who we?"

"Your father."

"Ah, I don't-"

He kissed her heavily on the mouth. "Don't start." He kissed her again. "Trust me."

"You absolutely will have utterly nothing to do with the Highlands."

"Utterly nothing."

"I do love you," she said.

"I suppose you won."

"You won me," she whispered.

Certain that Maria would be recuperating somewhere- probably at her parents'-Corey placed a call to Jessica Lyon. Jessica, a successful fund-raiser, was one of the few members of the McCafferty inner circle who would give her information.

"Haven't heard from you in a while," Jessica said in her usual fund-raising voice.

"So what's going on these days?"

"Well, I'm sure you heard Maria Fischer was kidnapped and escaped."

"No," Corey said. "What happened?"

"Well, nobody really knows. Some crazies snatched her and took her to a barn in the woods."

"Was she hurt?"

"I don't think so. She's in Palmer. Somebody said she called the office this morning."

For the next ten minutes, Corey forced herself to listen while Jessica chattered on about the kidnapping and upcoming environmental issues. Finally Corey closed by dangling a possible donation of $2,500, explaining that she was in Alaska and could do it only after she returned.

The German remained downstairs. Corey was surprised that he had broken so easily. She kept probing for more, but there wasn't any more. With no resistance Hans Groiter told her everything. When she gave him sodium pentathol, he became harder to understand but told her nothing new. She'd had enough experience to know when men were telling the truth. What troubled her was the fact that Groiter knew nothing of the little Jap shit who seemed to haunt her.

Seemingly nothing remained but to get rid of Dan, Maria, and then Groiter. Somehow she needed to convince the authorities that Groiter was the culprit and that he had fled. For that, she had sworn off a grave in the dirt. Bodies had a way of coming to light. She had a different plan for Hans. Even though it was a pain in the ass, she would keep him around for the few days it would take to create all the right fingerprints and other physical evidence.

Janet was turning into a fine soldier. Surprisingly, Corey was attracted to her in more ways than one. They slept in the same bed and both enjoyed the consolation of another warm body-a female body. That was the one thing that Janet had taught Corey instead of the other way around. Perhaps men were completely expendable, after all. And once she got some self-confidence, Janet had guts. So Corey took the risk of including her in her plans.

They needed a couple of extra-large travel cases on wheels and were going to town to buy them.

"Are you ready to go?" Corey asked Janet, who had just come up from the basement after feeding Groiter. True to her word, she gave Groiter real food because he talked.

"I'm ready. I fed the beast, emptied his bucket. He wants clothes, though."

"He's got his blanket. That's enough."

They walked into the garage, jumped in the Land Rover, and headed out the driveway.

"I want to get Kenji Yamada before this is over. That asshole is the one behind all this. Polluting, raping the land. He's gotta die if there's any justice."

"I suppose you're right," Janet said.

They were turning right onto the county road when Corey had an impulse. Reaching under the seat, she pulled out her Colt. From the glove compartment she took out a clean Smith amp; Wesson 9 mm and handed it to Janet. Backing up into the driveway, she turned away from town to check the small side road where she had found Groiter and the Spaniard the day they came calling. Poking the Land Rover's nose down the grown-over track, she saw the broken foliage. She slammed on the brakes.

"This could be from before-that I told you about. Or we might have some visitors. Probably berry pickers. Keep the gun hidden."

Corey stuck the. 45 down the front of her pants and pulled out her blouse. Janet did the same. Walking quietly down the road, they heard a chattering squirrel and a jay in the distance. They came to a bend and Corey crept up to a tree. When she looked around, she saw a parked four-wheel-drive.

"I don't see any berry pickers." They approached the vehicle cautiously with the guns drawn. Nobody. It was a Toyota Land Cruiser. New and loaded.

"Come on," Corey said. They passed an obvious trail to the house. Running to the end of the road, Corey turned off on a small trail clear enough that men could run single file. "Most don't go this way," Corey said over her shoulder. They made a large loop used by the berry pickers. To either side there were redwoods and dense huckleberry, mixed with salal ground cover. Eventually the smaller trail intersected the larger. As they neared the main trail, Corey slowed and then crept forward. They listened. Soon they heard the swish of brush. There were whispered words. Janet and Corey crouched low in the brush.

"Speak of the devil," Corey whispered, recognizing Kenji Yamada in the lead. "Dumb shits, all tight together in a row."

All three men wore bush clothing that looked like it came out of a Macy's catalog. Corey motioned Janet to kneel. The trio would pass within twenty feet. She held out her hand to Janet and mouthed the word: "Gun." Janet placed the Smith amp; Wesson in Corey's hand, and she popped the safety.

When the men were opposite Corey, she rose with utter calm, aiming point-blank. Mouths dropped open, open hands went up. Corey shot. Both pistols cracked simultaneously. Crimson mushrooms sprung onto the torsos of the two men following Yamada. They dropped with barely a quiver.

"Get your hands on your head or you're as dead as they are," Corey said to Kenji, who still stood openmouthed. When Corey turned to look at Janet, her partner was down on one knee, shaking. "Get used to it," she said to Janet. "These guys play for keeps."

Yoshinari watched the fish in his aquarium. It stood twelve feet high, two feet thick, and ten feet long with a capacity of 2,000 gallons of salt water. There was tranquillity in the looking, and he blocked out all that was going on in America, knowing that after a time of rest his mind would create clarity of vision. A rainsquall came and went; his grandchildren ate their lunch and retired for a nap. His wife, saying nothing, and making no sound save the slight rustle of her kimono, set tea in front of him. His eyes remained opaque, and he saw nothing but the fish.

When at last the rain began to fall a second time, he rose and walked to the edge of the porch overlooking the garden. It was time to decide.

There was a deep irony in the fact that the Schneider woman, a creature whose destiny had been tampered with by Groiter, now had him in her control. From all that they could tell, he had told her everything. So adept was Shohei that he had managed to get copies of all the woman's tapes- Groiter's entire confession. It was a fascinating tale indeed. Should he rescue Groiter? She would almost surely kill him. What should he do about the lawyers? About Kenji?

Maria spent most of her time in Dan's house, notwithstanding her insistence that she be free to go wherever and whenever she wished. Then, quite conveniently, Dan's home office became her office, with her laptop on-line instead of his floor-model computer. Dan's fax line became her fax line, his phone her phone. He emptied the filing cabinets so she could have files shipped from Sacramento. She had everything she needed right there. Dan and her mother made that point with regularity.

Pepacita needed help in the garden; Nate needed help with his homework. Since Dan's finances and Maria's business finances were going to overlap to some extent, she was the logical choice to take over the bookkeeping. Dan had no aptitude.

For some reason a cell phone wouldn't do. It had to be Dan's phone (now hers) in Dan's house (soon to be officially shared by her).

Being in love helped. There were worse prisons, she decided. And it did seem she could work many hours each day, planning her campaign to save the Highlands. So she gave in to the conspiracy and for the most part resolved to stay home.

On her fifth night at Dan's, she tried to imagine what marriage might be like. As nearly as she could recall, she was sitting with the shades open, taking in the last of the evening light. She had just finished running her fingers across a newly developed picture of Dan standing by her father, and was turning her attention to attacking a timber harvest plan when she was profoundly startled. A man's shadow fell across the desk. She stifled a scream. He had appeared literally out of nowhere, standing beside her, wearing a hat and sunglasses.

"Don't be afraid," he said.

''Well, I am," she said, aware now of her heart pounding.

His face was definitely Asian. He looked strong and had a flat, narrow waist under broad shoulders.

"We want to clear up all the mysteries. We have proof of what happened to you and what is happening in Amada's forest. Everything."

"Who sent you?" She tried to discern his features, but he seemed to gather the room's shadow around him like a cloak.

"My principal will make himself known to you in forty-eight hours."

"What about the police?"

"We will talk first."

"Why are you telling us?"

"One of your sacred ones once said: 'Seek and you shall find, knock and it shall be opened unto you.' "

"What's that mean?"

"It means you will be rewarded for your diligent efforts. But there is a condition."

"What is that?"

"You must come alone without your police. There will be no meeting if you bring them-you will not get your answers. There will be time enough for the police." Then the man bowed. "If you will excuse me."

She noticed that the door onto the patio was slightly ajar. How had he done that? Quickly he stepped out into the night and was gone. He could have killed her easily.

She looked at her watch. It was 9:20 p.m., and Dan was attending an office function with out-of-town clients. He had promised to leave early, and she expected him at any time. At 9:33 she heard the family-room door open. Forcing herself to wait, she counted to ten to ensure that Nate could get there first. Nervous with anticipation, she wondered how long these newlywed-type feelings would last. Then she walked faster than she intended into the family room to find him hugging Nate. Instantly Dan's eyes went to hers.

"Hey, Dad, we caught five fish this morning," Nate said.

"That's great," Dan said.

She put her hand on Nate's back and the other behind Dan's neck, kissing him firmly on the lips.

"Did you catch them in the same place?"

"Yeah. By the water tower. Hey, can I go over to Tim's and spend the night tomorrow?"

Dan tilted his head at Maria. She appreciated the consultation and nodded.

"Well, Maria and I are going to discuss it a little later, but I think it's gonna be fine."

"What's to discuss?"

"It's the principle of the thing, son. You know what that is?"

Nate smiled up at Maria. "She'd never say no if you said yes."

"I won't always be a pushover, buddy boy," she said, running her fingers through Nate's hair.

"I'm gonna go watch The Simpsons on video," Nate said.

"I had a really unusual visitor," Maria said when Nate had disappeared.

"What do you mean?"

She told him the story.

"Those cops outside are incompetent," he said. "I'm gonna go give them a ration-''

"No," she said, hugging him around the waist. "I think there's another set of players here and they mean us no harm. In fact, I think one of them stopped the shooter from killing you and me both. Maybe even this guy."

"We'll see. The police think the head of security over at Amada is implicated in all this. They have physical evidence at the barn that he was present. Amada's masters are Japanese. Nobody knows much about Kenji Yamada. And now you're telling me some Asian guy breaks into our house."

"There wasn't much breaking. He means us no harm. Trust me."

Corey's scheme worried her only because it was so ambitious and elaborate. It was all but impossible, which is what made it so delicious. She would show them all, especially the little Japanese bastard. Carefully she had studied the Hutchin Office Building, found old plans in the public library from the days when it was Mr. Carson's bank, and even crawled underneath it.

She had four bombs that she intended to plant in the crawl space directly under Dan Young's chair. Dialing a cell phone and then punching in a code that would normally activate a voice-mail playback system would leave a lethal message. She had stolen the technology from an engineering contractor who blasted roads through mountain rock. The rest she had adapted from an electronically minded prankster.

Activation could occur from anyplace there was a digital-cell-phone signal by simply dialing the detonator and punching in a code. Specifically, it would work from the little knoll where she intended to terminate Maria Fischer by firing a single shot through a window. Convinced that the bombing and shooting could be combined, she intended to send them on their way together. Dan Young's house had constant police surveillance, but they didn't check beyond a hundred yards. Her shooting spot was 150 yards distant.

Tonight she would take care of Groiter and Kenji. A few minutes earlier, she and Janet had deposited them both chained in the bilge of a small fishing trawler. She didn't kill them first because she needed them to walk under the cloak of darkness. Once on the boat she hadn't killed them because she wanted to watch them contemplate their own deaths. For the time being, she had sedated them beyond such contemplation, worried that chains and gags might not be good enough. Last she had seen, they looked nearly dead.

Now parked in the van with yet another set of stolen plates, she waited for 11:00 p.m. before she and Janet began hauling the bombs and placing them under the building. All in all, including the setup of the detonator, she expected to spend about one hour at this location. She didn't want to stay much after midnight because the janitorial service arrived around 1:00 a.m. Working earlier increased the risk that some night-owl attorney might stop by the office.

After the bombs were set, she would go to the boat and Janet would take the Chevy home. Deathly seasick on anything but a lake, Janet wasn't into watching Groiter and Yamada slide screaming into the sea.

The street was quiet, streetlights glowed in the night fog, and she hadn't seen a car for minutes. A stone's throw from the waterfront, she could hear the quiet chug of a diesel-some bone-weary captain and his even more exhausted crew were docking the boat. In the distance the whistler buoy and the gong buoys made a ghost party in the mist. Much louder, the foghorn bellowed its melancholy at the jetties.

Wearing all-black clothing, she slipped from the van with a nervous shiver and nodded at Janet, who was parked in the Chevrolet behind her. Quickly Corey opened the van's rear door.

She and Janet would each carry one bomb at a time. She pulled out a pair of heavy-duty Atlantis travel cases on wheels, flipped open the tops, and signaled Janet to help with the placement of the first heavy round pipe, weighing in at eighty pounds. It was crammed with TNT, nails, and a twelve-ounce detonator.

Zipping up the first suitcase, they immediately repeated the process with the second and then hurried across the road. Once they reached the edge of the sidewalk, they grabbed the handle on the travel case and carried it over the decorative bark, setting it down in front of a hinged door. Two days earlier she and Janet had cut the lock with heavy bolt cutters. It had not been replaced. She zipped open the case and winced at the sound. In the utter silence it unnerved her. She looked around, saw no one, told herself to relax, and with Janet's help removed the pipe.

Janet held the door while Corey slid the pipe under the building. When they had repeated the process three more times, it was 11:15 p.m.

Once under the building with all four of her creations, she and Janet had to wrestle them to the intended location.

With a maximum of three feet under the building and in some areas only two, they had to struggle to get to the spot she had previously marked. Although the building was old, it had obviously been replumbed in recent times. The pipes were shiny copper and covered with modern insulating material. Little pieces of string affixed to these pipes led her to the chosen spot. At 11:30, after returning to the trapdoor for the third bomb, Corey decided to take a quick peek outside. Quietly she opened the door. And froze.

Two men stood on the sidewalk. She tried to hear, but they spoke in low tones. She made herself go to work anyway.

Returning to the bombs, she and Janet placed them in a perfect square about six feet apart. Although she might not have them located directly under Dan's chair, she was pretty certain she was under his office. Using copious amounts of duct tape, they managed to fasten the pipes in place. From each pipe a telephone cable protruded. Each cable was quickly plugged into a cable connector, then the cables fed into a central terminal that sat on the ground. Satisfied with her work, Corey activated the computer in the junction box and they each headed for the trapdoor with a travel case.

Gradually Corey opened the door. Five feet in front of them, a man watched the street. Something was wrong. The building was being watched. Probably a meeting with important people. And in the middle of the night. While she was pondering these things, she saw a car drive up. Instantly she recognized Dan Young's truck. Out stepped Maria Fischer and Dan Young.

"I'll be damned,'' she whispered to Janet. Maybe it would be easier than she thought to kill them both at once.

It was to be a midnight meeting in the conference room at Dan's office. Although bizarre, the desire of the Japanese for privacy without accidental intrusion by other attorneys seemed reasonable. There was a bone-chilling moment when Dan and Maria were told in a phone call that there would be five bodyguards surrounding the building. It was all very mysterious.

Dan and Maria arrived at 11:55. They entered through the front door, turned on some lights, and walked to the conference room.

At that moment there was a knock.

Dan left the conference room with Maria following. Three men waited at the door. The leader had a dignified bearing and Dan knew that he was in the presence of a powerful man. Wearing a long camel-hair coat against the cool of Palmer, the older man stepped over the threshold, followed by the other two. The second in line also wore a suit, whereas the younger man wore a black knit turtleneck. His eyes seemed everywhere and nowhere.

"I am Yoshinari Asaka, the chairman of the board of Kuru, the parent corporation of Amada. This is my lawyer, Kashi Nagura, and this gentleman, Shohei, looks after us."

"I am pleased to meet you," Dan said, shaking Yoshinari's hand and noticing the firm grip. "This is my fiancee, Maria."

Maria stepped forward and shook Yoshinari's hand, then followed Dan, shaking hands with the other two.

"This is new?" Yoshinari inquired, looking pointedly at Maria's diamond engagement ring.

"Yes, very," Dan said.

"Hard times winnow the heart, do they not?"

"Yes," Maria said, "they certainly do."

"May I take your coat?" Dan offered, appreciating the perfectly appointed blue pin-striped suit with hand-painted tie underneath. The lawyer looked anxious to get started. They walked to the conference room, where they all sat down. Yoshinari nodded to his lawyer. The younger man nodded his respect and began.

"We have recently discovered substantial irregularities in Amada. According to our sources, Kenji Yamada had discovered a means of manufacturing fuels from wood fiber. As an example, using the known technology it would cost thirty-four dollars per barrel to make crude oil. Using the method discovered by Kenji's scientist, it could be done for twelve dollars per barrel. Now, you probably wouldn't make crude oil, you'd make methanols and other fuels, but to make the point I'm using crude as an example.

"The implications if it worked are profound. With all the havoc in the Middle East you can imagine the value of this discovery. The only problem was that Kenji's new process used a special catalyst that created a dangerous effluent- dangerous enough to change the brain chemistry of the hoary bat subspecies that lived in the caves. They were storing the toxic by-product in a large plastic tank in the mine when it ruptured and made the pool that you saw. They left it there with the idea that they would develop a means of converting it to something useful or neutralize it. Then you came along."

"Why were they shooting the bats?"

"They had two major problems. First they had stumbled onto a new deep forest subspecies that would retreat to caves as well as tree hollows and the like. Any such subspecies would be a fascinating find for biologists who would start coming around. We think that compounding the problem, insects from the contaminated creek were affecting the bats' brains, particularly the area of the brain known as the cingulate gyms in humans and the area that corresponds to the prefrontal cortex. There is increased activity in the former and decreased activity in the latter, according to records we found at the compound. In a human it could result in suicidal behavior. In bats it causes them to fly around in daylight. And this would bring enormous scrutiny on the compound and might lead to discovery of the contaminated water- not to mention the cave.

"At first they thought it was just exposure to fumes from the cave. But after they thought they got all the bats from the cave, they were still having the problem. Unfortunately, they probably killed the man who was working on the issue when he discovered the contaminated water and the insects. Made it look like a heart attack.

"Of course they had the more serious problem. The effluent is lethal to humans, and it had made its way into the creek. They had a theory that if you went downstream far enough it would become sufficiently diluted so as not to kill anybody-at least immediately. Try telling that to your press and government officials."

"Who stole the money from us?" Dan asked.

''Amada Chief of Security Hans Groiter, working through a woman by the name of Corey Schneider. And that's what this is for." The old man nodded and they placed the briefcase on the table in front of Maria. It was the one Dan had given her. Dan popped open the latches, and it was full of bills that looked exactly as he had packed it.

"We found it in the vault at the Highlands lab. But one hundred thousand had been taken by the thief, Corey Schneider. We've replaced the money she stole."

"Who was her accomplice?"

"A dead man. Our people will be turning his body over to authorities after we are on the plane."

"Why did Amada do it?"

"They had discovered a large natural-gas deposit under the lower Highlands. Their methanol-manufacturing process could be greatly enhanced by the natural gas. But a railroad company owned the mineral rights and wouldn't sell. Added to that, they had a mine full of toxic effluent. The last thing they wanted was a government purchase of the Highlands."

"And they contributed the money knowing they would try to screw it up?"

"They saw the sale going ahead like a juggernaut. At first they tried to stop it with the donation idea, but they couldn't. That's why they changed direction so dramatically. One day they are fighting all of you on giving the environmentalists the money; the next day they're leading the effort. Once they knew that Metco and the others were pushing, and that the donations would happen with them or without them, they decided to play along but sabotage the effort from within. If they stole the money, they expected the crime to become public knowledge. It would come out that industry was collaborating with the activists, hence both congress and the public would be suspicious. But you managed to keep it all quiet."

"What did Kenji know about all this?" Dan asked.

The lawyer paused and looked at Yoshinari.

''I'm afraid my son-in-law knew all about it. Even ordered it."

''Do you know about the photographer who was murdered out on Amada land a couple of months ago?''

Yoshinari bowed his head, a gesture of respect. "You have been excellent detectives."

"Was it his body I saw in the mine?"

"We believe so."

"Did Kenji do it?"

"According to Groiter," the lawyer said.

"Why are you telling us all this?"

Again the lawyer ceded to Yoshinari.

"We are telling you because you risked your lives to make it right. And because we don't wish to deal directly with your authorities. Shohei will provide the evidence. We leave for Japan in an hour."

"So what happens to Kenji Yamada?"

"He is missing. He will come to Japan if we can find him. There he can fight extradition. He, frankly, is not my concern," the old man said. "His wife, who is my daughter, and her child are both coming with us tonight."

At that moment the sound of a radio interrupted them. Shohei removed a handset.

"Yes." He listened. "Out, now!" Shohei literally shoved Yoshinari to his feet and rushed him through the conference-room door.

They all followed, half-running, down the hallway. After throwing open the front door, even the old gentleman took the steps two at a time. From the front walk they heard the squealing of tires; a dark car pulled away into the night. As Dan grabbed Maria's hand, a wave of heat washed over his back and a thunderous explosion knocked him to the ground. Even as he hit the ground, he was twisting, reaching for Maria.

"I'm OK," he heard her say through the ringing in his ears.

"Thank God." They both looked around. The old man and the bodyguard were getting up. Simultaneously they turned to see the lawyer fifty feet behind writhing on the ground, a large metal shard protruding from his back and exiting his gut. He grunted horribly. Yoshinari ran to him, taking his head in his lap.

Maria had already dialed 911 on her cell phone and was giving the ambulance crew the address.

"Schneider," Dan said.

Shohei nodded. "I should have killed her. I will bring her to your police."

"No," Dan said. "Let us do it for you."

Yoshinari nodded almost imperceptibly at Shohei, who whirled and left.

"Wait," Dan called after him, running.

"The ambulance will get here any minute," Maria said.

They heard a wailing siren, but the Japanese lawyer had gone silent.

Dan reached the black Lincoln sedan just as it was about to pull away from the curb. It had a combination lock below the handle on the passenger side that wouldn't open. He jumped across the hood, pounded on the windshield, and heard the electronic door lock click open. Clambering off the hood, he jumped in.

"I'm coming with you," Dan said, pointing at the pair of taillights in the distance.

"I was afraid of that," said Shohei.