The Adamas Blueprint

CHAPTER 24

Soft lighting bathed the Houston Grill dining room as white-gloved waiters flitted around the room like bees tending the hive. The private dinner club was unusually crowded for a Monday evening due to an oil convention in town for the week. Executives found it a convenient way to elegantly entertain guests while charging it to their companies’ tab and taking the full allowable tax deduction. Many of the groups would later head to one of the numerous “gentlemen’s clubs” on Houston’s west side for further tax-deductible entertainment.

Clayton Tarnwell not only found the gentlemen’s clubs-actually high-class strip joints-to be useful for convincing business associates to partner with Tarnwell Mining and Chemical, but they were also a frequent source of his overnight companionship. The dinner club was adequate, but Tarnwell was not a gourmet. All he needed was a good steak, which he had finished twenty minutes ago. Since then, all he had been thinking about was getting on with the evening’s entertainment.

Milton Senders, the only one Tarnwell had invited from his company, knew about Tarnwell’s eagerness to get to the gentlemen’s club, so he hadn’t ordered dessert. Unfortunately, the three executives from Forrestal Chemical ate with infuriating leisure, lingering over Bananas Foster and their third bottle of Dom Perignon ‘57.

Eight days, Tarnwell thought, suppressing what would have been an out of place smile. Eight days from now, Clayton Tarnwell would be making his speech to the stockholders of both Tarnwell Mining and Chemical and Forrestal to praise the synergy the two companies brought to the merger. A speech in which he was to announce a revolutionary new process that would take advantage of each of the companies’ skills and make billions of dollars. Of course, he wouldn’t mention that it would also make him one of the wealthiest men on the face of the earth. His skin began to tingle at the thought.

Tarnwell suggested they continue the celebration of the merger at Ladies Inc., his favorite club. Diedre and Pauline were supposed to be working tonight, and he couldn’t resist thinking about how willing and adept they had been the last time he’d had them over to his River Oaks mansion.

As Tarnwell got up from the table, the thoughts of the girls vanished, as did his anticipatory tingling. David Lobec stood waiting for him in the lobby. As usual, Lobec’s expression conveyed nothing about the success or failure of the operation.

“Gentlemen, I have to take care of some other business for a few minutes. Mr. Senders will escort you in my limo to our next destination. I’ll meet you there as soon as I can.”

Tarnwell walked the three staggering Forrestal executives and Senders to the elevator. When they were safely on, Tarnwell headed for the stairwell, followed closely by Lobec.

When they got to the third floor, Lobec said, “This way,” and went through the door to the parking garage.

After entering the relative security of Lobec’s new Pontiac, Tarnwell got his first close-up view of him. A thin bandage stretched across Lobec’s nose, which seemed swollen, and an ugly blue and green bruise circled his left eye.

“What the hell happened to you?” Tarnwell said.

“Which club?”

“Ladies.”

Lobec put the car in gear and drove toward the exit. “Mr. Hamilton is proving more troublesome than we had anticipated.”

“You mean, this Hamilton kid’s father did this to you?”

“Yes, but I was referring to Kevin Hamilton. He was in Dallas today.”

Tarnwell tensed. “Tell me you got him.”

“I can’t.”

“At least tell me you got Adamas.”

Lobec shook his head.

“Goddammit! Did you even see Kevin Hamilton?”

“En route to Dallas, I received a call…”

“Answer my question.”

Lobec sighed. “Yes, I did.”

“All right,” Tarnwell said. “See how easy that was. Now tell me how you found him.”

Lobec logically stepped through the events leading up to his confrontation with the Hamiltons and the Jensen girl. When he got to the part about Murray Hamilton ramming the Taurus, Tarnwell exploded.

“You mean, you let them get away because you got snuck up from behind?”

Lobec looked slightly embarrassed, an expression Tarnwell had never seen on Lobec before. He definitely liked it.

“Although I was concentrating on the two students, I should never have let that happen. It was raining heavily, and neither Mr. Bern nor I could hear his truck approach. I realized only later that Mr. Hamilton must have spotted our Dallas operative, Mr. Vincent, as he drove past. I believe Mr. Vincent was not careful while following Mr. Hamilton. He was parked much too close to the building where we found Kevin Hamilton. I suppose the elder Hamilton spotted Mr. Vincent and became suspicious because he was watching the LuminOptics building and speaking on a cellular phone. After Mr. Vincent left, he must have seen us pursue Kevin Hamilton and Miss Jensen across the parking lot.”

“You’ve taken care of that idiot Vincent, I assume.”

“Yes, I have,” Lobec said. Tarnwell knew that meant Vincent was now dead for not only failing Lobec, but allowing Lobec to get injured because of it.

“So then what?”

After detailing the shootout, Lobec said, “It was not until this evening that I learned of Kevin Hamilton’s record of marksmanship in high school. He was very efficient in disabling our car.”

“Did you hit any of them?”

“Murray Hamilton was driving the pickup and was the easiest shot. I suspected at the time that we had hit him because the truck was steered into a ditch.”

“You checked the hospitals?”

“Of course. Murray Hamilton was brought to Community Hospital North and died of a gunshot wound to the chest this afternoon. Kevin Hamilton and Miss Jensen left before they could be questioned by the police.”

“And we have no idea where they are now.” It was a statement rather than a question since Lobec was now here instead of out searching for them.

“That is correct.”

Tarnwell threw his hands up in disgust. “Well, you just fucked this up all the way around, haven’t you?”

“Failure is not something I prize.”

“What now?”

“We continue our operation as planned. We’ve tapped both of their phones in case they try to retrieve messages from their answering machines. Their known friends are under surveillance, and we are still searching for other people with whom they may seek refuge. Tomorrow I will return to LuminOptics and determine why they were there.”

“Have you questioned their friends?”

“We have discreetly attempted to find out if they have knowledge of Mr. Hamilton and Miss Jensen’s whereabouts, but we did not want to raise undue suspicion. I believe that the lower profile we maintain, the better.”

“There’s no time for that. Question all of them. I want you to see to it personally. Tell them you’re the police and that their friends are wanted for questioning. Something like that. I really don’t care. But we need to find them now. If I don’t have the formula for that process by next week, I’m ruined.”

“In the long run, it is best that we try to be as discreet as possible. If for some reason I am connected to them, it may prove difficult to explain, particularly since I am an employee of yours.”

“I said I don’t care. That’s your problem. We have to find them.”

Lobec continued to protest. “In addition, our resources could be applied better elsewhere…”

Tarnwell banged on the Pontiac’s dashboard. “Maybe I’ve been sending the wrong message to you, David. This is not a partnership. You do what I say. As my chief of security, you can give your advice, once. I’ll listen. But I am the boss. I make the decision. Is that perfectly clear?”

“Of course, Mr. Tarnwell.” Lobec pulled to a stop inside the Ladies Inc. car port, which glittered with light. Porsches and Mercedes lined the most visible valet parking spots.

A doorman opened Tarnwell’s door and welcomed him by name. Tarnwell didn’t acknowledge the man or get out.

“David, I bought you because you produce results. Therefore, I expect results. You’re too much of a professional for all of these excuses. In fact, you should feel a little degraded.”

Another embarrassed look from Lobec, but this time almost controlled. Tarnwell smiled inwardly.

“You can be assured,” Lobec said, “that Mr. Hamilton and Adamas will not elude me again.”

Tarnwell clapped him on the shoulder. “You sure know how to sweet talk me.” He unfolded his towering frame from the Pontiac and saw the posters advertising this week’s main attraction, a nightly performance by Diedre and Pauline. Even though Adamas wasn’t in the bag, at least he had something to look forward to. Again, Tarnwell felt an overwhelming urge to smile. This time, he did.