The Cyclops Conspiracy (11 page)

Before he could answer, another agent returned with several cans of soda and placed them on the table. “Where are my manners, Jason? Would you like something to drink?” said Broadhurst.

Jason declined, barely able to shake his head.

“So were you about to tell us why you’re taking pictures of empty lots?”

Jason’s mouth and throat felt like the Mojave. “Maybe I would like something to drink,” he whispered.

Broadhurst slid him a can of Coke, and Jason popped it. The acidy drink hurt going down.

Jason cleared his throat. “I’m looking for sites for a new pharmacy.”

“A new pharmacy?” Broadhurst smirked.

He nodded

“In this part of town? You’re a long way from home, chief.”

Jason nodded again, weakly.

“That’s lame,” another agent said. “Why don’t you save us a lot of time and tell us what you really doing down here?”

“That’s the truth,” Jason declared.

Broadhurst sighed, shaking his head. “Here’s the situation. You were on shipyard property taking these photographs. That’s trespassing. You were photographing a Navy aircraft carrier. That could be considered espionage. Spies did the very same thing just before they bombed Pearl Harbor!” Broadhurst let that statement settle for a moment. “I could just confiscate your photographs and the camera and let it go at that. But considering what’s going to happen here next week, you’re in some pretty deep shit.”

Jason remembered that the ship was scheduled for a milestone ceremony. “You mean the christening?” asked Jason.

“You must be a pretty good pharmacist, Jason. You catch on quick. I bet you graduated magna cum laude,” Broadhurst said sarcastically.

“What’s going to happen now? Don’t I get a phone call?”

“You’re not under arrest—yet.”

The men exchanged glances, left the room, and returned a few minutes later.

“We’re confiscating the pictures, Jason. Stay away from the shipyard. If you’re caught down here again, you will be arrested and charged.” Broadhurst picked up the camera, removed the memory chip, and held it up. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t come back here again. Your name and face have been logged into the Secret Service and FBI databases.” Jason remembered an agent taking his head shot with a small point-and-shoot camera. “If you do, we’ll do more than take your camera away. Understood?”

Jason nodded. His bladder suddenly needed to be emptied.

“I’ll have someone drive you back to your car.” Broadhurst nodded to one of the men standing along the wall. “Make sure he leaves the area immediately.”

In twenty minutes, Jason was driving back to the Colonial. In his rearview mirror, Jason watched the government sedan follow him for several miles before making a U-turn.

Nice job, hot shot!

“Mr. Jason! Ms. Christine! How wonderful to see you again,” Lily Zanns called from across the sprawling patio in the backyard of her enormous riverside estate. Jason marveled at its enormity and elegance.

Zanns spread her arms wide in an exaggerated display Jason hadn’t expected from the normally reserved woman. “I’m so glad you could join our little gathering.”

“Thanks for having us,” said Jason.

Zanns wore a silk, royal-blue sari-type dress, shimmering in the flickering tiki lamps. Slanting across the perfect skin of her chest and exposing a bare shoulder, the gown was the antithesis of her business attire. On her, it was almost pornographic. A choker dotted with large diamonds circled her neck, under which dangled the ancient amulet. The ever-present cigarette, perched in a long holder, pointed to the night sky. She placed a hand on each of Jason’s shoulders and planted an air-kiss on both cheeks with a familiarity that made Jason uncomfortable.

“Ms. Christine,” she said. “I’m so glad you changed your mind about attending.” Lily looked her up and down quickly. “Spending time with Jason, I see. Are you two an item again?” Lily smiled slightly.

Christine blushed. “Just old friends. It’s good to see you again, Ms. Lily. Thank you again for everything you’ve done.”

“It was my pleasure, child. Come, tonight, we celebrate
un bon homme
who dedicated his life to easing patients suffering, the profession of pharmacy and the Peninsula. Let me introduce you to some of my guests.”

Lily escorted them to each gaggle of guests, introducing them to pharmacists, board members of the Peninsula Retail Pharmacists Association, civic leaders, and physicians. They met the mayor of Newport News, several prominent attorneys, and city councilmen. Each offered Christine their condolences. Finally, Zanns stopped at Jasmine Kader and Sam Fairing.

“Ms. Christine, nice to see you again. Your father was a good man. And I see that you have good taste in men as well,” Kader said, eyeing Jason.

Christine nodded, narrowing her eyes.

“Jasmine, Jason Rodgers has accepted the position as my new vice-president of pharmacy operations.”

Jason took the extended hand. “I remember you from the funeral,” he said, glimpsing her skimpy outfit.

Kader responded with a single nod and a lascivious smile. Her black dress clung to her body like a second skin, stopping well north of midthigh, revealing long, dark-skinned legs. A long necklace on a silver chain dangled in her cleavage, holding an onyx stone surrounded by a ring of pearls. Long sleeves, an interesting but not an unpleasant fashion twist, covered her arms to the wrist.

A tall, blond man motioned to Lily. Jason recognized him. He was Lily’s business partner, Steven Cooper. He and Lily had lunched with the man. It was a formality Zanns had seemed anxious to end as soon as it had begun. Even now, Jason caught Lily’s brief, frustrated moue at the sight of him. Jason had been impressed by both his knowledge
of pharmacy business and the size of his investment portfolio. But the tension between Cooper and Zanns was palpable.

Cooper was about Jason’s height. His thin frame was unimpressive, with a slight forward roll to his shoulders. His penetrating blue eyes seemed to glow against his pasty skin, which looked even sicklier against his blond surfer haircut. Jason sensed the man never worked out. He was probably more comfortable in front of a computer screen than a piece of gym equipment.

Lily said, “I must tend to our meal and some other matters. Please excuse me.”

* * *

Cooper waited inside the french doors. The party and the guests were framed through the large expanse of glass. He and Zanns strolled to her office, followed soon by Jasmine Kader. Zanns sucked a long breath through her nose as Cooper came straight to the point. “He used to work for the Colonial.”

“Steven, please tell me something I don’t know.” Zanns could feel her frustration mount as soon as she stepped within five feet of Cooper. But keeping him happy was a necessary annoyance; without his boss, Hammon, their mission had no chance of success.

“I
knew
I recognized his name. He was removed long before you and the Simoon came on the scene. He was a threat,” Cooper insisted.

“What kind of threat?” asked Kader.

“My employer had designs on the Colonial many years ago. It was to be used as a front for a black op. Every employee was profiled and assessed. Jason Rodgers is a dangerously curious man with a penchant for sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. His presence would have caused problems. So he was neutralized. Which is to say we made it impossible for him to stay. I fear, Lily, he will cause you—and therefore us—problems as well.”

“Your little cabal had designs on the Colonial in years past?”

“Yes. But before the operation became hot, it was reassigned a lower priority. It was tabled and eventually dropped. But Jason Rodgers had already been disposed of.”

“This is a fine time to let us know, Steven,” Kader spat.

“Jasmine is right, Steven. This information could have proved useful before I invited Jason Rodgers to work for me.”

“Lily, there was no need for you to bring him on board. Our mission will be executed in less than two weeks. And, I might add, you didn’t consult me before hiring him. I had to rack my brain and research some old files just to pull up the information. Hammon is not pleased with this development! You told him that there would be no more complications.”

Jasmine shot Zanns a glance. Zanns read the concern in her eyes. Cooper had been kept out of the loop for very valid reasons. First and foremost, she did not trust him or his secret splinter group. After their deed was done, she was sure Hammon’s people were going to vanish like rats scurrying from the light, leaving the Simoon to take full blame for their actions. Zanns had no intention of letting that happen. Jason Rodgers was her insurance policy.

Zanns turned back to Cooper. “Thank you, Steven. The information is disheartening. But it will be handled. Please allow Jasmine and me to discuss it.”

“Make this go away!” Cooper spun and departed.

Lily tapped her chin with a finger, thinking. Jason Rodgers needed to be scrutinized very closely, starting this very moment.

“Come,” she said finally to her daughter. They walked out of the office toward the kitchen. The headwaiter walked past at that moment.

Zanns addressed him. “I want you to change the seating arrangement.” She turned to Jasmine. “It appears Rodgers may be more virulent than we anticipated.” She fingered the amulet around her neck. “But we need him around. I have begun laying the trap for Mr. Rodgers. The Secret Service detained him this afternoon. Stay close to him tonight, find out what he knows. Then we’ll decide how to deal with him.”

“Impressive,” Jason said, looking around the grounds. The bartender had just handed him a gin and tonic.

Zanns’s mansion consisted of an enormous redbrick main house surrounded by a smaller outbuilding and a massive three-car garage. The main house was bathed in the glow of huge floodlights. The eight-foot palladium windows yawned like miniature buildings plastered to the side of the structure. The party was under an octagonal gazebo large enough to swallow a small house, on the rear brick patio. The grounds were perfectly landscaped, with accent lighting and expertly trimmed shrubbery. The perfectly manicured lawn sloped regally to the James.

Christine sipped an apple martini. “I could get used to this kind of living.”

Jasmine passed them, giving Jason a long, seductive glance. Jason smiled, avoiding her eyes. But they lingered a fraction too long on the long, tawny legs.

“Like what you see, sailor?” said Christine. She poked him with a finger. “Just remember to dance with the one that brung ya.”

Lily emerged from the house and clapped her hands crisply three times. The music stopped and everyone turned toward her.

“Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is ready,” she announced. “If you would kindly make your way to the gazebo and find your seats.”

The throngs eagerly converged on their place cards, anticipating one of Zanns’s sumptuous feasts. Jason and Christine were placed halfway down the middle table, ten seats from Lily’s position at the head. A moment later, Jasmine pulled out the chair immediately to Jason’s right. Her breast brushed his shoulder lightly as she sat. Jason smiled nervously. The scent of her perfume was strong and inviting. “Hello again,” she said, placing her hand on Jason’s arm. “I was hoping we’d have a chance to chat again.”

He glanced at Christine, who was engaged in small talk with a matronly woman, whose diamonds appeared to have been smeared on.

Christine noticed Jasmine and frowned. “Aren’t you the lucky man,” she whispered to him.

Jason shrugged.

The polished silverware gleamed in the soft lighting. The delicate china was rimmed in gold, the lead-crystal stemware sparkled. Virginal white linens, starched to a wooden stiffness, were draped over the long tables. An army of wait staff bore platters laden with breads and cheeses, working with the speed of an Indy 500 pit crew and the grace of a ballet troupe.

“Before we begin,” Lily said to the gathering. “Let’s have a toast.”

They raised their glasses. “Let us remember what it means to be successful. There is a line which I have always tried to remember from my favorite business philosopher, Peter Drucker. ‘The best way to predict the future is to create it.’”

* * *

Jason felt his elbow being gently squeezed. He looked to his right and saw Jasmine staring at him. She smiled seductively. “I have some ideas
about programs I would like to see implemented in our office and the Colonial,” Jasmine offered. “Perhaps we could meet to discuss them.”

“What kind of programs?” Jason asked.

“Perhaps a lipid clinic or a diabetes management program. Patients need more education and reinforcement than we can provide at the office. I’m sure Lily would be very much in favor of such a program, and it would win you points with her.”

“I didn’t realize I needed to score points,” Jason replied.

Jasmine smiled. “Lily wants results, Jason. Score as many points as early as you can.”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to discuss some ideas.”

“Excellent. I’ll call you to arrange lunch or a drink.” The words glided from her lips. Jason gulped his wine and sensed the invitation was more than just a business proposal.

“How’s the fish?” asked Christine. The roasted salmon and asparagus with lemon oil were served beside potatoes, shallots, and chervil, complimented by a citrusy chardonnay.

“Excellent. It’s the best I’ve ever had,” said Jason.

“Isn’t that right, Mr. Jason?”

Jason nearly choked on a bite of salmon. He glanced up and saw every pair of eyes on him. Zanns had spoken to him, and he’d missed it. He felt like a student caught napping during a lecture.

Zanns said, “I was just saying that you are our new vice-president. How was your first foray into finding new locations for us?”

“Very interesting,” Jason said, knitting an eyebrow. “I’ll have the information to you tomorrow.”
Didn’t she want to keep this quiet?
he thought.

“Did anything look promising?”

He hedged. “No, not really. We need to talk about that.”