family, and Ben with other friends. There were a number of more recent photos of Sarah in which she looked fond of whoever was taking the picture. Sam knew it was Ben.
The place was neat and tidy, if crammed, and Sam knew the orderliness was Sarah's doing.
Another photo showed a group of men and Haley standing in front of a house with the ocean in the background.
It was Ben's beach house on Lopez Island, where Sam had been a frequent visitor. In the photo older scientists were standing around and Sam suspected these were some of the fellows participating in all the private meetings.
Ben had also tacked a series of quotations on the wall. A couple of them were new.
It's not that I'm afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens.
—Woody Allen
I can do anything now at age ninety that I could do when I was eighteen, which shows you how pathetic I was at eighteen.
—George Burns
The term Haley had mentioned—"youth retention"— came immediately to mind.
"Nothing. Nothing." Frick screamed at Rolf as he walked out the door to the IT room.
The escrow was full of meaningless documents that told them nothing of Ben Anderson's secrets. There was only the slightest consolation and that was the geek's assurance that he might figure what Ben was doing by studying the memory of Sanker Foundation's server computer.
Frick was always cautious and he had backup plans to the backup plans. He was supposed to have twenty men from Las Vegas in Friday Harbor waiting. It had cost $100,000 in Sanker money to have them on standby, but it was worth it. It took only seconds on his cell phone to make sure they were in place.
When he arrived at his office, he considered the unsavory next step: calling Sanker.
Sanker was in a tough spot. They had entered a merger agreement with American Bayou and, after signing, Sanker stock value had plunged because Haley Walther refused to tell a few white lies. They got rid of her, but that didn't help the stock. If Sanker stock did not rise, then old man Sanker and all his executives would be out in the street taken over by the American Bayou people. The way to save the old man's skinny ass was to make sure that Sanker got Ben Anderson's aging discovery and announced this new molecular magic to the world.
Frick's mission was simple: Ben Anderson had to die— after Sanker understood all the ramifications of his discovery. As long as Ben Anderson lived, he controlled the invention and chose the manufacturer, with Sanker controlling nothing and getting half the profits.
The phone call to his contact at the Sanker Corporation would have to be oblique because no one, least of all Sanker, would be willing to discuss the real issues.
"I've been negotiating with Ben Anderson," Frick began. "It's just a hunch, but I think he may not have been complying with the terms of the escrow. And now he seems to have disappeared. Of course, we're looking for the details of his work." Frick kept the wording as vague as his contact, a Mr. Nash, would likely want it.
"What?" That single word expressed Nash's shock.
What followed was a short conversation that went badly. Frick repeated to Nash the same general bad news, but in more detail, and with a few hints at his knowledge.
"That's your issue," Nash said. "It's your job. We need you to find Ben Anderson. Big-name scientists don't just disappear. If he did, you make sure you get the relevant details and make arrangements to acquire his discovery. And I tell you again: break no laws."
Nash was a pompous hypocrite, but he controlled the six-figure payments due Frick upon completion of his tasks.
"Understood."
Frick now realized how lucky he was that his inside man had failed to kill Ben Anderson. According to the plan, several days previous they were to have looted the escrow and obtained all the secrets.
Frick made one more call, this one to a man called Griffith, also on the Sanker payroll.
Frick had brought Griffith and one other man in much
The place was neat and tidy, if crammed, and Sam knew the orderliness was Sarah's doing.
Another photo showed a group of men and Haley standing in front of a house with the ocean in the background.
It was Ben's beach house on Lopez Island, where Sam had been a frequent visitor. In the photo older scientists were standing around and Sam suspected these were some of the fellows participating in all the private meetings.
Ben had also tacked a series of quotations on the wall. A couple of them were new.
It's not that I'm afraid to die, I just don't want to be there when it happens.
—Woody Allen
I can do anything now at age ninety that I could do when I was eighteen, which shows you how pathetic I was at eighteen.
—George Burns
The term Haley had mentioned—"youth retention"— came immediately to mind.
"Nothing. Nothing." Frick screamed at Rolf as he walked out the door to the IT room.
The escrow was full of meaningless documents that told them nothing of Ben Anderson's secrets. There was only the slightest consolation and that was the geek's assurance that he might figure what Ben was doing by studying the memory of Sanker Foundation's server computer.
Frick was always cautious and he had backup plans to the backup plans. He was supposed to have twenty men from Las Vegas in Friday Harbor waiting. It had cost $100,000 in Sanker money to have them on standby, but it was worth it. It took only seconds on his cell phone to make sure they were in place.
When he arrived at his office, he considered the unsavory next step: calling Sanker.
Sanker was in a tough spot. They had entered a merger agreement with American Bayou and, after signing, Sanker stock value had plunged because Haley Walther refused to tell a few white lies. They got rid of her, but that didn't help the stock. If Sanker stock did not rise, then old man Sanker and all his executives would be out in the street taken over by the American Bayou people. The way to save the old man's skinny ass was to make sure that Sanker got Ben Anderson's aging discovery and announced this new molecular magic to the world.
Frick's mission was simple: Ben Anderson had to die— after Sanker understood all the ramifications of his discovery. As long as Ben Anderson lived, he controlled the invention and chose the manufacturer, with Sanker controlling nothing and getting half the profits.
The phone call to his contact at the Sanker Corporation would have to be oblique because no one, least of all Sanker, would be willing to discuss the real issues.
"I've been negotiating with Ben Anderson," Frick began. "It's just a hunch, but I think he may not have been complying with the terms of the escrow. And now he seems to have disappeared. Of course, we're looking for the details of his work." Frick kept the wording as vague as his contact, a Mr. Nash, would likely want it.
"What?" That single word expressed Nash's shock.
What followed was a short conversation that went badly. Frick repeated to Nash the same general bad news, but in more detail, and with a few hints at his knowledge.
"That's your issue," Nash said. "It's your job. We need you to find Ben Anderson. Big-name scientists don't just disappear. If he did, you make sure you get the relevant details and make arrangements to acquire his discovery. And I tell you again: break no laws."
Nash was a pompous hypocrite, but he controlled the six-figure payments due Frick upon completion of his tasks.
"Understood."
Frick now realized how lucky he was that his inside man had failed to kill Ben Anderson. According to the plan, several days previous they were to have looted the escrow and obtained all the secrets.
Frick made one more call, this one to a man called Griffith, also on the Sanker payroll.
Frick had brought Griffith and one other man in much
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