Terminal Value Part 20

The video ended.

"I thought I was going to be a concert pianist," said Naomi.

Dylan smiled, glad she was finally getting more comfortable chatting with him. "Really?" he said, deliberately sounding surprised. His gaze wandered toward Ivan's closed door. "I used to play the piano myself. When I was a kid, I mean. I liked it, but-well-there's no money in it, of course."

"You never know. It was my parents' dream to see me on stage," Naomi said, a quiet wistfulness creeping into her tone. "When they got sick, I got a job as a secretary to make ends meet. I don't think they ever forgave themselves. . . ."

Heather's mind whirled. Where had these files come from? Had Tony seen them? And what the h.e.l.l was Ivan up to, doc.u.menting these obviously highly private meetings? Did he have every room in the building bugged? Had Christine and Art known they were being recorded? She doubted it, given the things they had said. And what the h.e.l.l did Art mean by holding "a few cards"?

She looked at the long list of .avi files. She didn't have time to sit and watch them all. The plan had been to copy Tony's files onto a flash drive, but .avi files are big. She pulled a pendant from around her neck, flipped it open, and plugged it into the USB port. She glanced at the monitor to her right. The script was still working, the IP address shifting every time she clicked on a file. Suddenly she thought to double-check the screen on her right to make sure no one was searching the directory as well. Her gaze scanned back to the route she had taken through the directory.

Nine levels above, she spotted an IP address: 192.191.0.0. And there it was again, beside another directory. And again and again. Following the same path she had taken. Even as she watched, six levels above in the hierarchy of directories, it appeared again: 192.191.0.0. Someone appeared to be following her.

"Uh-oh." Her heart leapt into her throat. "I hope you are keeping an eye on him, Dylan," she said softly.

"My dad was a no-nonsense guy who wouldn't abide any sissy stuff," said Dylan. "He taught me at an early age that emotions just get in the way. You don't get ahead if you get sidetracked. It was a hard lesson to learn, but it made me strong." He put his hands around the mug of coffee Naomi had made him and stared into its swirling depths.

"Oh," said Naomi softly. "I'm sorry."

Dylan smiled. "You misunderstand. He was a blue-collar guy who wanted better for his son. Because of him, I knew how to get what I wanted. When he died, it was just me and my mom. I couldn't have supported her the way I did-the way I still do-if I'd wasted my time with music or gotten with the wrong crowd. I owe him a lot."

"I'm sure you do. But, Dylan, you need to have balance. We all have our vulnerable side. If you pretend you don't, you get into all sorts of trouble eventually."

Dylan chuckled. "I guess I need to get in touch with my inner chi."

Naomi smiled silently.

Suddenly, Dylan's phone vibrated against his hip. Heather. Almost done. Five minutes more and she would be clear. He glanced at the door to Ivan's office. Got you.

"Come on, come on!" Heather whispered, her hands grasping the screen as if to speed it up. The status bar changed colors rhythmically, giving the appearance of three dimensions as it swirled. It had always fascinated her that computers still used so many anachronisms like the barber pole, the sand clock, the trash bin, the floppy disk, the paper folder-all icons, now-incorporeal, shimmering metallic colors on a high-res screen.

The bar disappeared. Heather pulled the flash drive out of the port. She closed it and replaced the slender chain around her neck, relief flooding through her. She put her hands under her long hair, settling it on her shoulders. Time to get the h.e.l.l out of virtual Dodge. She shut down the browser and emptied the cache. No worries. She glanced at the right-hand screen.

192.191.0.0. had joined her in the SAVE2012 directory.

d.a.m.n.

She hit the b.u.t.ton on the optical drive. It whirred and spat out the CD. She hit and held the power b.u.t.ton on the tower. Come on!!!

The power b.u.t.ton went dark.

Fumbling to put the CD into her briefcase, she ran to the door and opened it.

Ivan Venko stood in front of her. Tall and gaunt, his dark hair slicked back, and his bony face morose, he towered over her, blocking any hope for a speedy departure. Ivan reached out and shoved her back into the office.

Chapter 24.

May 13, 3:35 p.m. New York "You know, Naomi, you're probably right," said Dylan, feeling relaxed with Ivan safe inside his office and Heather on her way back to hers. "I should find more balance in my life."

Naomi nodded, touching the copper hoops on her wrist. "You've been under a lot of stress, Dylan. Everybody knows that. When we're upset by something terrible, it dredges up every painful thing that's ever happened to us. It's human nature. I admire you for-"

The telephone on Naomi's desk rang. "Oh, h.e.l.lo Mr. Williams. No, he's not here; he's meeting with a salesman in the conference room."

Dylan tensed. He had a.s.sumed Ivan was behind closed doors in his office. Now he had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach about Heather's security. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Six minutes since Heather had signaled him.

Dylan bounded out of the chair and rushed to the office and opened the door. To his horror he saw an empty office.

Ivan's eyes flickered with surprise. "Miss Carter." His deep voice echoed through the room.

Heather flashed a broad smile. She shoved the CD into the pocket of the briefcase and struck a flirtatious pose. "Were you looking for me?"

"Apparently," he said, moving ominously toward her.

"Well then perhaps you'll be able to help me find Sandeep." She kept her tone light, while adrenaline pumped up her heart rate. "Or did he send you to find me?"

Ivan grasped the doork.n.o.b and took a step forward, further blocking any possible escape route. Heather quickly considered her options. Either back up, or let him walk into her. Her heartbeat increased as Ivan stepped into the office and closed the door.

"What are you doing?" Heather asked, as a sense of fear scuttled up her spine. She slowly backed up deeper into the office.

"You're asking me that? I think the question is better suited to you." He reached a hand toward her briefcase, and she took another step back.

"Give me the CD, please, Miss Carter."

"It's not mine to give," Heather stuttered, her answer caught in a nervous swallow.

"No?"

"No. It was Tony's. I need to find Sandeep to see if he can access its contents. You know Dylan is looking for-"

"Please. Let's not play this game."

Heather heard the sound of her heart pounding as the blood rushed through her inner ears. Should she provoke him to attack? That would give her an excuse to scream or to claim that he had cornered her there. But how could she explain the CD?

"I know where you were-what you were looking at. I'm the chief security officer of Mantric, Miss Carter. I'm not asking you. I'm telling you to give me that CD."

"Why? Why are you so determined to keep Dylan from viewing Tony's files?"

Ivan stepped forward, driving her further back. Heather realized that with each step backwards, she would be closer to the corner between the bank of cabinets and the wall.

She dashed frantically to the left; Ivan parried, pushing her back against the table, his body trapping her, his hands groping for the briefcase she held close to her body.

"You son of a b.i.t.c.h!" Heather cried, shoving his hands away from her body.

She threw up an elbow, whirled, and jammed her fist against his head. Ivan's head snapped back, slamming against the corner of a cabinet and drawing blood from a small but deep gash. He stumbled for only a second before coming at her again, shooting an arm around her neck and moving behind her. His wiry appearance belied his strength and skill in physical combat. She realized she was no compet.i.tion for him. She pulled the CD out of the briefcase and tried to smash it against the table, but he caught her arm and twisted it, s.n.a.t.c.hing the CD from her. His grasp tightened, and he wrestled her into the middle of the room.

Keeping his left arm around her neck, he patted her down with his right, pressing the thin fabric of her dress close to her skin. Revulsion hit her when he reached into the pocket on her thigh. With a primal cry of anguish, she pushed back against him, kicking at his shins with her three-inch stacked heels.

He didn't let go. His fingers spread as they searched the empty pocket and then moved away. Heather jerked away again, and this time he let her go. She staggered against the computer desk and fell into the chair, shaking.

Ivan's lips curled up into a depraved-looking grin. With an annoyed shake of his head, he went to her briefcase.

As he rummaged through its contents, searching for anything in addition to the CD, Heather's thoughts went to Dylan. Was he all right? Logic told her that he was not, that Ivan had learned of their plan. Fear gripped her. If Ivan were a murderer, would he hesitate to add Dylan to his list?

"So, Miss Carter," he said when he had searched the briefcase to his satisfaction. "I have the CD. So the only other record of what you saw is in your little mind. That won't do."

He took a menacing step toward her, a crooked smile on his face. She had neither breath nor will to scream. She began to fall backward when, through the buzzing in her ears, she heard the sound of the door opening, and in the distance, a voice called, "Leave her alone, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

Dylan met Ivan's gaze. A cool sense of control and calm came over him, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. He was aware of the catch in Heather's hoa.r.s.e breathing, of the twitch of doubt in Ivan's lips, of the double stream of blood working its way slowly down the side of his face from the gash in his temple.

Dylan stretched to his full six-foot-four-inch stature, towering four inches above Ivan. "Leave her alone," he repeated.

Doubt flickered across Ivan's gaunt face. "I wasn't-" He looked at Heather and then back at Dylan.

"Be careful, Dylan!" Heather called.

Ivan turned toward her and, in that moment, Dylan leapt forward and slammed his fist into Ivan's kidneys, taking the man by surprise. Ivan dropped to his knees.

"I wasn't going to hurt her," he said, slowly rising to his feet, wiping the blood from his forehead. He nodded at Heather. "This woman broke in here to gain access to secure Mantric files. She resisted when I asked her to hand over the CD she used to copy files. I was simply trying to make her explain to me exactly what she saw."

"Tell that to the cops."

"Dylan," whispered Heather, with a warning shake of her head.

"This is an internal matter," said Ivan. "There's no need for the police."

Dylan laughed. "Oh, really? So you think you can murder someone in cold blood and Mantric will take care of it?"

"I told you. I had no intention of harming Miss Carter!"

"I'm not talking about Heather!" Dylan snapped.

Ivan frowned. "You're not?" His eyes flickered back and forth. Then he understood the accusation. "You think I had something to do with Tony's death? But-"

"I don't know. But you're the one threatening Heather. It would not be a leap for the police to believe you could take it to the next step."

Ivan looked at Dylan. "It was murder, wasn't it?" he said, wrapping his mind around the truth. "I knew it," he muttered.

Heather rose and moved cautiously to Dylan's side. "Let's go," she whispered.

"Report me to the police and I'll report your activities to Mr. Williams," said Ivan without looking at them. "I have your CD. I followed your digital adventure. A record exists of exactly where you went and what you saw." Ivan drew a deep breath, regaining a measure of confidence. "Tell me what you saw, Miss Carter, and perhaps I will not mention this event."

"Wait a minute," said Dylan, holding up a warning hand. "You think you can extort our silence with a threat like that? We're taking this story straight to the cops!"

"What story?" sneered Ivan. "That you broke in here to-Yes, I see now. You broke in to find evidence that, that I-" He rolled his hollow eyes. "That I killed your friend. Is that what you were looking for?" He smiled briskly at Heather. "Go ahead, Miss Carter. Tell him all the incriminating evidence you found that I killed your friend. So you can rush off to the police and have me arrested!" He folded his arms, daring her to speak.

Dylan looked questioningly at Heather. She cleared her throat. "Dylan, I didn't find anything to implicate Ivan in Tony's murder, but nothing that clears him, either."

"Are you sure?" asked Dylan.

She nodded slowly. "There were video files. No references that I saw to Tony's death."

Dylan turned to Ivan. "So where were you on May second, when Tony was killed?" he demanded.

Ivan did not answer.

"But it looks like he's been bugging Art and Christine without their knowledge," Heather said, breaking the silence.

Ivan did not respond, but took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the blood from his wound.

"You asked me what I saw. I'm telling you," said Heather. "What are you doing, blackmailing them?"

"You don't know what you saw," said Ivan.

"Okay, then you tell us what she saw," said Dylan. "Or we'll just ask Art and Christine."

Ivan's expression was as granite. "Those .avi's are Mantric property, made as part of my job."

Dylan put a hand on Heather's elbow. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Ivan took a step forward. "You can't speak of this!"

Heather turned to face him. "Why not? It'll be worth it if it helps us nail who killed Tony."

"I didn't kill him!" Ivan's narrow teeth showed between his drawn lips. "I don't kill people, Miss Carter."

"So why won't you tell us where you were the night he was killed?" Dylan said.

"I was here in New York. I didn't break the law."