Shattered Legacy (30 page)

A dull roar sounded throughout the cabin as the working engines and roll thrusters fired in unison, their actions guided from ground control. Slowly, the
Naiad
pitched backwards into the edge of the atmosphere. For almost a full minute, nothing seemed to happen. Then, slowly, a gentle blue glow shone through the cockpit windows as the craft began encountering atmospheric friction. The heat would quickly build up, and portions of the orbiter would eventually reach a temperature of over fifteen hundred degrees.

McManus watched the indicators. So far everything was in the green. Speed and trim were normal and responsive. Burn off of the reaction control system fuel would finish in the next sixty seconds. He glanced over to see that his pilot was frowning, as if surprised that everything was going so well.

“How do we look, Control?” McManus asked.

“We were about to ask you the same question,” Gettleman replied. “No unusual readings on this end. Your angle of decent is a bit high. We're correcting for that. Over.”

Schwartz lifted his hands from the controls. “Maybe I could get used to having someone else doing the driving.”

McManus kept a wary eye on the readouts. “Don’t get too comfortable. We need to be ready when we come out of the blackout, because if their calculations are even slightly off, then we’re in serious trouble.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

The pressroom was buzzing with anticipation. Many reporters, disappointed that they were not covering the orbiter landing, consoled themselves with the fact that they were in for a different type of show. Word was out that a full-blown criminal investigation into Templar Enterprises was about to be announced. Anyone who had followed the story could hardly be surprised. The question now was how the company planned to react, and with the turmoil rumored to be rocking the company, that reaction was anyone’s guess.

The noise level died down as Samson Tyler, alone, walked across the stage to the podium. He looked out at the packed room. There were a few, hushed whispers from the audience as he stood under the bright glare of camera lights. Tyler never felt so alone. He realized grimly that his entire career, if not his entire company, hinged on this moment.

On signal from offstage, he looked into the center camera.

He said nothing.

He knew what he had to say – what he wanted to say – but now that his moment had come, he found it difficult to find the words. He could walk away now and let everything take its course. He didn’t owe Templar Enterprises or Sinclair Dorian anything. He had been lied to, manipulated, and now it looked like he was being set up to take the blame for something for which he had no involvement.

With what he knew, he could strike a deal with the authorities and save his own skin. To hell with everyone else. But this was about something bigger than himself.

And he would be damned if he didn’t go down fighting.

He took a deep breath and began.

“Good morning. My name is Samson Tyler, General Counsel for Templar Enterprises. I’m sure there are other events you would rather be covering today, so I’ll make my statements brief, or as brief as can be expected from a lawyer.”

There was no reaction to his joke, and he continued. “As you know, Templar Enterprises has been under investigation by federal authorities concerning the alleged purchase and misappropriation of surplus military technology. These serious accusations have cast a shadow over our company and our mission.”

There were clicks from cameras and a low buzz from the audience as Tyler paused to take a breath. “Usually the first reaction in times of crisis is denial. That was Templar’s initial position. Recently, however, I came into possession of information proving that one or more individuals had infiltrated our organization and used our resources, and Templar’s good name, toward their own criminal end.”

He paused and looked up, trying to gauge the reaction of the crowd. The lights obscured his view of the room, but he knew he had struck a chord, for the room was completely silent.

“Earlier this week, I was approached by a woman who claimed to be a government whistleblower. She suggested that the investigation against Templar was politically-motivated and designed to damage the company’s reputation. That was not the case. To put it simply, this woman sent me on a wild goose chase. However, I did uncover facts that shed new light as to what had really happened.” He held up the faxed copy of Merrick's old employee photograph. “This morning I discovered that the woman who contacted me was actually a former employee of Templar Enterprises. Her name is Evelyn Haley Merrick. I believe that she is responsible for criminal acts against this company and for the recent release of documents that implicate apparent wrongdoing by persons within the company. However, I do not believe Ms. Merrick acted alone.”

Several reporters began blurting out questions, but Tyler raised his hand and spoke over them. “At this time, I am directing all Templar employees and contractors to offer complete support to federal and state authorities. In addition, I plan to meet with representatives of the Justice Department to discuss how we can best handle this matter in an open and transparent manner. As for today’s events here at the Thomas Dorian Space Center, I ask that we put aside our legal troubles and enjoy a moment of history.”

He glanced to his left. Ramona Vargas stood beside the stage, staring at him, her face ashen.

Tyler picked up his notes and turned away from the podium, ignoring the pandemonium that erupted around him. Some reporters reached for their phones and rushed out of the room. Cameras flashed as more questions were shouted at him.

Tyler walked off the stage and headed for the waiting room. Ramona slammed the door shut behind them, and before Tyler had a chance to speak, she shouted, “What the hell was
that
?”

He walked over to the makeup table and leaned into the mirror. “In the beginning of all this, I was led to believe that our problems were due to some sort of political payback by Dorian’s enemies. My first instinct was to fight back. But I wanted an internal investigation to be sure that we were clean.” He glanced up at her in the mirror. “But it turns out we weren’t clean, and that my investigation threatened to uncover some nasty truths about the company. That’s why you and I were both pressured to quickly settle the matter. When I didn’t play ball, they decided to use me as a scapegoat.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see. But the bottom line is that we were both played, Ramona.”

“We?” She frowned, not quite getting the picture. “What are you getting at?”

“Think about it. After my place was set on fire and I received that death threat, who put me under bodyguard protection?”

“I did.”

Tyler rose to full height and turned around. “And who first suggested the idea?”

“Well, Jacob had suggested… Wait, you’re not saying -”

“Who first supported an internal investigation to prove nothing was wrong, and then swamped the legal department with more data than we could possibly handle? Who then pushed to settle the whole matter? Was that really your idea, Ramona? Think about it.”

She shook her head with a serious expression. “You should have told me about this.”

“I didn’t put it all together until now. Besides, you wouldn’t have listened to me anyway.”

Ramona looked away, teeth clenched. “You should have told me what you were going to do.”

“No one knew what I was going to say out there.”

“But I thought Sinclair ordered you to…”
Tyler shook his head. “Sinclair didn’t know, either.”

She looked back at him. It took her a moment to understand. When she did, her expression darkened. “But you told me that -”

“I lied. It was the only way I could get on that stage.”

She stared at him, open-mouthed. Then her expression shifted to a scowl as the full impact of Tyler’s action became apparent. She stabbed a finger at the door. “Do you know what you just did out there? You admitted on national television that we harbored criminal activity! And now you’re telling me that one of the founders of the company was behind it all?”

Tyler spread his hands and shrugged.

She sneered. “You’re done, Samson. Your career is over.”

“Ramona, this goes back way before you and I were even involved with the company. Believe me, there are things about Templar’s past that you don’t want to know about.”

“We’ll see about that, asshole.”

She tightened her jaw and brushed past him toward the door.

He watched her leave, then slumped back against the wall and lowered his head. This wasn’t his proudest moment. He had lied to his boss in order to expose his company’s fraud to the world. At the very least, his career at Templar was over. Branded as a whistleblower, he would probably never again find work as a corporate attorney.

Lynn leaned inside the doorway and cleared her throat.

“The FBI is here,” she told him. “They want to talk to you.”

“Where are they?”

“Just outside. Security says more Federal agents are on their way.”

“Okay, then we are getting out of here. Is the plane ready?”

“It’s in the private hangar area in the Vehicle Assembly Building.”

“Then let’s go.”

“But what about the agents?”

“They can find their own ride. I’m not talking to anyone until I get back to New York.”

The two left through the side door to avoid the press.

“For what it’s worth,” Lynn said quietly as they strode away, “I think you did the right thing at that news conference. Telling the truth, I mean.”

Tyler threw her a frown.

“Thanks, Lynn. I feel
so
much better now.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Merrick stood behind a row of automated backup servers in Templar’s Network Operation Center. She had been escorted to the Administration Building’s sub-basement by the floor manager. The manager was called away, but Merrick remained near the port racks, keeping her eye on Lanton, who was pretending to do work at the other end of the room. She didn’t know what he was doing. As far as she knew, the man was not a computer expert.

Over the steady drone of the servers, she heard a small commotion. She peeked around the aisle and saw a group of dark-suited FBI agents near the main entrance, flashing badges at anyone who came near them. She ducked back, pressed herself against the machinery, and swore under her breath. The FBI was the last thing she needed right now.

This was not part of the plan, and she hated improvisation.

Her hand dropped to the screwdriver on her tool belt, and that made her feel a little more at ease.

Technicians within the glass-enclosed area in the center of the room stared at the agents as the floor manager led them across the main floor. The agents were looking around, clearly impressed with the neat rows of servers and terminals that comprised the computing heart of the Thomas Dorian Space Center.

As they neared, Merrick took a deep breath, released it, and stepped out into view. Then she took a quick step back and looked at the agents as if she were surprised to see them there.

“How are we doing with the repairs?” asked the floor manager.

Merrick stuffed her screwdriver into her back pocket. “Problem solved. It wasn't as big a deal as I thought.”

“Good.” The manager relaxed a bit as she turned to the agents. “This woman is from the phone company. We were having some sort of a connection problem.”

Merrick shrugged. “Technically, our responsibility stops at your port rack. But seeing as we did the new drops only a few months back, it's professional courtesy, right?” She noticed someone leaving through the main access. It was Lanton. Then she glanced back at the agents and smiled innocently. “This isn't about the line problem, is it?”

The manager shook her head.


“Then I’ll get out of your way.”

Releasing a deep breath as she left the operations center, she started down the hallway. She had to find Lanton before he did anything stupid. The man was out of control and needed to be dealt with immediately.

As Merrick turned the corner, a figure stepped into view and plunged a fist into her gut. Merrick doubled over and gasped in shock. Then she was shoved up against the wall.

“Merrick,” said Lanton, his voice dripping with menace. He leaned close and pulled back his lips to bare his teeth. “Why are you following me?”

“To keep you out of trouble.” She wheezed, trying to draw breath. After a few moments, she was able to speak normally. “I told you to stay out of this, Lanton.”

“If you had done your job right, I wouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve taken care of the details. And while I’ve been wrapping things up, all you’ve been doing is trying kill my mark.”

“I have to.”

“Why?”

“Because Samson Tyler is the final link between us.”

“No, he’s not,” Merrick replied, shaking her head. “He’s not my insider.”

“Sure he is. You talk with him, you meet him. You’ve even been to his apartment.”

Merrick was shaking her head, trying not to laugh, despite her pain. “You don’t get it, do you? Samson Tyler is being set up to take the
fall
.”

Lanton cocked his head to one side and frowned as he digested that bit of information. Then he blinked. “But I thought you were working with Tyler to -”

“No.”

“But -”

“You’re an idiot, Lanton. An idiot.”

Obviously realizing that he had been dead wrong about Tyler and Merrick’s relationship, Lanton glanced around, bewildered. He quickly grabbed Merrick by the collar, turned to the nearest door and swiped his ID badge through the lock. Then he pushed open the door and shoved Merrick inside. In the darkness, Lanton swept his hand along the rough concrete wall, searching for a light switch.

When the fluorescent lights sputtered to life, Merrick saw that they were in a large utility closet. Pipes and electrical conduits ran across the ceiling and walls. A sink, mops and cleaning supplies stood in the corner.