Chapter 7

Early that morning, Michael had shown up at the building where the meeting to select a new head of Faro Services was being held. Devon and Melissa were going to keep Lisa distracted so she wouldn't notice his absence until it was too late for her to warn . . . whoever she was working with. That part was still unclear.

Faro Services was privately held, and this was a private meeting. But there was always a way. And so Michael had waited patiently for his opportunity, which came sooner than he had hoped. A group of men were going in together. None of them seemed to know each other nor were they the sort to ask questions. So Michael just joined the crowd as they went in and then up to the fifth floor, which Faro Services had leased. Or rather, one of their subsidiaries had.

After a bit of milling around, someone who was clearly in charge started giving orders to the hired muscle. Michael was told to move boxes into a storeroom down the hall. He did as he was told, as much to keep out of sight as to have something to do.

Carrying the boxes had several benefits. Michael rapidly became background that no one even gave a first glance. He overheard parts of several conversations, allowing him to piece together some plans that his contacts in law enforcement would want to know about. He also was figuring out what was going down at the meeting: Kendall was likely to take over Faro Services and his two rivals were likely going out, perhaps in body bags.

Bringing yet another box in the storeroom, he felt his commlink vibrate, a signal that Kitt needed to talk. Michael was alone in the room and no one else was carrying boxes. However, he still took no chances. He interlaced his fingers behind his head, conveniently putting the commlink by his ear, and stretched.

"Break time," he said, cuing Kitt that he was listening.

His partner said in a low tone for him alone, "Kendell is the head of Munro Tech, the company we were just investigating for corporate espionage. He will likely recognize you, if he were to see you."

"Back to work," said Michael, as he lowered his arms.

The commlink vibrated twice. Kitt knew his message had been heard and understood. Michael would thank him later for the timely warning. Now Michael had to avoid Kendall, which meant not sitting in on the meeting. And he still didn't know if Lisa and Timmy were in danger or from who.

He went off to get the last of the boxes, which might also give him time to come up with a new plan. The boxes were, from the size and weight, files. Most were probably useless . . . from a law enforcement standpoint. Maybe he would have time to poke through them to find the more interesting ones.

As he picked up the final two boxes, he could sense a change in the room. Glancing quickly around, he realized none of the other hired muscle were there. The man who had been giving orders earlier spotted him and came over.

"Last of the boxes?"

"Yes, sir," said Michael, who was always surprised that speaking slowly and using 'sir' a lot made people underestimate his intelligence.

"The other guys are downstairs on the ground floor. Mr. Kendall is giving them their last-minute instructions. Put those with the other boxes, and then go down the lobby. Mr. Kendall will fill you in."

"Yes, sir."

Now Michael had to figure out how to not be seen by Kendall. There was a door at the back of the storeroom. Perhaps it was time to see where it led. He returned to the storeroom, just in time to see a man stand up. It was Warwick, who had clearly been going through one of the boxes, maybe even more than one.

"I don't recognize you," he said to Michael.

"Just here for the day, sir."

"Shouldn't you be downstairs with the others?"

"Yes, sir. Just as soon as I've finished moving boxes, sir. Last two right here, in fact, sir."

Michael put the two boxes he was carrying down. Right on top of the box Warwick had been next to. He then turned to leave.

"Wait."

Michael paused at the door. "Sir?"

"Whatever you're being paid, I'll double it. Kendall's making his move, and I'm on the chopping block. Get me out of here safely, and I'll double whatever they're – he's – paying you."

"Where to?"

Warwick shook his head. "Not until we're clear of the building. Do we have a deal?"

Michael nodded and then peeked down the hall. There was no way he and Warwick could get to the elevators without being seen. It really was time to try that door. Michael was fairly sure it led to an access hall, which should get them to a staircase.

"Through that door."

Michael's guess had been correct: access hall and stairs. Not one but two sets of stairs, in fact. He picked the one further from the front door.

"My name is David Warwick."

"Michael. How long before they notice you're missing?"

"No more than fifteen minutes. That's when the formal meeting starts. If he hasn't realized I'm no longer there before then, the empty seat will tip off Kendall."

"What's between you and this Kendall? And what's likely to happen." Michael figured he could fill in some of the blanks.

Warwick mulled over his answer. "Kendall wants to take over as head of Faro Services. He's been maneuvering behind the scenes on that for a while, as it turns out. He also wants my wife. And he's willing to kill me to get both. As far as I'm concerned, he can have them both. But he won't believe me." Warwick paused, then added, "All I want is my son."

They had reached the ground floor. Michael cracked the door. He could see Kendall, who was still talking the crowd of hired muscle. He shut the door again and led Warwick to the basement.

"He isn't mine, you know," said Warwick quietly. "But I don't mind. Because he is, in all the ways that count."

"Not sure what you mean, sir," replied Michael, who really hadn't been paying that much attention. His focus was more on how to get Warwick – and himself – out of the building alive and in one piece.

"My son, Timmy. Kendall and my wife are having an affair. Have been for years. Biologically, Kendall is Timmy's father. But in every other way – all the ways that count – I'm his dad. Kendall can have Lisa, as long as I get Timmy. And call me David, not sir."

Michael now had all the pieces of the puzzle, and he also had Warwick. The trick now was to get away safely. He cracked the door to the basement: steam pipes . . . and no armed thugs. So, which way to go? Left took them towards the front door. Which meant they should go right.

"Okay, David. Let's see if we can get out of here. And get you back together with your son. Come on." And Michael indicated down the hallway, to their right.

Like any other steam tunnels, Michael and Warwick found themselves in a maze of main, side, and connecting hallways. Michael made a mental note to talk with the HVAC people at FLAG about what the hieroglyphics on the pipes meant.

"Any ideas of how to get out of here? This is my first time in the building, and I don't know where the doors from the basement are. If there are any."

Warwick shrugged. "My first time in this building, too."

"Well, heading away from the front door puts more distance between us and Kendall's men."

Behind them (or perhaps in front – the echoes made it hard to be sure), a door slammed, followed by yelling. Kendall had apparently noticed Warwick's absence. Michael grabbed Warwick's shoulder, pulling him down a side hallway. Squirreling him in amongst some pipes, Michael motioned him to stay . . . and to be quiet.

Michael ducked down another hallway and then thumbed his commlink. "Kitt? Tell me you can hear me."

"Yes, Michael, I can hear you."

"Warwick and I are in the basement, making a break for it. Kendall and a crowd of thugs are here, too. Can you find us a way out?"

"I detect a door at street level that leads to stairs going down. If you can get to that door, I will be on the other side."

"Left or right?"

"I am not entirely sure where you are right now. However, the door is the left of the main entrance as you are facing the building, leading to a service alleyway. It is approximately one-third of the way from the front of the building."

"Got it. See you soon, buddy."

Michael got his bearings and then went back to Warwick. He put a finger to his lips and motioned. Warwick nodded his understanding and followed. The two men walked quickly, slowing at each intersection in case someone was there. Michael maneuvered them to the main hallway along the wall where he thought – hoped – the stairs were. Unfortunately, the stairs were nearer the front of the building, and they were nearer the back.

Two thugs came around a corner. Both pairs of men were surprised. Michael knocked one out cold. But the other raised the alarm before Michael had laid him out, too.

"We're gonna have to run for it," said Michael.

They ran down the hall, no longer checking at each intersection. The sounds of yelling and running echoed through the steam tunnels. But Kendall had assumed they were heading for the back door and deployed his men accordingly.

Michael thought they were close. And then the shooting started. Warwick stumbled. Michael grabbed the other man to keep him upright and moving forward.

"You okay?"

"Until the adrenaline wears off."

Michael spotted the stairs. "Not much further. Let me know how that adrenaline is holding up."

More bullets rang out down the hall. "Just got a much-needed booster."

"There's a black Trans-Am just outside the door. As soon as you are outside, get in it." Michael hoped Kitt had thought to park with the passenger side facing the door.

"Will do."

From the sounds, Kendall's men were beginning to converge on their location. Kendall must have figured out their plan to use the stairs and the side door. Michael hoped the door was unlocked from this side. He wasn't going to have time to pick the lock.

A few more bullets whistled around them, but none hit. And then they were up the stairs, which gave them a bit of cover. Michael hit the door with his shoulder . . . and it opened to daylight. His partner was parked passenger side to the building, with both doors open. Michael all but threw Warwick into the passenger seat and then slid across the hood. Kitt closed the passenger door just as the first thug came up the stairs and out the door.

The thug took a moment to aim, so it was a solid shot. But Michael was already twisting to get in the driver's seat. The bullet merely grazed his side. He got behind the wheel as his door shut. Kitt drove off as Michael was still bringing his hands to the wheel. But Warwick's eyes were closed, in a combination of relief, pain, and shock.

Michael calmly asked, "Where to, David?"

Warwick smiled grimly. "The FBI. Their offices are at –"

"I know how to get there."

"Good. They'll want to hear what I have to say. And see what I have to show them." Warwick patted his jacket pocket.

"Why?"

"Do you have any kids?" Michael shook his head and Warwick continued, "I want my son to be proud to call me 'Dad'. Over the past couple of years . . . Well, let's just say I haven't always been proud of what I've done." He paused, then added, "If you don't want to get involved with the FBI, drop me off. I'll . . . I'll get you your money somehow. I promise."

"Actually, David, I work for the Foundation for Law and Government. Lisa showed up at our offices a couple of days ago, with Timmy. She claimed you were going to hurt Timmy. I was assigned to investigate her story."

"Is Timmy safe?"

"Yes. And I'll call my boss, so he brings Lisa and Timmy to the FBI office."

Warwick gave a deep sigh of relief. "That was my only concern, that I'd never see my son again."