Shoot First(Stone Barrington #45)(42)

Bellini walked over and sat down, placing the pistol on the coffee table, within easy reach.

“Let me begin,” Stone said, “by stating some irrefutable facts. You have taken, without authorization, the designs and specifications of a self-driving automobile from Harmony Software, and attempted to sell it to the Chinese.”

“No, I—”

“Shut up,” Stone said. “I’ll tell you when it’s time to talk.”

Bellini shut up.

Stone took the envelope from his pocket, extracted the first check, and handed it to Bellini. “Read this,” he said.

Bellini read it.

“That is an official check on the account of the Steele Group of insurers in the amount of ten million dollars. It is in payment for the return of all the files you stole from Harmony. You may hand them over to me now and keep the check. I assure you, it will not bounce.”

“I’m afraid—” Bellini began.

“That is the carrot,” Stone said. “Now the stick. If you are unwise enough to reject this offer and produce the files forthwith, you will be arrested and charged with hiring one Joe Cross and a companion to murder your former employer, Ms. Harmon.”

“But—”

“I should tell you that, before Mr. Cross expired, he told two police officers and an emergency medical technician that you had hired him to commit murder. Those two police officers are waiting downstairs in a car to arrest you.”

“But I don’t—”

“However,” Stone said, “if you accept this arrangement and produce the files, I am authorized to tell you that the testimony of the witnesses will be withheld, and you will not be prosecuted for murder by hire. Time to decide, Mr. Bellini. Do you accept?”

“But,” Bellini said—and this time he was not interrupted—“I’ve already sold everything.”





32




Stone’s first impulse was to grab the weapon on the coffee table and strike Bellini on the head with it, but he restrained himself. “All right, Mr. Bellini,” he said, “let’s see if we can extricate you from your fatal error. Did I mention that Maine still has the death penalty?” Stone had no idea whether this was true, but he was becoming desperate.

“No,” Bellini replied, “you did not.”

“Once you are in custody, which action will take about three minutes, all will be lost. Do you understand?”

“But what can I do?” Bellini whined. “The designs are gone.”

“To whom did you sell them?” Stone asked.

“To a man named Owaki.”

Stone tried not to let his jaw drop. “Selwyn Owaki?” Stone had read about this man; he was reputed to be the largest seller of illegal arms in the world.

“That is correct.”

“How long ago?”

Bellini looked at his wristwatch. “About twenty minutes before you arrived.”

“For how much?”

“Twenty million dollars.”

“And how did you receive these funds?”

“They were wired to an offshore bank account.”

“Did you deal with Owaki personally?”

“No.”

“With whom did you deal?”

“A man named Beria, a Russian.”

“Mr. Bellini, Lavrentiy Beria is dead. He was shot by the NKVD many years ago.”

“Not Stalin’s Beria, this one is Stanislav, a distant cousin, I believe.”

“In what form did you give him the files?”

“I transferred them to a laptop computer he brought with him.”

“But the original files are still on your computer?”

“No, he insisted I erase them while he watched.”

“Mr. Bellini, you must be very careful to tell me the truth now. Your freedom and, eventually, your life are at stake. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“You still have all the files in your possession, do you not?”

“Well . . .”

“What medium are they on? Disks? Thumb drives?”

“A one-hundred-gigabyte thumb drive.”

“Where is it?”

Bellini reached into a trouser pocket, produced a fat black thumb drive, and set it on the coffee table.

“Where is your computer?” Stone asked, pocketing it.

“In my study,” Bellini replied, getting up. “This way.”

Stone followed him into an adjoining room, where a laptop computer sat on a desk. Stone sat down and inserted the thumb drive into a slot and displayed its contents. He opened several files at random and found drawings and schematics of electronics. He removed the drive, put it back into his pocket, then did a search of the computer for the files, without success.

“I told you,” Bellini said, “he made me erase all the files from my computer.”

“Here is what you are going to do,” Stone said. “You are going to call Stanislav Beria and get him back here with his computer. Give him a plausible technical reason. Last chance to save yourself, Mr. Bellini.”

Bellini produced an iPhone and did a search for a number.

“Wait,” Stone said. “Send me the contact before you call him.” He produced his own phone and gave Bellini the number.