The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(46)

That is, if the American Heritage Foundation had anything to do with it.

“She’s all the family he has.”

Stenson didn’t care about the family issue. Strategically, anyway. “It could be an opportunity to bring a handler into his life.”

Jason knew he meant a woman they controlled. “He isn’t ready to settle down yet. He has too many oats to sow.”

Stenson grinned slightly. “Yes, he does, doesn’t he?” The man in charge of the American Heritage Foundation admired Cornell’s prowess with women. Every great leader possessed it.

“I believe it’s too soon to introduce ourselves to him directly.”

“He doesn’t have enough skeletons in his closet.”

“Perhaps it’s time we put some there.”

Stenson immediately liked this idea. Liked it a lot. “Nothing too major, but something with enough gravitas that it would tarnish his otherwise-sterling reputation if it ever got out.”

Jason jotted down a quick note. “Without the mother as our conduit, this could get messy.”

“I don’t like messy.”

“Then the matter of intervention on her behalf is settled.”

The boss nodded. “Send a team. Have them follow Ms. Pruitt home from Harmony House. Barnes might become impatient and act the moment she’s off the grounds. They are to shield her from any knowledge of the threat, if possible.”

Jason nodded, jotting down more notes. “Any preference who we use?”

“Get the baseball fans. The National League East guys. They shouldn’t be more than a couple hours’ drive.”

“You do realize we could be stirring up a hornets’ nest. There’s no telling how Barnes will react when his people don’t return.”

Bob Stenson stared directly at the subordinate he viewed as a younger version of himself. “I’m of the opinion that Mr. Barnes is requiring more of our attention than he deserves.” It was clear that Stenson had something in mind.

“I agree.” His promising young lieutenant didn’t yet know what his boss was thinking, but he was about to.

Stenson gave him a hint. “What do you do when a pit bull turns rabid?”

“You put him down.” Jason now understood.

Stenson looked out the window, reflecting. “The most elegant solutions are always the simplest, aren’t they?”





CHAPTER 37

I-295 South, Throgs Neck Bridge, May 27, 12:17 p.m.

Skylar and Eddie drove over the East River from the Bronx toward Queens on the Throgs Neck Bridge and then finally found their destination on Jamaica Avenue. Skylar parked in front of Red’s, then quickly got out and checked to see if anyone had followed them. She didn’t see anyone. She had no idea that the transmitter in her wheel well and the one inside her phone were broadcasting their location loud and clear.

Eddie got out of the passenger’s seat and closed his eyes, slowly rotating his head from side to side. He didn’t realize he was standing in the middle of the street until an oncoming car just barely avoided hitting him. HONK! The driver yelled out his window at the top of his lungs, “Freakin’ moron! Get outta the road!”

Eddie panicked and started slapping himself. “Freakin’ moron! Freakin’ moron!”

He was on his fourth refrain by the time Skylar reached him. She gripped him firmly, holding his arms tightly until the fight left him, as Gloria would have said. “It’s okay. Just take a few deep breaths.”

He did so, then said, “I don’t like it here. I want to go back to my room.”

“We can’t do that just yet. I need to speak with Detective McHenry for a few minutes.”

“How many is a few?”

“I can’t give you an accurate estimate until we see how this goes.”

“Until we see how what goes?”

“My conversation with the detective. I want you to play for him what you played for me in Dr. Fenton’s office. Would you do that, Eddie?”

He furrowed his brow and exhaled audibly, because that was what he’d seen people do when they acquiesced reluctantly. “Yes, I would do that.”

She popped open the trunk and took the laptop supercomputer. Eddie took the echo box. Together, they approached the entrance.

“What is Red’s, Skylar?”

“It’s a sports bar.”

“What’s a sports bar?”

“A place for guys with nothing better to do.”

They entered, walking down the half flight of stairs to the main floor. Eddie grimaced at the cacophony. Four different sports broadcasts fought with a dozen different conversations and a jukebox playing distorted Bob Seger. The oversized proprietor immediately moved toward the two strangers in his bar. Red addressed Skylar. “What’s wrong with your friend?”

“I have been diagnosed with Asperger’s syndrome, which falls within the high-functioning end of the autism spectrum.”

Red looked like he’d just heard Mandarin. Skylar translated. “It’s too loud for him in here.”

“Why’d you bring him, then?”

“We’re looking for Detective Butler McHenry.” Red eyed her suspiciously. She added, “He’s expecting us.”