“Dr. Priddle,” Gideon drawled, his voice laced with quiet rage. “You have not been following our agreement.”
Priddle’s words stumbled over each other in a rush. “Mr. Gideon, I have. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“Really? Why, then, am I sitting here reading a paper entitled ‘The Belial Stone’ written by a Dr. Drew Masters?”
“Sir,” Priddle said, his voice taking on an unpleasant whining quality, “I had to bring on some more help. There’s just so much to do with the site and with my classes. But he was sworn to secrecy. He was never supposed to talk about any of our work.”
“Well, apparently he didn’t keep up his end of the bargain, either. That, however, will no longer be a problem. It seems Dr. Masters gave into a moment of despair. He’s dead.”
“What?” Priddle screeched.
Gideon held the phone away from his ear with a look of disgust. When the squealing died down, he said, “Perhaps you should keep the stakes in mind before you make any more unwise decisions, as well as the prize.”
“Uh, yes, yes, sir. Of course. It won't happen again.”
“I’ll make sure of it. You’re leaving for the site tonight. I’ll have a car at your residence in two hours.”
“Uh, sir, I’ll need a few days to wrap things up with the University.”
Gideon’s words lashed out. “Tonight. I don’t care what you tell the University. You will be on a plane in three hours’ time. Do not forget who you are dealing with.” Gideon disconnected the call.
He didn’t worry about whether the professor would follow his orders. He knew he would. He’d tapped into two of the professor’s most motivating emotions: fear and greed.
He idly brought up the laptop’s browser and glanced at the last few sites Drew had visited. None were problematic, except, maybe…
He opened the email page and spent a few minutes hacking into the program. He glanced at the emails Drew had sent over the last day. Most were innocuous: notes to students about class, one to his mother, a few bills he’d paid online.
The last email, though, was to a Delaney McPhearson. It had an attachment. He opened it and then cursed softly. Damn it, more fires to put out.
He looked up as the door opened from the bedroom across the living room. An Asian man, dressed in a tight black t-shirt and a long leather coat, crossed the room.
“I’m heading out. Are you sure you don't want to join me?” Paul Cook raised an eyebrow as he caught Gideon’s eye. “Problem?”
“Yes. It seems, brother, we have another fire to put out. I need you to track down a woman named Delaney McPhearson.” Gideon switched to a search engine and typed in her name. “She’s a professor of criminology at the University of Syracuse. She lives just outside of the city, in a town called Dewitt.”
Paul crossed to the island and poured himself a glass of wine. Leaning against the island, he took a sip. “Okay. Any reason you can’t handle it?”
Gideon grimaced. “I have to head to D.C. to deal with the Senator. He's getting antsy.”
“Ah, and you need to play lap dog.”
Gideon glared at him.
Paul chuckled and raised his hands. “Just kidding. I know we need to keep the Senator happy. His happiness ensures our success. So, this professor, what do I do when I find her?”
Gideon’s voice was steel. “Eliminate her.”
CHAPTER 6
Albany, NY
“Where is he?” Jake Rogan slammed K-Dogg into the alley’s brick wall. Pieces of mortar chipped off the already crumbling bricks.
Dressed in torn, baggy jeans, a wife-beater and some chains, K-Dogg was reputed to be one of the toughest members of the G7s. He wore torn, baggy jeans, a wife-beater and some chains, and although they were about the same height, he easily outweighed Jake by about forty pounds of muscle.
Jake wasn’t worried. A former Navy SEAL, he’d faced a lot tougher individuals than a gangbanger with control issues. In the mood he was in, he’d take on the whole gang to get the answers he needed.
“Man, I told you. I don’t know,” K-Dogg replied. Jake knew he was trying to sound angry, but the tremor in his voice made that impossible.
Jake wanted to smash his face into pulp. He was the one who’d pulled his foster brother into the G7s. He glared at K-Dogg, pressing his forearm harder against his neck. “I am not asking again.” He enunciated each word. “Where. Is. He?”
K-Dogg grabbed at Jake’s arm, but couldn't budge it. “Damn it, man. I don’t know! We ain’t seen Tom since he got out.”
Jake studied K-Dogg’s face, trying to gage his sincerity. With a growl, he shoved him towards the back of the alley. “So tell me, how come you haven’t talked to him? He’s one of you.”