When you discovered that you were working for a family of contract killers, you learned that details were important. They often made the difference between life and death. She had been planning her departure from the firm for some time, merely waiting for the right moment. The news of Julian Enright’s death the day before had prompted her to hand in her notice that same day. She had done so with a cup of coffee laced with cyanide.
Graham Enright had died without ever seeing the telegram. He did, however, have a moment to realize that his secretary had poisoned him. She had seen the fury and outraged disbelief in his eyes just before he collapsed. That was an Enright for you, she thought. Both of them, father and son, had always assumed that they were smarter and more ruthless than those around them.
She took the elevator down to the lobby and went outside. The new car she had purchased with some of the cash from the firm’s discretionary fund was parked on a side street. She put the briefcase into the trunk alongside her suitcase and got behind the wheel.
She stopped at the post office and hurried inside to mail the envelope containing the Helen Spencer file. It was addressed to the local office of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. There was enough material in the envelope to point the FBI to the agent of a foreign government who had commissioned Enright & Enright to retrieve a certain notebook, no questions asked. What the FBI chose to do with the information was up to them.
Raina walked out of the post office, got back into her sharp new car, and drove away from New York.
She had given a great deal of thought to her destination. In the end she concluded that any town that knew how to deal with the likes of Julian Enright was her kind of town. Burning Cove sounded like the perfect place to start her new life.
According to the map, the road to the future started in Chicago. Route 66 would take her all the way to California.
Chapter 68
There were two armed guards at the front gate of the compound, but it was three o’clock in the morning, so they were working hard to stay awake with coffee and low-voiced discussions of sports and women.
The intruder had studied the layout of the Saltwood Laboratory earlier in the day from the cover of a stand of trees. He had determined that the weakest point of entry was the loading dock gate. There was a serious-looking lock but it presented no problems. He was good with locks. He had brought along a set of wire cutters to deal with the alarm system, but in the end he didn’t have to use them. He simply opened the device and unplugged it.
He found a side door, picked another lock, disarmed another alarm, and then he was inside the darkened building. He had brought a flashlight with him. The metal shielding around the bulb ensured that the device cast only a very narrow beam.
He made his way past several doors marked Authorized Personnel Only. Curious, he opened a couple at random and saw shadow-filled lab rooms crowded with workbenches. An assortment of instruments and mechanical equipment was arrayed on each bench. White lab coats and goggles designed to protect the eyes dangled from wall hooks.
He continued down the hall and turned the corner into another wing lined with office doors. When he located the one marked Dr. Raymond Perry, Executive Director, he picked the lock and entered the reception area.
He went past the secretary’s desk and paused to unlock the door of the inner office. Dr. Raymond Perry’s office was neat and uncluttered. A row of locked file cabinets lined one wall.
He did what he had come to do and made his way back out of the building, relocking the doors and resetting the alarms. At the far end of the compound the guards were still drinking coffee and chatting.
He made his way through the stand of trees. The new speedster was waiting in the dense shadows at the side of the road.
He got in on the passenger side. Irene turned the key in the ignition and pulled out onto the empty road.
“I take it everything went according to plan,” she said.
“No problems,” Oliver said. “I left the notebook on top of the executive director’s desk. He’ll see it first thing when he goes into his office in the morning.”
“He’ll wonder how it got there.”
“Sure. But it’s in his own and his company’s best interests to keep quiet. Besides, there’s no way he’ll be able to figure out how the notebook reappeared.”
Irene smiled. “Magic.”
“Magic.”
“You weren’t gone very long. I thought you would have to spend more time getting through the locks and alarms.”
“Saltwood has a government contract, so they’ve got standard government security. They obviously gave the contract to the lowest bidder.”
“Of course. So, now we’re free to go on our honeymoon.”