Russell Andrews - Hades

"Maybe. If we were looking at Evan's murder in isolation, I'd say you're right. But what's the link to the other killings?"

"We have to check it out and see if those links exist."

"They won't."

"They might. And if they don't, it's still possible they're really separate cases. Maybe it's all just a crazy coincidence. Harmon could have been doing something illegal and still gotten killed for jealousy or money or whatever this guy would kill him for." She shook her head in frustration. "There are obviously complications, Jay, but after hearing all that, it's hard for me to think that this guy and Abby Harmon aren't involved. Silverbush might be right. The stuff in Providence might really be unconnected." When Justin frowned, she said, "You sure you're not letting your personal feelings interfere with your judgment?"

"I'm not saying anything definitively, Reggie. But as dumb as Kelley is, some things just don't add up."

"Such as?"

"Let's say you actually are capable of committing the kind of well-thought-out, sadistic kind of act that someone committed on Evan Harmon."

"Okay…"

"So would you have the presence of mind to ditch the murder weapon but keep the stun gun, which would probably implicate you more than anything else? Why get rid of one but keep the other?"

"What else?"

"Kelley's right-I don't see the motive. He's killing off his money source."

"Unless he thinks she's an even better source."

"Yeah, but he's right again. Even Dave Kelley has to realize that he's not going to wind up living happily ever after with Abby Harmon."

"So maybe she just promised him money and not true love."

"Granted, that might make sense from his end. But why would Abby want Evan dead? All she has to do is divorce him."

"You never know what people can do when they're in a relationship, Jay. Maybe he was abusive and she couldn't stand it anymore. Maybe she found out he was molesting little boys. You never know what sends someone over the edge." She looked at him when he didn't react. "But there's something else, isn't there?"

Justin nodded. "It's the phone tip that led Silverbush to Kelley."

"What about it?"

"It came early. I mean it came the day after the murder. And a lot of details hadn't been released to the press. In fact, the detail about the stun gun burns still hasn't been released to the press."

She began nodding. "But the tip wasn't just that Kelley was having an affair with Abby Harmon. It said he owned a stun gun."

"So somebody had to know how Evan was killed."

"Maybe somebody talked. One of your guys or one of Harmon's guys. Or even Leona. Hard to keep that kind of thing quiet. Word could have gotten around that someone knew that Kelley had that freaking thing."

"Maybe."

"But it does seem kind of strange, doesn't it? Kind of…"

"Orchestrated."

"Yes. Orchestrated."

"Kind of," Justin said.

Justin had never been in an office quite like Ascension's before.

He had been around money all his life; had been raised, more or less, in the banking and financial world his father inhabited. He'd dealt with Wall Street types and people who owned their own businesses and had their own planes. Money did not intimidate him or overly impress him. To Justin, it was something you had or you didn't have. It was something to be used well or poorly. Even the office of Rockworth and Williams-a company dealing with more money and brokering more real power than Ascension could ever dream of-was an environment he understood. Even as it made him shudder. Rockworth and Williams was corporate life with all its pressures and politics and game playing. To succeed there was a matter of survival, of protecting yourself at all costs.

This was different.

From the moment he and Reggie were ushered into the back offices of Ascension, Justin realized they were not in a world where survival or safety mattered. What mattered was domination. Power. Greed. What mattered here was size. What mattered here was more.

Risk was what this was all about.

This was a world where success could be equated only with ownership. And ownership mattered only when it was defined by the worth of whatever was owned.

There was no pleasure here. There was only winning. Or oblivion.

As they sat in Carl D. Matuszek's office, Reggie instinctively reached out for Justin's arm. It wasn't a gesture of affection. She needed something to hold on to. He let her hand clutch his left wrist. As they sat, waiting, he could feel her relax, and he made no acknowledgment of their contact when she finally let go.

Matuszek was sitting at his desk, on the phone, his back to them. He wore sand-colored linen pants, a light-blue button-down shirt, and a blue-and-white striped tie. No sport coat. He was peering out a sparklingly clean window at a magnificent view of midtown Manhattan as he spoke. He didn't bother talking into a receiver; he kept the whole conversation on speakerphone.

"Phil," Carl Matuszek was saying, "how many times do we have to go over this? We bought fourteen percent of your stock and it cost a cool twenty-four million. You know what we got for that? We got to be your biggest shareholders. And you know what we got for that? We got the right to tell you that you work for us."

"You cannot assess a company's record on six months' worth of business," Phil was saying. "Especially a business like this which we're not just trying to expand, we're trying to shift the entire paradigm. I don't understand how you can be that shortsighted."

Justin wasn't sure what business Phil was in, but he realized soon enough that whatever business it was, it wasn't doing well enough to suit Matuszek.

"Actually, we can make that assessment, Phil. We can and we're doing just that. What I don't understand is how people like you think you can get away with not making your numbers and then not having to face the consequences."

"Because the consequences you're talking about are ridiculous," Phil was saying. "This is a long-term project. We're changing the way kids all over the country are eating, for Christ's sake. We're remaking the entire school cafeteria structure, moving them from slop to healthy, well- balanced meals. That's why we've taken on employees and, believe me, the risk-reward value long term-"

"Phil, let's get something straight right now. We're not interested in long term. We're interested in value. Kids want to eat chocolate cake for breakfast, that's fine with me as long as we're making a profit on the goddamn cake."

"Carl, you do realize that's an inane statement, I hope."

"I'll tell you what's inane, my friend." Matuszek's voice, on the surface, stayed friendly and calm. But underneath that surface it turned to ice. "Thinking you can lose money and still run this company."

"What are you, firing me?"

"Congratulations. That's the first perceptive thing you've said since we've been doing business together. We're also selling you. To CafRite."

Phil seemed able to ignore the fact that he was fired. Justin, just from listening to this brief conversation, had a feeling that getting fired by Carl Matuszek would be a relief and a blessing. But Phil wasn't able to shake off the sale of his company. "You'll put about five hundred people out of work down here. And maybe another seven fifty to a thousand around the country. You can't do that."

"It's done, Phil. It's done. Someone from our end'll speak to HR and we'll work out your details."

"My details? You scumbag-"

"Bye, Phil."

Carl Matuszek clicked off the speakerphone and now swiveled his chair around to face Justin and Reggie. He had a perfectly placid expression on his face. The conversation he'd just had with Phil, the mysterious cafeteria person, hadn't left an iota of stress on Matuszek's face. "So what is it I'm actually supposed to help you with?" he asked.