J Saint - Collateral Damage

"Senor, Guru has cracked several of Collins's encrypted computer files." Fidel wiped his sweaty brow.

"It's about time, si?" Bill Collins had already cost Andreas big time and it was unbelievable that two weeks post mortem the man continued to be a problem.

"One of them is the formula for the biofuel."

Andreas froze, sure Fidel misspoke. "Collins had files about GXP?" he asked slowly.

"No. He had the formula."

Andreas stared hard. Acid poured a burning path into his gut. The personalized Mollard baton in his hand snapped in two. George whimpered and rushed over, laying his head in Andreas's lap. Andreas brushed his boy's head, seeking to comfort.

This new development ruined his plans. He'd have to watch Armageddon from video rather than firsthand from the deck of the ECO-1-the largest of his fleet of watercrafts and what three hundred million could buy in five-hundred-and-seventy-plus feet of nautical luxury. Built by Blohm and Voss in Hamburg and delivered just last year, money and power couldn't buy better; armor plating, bullet proof glass, radar, laser shield, secret weapons-the works. ECO-1 could easily beat Russian billionaire Roman Abramovich's Eclipse in a pissing contest and had already dealt the Somali pirates a major blow. Pieces of the bastards were likely still washing ashore in Maakhir. But none of ECO-1 bells and whistles had protected him from an attack within. How had Collins obtained the formula for GXP? And what had the bastard done with it? Rage scraped down Andreas's back. Death had been too easy for Collins.

"I want Collins's body back from Brazil. I want his heart cut out and chopped into pieces. I want the rest of his remains desecrated and displayed to all the employees at BioLogics and at GreenWorld.?Comprendes? I want to know how he stole the formula. When he got it and what he did with it. No one betrays me."

"B-but the Brazilian authorities found Collins's body a short time ago," Fidel stuttered out.

Just yesterday Andreas had had Bill's refrigerated corpse flown to Sao Paulo and dumped in a lake where greased palms would guarantee the autopsy results he wanted.

"Then get it back, idiota," he whispered. He never raised his voice. Quiet control was so much more effective. But there were times that the stupidity of those around him sorely vexed his patience. In another life, he'd studied every move and mannerism of The Godfather, and had garnered just as magnificent and ruthless a reputation, only he'd always gone to the heart of the matter and cut it from his sobbing enemy's chest.

"Then hire a reliable man in Atlanta to bring me Collins's wife and kids for a little heart-to-heart discussion. George would like to meet them too. Get me answers, Fidel. Ahora. My patience is thin and George's is even thinner."

Fidel's complexion turned green as he looked at the chimpanzee in Andreas's lap. Everyone feared Murderous George, Andreas's adopted son. As well they should.

Atlanta, Georgia

0200 hours, August 5th

The jarring ring of the phone woke Lauren and sent her scrambling in the dark for the hand-held unit. The boys used the intercom as walkie-talkies and never left the phones in their bases, so it always ended up being a Marco Polo game to find one. Tonight it was under her antique slipper chair at her vanity. She found it in the record number of six rings.

"Hello," she said as breathless as if she'd been dirty dancing between the sheets and not just dreaming about the much-missed deed.

"Senora Collins, pleeease."

The Hispanic accent sent her pulse kicking. "I am Lauren Collins."

"This is Eduardo Alvarez with the consulate in Sao Paulo. I must tell you of an unfortunate accident."

Lauren closed her eyes and gripped the phone harder. "Bill's been in an accident? How badly is he hurt?"

"Forgive me, Senora. I did not mean to confuse you with my words. The policia found your husband's body in the lake at Paradise Resort tonight."

Lauren snapped her eyes open and sat in stunned silence for a moment. Then she shook the sleep from her mind. "What happened to Bill? How?"

"Forgive me again, pero, I do not have any more details at the moment. I will call back tomorrow once I know more from the policia and about when we can arrange transportation home for his body after the investigation."

"Investigation," Lauren found herself stupidly repeating.

"Si. I promise all will be done to find out what happened. Buenos, I will speak with you manana?"

"Yes," Lauren whispered. "Tomorrow."

The blaring dial tone finally penetrated her stupor and she hung up the phone. She looked at the dark shadows surrounding her in the scarce moonlight, and suddenly all of the images she'd blocked out with her hurt came rushing through her mind. Bill's empty clothes chest was still against the right wall. He never remembered which drawer held what and would always pull them all opened when getting dressed.

The family picture at the Georgia Aquarium still sat on top of the chest, but now faced the door rather than her bed. The boys often climbed in the chaise lounge next to it and shared stories about that day. It was amazing how much they remembered considering they were only four at the time.

The door to Bill's empty closet hung open because the boys had staged a Daytona 500 with their Dale Earnhardt, Jr. cars before bed last night. Her breath caught and her throat tightened as memories and feelings swamped her in a sad, painful wash. It was one thing to be mad at Bill when he was off jet setting and another to realize his life had been cut short, that he'd never walk through the door again and hold Matt and Mitch in his arms.

Her parents had died when she was sixteen, and now her sons would know that pain. Tears stung her eyes, but wouldn't flow. They were trapped somewhere between her anger and her hurt. All of his secret activity of late had her wondering if Bill had been involved in something that got him killed. Maybe it wasn't fair to think that, but she couldn't help it.

Dear God. Had the phone call been real? She looked at the bed. Was she having a weird nightmare? She searched back through the calls on the menu and discovered there had been five calls in the past eight hours. Two from 800 numbers, likely telemarketers. Two from T. Ettinger, Bill's friend Thomas, and one just a few minutes ago from a Sao Paulo area code 55-61. It had been real. Her heart squeezed with pain.

Suddenly glass shattered and Sasha and Sam started barking. Fearing the boys were up and in the kitchen, Lauren ran down the hall.

A quick glance in their room brought her racing heart to a stop before it thundered painfully harder. Both Matt and Mitch were asleep in their beds. Then who was downstairs? Had Sasha and Sam broken something? Halfway down the steps she caught sight of a black clad hulking figure standing just inside the kitchen French doors. He had a baseball bat and was trying to hit Sasha and Sam with it. Dear God!

The dogs danced in and out adeptly avoiding harm as one then the other would attempt to attack him from behind while the other from in front.

Why hadn't the security alarm gone off?

She called 911, received a busy signal, and started backing up the stairs. Cold terror chilled her spine as the man looked up and saw her. She knew he had even though she couldn't see his face or eyes beneath the black ski mask. She could feel the malevolent scrape of his stare as he stepped toward her, swinging the bat hard at Sasha and Sam. Holding up the phone for him to see, Lauren screamed, "The police are on their way!"

Then she turned and ran to the boys' room, locking the bedroom door. Her finger kept hitting the redial button until the operator answered and Lauren reported the intruder. Yet even after communicating the seriousness of her situation and being assured the police were on their way, panic still clawed at her. She shoved a dresser in front of the bedroom door and grabbed a baseball bat herself, but doubted she'd do any good against the man. He was tall, six-foot-something to her five-six. Still unable to sit and wait, she opened the boys' window, knocked out the screen, and made sure the fire escape ladder could be quickly tossed over the sill in case they needed a quick escape.