Had he felt that joy even once while working for Lincoln?
Emphatically, the answer was no.
Should he quit the job after Lincoln woke up? No, he couldn’t quit, because a clause in his contract said if he left before five years, he’d have to give back his signing bonus. Most of his signing bonus had gone straight to the Shady Pines Residence where his brother lived. Some of it had gone to his grandmother. And okay, a bit of it had gone to trading in his Jeep for a new truck. The point was, all of it was gone. And he had two and half years left on his contract.
Maybe Mathilda couldn’t be bought off, but apparently he could.
He shook himself back to the task at hand. He needed to get that briefcase open so he could get some idea of why those drones had shown up. He grabbed it off the tool bench and carried it inside the yurt. Setting it on the table, he glared at it, as if that would somehow scare it into opening.
It did not.
He rummaged around in the plastic totes that held all the camp’s kitchen utensils. Maybe a metal skewer could trip the tumblers? Or some WD-40?
As he searched for something, anything, that might work, the image of Mathilda kept swimming back into focus. She might seem like a passionate scientist nerd type obsessed with crows, but he had a feeling she was keeping another part of herself secret. The way she’s shut him down when he’d asked if there was anything she wanted to share—she’d meant business. There was something about her that she didn’t want him, or maybe anyone, to know.
Which, of course, had the opposite effect on him. He was wildly curious about her. What had gotten her interested in birds? Where had she grown up, and had it been a huge adjustment coming to this jungle encampment? If only he had internet access out here—and if he knew her last name—he’d be googling her like mad.
He could still see her bent over Lincoln, frowning at the sound of him muttering Rory’s name. If she found out he’d been lying to her this whole time, she might not forgive him. No one wanted to be deceived. The worst part was that the more he knew her, the more he liked her, and the worse he felt about lying to her.
Wait a minute. He called back that image of her listening to Lincoln. There was something about that…
God, he was an idiot. He bolted to his feet, grabbed the briefcase, and ran from the yurt to the big tent where Lincoln was still stretched out unconscious on his cot. He picked up the briefcase and passed it across Lincoln’s face.
It didn’t open.
He needed Lincoln’s eyeballs. That little red light was probably supposed to scan Lincoln’s iris. This was going to be tricky.
He propped the briefcase on Lincoln’s chest, with the lock pointing toward his face. Then he tilted his boss’s head up as far as he could, until his chin was digging into his chest. “Sorry, man,” he kept muttering. “I’m doing this for both of us. No one out there is after me, it’s all you. This is the only way I’m going to figure it out.”
With one hand, he held Lincoln’s neck steady, with the other he carefully pried open his left eyelid.
A gentle click, and the briefcase came open.
Hallelujah! He wanted to dance a jig, but instead he gingerly returned Lincoln to his previous position and lifted the now-open briefcase off his chest.
“Good job, boss Lincoln,” he murmured. “You’re finally pulling your weight around here.”
He carried the case over to his own cot and set it on the blanket. He had no idea why it had taken him so long to remember that the briefcase could be opened with a retinal scan. The crash had shaken him up, clearly, not to mention getting shot at by giant metal mosquitoes.
The papers were as he’d left them when he’d stuffed them back into the case on the SyberJet. Everything was a mess, out of order, some upside down, others crumpled. He didn’t even know what he was looking for, so he started with the blueprints he’d noticed on the plane.
They seemed to show the specs of a multilevel building. Nothing unusual there; Lincoln had at least a dozen properties, and he liked being involved with renovations and construction.
But this one was different, he slowly realized. For one thing, it was enormous. Each inch represented twelve feet, not the usual six. It also had elevator shafts situated every thirty feet. The structure must be…he counted up the levels…definitely high-rise territory. The roof had some interesting hand-written nose scribbled nearby. Gardens? Solar panels? Patio? Observation deck? Helipad?
Rory saw no mention of a geographical location for this enormous project. Was Lincoln planning to build it in Hawaii? Honolulu had a lot of high-rises, with more being built all the time as the condo market boomed. But this one didn’t look like a condominium.
Maybe they’d been heading to Maui to meet with someone from Asia about this project. They’d done that before, since Hawaii was a good middle point. Japan, China, Hong Kong, Singapore, they all had a plethora of high-rises.
Who the hell knew?
Frustrated, Rory set aside the blueprints and rifled through the other papers. What about that lawsuit Bjorn had mentioned? He found nothing resembling a legal document, but he did find a handwritten note on “Maureen T. Kerr” letterhead stationery. It read, L—Your decisions are going to ruin us all. What is wrong with you? Are you trying to sabotage us? Why do you always think only of yourself and no one else? When will you lose this chip on your shoulder? If you act like an outsider, that’s how we’ll treat you. I don’t want to be at odds, but I have my children to consider. Something you don’t know shit about.
Rory let out a low whistle. Big trouble in the Kerr clan. Maureen had been furious enough to put her warning on paper. Too bad she hadn’t been more specific about what caused her anger. He searched through the other documents for a clue, but found nothing obviously relevant. Profit and loss statements, quarterly reports, a report from the charitable arm of the Kerr Group, a proposal from a different health care insurer.
He took some time to peruse that one, which might have been a mistake because all it did was make him resentful. The new plan would save the company money, but everyone’s deductibles would go up.
Why was he trying so hard to protect Lincoln? Fuck that guy.
