breath and saying into the phone, “One is. Two are dead.” “Tell me everything,”

barked his brother.

 

Puller did so and then waited for Robert’s response. He could hear his brother’s

elevated breathing, which he did not take as a good sign. “This is a shitstorm,

John.” “Is it?” “They’re going to find Helen Myers and an old man, who may or

may not be Chris Ballard, and who they are alleging you kidnapped, shot to death

in a motel room rented by you. Does that pretty much cover it?” “Pretty much.”

“And what would you call that?” “Well, if you put it that way, shitstorm seems

appropriate. But how did they find where we’d gone so fast?” “Did you check

anybody for an electronic tracker? Or they could have just traced the chip in

one of their cell phones.” Puller sighed. “Damn. Look, Bobby, give it to me

straight, does our side want Jericho to go down? If not, we’re just spinning our

wheels here.” “Unless you can show she’s been selling secrets, no.” “And the

serial killings?” “Three decades old and too many holes.” “Great. Then we’ve got

nothing on her. And it looks like I’m going to be arrested for kidnapping and

murder.” “I think I found the motive for the subterfuge with Ballard.” “What?”

“As I told you before, Ballard controls the patents.” “And if something happens

to him?” “I had a DoD lawyer check through discreet channels.” “Gee, don’t keep

me in suspense, Bobby. I’m a little tense right now.” “Ballard set up a

charitable foundation. Every last penny and asset goes to it when he dies.” “So

a charity gets patents that are being used in DoD work? How exactly does that

play out with the project they’re doing at Atalanta Group?” “Atalanta Group

would have kept working on them. The underlying licensing contract they have

guarantees that.” “Then I’m not getting the motive.” “The contracts with the