Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

A well-brushed man in a quiet office located in a quiet building set his phone carefully back in place. By this point in his official life, all of Clark Duncan’s distinguishing characteristics had been airbrushed into anonymity. He resembled thousands of other men all across the country who wore expensive suits to the office every day. He drove an expensive car but it was painted gray and the interior was also gray. The owner of an expensive salon trimmed his hair but it always looked just the same. He was neat, clean, calm, and unremarkable. He leaned back in his chair and contemplated the opposite wall. His mouth pursed slightly in distaste as his right hand reached for the phone. His hand stopped in midair as Clark rethought his impulse. He stood up, adjusted his suit jacket, shot his cuffs, and strolled out of his office. His secretary raised her eyes and watched him walk down the hallway without a word or a glance in her direction. She smiled grimly and wondered what the latest crisis could be. She’d find out sometime, she always did.
Clark walked smoothly through the building and out the back door. Large boulders dotted the landscape along with bushes and wooden benches. He chose a bench out of sight of the windows along the back of the office building and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. He flipped it open and quickly punched in a long series of numbers. When a voice answered the call, Clark spoke slowly and clearly.
“#633. 9:30 at 24th and Park Street.”
Then he flipped the phone closed and pulled a cigar out of another pocket. He cut off the end with his knife and lit it. After three or four puffs, he relaxed a bit and scrutinized the white ash on the end of the cigar. The phone call had brought back memories Clark had not thought of in a very long time. Years back, when he was a younger man, he’d spirited a small boy away from his aunt and questioned him about his parents without success. His superior, John Edward Quincy, had set up and funded the boy’s life in Dallas. Clark had vehemently disagreed with Quincy’s plan and had even gone over his boss’s head with his opinions, but without any success. When the boy had run away two years ago, Clark had let him go without a second thought and ordered the project closed down. Since that time, he’d forgotten all about the boy. Now that the boy had resurfaced, he would have to decide what to do about him. He remembered the project vividly. It was his first undercover operation for John Edward Quincy and it hadn’t gone well from the first day.
Clark Duncan shook his head as he remembered the briefing in Quincy’s office. John Edward Quincy had been a pompous, self-important son of a bitch in Clark’s opinion. The first time Clark had called him by his first name, Quincy had pointedly told him that his name was “John Edward” and he expected Clark to remember it. Clark had remembered it but had referred to him as “Mr. Quincy” or just “Quincy” for the rest of their association.
Quincy had sent Clark to California to clean up the mess caused by the first man sent to deal with the Kimbroughs. The week after Alex and Helena Kimbrough had disappeared from work, Quincy had sent an agent to find them. When Steve Olsen had arrived in Los Angeles, he found a cesspool of a mess. Not only had the Kimbroughs disappeared but so had all the research Dr. Phillips’ group had done for the last five years. The files had been emptied and the computers had been sabotaged to destroy all information about the project. Small pockets of research had been saved by other members of the group but not enough to rebuild the entire project. Dr. Phillips had completely broken down and refused to start over. He and other key members of the research group felt the project could not be done without Helena Kimbrough. Alex had been a major member of the group but Helena’s knowledge of laser design and capabilities could not be duplicated.
Steve Olsen had run through the remaining researchers like a bulldozer and left broken bodies by the wayside. When Clark entered the picture, Olsen had found the Kimbroughs and questioned them mercilessly. Helena had died early in the interrogation but Alex had hung on. Clark threw Olsen out of the operation and tried to keep Alex alive long enough to get any information. He was somewhat successful because Alex didn’t die right away. He just wouldn’t say anything about the laser research project. He spoke his son’s name over and over. Clark stashed Alex in a restricted hospital and cleaned up after Olsen.
Helena and another researcher who’d tried to run away from Olsen were sent over the edge of the expressway and burned beyond recognition. Clark tracked down Helena’s sister and took the small boy away from her. He’d questioned the boy and then called in a hypnotist to pry out any information the boy might have. He got nothing from the boy and he never found any of the research files or data. He suggested the boy be returned to his aunt and forgotten but Quincy had the idea to set up the family in Dallas and monitor him constantly. That didn’t work either. The boy knew nothing and Clark closed down the project when the boy ran away from home. Now the boy had reappeared and had even found his “mother.” He’d been seen in the vicinity of his “father” also. Operatives had been sent to pick the boy up but he’d evaded them. Clark blanketed the area with more men but they hadn’t come up with the boy yet.
Clark looked up into the bright blue sky and took a deep breath. He stood up and tossed his cigar into the dirt. He straightened his jacket and walked sedately into the office building. Tonight he would meet with a man who could handle the situation and Clark could go on with his own work.


Clark drove his gray car to the corner of 24th and Park Streets and parked next to a newsstand located there. A few minutes later a square-shouldered man in a long overcoat approached the car and opened the passenger door. Clark drove smoothly away and joined the traffic that filled the streets of large cities at any time of the day or night. His companion settled in without a word and waited for Clark to bring up the reason for the meeting. Clark drove smoothly to a large parking lot outside a group of movie theaters and parked in between two large pickups. He then took a few minutes to collect his thoughts and greeted his passenger.
“Good to see you again, Walt. I’ve missed working with you lately.”
A small throaty chuckle escaped from the man and he said, “Sure, Clark. You don’t miss the street work at all and you know it. You were born to run things from behind a desk. What’s the problem this time? It must be a big one if you’re talking to me in person.”
Clark contemplated the face of the man seated next to him. Walt Rogers had not aged gracefully. The rigors of his profession were written on his face. Deep lines crossed his
forehead and creases fanned out from the sides of his eyes. Frown lines bracketed his mouth and his nose had been broken and set crookedly. Walt had obviously been a very busy man in the last ten years. Clark suffered one small twinge of remorse but quickly buried it with his other regrets. Walt was the man who could solve his problem and make it all disappear.
Clark quickly outlined the situation and passed on all the information he had on Deakin’s whereabouts. Walt had listened intently and then asked a few questions of his own.
“Does the boy have any help and is he still in the Dallas area?”
“The woman who called in said there was a girl with him. A girl with long brown hair and a real mean streak. She never heard her name.” Clark passed over some papers. “The woman’s name is on that list. She played the part of the boy’s mother. You can talk to her when you get to Dallas. I don’t know where the kids are now. They visited the woman night before last. We alerted the man who had posed as the boy’s father and staked him out. Today two kids were spotted outside the office of a security service where the boy’s ‘father’ works. They were followed for miles by one of our teams but they got away. Their car is listed on that page. We have a name for the girl too. Eden Boatman from California. Her apartment has been searched but there’s no tie to the boy Deakin. She’s a student at UCLA so maybe they met there. We’re still looking into her background. What else do you need?”
“Who do I call for backup or am I just flapping in the breeze?”
“Call Tom Adams. He’ll set up anything you need. Just find those kids. The file is closed and I want it to stay that way. It’s your job to clear away these loose ends.”
Clark started the car and drove away in the stream of cars leaving the parking lot. He dropped Walt at a subway stop a mile away and drove sedately home. He consigned Deakin’s fate to Walt and forgot about him.