The Perfect Murder (Maximum Security #4) - Kat Martin Page 0,35
Reese shook. “I’ve got a few questions I need to ask.”
“Actually, I’ve been expecting you.” It might take a while for the federal wheels to start turning, but once they did, they ran full speed ahead. “Come on in.”
Taggart was a big man, square-jawed, with a blond buzz cut. He wore a yellow striped tie and pale yellow button-down shirt under his coat. Polished brown wing tips housed a pair of big feet.
Reese led the way into his study, which was furnished in sienna leather and warm shades of mahogany, the only room he had designed himself. He walked over to the wet bar. “I don’t suppose you’re allowed to have a drink while you’re on duty.”
“A soda would be good. Whatever you’ve got will work.”
Reese opened a Coke, poured it on the rocks, and handed it to Taggart. He poured himself a Macallan single malt, neat, and carried the drinks over to the sofa and chairs in front of the gas fireplace.
Taggart sat down on the leather sofa. Reese took the chair. “How can I help you?”
Taggart drank some of his Coke, set the glass down on the sleek mahogany coffee table. “I understand you’ve been digging around, trying to come up with information on the helicopter crash.”
“It’s not a secret. I was in the helo when it went down. I want to know what happened.”
“So do we. We’ve interviewed the people you’ve made contact with, as well as a number of others. We know pretty much everything you know, and of course we can access data and information you can’t.”
“I’m sure that’s true.” Or maybe not. He had Tabitha Love, which tended to even things up.
“You’re the CEO of a billion-dollar company,” Agent Taggart continued. “People in positions of power have enemies. We figured, once you knew the helicopter had been purposely brought down, you’d start trying to find out if you were the target.”
Reese leaned back in his deep leather chair. “I admit the thought has crossed my mind.”
“One of the first things we looked at was the passenger list. We checked out the people on board, same as you. Nothing turned up, but a couple of days ago, we got new information. Turns out you weren’t listed on the original manifest.”
Reese’s interest sharpened.
“Apparently there was a last-minute change. Most days, Sea Titan uses a twelve-passenger chopper, an Airbus H-175, to transport passengers and crew back and forth to the offshore rigs. That day, the chopper you’d been assigned was needed elsewhere. The computer randomly picked your name and moved you to the smaller helo. Some of the other passengers were also reassigned. No one knew ahead of time you would be aboard the EC135.”
“You sure it wasn’t some kind of setup? Someone purposely had me moved onto that chopper?”
“We put our best computer guys on it. They’re absolutely sure the change was random. Just a case of wrong place, wrong time.”
Relief trickled through him. No need for a bodyguard or to worry about Kenzie’s safety. His relief didn’t last long.
“If I wasn’t the target, who was?”
“We don’t know yet. According to the people we’ve talked to, even with the mechanical problems, the chopper should have been able to autorotate down. That’s where pilot error comes in. Jake Schofield made a crucial misjudgment. If he hadn’t, there might have been injuries, but odds are, no one would have been killed.”
Silence fell as Reese processed the information. He wasn’t the reason the chopper went down and whoever did it hadn’t necessarily meant to kill anyone.
“Anything else I should know?”
“Just one thing. From now on, it’d be better for you if you left the investigation to the FBI.”
The warning came through loud and clear. Interfering in a federal investigation was a serious offense. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Taggart set his unfinished cola down on the coffee table and stood up. “At some point, we may have a few more questions for you.”
Reese walked him back to the elevator. “You know where to find me.”
The agent left and Reese’s mind went back to what he had learned. If the crash wasn’t meant to kill anyone, maybe it was just supposed to be another accident involving the Poseidon. The more problems, the more chance Garrett Resources would pull the plug on the deal.
So who the hell was willing to go to that much trouble? And why?
FBI warning or not, Reese intended to find out. On Monday, he’d call Derek Stiles, bring him up to speed and get his reaction, see if