26

CONNOR SAT BACK IN HIS OFFICE CHAIR AND REREAD THE SEARCH RESULTS for Samuel Stimson, the final Deep Seven ex-employee on Allie’s list. No wonder his phone was disconnected: he had vanished.

According to the one-paragraph news item Connor found in the Oakland Tribune, Deep Seven’s security records showed that Stimson left the building at 5:11 p.m. on March 23. He didn’t show up for work the next day or the day after that. His parents had filed a missing person report for him on April 3. The police called his disappearance “suspicious.”

That was all. No follow-up item announcing that his body had been found or that the police had opened a murder investigation. No new phone number or address indicating that Stimson had reappeared. Nothing. It was as if the ground had opened beneath his feet as he walked out of Deep Seven, swallowed him up, and closed over his head.

The search results also contained a list of Stimson’s known addresses and phone numbers. Most were clearly obsolete (university dorms, his parents’ home, etc.), but his last place in Oakland still had a phone number listed as “current.”

Connor’s eyebrows went up. That wasn’t the number Allie had given him. Maybe she had found Stimson’s cell number and this was a landline that he shared with someone. Whoever it was, a call was in order. Probably a waste of time, but worth a shot nonetheless.

He dialed the number and it rang. And rang. Connor kept waiting for voicemail to pick up, but it never did. After ten rings, he was about to hang up. But as he reached for the “Call End” button on his phone, a loud clattering came through the receiver. Then came a loud thunk and a scratchy male voice swearing in the background. Then more clattering. Finally, the male voice—clearly an old man’s—said, “Hello? Who’s this? What do you want?”

Connor slouched back in his chair and wondered how long it would take this guy to hang up on him. His record for this case was about two minutes. “My name is Connor Norman, and I’m an attorney at Doyle & Brown. I’d like to ask you a few questions about Samuel Stimson. Do you know him?”

“Sam’s my grandson. Why do you want to know about him?”

“Well, I’m working on an investigation of Deep Seven Maritime Engineering. I understand that Sam worked there, and—”

“You work for Deep Seven, do you?”

“No. I’m not at liberty to say whom I represent, but it’s not Deep Seven. I’m looking into whether Deep Seven committed certain wrongdoing, so—”

“Well, good. I’m glad somebody finally is.”

Connor sat up a little straighter and started taking notes. Maybe this wasn’t a wasted call after all. “Why do you say that?”

“Because they murdered my grandson.”

Connor’s pen stopped in mid-word. “How do you know?”

“Things he told me before he disappeared. They had this secret computer, see.” The old man’s voice grew excited and quick as he talked. “The S-4 or something like that. No one could look at it, not even Sam—even though they hired him ’cause he was a computer genius.”

“Any idea what’s on the computer? Could it be evidence of fraud on the government?”

“Could be, could be. They’ve got all sorts of secrets over there.”

“And you think they killed Sam to protect those secrets?”

“I know they did!”

“Okay. Do you mind telling me how you know that?”

“Sam would never just run off like that. I don’t care how much money he owed.”

“Sam owed money to someone?”

“Yes, but that’s not the point.”

“Was it a lot of money?”

“It doesn’t matter! The credit card companies didn’t kill him.”

So Sam Stimson had unpaid debts. That detail hadn’t made it into the database Connor had searched. “So the reason you think Deep Seven killed him is that he disappeared? Do you have any other evidence?”

“What more do I need? You’re starting to sound just like the police. Bunch of masons.” His voice turned suspicious. “Are you a mason?”

“A what?”

“Don’t play dumb! You’re a free mason, aren’t you?”

A free mason? Where did that come from? “Uh, no.”

“You tell all your mason buddies down at the lodge that I’m on to them! I’ve been down to the docks. I’ve seen what Deep Seven is up to.”

“And what’s that?” Connor half expected the answer to involve aliens or Nazis.

“Tell them I’ve got pictures! I can prove what they were putting on that ship, the Grasp II. And I know about the Nazi submarine too. I heard those two talking about it in a bar. Granger and Jenkins. Got that on tape. And it’s all in a very safe place in case anything happens to me.”

Connor smiled. Nazis it was. “Uh-huh. Can I see the pictures and listen to the tapes?”

The man scoffed. “You just tell them.”

Click.