Riptide

deeply. "It was
    very hard for both of us, I'll be honest with you. I think if Allison
    hadn't slipped into that drugged coma, she might have told Becca,
    so that she'd know she wasn't really alone."
    The pain in his voice made Adam silent for a long time. Then he
    said, all practical again, "You can't stay dead to her now and you
    know it. Or haven't you been watching CNN?"
    "That's why you're here. Stop frowning down at me. Pour yourself
    a cup of coffee and sit down. I've done a lot of thinking. I've
    got a favor to ask."
    Adam Carruthers poured himself some coffee so strong it could
    bring down a rhino. He stretched out in the chair opposite the
    huge mahogany desk. A computer, a printer, a fax, and a big leather
    desk pad sat in their designated spots on top of the desk. No free
    papers stacked anywhere, no slips or notes, just technology. He
    knew that on this specific computer there were no deep, dark secrets,
    just camouflage. Even he would have a hard time getting
    through all the safeguards installed to protect any hidden files on
    the machine, if there had been any, which there weren't. Thomas
    Matlock had stayed at the top of his game by being careful and
    smart.
    Adam said, "The governor of New York was shot in the neck
    two nights ago. The man was lucky to be surrounded by doctors
    and that he'd promised more big state bucks for heart research,
    otherwise they might have let him bleed to death."
    "You're cynical."

"Yeah, well, you've known that for ten years, haven't you?"
    Adam took a drink of the high-test coffee and felt a jolt all the way
    to his feet. "Everyone is after her now, particularly the Feebs. She's
    gone to ground. They've pulled out all the stops, but no sign of her
    yet. Smart girl. To fool everyone isn't easy. She's your daughter, all
    right. Cunning and sneakiness are in her genes."
    Thomas Matlock opened a desk drawer and pulled out a 5x7
    color photo set in a simple silver frame. "There are only three
    people alive who know she's my daughter, and you're one of them.
    Now, her mother got this to me just eight months ago. Her name's
    Becca, as you know, short for Rebecca--that was my mother's
    name. She's about five feet eight inches tall, and she's on the lean
    side, not more than one hundred twenty pounds. You can see that
    she's in good shape. She's athletic, a whiz at tennis and racquetball.
    Her mother told me she loves football, not college but professional.
    She'd kill for the Giants, even in their worst season.
    "You've got to find her, Adam. I don't know if Krimakov will
    connect her to me. It's very probable he's known all along that I
    had a wife and a daughter, no way to bury that, and we didn't want
    to do the witness protection program. But you know something? I
    still don't have a clue where he is or what he's been doing the past
    twenty years. I've got tentacles all over the world but no definite
    leads on his whereabouts. Now I've upped the ante, but still nothing.
    "But you know he's on top of American news, all of it. The instant
    he hears the name 'Matlock,' he'll go en pointe. She's in deep
    trouble. She doesn't even realize how deep, that the cops and the
    FBI are the least of her worries."
    "Don't worry, Thomas. I'll find her and I'll protect her, from
    both the stalker and Krimakov, if either of them shows up."
    "That's just it." Thomas sighed. "This stalker bothers me. What

are the odds that a stalker would go after Becca? Too great, I think.
    What I'm thinking is that just maybe Krimakov already found her,
    just maybe he's the stalker."
    "Jesus, Thomas," Adam said. "I guess it's possible, but unlikely, I
    think. If he's the stalker, then that means he found her even before
    your wife died."
    "Yes, it scares me to my toes."
    "But there's no proof at all that it's Krimakov. Now, first things
    first. I've got to get the locals and the Feds off her trail once and for
    all."
    "You've already begun to track her, then?"
    "Sure. The minute I heard her name, I got all my people working
    on it. What would you expect? You're the one who always has
    to look at the big picture. I don't. Let me make a phone call right
    now, let Hatch know you've approved everything, get all my people
    on this."
    "And if I hadn't called you?"
    "I'd have taken care of her anyway." Adam turned to pick up the
    phone. "She's your daughter."
    Adam knew that Thomas Matlock was looking at him as he
    lifted the receiver of the black phone and punched in some numbers.
    He knew, too, that Thomas