Chapter 53
Marguerite scoffed. "I'm sorry, but your allegations are completely unfounded.
It's ludicrous to think that Aqus is somehow involved in genetic manipulation.
The company is completely transparent. All of our financial dealings are available for scrutiny.
The sole focus of the organization is to preserve the local marine environment.
" She shook her head. "I'm sorry, gentlemen, but what you're describing goes against the core mission of the organization. "
"You know, that's exactly what Mark Weaver said.”
"Maybe you should listen to him.”
"I can show you dossiers on every victim that has died from a shark attack recently. Anomaly doesn't begin to describe the situation. Let's not forget that two of your coworkers have been murdered. Both Andrew and Tess were stabbed. Both are alleged to have been working on this project."
"Alleged by whom?”
"Andrew was going to blow the whistle. He had reached out to an environmental group.”
"Nonsense."
"It's only a matter of time before we unravel this thing,” I said.
“Aqus is going to get exposed. If you helped cover this up, you're going to be guilty of conspiracy to commit murder, among other things. I want you to think long and hard about where your loyalties lie. I doubt Mark Weaver will protect you when the shit hits the fan.”
"Food for thought, gentlemen. Food for thought. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have somewhere to be.”
I dug into my pocket and handed her a card, even though I'd already given her one before.
She took it from me, then tossed it on the ground as she strutted away. She had a nice strut—there was no doubt about it. Sadly, she didn't seem to have much of a conscience about the whole thing.
Jack shrugged. "It was worth a try."
I called Isabella and asked her to track Marguerite's phone and listen to her calls. I had a hunch she would call Mark and tell him about our confrontation.
JD and I drifted out of the studio and stepped onto the sidewalk. We watched as Marguerite climbed into her silver SUV and drove out of the parking lot, the phone glued to her ear, her wary eyes glancing at us.
JD and I walked back to the Porsche and climbed in.
Isabella sent me an MP3 clip of her conversation a few minutes later. I pressed play, and JD and I huddled around my phone.
"Those cops showed up at my hot yoga class," Marguerite said, flustered.
"So?” Mark replied.
"So, I don't like it.”
"Did you keep your mouth shut?”
"What do you think?”
"Then don't worry about it. They've got nothing. They're going to get nothing.”
"They seem persistent. What are you going to do about them?"
"I'm not going to do anything. I've done enough already.” He paused. "Meet me at the boat.”
"Why?" she said coyly.
"Why do you think?”
"I need to get back to my husband," she said, taunting him.
"Tell him yoga class ran late, and you had lunch with girlfriends."
The line was silent for a moment.
"I need to see you," Mark said in a lascivious tone.
"Fine, I suppose I can get away for an hour. I expect the full use of the hour.”
"Oh, you'll get it.”
"I'll see you in a bit.”
She ended the call, and that was the end of the recording.
I shared a look with JD. At least we had a little more dirt on the two of them.
Isabella kept tabs on Marguerite’s phone and tracked it to Sandpiper Point.
We followed to the upscale marina, pulled into the parking lot, and found a place to park with a clear view.
I'm not quite sure how Mark afforded it, but he had a 127-foot Holloway Marine flybridge yacht with sleek, modern lines, Arctic white trim, and a navy hull.
I'm sure it was technically owned by Aqus, written off as a research vessel, or some deep-sea exploration yacht.
Jack hopped out of the Porsche and grabbed his camera bag from the front trunk. He pulled out his camera and a telephoto lens, then climbed back into the car. From where we were parked, we had a clear shot of the Chimera. It was an apt name for the superyacht.
Jack lensed up Marguerite as she crossed the passerelle to greet Mark. He snapped photos in rapid succession as Mark took her hand and pulled her close. He gave a quick look around, then kissed her lips.
"Did you get that?" I asked.
"I sure did," Jack replied.
"That didn't look like an innocent kiss to me.”
Mark pulled Marguerite into the salon. With the sun beaming bright, it was easy to see into the salon, despite the tinted windows.
Mark didn’t waste any time getting down to business.
The two staggered across the room, locked at the lips, peeling off each other's clothes. Soon, Mark pulled off Marguerite’s sports bra, revealing all-natural endowments that had just the right amount of gravity-defying bounce.
His hands cupped glorious handfuls and tweaked pert peaks.
He didn't waste any time turning her around, bending her over, and pulling down those yoga pants.
Marguerite braced herself against the bulkhead by the window as Mark hurried to unbutton his pants and give his HR department a nightmare.
Jack continued to snap photos as Mark played hide the sausage.
At the rate he was going, he wasn't going to last an hour.
Not with Marguerite. Something told me she was going to be sorely disappointed.
But for some unknown reason, she kept coming back to him.
This wasn't their first encounter. That was obvious.
With a devilish grin, Jack said, "How do you think Mark's wife is gonna feel about these photos?”
I smiled. "Let's find out.”