Deldeo looked down.
Vetter bore down on him. “And I hope you disposed of our other problem last night, properly.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you.”
Vetter rolled his eyes. “Yea, I’m sure you wouldn’t. What about the other two?”
”I don’t like the idea of going into the morgue,” Deldeo said.
Vetter’s eyes flashed. “You want me to go there instead?”
“No, I like that idea even less.” Frank Deldeo reluctantly opened the office door and left.
Last night’s intrusion had left Vetter shaken, but as always, he would turn a negative into a positive. Although he had no proof, thanks to Romwell, he suspected Lindsey Walsh was responsible for the break in. At any rate, he would soon have her under control and remove any threat to him or the company.
Now he needed to call Katherine. He’d gone to her villa last night and found her gone. Unable to track her down, he’d finally gone back home and licked his wounds. He knew he could not afford to lose her trust; she could become vengeful if she felt deceived. He needed to convince her that she was already in too deep to back out. More than ever, he needed her in his camp. And he knew she might be the only link to Lindsey Walsh. He hadn’t told Katherine what Walsh had found out, nor did he plan to. Vetter would play the two against one another.
That would be interesting.
Having come this far,
Katherine Blair suddenly felt apprehensive, wondering if she could actually pull this off. That morning, she kept her eyes and ears open, watching for any signs that they might have discovered her involvement in the break-in. She reasoned that the guard had never seen her or Lindsey when they entered the building. If so, he would have pursued them. Still, she was looking over her shoulder all day and her jittery nerves were not the result of her daily one-cup of coffee.
She’d already reconciled with Stephen Vetter on the phone when she’d come in, explaining her absence last night as “time to sort out her feelings.” He’d bought the explanation without any questions and suggested they meet for lunch.
Since last night, Katherine had developed much more respect for thieves. She couldn’t imagine doing anything like that on a regular basis. Lindsey had talked her into breaking into Vetter’s office with a compelling argument that seemed to have worked.
Katherine now held a copy of the computer disc that Frederick Meyer had stored
all
his data on for the Bliss project.
The immobilizing panic she’d felt upon entering Vetter’s office had now come back fiercely each time she was about to put the disc in her computer. With every attempt, it beset her with anxiety and jolts of fear that were either innocuous or totally fabricated by her overwrought imagination. The thought of him walking into her office while she had the disc in made her tremble.
She locked her door and sat back down at the keyboard.
She slid the disc in and logged on. Instantly, the Imec logo welcomed her:
“Hello Katherine Blair
.
Please enter a password.”
She typed KATIEDID.
The system kicked into gear.
Once inside “Program Manager,” she clicked on “File Manager” and scrolled down the screen, passing “legal,” “dist.,” “pers.” At “s.e.” she stopped and pressed the enter key.
When the file opened, she found several subfolders within the main file. Right clicking on the folder: SEVERE ADVERSE REACTIONS, she saw access was extremely limited. In fact, besides Meyer, only Stephen Vetter could enter it.
Confident she’d found the file she wanted, she went through the process of adding herself as a user. She was about to click the ENTER button when she heard a door close nearby. Her heart pounded in her chest and new beads of perspiration popped out on her forehead.
For several seconds, Katherine was unable to move or even breathe as she strained to hear telltale footsteps in the hallway. A modicum of relief passed through her, when after several minutes, she could only hear the sound of the pulse in her neck. She stood up and went to the door and plastered her ear to it.
Quiet.
Satisfied that no one was there, she went back to her desk and sat down. Quickly, she turned her attention back to the keyboard, and with trembling fingers, added herself to the user list. Now she could access the files later without fear of being found out.
As rapidly as she was able, Katherine began to scroll back through. Unable to pursue any of the files further, she was about to close out the window when one particular file caught her eye. Meyer had named most of them for the part of the research they represented, but one seemed out of sync. He’d named it “DISCLA/Disc.”
Katherine clicked on it.
DISCLAIMER AND DISCLOSURE
OFFICIAL NOTIFICATION
This disclosure and disclaimer are an official notification to Stephen Vetter, CEO of Imec Pharmaceuticals, from Dr. Frederick Meyer, lead scientist and developer of the drug, Selentifil, known by the brand name, Bliss.
Whereas, this scientist has found the above-named drug to be very unstable in the presence of human brain hormones, it is my duty to inform all parties of the need to abandon further research and development of said drug. Consequences of human trials include, but are not limited to, the following:
SEVERE EMOTIONAL INSTABILITY, ACCELERATED CELL DETERIORATION AND RAPID AGING, FOLLOWED BY CATOSTROPHIC MULTIPLE ORGAN FAILURE.
Under penalty of law, it is also my duty to notify said parties to include but not limited to, the FDA, DEA and any other government controlling body involved in supervision of pharmaceutical trials...
The disclaimer went on to detail the initial results of animal trials and a strong warning of severe consequences of further human clinical trials, no matter how limited.
Katherine knew instantly that the file had significance. Dr. Meyer had been the lead scientist conducting the research on Bliss from its inception, up until the time of his mysterious death. With the revelation of the tape Lindsey had obtained from Meyer’s widow, it was obvious to Katherine that his death was no chance meeting with a car thief.
Afraid to risk any more time on the file, she exited out of the program and logged off. Relieved to be finished, she quickly removed the disc and stuck it in her purse.
Now Katherine knew that Lindsey was right.
Stephen Vetter was going beyond all acceptable limits with Bliss.
As a biologist, aware of the many biomedical issues of the day, she also knew that Imec’s ability to grow would hinge on how well the company does in developing new drugs to fight disease. The company will succeed or fail on the success of its scientists. Pharmaceutical companies can spend years and hundreds of millions of dollars testing a drug, only to abandon it because of an unanticipated side effect. For a highly leveraged company like Imec, such a problem could wipe them out overnight.
Katherine’s mind churned.
She could see Stephen Vetter had tried to get around that problem. He had fooled everyone including her about Bliss and its benign nature, despite the fact she had unanswered questions from day one. She had become mesmerized by Vetter. Katherine was so angry she found it hard to concentrate. She had let him convince her that his plan was foolproof. When he had finally given her a reasonable explanation about the clinical trials, he had been so convincing, and she so naive, he had her believing it by the time she’d left his office.
What a fool she was!
Now, Katherine realized she had become Vetter’s cover. He needed her PhD to lend credibility to the Bliss project. Her eagerness to succeed in corporate life had made her easy prey. That was why they passed over other pharmaceutical biologists with many more years experience than her. Vetter could control her. He couldn’t control Meyer or Collett. And after seeing the video she knew one other thing. Vetter
was
responsible for Meyer’s death. Tormented by such facts, she wanted to grab the phone and call him, confront him, demand answers. But her innate fear of him caused her to dismiss the idea. Besides, Lindsey and she had agreed that the best thing to do right now was to act normal. Katherine could explain away Lindsey’s absence should Vetter get curious.
A soft rap on her door cut her thoughts short.
Stephen Vetter stuck his head in.
“Katherine, we need to talk.”
Lindsey circled the labyrinth of
one-way streets, trying to find an open parking place within walking distance of the county medical examiners office. Finally she gave up and pulled into a commercial lot–three blocks from the drab institutional building. She handed the attendant a ten-dollar bill and waited for change. When they offered none, she looked up at the sign painted over the entrance. Her ten dollars had bought her three hours of parking. Each additional hour would cost her another five.
After walking a block, Lindsey felt a mist of sweat under her collar. The temperature was at least ten degrees hotter downtown than out in the suburbs. The only redeeming quality was the lack of humidity in Phoenix.
Once inside, she paused. It had been years since she’d witnessed an autopsy, and she’d never attended one on someone she knew. Her only experience with it had occurred during a short stretch with the New York City Coroner’s Office as a morgue technician. She had quickly decided to change occupations after her first week on the job. Dead flesh was something to which she had never been able to become inured.
A young black male in a short sleeve dress shirt and tie staffed the glassed-off reception area. He glanced up from his newspaper as Lindsey approached.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
Lindsey showed him her photo identification from Imec.
“They brought my next door neighbors here last night from Indian Springs,” she said. “I wanted to talk to the ME and see if he found anything unusual.”
The attendant folded his hands. “Are you a relative?”
“No, I told you, I’m a neighbor and fellow employee. But I was--”
“Ma’am I’m sorry about your friends, but we can’t let the public in the exam rooms. You can call later and talk to the pathologist in charge.”
“I’m not the public,” Lindsey said, her voice rising. “These people were fellow employees, and they might have a communicable disease. I was their immediate supervisor, and I need to know. If you don’t let me back there, then your name is going on the report when my entire company comes down with a fatal disease.”
The young man’s eyes bulged. “I suppose it’s all right then. Take the elevators down to basement-level two. There are scrubs and masks right outside the autopsy rooms.”
“One more thing,” Lindsey said. “Who’s the ME for Bob and Melanie Booth?”
The attended sighed and grabbed a computer printout. “Dr. Kim. Your friends are next on his list. At eleven o’clock.”
Lindsey thanked him and headed to the elevator. She wanted to ask if they had brought Teresa Hagen in anytime since last night, but decided not to press her luck. Besides, Lindsey suspected Teresa was still lying on her living room floor where she’d left her. Her husband was no doubt looking for her by now, but Lindsey’s house was not somewhere they were likely to check. She could, however, ask Dr. Kim, on the chance that he may have her case as well.
Lindsey pushed the button to take her to level two. She hadn’t wanted to lie to the attendant, but it seemed her only option if she wanted to get to the bottom of Booth’s breakdown. One minute he was fine, three hours later, he blows away his wife, then himself. It just didn’t make sense.
Lindsey stopped outside the examination room and placed her purse in an empty locker. She donned a thick paper gown along with booties and a mask. Then she tapped on the door.
* * *
Frank Deldeo liked the county morgue even less than he thought he would. It looked bad and it smelled bad. He hadn’t been there three minutes, and already, he couldn’t wait to get out. As usual, though, Vetter had paid him big money to do his dirty work. He pulled out his fake police ID and flashed it at the front-desk attendant.
“I’m here to take a look at the bodies of a husband and wife they brought in last night,” Deldeo said.
“What was the name?” the attendant asked.
Deldeo fished a small piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “Booth was their name.”
The attendant frowned.
“Something wrong?” Deldeo asked.
“No. It’s just that you’re the second person to ask about this case in the past half hour.”
“What do you mean?”
“There’s a lady here from some pharmaceutical company, asking to talk to the medical examiner about the bodies.”
Deldeo smiled. “What did she look like?”
The attendant leaned back in his chair. “Bout five six, maybe a hundred and ten, thick dark hair, blue eyes. Pretty, in an athel–“
Deldeo groaned. ”Okay I get the point. Which way did she go?”
“She went down to see Dr. Kim on the second level.”
Deldeo left the desk and hurried toward the elevators. He couldn’t believe his luck.
He could take care of the Walsh woman and get rid of the Booths’ all at one time.
But what was she doing here snooping around? It was going to be a pleasure to get rid of her. She had become one big unexpected pain in the ass.
* * *
“Are you Dr. Kim?” Lindsey asked, walking into the autopsy room.
“Yes,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“My name is Lindsey Walsh. I work for Imec Pharmaceuticals.”
The Booth corpses were side by side on the tables nearest to where Lindsey stood. Her face went pale and she turned back at Kim.
He pulled his paper mask down. “You were saying.”
“Yes, I work for Imec, and I have reason to believe that Mr. and Mrs. Booth here were victims of a toxic drug overdose.”
Kim’s brow furrowed. “Based on what?”
“I told the attendant upstairs they may have a communicable disease,” Lindsey admitted. “That was just to get me down here. The truth is, there are some very disturbing things going on at my company, and I believe the deaths of these two can prove it. I came here to find some answers. Can you help me?”