Hypocrisy (15 page)

Dupree waited patiently for them to back out so she could get a better look at the car. And them. But one minute led to two and after five minutes, she could only assume that they were making out or engaged in a deep conversation. What else could they be doing? Finally, she saw the white car slowly inching its way out of the spot. Once backed out, Dupree could see that Lentz was the driver and Hansen was sitting in the passenger seat. Dupree checked out the back of the car, shocked to see that Lentz was driving an Audi A8. And it looked showroom new. Dupree didn’t know a lot about cars, but she suspected that this particular model came with a hefty price tag.

Lentz headed for the exit. Dupree removed the digital recorder from her purse, turned it on, and recited the license plate number. With intentions of following them, she eased her car forward, but just before she had a chance to turn towards the exit, a four-door F-150 crew cab sitting next to her backed out of his spot, preventing Dupree from driving towards the exit. He moved the big truck so slowly and cautiously it seemed as if he was driving a ten-wheel dump truck. By the time the man maneuvered the big truck and pointed it where he wanted to go, Lentz and Hansen were gone.

Damn!

As Dupree pulled out of the driveway and merged into traffic, the Audi nowhere in sight, she thought about the hard luck story Lentz had shared with T.J. and her.

Not bad for a schmuck working two jobs, living in a crappy apartment in Queens, and barely making ends meet
.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

David Taylor, CEO of Ritter-Stone Pharmaceuticals, gathered with his colleagues behind closed doors in Taylor’s expansive den. He’d always felt that calling his thirty foot by forty foot retreat a den, seemed overtly understated. The room was rich with custom designed furniture, solid cherry covered walls, hand-carved crown moldings, and it was exquisitely decorated. It was a haven where a busy executive could sit in front of a crackling fire on a cool evening with the latest edition of Forbes magazine, pour himself a snifter of Louis XIII cognac, light up a Montecristo cigar, and unwind from the demands of his stressful career. This fourteen thousand square foot mansion was one of six homes he owned around the world. But of all his homes, even the villa in Tuscany, this was his favorite; a tranquil, remote hideaway.

“How was your flight, Ed?” Taylor asked Mason.

“No complaints. How could anyone take issue with flying first class? Of course, I wasn’t thrilled with flying a helicopter from San Juan here. But it sure beat one of those puddle jumpers. I appreciate the accommodation.”

“That’s the one drawback with Anguilla. Unless you come to the island by boat, you can only fly directly from Puerto Rico in a turbo-prop plane. Not the most comfortable way to travel.”

“Anguilla is a beautiful island,” Mason said. “From the air, it looks like a Thomas Kinkade painting.”

“Indeed,” Taylor said.

He pointed to the other two men seated at the long table. “That’s Warren Price, CEO of Global Pharmaceuticals, and next to him is Clarence Sadowski, CEO of Fowler-Paine.”

“It’s my pleasure to meet you gentlemen,” Mason said.

“First of all,” Taylor said, “let me extend our deepest sympathy for the tragic death of Dr. Crawford. I was stunned when I heard of her murder.”

“She was a real pioneer,” Sadowski said. “Light years ahead of anyone else in medical research.”

“Her death,” Price said, “must have placed your entire operation in a tailspin.”

“You have no idea,” Mason said. “Forgive the vulgarity, but Horizon went from a well-oiled machine to a cluster-fuck.”

“Well, hopefully,” Taylor said, his eyes locked on Mason, “we can come to terms and help put Horizon back on track.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Mason said.

The room was quiet for a few moments.

“With all due respect,” Mason said, “and no reflection on anyone here, I feel pigeonholed, like I no longer have the option to select a partner based on due diligence and objective evaluation. I’m not suggesting that you gentlemen and your respective companies would not be extraordinary partners. Only that I’m really backed in the corner and the clock is ticking.”

“We appreciate your situation,” Taylor said. “But we also have a major concern. If we agree to a partnership, the last thing we want is competition. How can we be sure that whoever stole Dr. Crawford’s computer hasn’t already hired an I.T. whiz to access the hard drive and retrieve all the data? In this day and age, even the most secure encryption system can be hacked.”

“Every encryption system has vulnerabilities,” Mason agreed. “However, Dr. Crawford’s computer employs a unique failsafe. If anyone enters the wrong codes or makes an attempt to override the passwords, the hard drive will crash, and none of the data will
be recoverable. Dr. Crawford was obsessed with protecting every piece of her data, no matter how inconsequential. She insisted that every computer in the research center be set up with this system.”

“That’s reassuring, Ed,” Taylor said, “but it’s still something for us to be concerned about.”

“Let’s get down to brass tacks and try to strike a deal,” Price said.

“Before we do,” Taylor said, “I have to confirm something with you, Ed. A while back, Hyland Laboratories was trying to negotiate a deal with Horizon. As I understand it, Dr. Crawford vetoed this joint venture. Is that correct?”

Mason blinked with surprise. “I don’t know who your sources are, but I applaud them. Only Michael Adelman, CEO of Hyland, Dr. Crawford, and I were involved in these talks. No one else at Horizon or Hyland was privy to this information.”

“In the new millennium,” Taylor said, his tone somewhat arrogant, “no communication is so private that it can’t be compromised.”

For several minutes, a lull fell over the room.

“So tell me gentlemen,” Mason said. “If we agree that a joint venture makes sense for both of us, what can you contribute to Horizon?”

“Prior to this meeting,” Taylor said, “my colleagues and I spent a great deal of time determining what our role might be and what kind of deal we feel would be equitable for both Horizon and us. No matter how promising, at this juncture no one knows for sure if Dr. Crawford’s theories will prove true. There is a great deal of risk for us. That said, we’re still prepared to invest a considerable amount of money to fund this project.”

“And what do you deem a considerable amount of money?” Mason asked.

“Our three companies combined are willing to invest twenty-million dollars in this project. We also want to move the facility to a different location with state of the art equipment. We all feel strongly that we should hire at least another twenty five people. We want to accelerate the research, get the approval of the FDA, and begin marketing and distribution in less than two years. In return for our financial and professional support, we want fifty-one percent control of Horizon.”

“Your proposal far exceeds my expectations,” Mason admitted. “But I just don’t know if I can give anyone controlling interest in this project. In all fairness, as generous as it sounds, I have to speak to Michael Adelman from Hyland before I make a decision.”

“We understand, Ed. You have to make the best choice for Horizon. But maybe we can sweeten the deal and move forward. Would you mind giving me a few minutes to speak with my colleagues?”

“Not at all.”

Taylor pointed to the door. “You can make yourself comfortable in the living room while we talk. It won’t take very long.”

Mason left the den and waited patiently in the living room. After what seemed like only five minutes, Taylor opened the door and invited him back in.

“If we can come to terms,” Taylor said, “our attorneys can draft the contracts in a few days. In the meantime, as a good faith gesture, my colleagues and I are willing to wire one-million dollars into any account you designate.” Taylor wagged his index finger at Mason. “Let me be clear. This is in no way a bribe or meant to be anything underhanded. Even if you decide not to partner with us, you still keep the money.” Taylor winked. “Consider it an
incentive
.”

Mason’s mouth hung open. “I don’t know what to say, David. Your willingness to—”

“Just say that we have a deal so we can wrap this up and kick things into high gear.”

“As tempting as your generous offer is, in clear conscience, I can’t accept any money directly. Ethically, it would really bother me.”

“I understand,” Taylor said. “In fact, I really admire your integrity. Not too many people on this planet would turn down a million dollars—no strings attached.”

Mason stood and extended his hand toward Taylor. “Right after I meet with Michael Adelman, I’ll make a decision.”

Taylor offered his hand. “I look forward to working with you, Ed.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

By the time Dupree arrived at the precinct, her aching temples had settled down. She found T.J. sitting at his desk, with his face buried in paperwork. Nonchalantly, she opened her desk drawer and slid the envelope inside. She intended to drop it off at the lab as soon as she spoke to T.J. about it.

“Good morning,” Dupree said.

T.J. looked up at her. “How was your latté?”

“Place was too busy. Besides, I didn’t want the lovebirds to see me.”

“See anything else interesting?”

“Only that Lentz may not be as poor as he claimed to be.” She folded her arms across her chest. “Our boy was driving a sparkling new Audi A8.”

“That car sells for over 50k,” T.J. said

“Actually,” Dupree said, “I checked the Internet and it retails for over sixty.”

“Think he stumbled upon a windfall?”

“Maybe he had a big payday. I got his license plate number so I’ll ask Brenda to run it for us.”

“If Lentz or Hansen owns the Audi, we’ll have good reason to request a subpoena to access their bank accounts,” T.J. said.

“My thought exactly.” Dupree rested her butt against T.J.’s desk. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to subpoena their cell phone records.”

“Do we have enough justification to get both?” T.J. asked.

“I think I can convince Judge Marshall. He’s been very cooperative in the past.”

“What’s that all about?” T.J. asked. “Got nude pictures of him and a teenage boy?”

“Let’s just say that I helped his daughter out of a very sticky situation a few years back, so he feels somewhat indebted to me. As long as I don’t abuse our relationship, or ask him to really push the legal envelope, I pretty much can rely on him to help me out.”

“Nice to have a connection on the bench.”

“It doesn’t suck.”

T.J. stood. “Ready to rough up Tesler?”

“Before we do, can we chat in private?”

“Of course.”

They entered a vacant interview room and sat opposite each other. T.J. drummed his fingers on the table. “What’s up?”

She gave him all the details of the letter she’d received.

“Cat stew?” T.J. said. “How disgusting. Have you spoken to anyone from Express Delivery?”

“I will as soon as the lab checks it out for prints or whatever else they can find.” She looked past T.J., her mind racing with so many possibilities—none of which were particularly appealing. “Any thoughts?”

“It seems more than likely that someone involved in the Crawford murder sent it to keep you off balance.” More finger drumming. “But there are other possibilities. Over the last ten years you’ve put a lot of criminals behind bars, and not all of them served long terms in prison. Maybe someone who just got out or a friend of someone still locked up wants to mess with your head.”

“I know it wouldn’t be difficult to find out my mother’s first name, but how many people other than personal friends know I have two cats?”

That seemed to stump T.J. “Hm. Never thought of that.”

“Well,” Dupree said, “at this point all we can do is speculate. Why don’t you grab Tesler while I bring the envelope to the lab and I’ll meet you back here in a few?”

Dupree was already waiting in the interview room, seated at the table, when T.J. walked in with Tesler. Dupree gave Tesler a onceover and noticed that he looked like a homeless man who hasn’t had a decent meal or shower in weeks.

Amazing what a few days in the slammer can do
.

Rather forcefully, T.J. sat Tesler down opposite Dupree and took a seat beside her. Dupree made sure that the microphones were positioned properly.

“So, Mr. Tesler,” Dupree said, “how do you feel about your new accommodations? Think you’d be content in a twelve by twelve cage for the next twenty or twenty-five years, eating cafeteria food, and showering with a bunch of horny convicts?”

“I ain’t done nothing wrong, and you can’t prove shit. So either let me go, or charge me with something. I got nothing more to say to you two assholes. If you don’t let me go, I want to see a lawyer.”

Dupree was surprised that nearly three days in jail and the prospect of being charged with accessory to murder hadn’t taken the fight out of Tesler. He was tougher than she’d thought.

“Well, then, Mr. Tesler,” Dupree said, “I guess you’re free to go.”

She removed the handcuffs.