Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) (17 page)

“I’m Enzo Lee. This is Sarah Armstrong. We’re here to talk to you about a company called AgriGenics.”

“You, too? Come in. Come in. Sit down.” Nussbaum gestured extravagantly toward the two chairs sitting in front of his desk.

Once inside the office, Lee noticed that it looked a bit disheveled, not unlike Nussbaum himself. Stacks of books sat on the floor and on a table behind Nussbaum’s desk, filled with yellow tags marking pages. Piles of paper were perched atop the volumes in the bookcases that filled two walls of the office and in other available nooks and crannies.

Then there were the beetles. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of them, mounted in glass-covered display trays that covered every square inch of available wall space. Some were tiny, barely visible from across the room. Others were gigantic, more than four inches in length. On the desk before them, in a silver egg holder, sat a beetle encased in an oblong lump of amber slightly smaller than a golf ball.

“A young man, a nice gentleman, a servant of the state, I believe, was here inquiring about the same thing, oh, maybe a month ago,” said Nussbaum.

“Brent Donsen,” said Lee.

“Correct. At his request I arranged a meeting, an encounter, a confabulation between him and my old friend and collaborator, Arthur Sendaki. But, alas, he failed to appear at the appointed hour.”

“A meeting? Here? I thought Arthur Sendaki was in California,” said Lee.

“Here? Hmm. An interesting question,” said Nussbaum. “No. More likely you would describe the locus as cyberspace. The meeting was to have occurred by computer. Arthur, in California. Mister Donsen, here, with my assistance, of course.”

“Of course,” said Lee. “But, why by computer? Why didn’t Donsen just call Sendaki?”

“I gather that he, Donsen, tried that and encountered some impediment. I don’t totally understand.” Nussbaum picked up the piece of amber with the beetle in it and massaged it with the fingers of his right hand. “Arthur and I have communicated solely by electronic means for some time now. I find that quite a sufficient, not to mention an efficient mode of communication. Mister Donsen seemed quite surprised, indeed, elated, to discover that I was in regular contact with Arthur.”

“Did Donsen explain why he wanted to…uh…communicate with Sendaki?” asked Sarah.

“Mister Donsen sent a rather cryptic message to Arthur, mysterious to me anyway.” Nussbaum shifted the amber to his left hand. “Perhaps it had some meaning for Arthur since he agreed to Mister Donsen’s request. Although, Arthur may simply have felt compelled to lend his full support and cooperation, in every way possible, to an agent of the government.

“I may, in fact, be able to retrieve a copy of Mister Donsen’s message,” continued Nussbaum. “But, I should probably have inquired at the initial stage of this colloquy as to your interest in this matter.”

“We are not with the Justice Department,” said Sarah. “I am an attorney. Mister Lee is a reporter. The subject of Donsen’s inquiry was not of interest only to the government. It affects individuals as well, including us. You may not know that Donsen died shortly before your scheduled meeting. We are continuing his inquiry. I guess that would be the message to convey to Mister Sendaki. We urgently want to talk to him about the same matter.”

Nussbaum noticed one of the beetle displays was out of alignment. He walked over to straighten it, stepped back and grunted approvingly. He turned his attention back to Sarah and Lee.

“I am truly sorry to hear of Mister Donsen’s untimely passing,” he said. “I can certainly leave the message for Arthur and let him decide what course to pursue. I should let him decide whether to release to you Mister Donsen’s original message as well. I should tell you that although Arthur usually reads his mail on a daily basis, there is no guarantee that will be the case or when his reply will be forthcoming if, indeed, it comes at all.”

“Thank you, Professor,” said Sarah. “You must be good friends with Mister Sendaki.”

“Ah, yes. We shared a lab eons ago. Our paths diverged rather sharply, quite dramatically as a matter of fact. But, I gather he has been wandering in the wilderness a bit recently. And, in matters purely of science, curiosity and a good mind are all that matter. There is a great deal to talk about these days.”

Lee promised to call Nussbaum the next day. Nussbaum stroked his beard until he could no longer hear their footsteps in the hallway. Then he switched on his computer and began typing as he whistled a Vivaldi fugue.

Chapter 21

HOWARD’S ON THE Park was a pleasant restaurant bordering on the elegant with crisp white table cloths, pink linen napkins and a fine wine selection served in big, spotless goblets. The restaurant was well lighted with spacious windows that looked out across Columbus Avenue on to an open, grassy lawn adjacent to the park.

One reason why Lee had selected Howard’s for the meeting with Agent Spreckel was that it was unusually roomy for a Manhattan restaurant with enough space between tables for a private conversation, particularly before the dinner rush.

Spreckel was already waiting when Lee reached the restaurant exactly at four o’clock. Spreckel’s light brown hair was cut in a crewcut. His face was round and turning jowly. Lee guessed he was in his late 40s. He vaguely resembled a full-sized Mickey Rooney but without a trace of the actor’s famous smile. Spreckel looked somewhat askance at Lee’s attire - old khaki pants, tired loafers and a gray sweatshirt bearing the Yankees logo.

They got a table in the corner room that looked out on the street and the park area beyond. Lee decided to lay a few of his cards on the table.

“I know Donsen was looking into AgriGenics and the guy who founded it, Sendaki, when he died,” he began.

Spreckel shook his head.

“I told you I don’t know anything about that. Donsen probably was involved in a lot of cases. So what?”

“This one was a little different,” said Lee. “Donsen had some inside knowledge about this one. He was privy to something about the company.”

“What?”

“I’m not sure exactly,” said Lee. “Maybe some secret work it was doing. Something to do with genetic engineering. What I do know is that everyone who had access to this information has suddenly developed extremely bad health.”

“Meaning?” said Spreckel.

“Meaning four people are dead who should be alive. They’re deaths that shouldn’t be happening. A young man having a stroke. A mysterious disease no one can identify. A hit-and-run. A boating accident with no witnesses.”

“Accidents happen,” said Spreckel. “Young people get sick. Who else have you told about these…theories?”

“I’m telling you these deaths are linked. One of them was one of your own guys, Spreckel. Aren’t you the least bit curious? What if Donsen was looking into this outfit? What if I’m right?”

At that moment, Lee saw Sarah walk by the window he was facing. She gave him the quickest glance and then continued past. Spreckel’s back was toward her. Lee couldn’t tell where she went but guessed that she had come into the restaurant. He turned his attention back to Spreckel.

“Have you been talking to anyone else about this?” said Spreckel. “Is someone investigating the hit-and-run?”

“Yes. I am working with someone else on this, a local cop,” said Lee. “I’ll tell you all about it in a minute. First, I’ve got to use the head.”

Lee got up and walked toward the back of the restaurant. Spreckel was screened off by a partition that separated the corner dining room from the greeting area of the restaurant. At the other end of the restaurant, in the hallway where the rest rooms were located, he saw Sarah standing by the pay phone with the receiver at her ear.

When Lee reached her, Sarah dropped the telephone and clutched him around the waist.

“What is it?” he whispered, keeping his back to the main part of the restaurant and partly blocking Sarah from view.

“Your friend, Lorraine, called the hotel,” said Sarah. Lee could hear the controlled panic in her voice. “She said it was urgent. Bobbie Connors from the police department called the paper looking for you. There’s a federal warrant out for you on a drug charge. Lorraine thought Connors was trying to warn you.”

“Christ. The bastard’s setting me up.” Lee realized that Spreckel was trying to extract what information he could before arresting him. Lee guessed that he had backup agents waiting outside the restaurant, maybe inside as well. He figured he didn’t have long before Spreckel got nervous with Lee out of his sight and came looking for him.

“Listen, Sarah,” Lee said quickly. “Go into the ladies’ room. Wait there fifteen minutes. Then, if everything looks clear, catch a cab and go back to the hotel. If I haven’t called or left a message by five o’clock, check out and then call a good drug lawyer for me. Call Lorraine at the News and let her know where you are.”

Then, Lee walked back toward the main part of the restaurant. He turned into the kitchen and walked quickly through to the back entrance. The kitchen staff was still getting organized for the main dinner crowd. They hardly noticed him. As he pushed open the door, he silently prayed that Spreckel had been either too overconfident or too short staffed to post anyone at the back entrance.

The kitchen door opened onto a dead-end alleyway. No one was there. Lee walked as quickly as he could without running toward the opening of the alley on 84
th
Street. He listened for the door to open behind him, ready to take off if he heard anything.

When he reached the end of the alley, he stopped. He fought the impulse to just flee down 84
th
to get as far away from Howard’s as he could.

Lee peeked around the corner. He saw a young man in a white sweater sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. Two scruffy teenagers were tossing a Frisbee in the grassy area across from the restaurant. Then he noticed the car, a brown Cougar, with a man behind the wheel, parked on the far side of Columbus. The driver was staring at the restaurant and was positioned so he could watch the corner dining room and keep an eye on both 84
th
Street and Columbus Avenue as well.

Lee waited. He fought the urge to bolt. Any second he expected someone to come barreling through the kitchen door headed straight for him. It was cool but he could feel sweat dripping down his back. He felt an overwhelming need to empty his bladder.

Finally, he saw the man in the car straighten, probably in reaction to a signal from Spreckel. He saw him get out of the car. He was bareheaded and wearing a gray jacket. The man paused, waiting for traffic to pass on Columbus, and began walking quickly toward the restaurant entrance.

As soon as the man disappeared from his line of vision, Lee started sprinting down 84
th
Street. He ran as fast as he could but it felt excruciatingly slow. He was conscious of his feet slapping the pavement. He wished like hell he had worn running shoes rather than the leather loafers he had on. He wished he were 20 again.

He reached Amersterdam Avenue, the next street over from Columbus. He looked up and down. Dammit! There was no one on the street. He had hoped for a crowd to get lost in. The first places they would look would be on Columbus and Amsterdam. On the empty street he wouldn’t last long.

Lee looked back down 84
th
toward the restaurant and saw no one running toward him, no car speeding his way. He ran across the street, dodging traffic, and continued at a run down 84
th
Street again. His only chance was to reach the next alley - he hoped there was one - before they caught sight of him.

Lee was winded when he reached the alley. His head was pounding and he struggled to get air into his lungs. He looked back and saw the Cougar coming after him. It was heading his way but was still on the other side of Columbus. They might not have seen him this far away. He trotted further down the alley which ran all the way through the block to 83rd Street. Cardboard cartons, trash cans and two dumpsters were scattered along the way.

When he reached the dumpster at the end of the alley, where it opened onto 83rd Street, Lee debated whether to climb in. He liked his chances there better than being on the street with unmarked cars scouring the neighborhood. He looked in the dumpster and saw boxes full of lettuce leaves and other produce. He realized he was at the back of a small grocery store.

Lee looked both ways down 83rd Street. Then he quickly walked through the entrance of the grocery.

It was a small mom-and-pop store, maybe twenty-five feet deep by fifteen feet across. Except for the shopkeepers, a man and his wife, Lee was the only one in the store. He moved to the back, toward the coolers and away from the front windows. He pulled open a door and began to slowly inspect every bottle and can on the slotted shelves. Finally, he grabbed a quart-sized bottle of Colt 45 malt liquor, walked to the front counter, set it down, and returned to the coolers.

While he rummaged in the coolers some more trying to kill time, Lee contemplated how he had gotten into this predicament. He couldn’t believe he was actually running from the feds. It felt surreal. A few days ago he had been living a pretty normal life writing his frothy, uncomplicated fluff. No matter. Today was today. He had to focus on the problem at hand: Getting back to the hotel without having his ass tossed into the slammer.

After 20 minutes, Lee had the malt liquor, a quart of orange juice, a six-pack of Squirt, a bag of Fritos, a four-pack of toilet paper and two extremely nervous shopkeepers at the counter. He managed to waste another couple of minutes buying some lottery tickets. He saw the Cougar go by once, moving fast. He saw another car speed by soon afterward.

He insisted on a paper bag and the shopkeepers searched frantically to find one to get him the hell out of their store. With his purchases piled inside it, Lee held the bag high enough to partially shield his face. He stepped onto the sidewalk on 83rd Street and began searching for a subway that would take him downtown.

Sarah answered the door with an armful of clothes she had been trying to shove into a suitcase. She found Lee leaning against the doorway, totally spent and clutching the bag. He set the bag down on a table and they embraced. Then, Lee pulled away. He was rank with sweat and fear. He sat down and chugged half the bottle of Colt 45 without a pause.