But the Children Survived (21 page)

“Yes, they are brown, I was there.”  Antonio had finished his coffee.  “Is there a chance we can go there, to the warehouse here?” 

Paul thought for a minute. 

“Let me make a call.”  Paul got out of the booth and dropped the paper items into the trash.  He went outside to the pay phone.  Antonio saw him speaking to someone.  Paul hung up the phone and motioned for Antonio to come outside. 

When Antonio got outside, Paul was getting into the truck.  Antonio got into the truck and Paul started the engine.

“I called in to tell them I would be checking out the warehouse here.”  Paul said as he pulled out of the Jersey Freeze onto Route 9.

They headed towards Main Street and crossed over the railroad tracks.  At the first right, they turned and parked in front of an old factory building.  Paul got out and walked to the padlocked door.  Antonio followed him inside once Paul got the door open. 

The whole factory floor was covered with shelving units filled with banker's boxes.  Antonio could see signs taped to the top of each row with a year written on it. 

“Up here we've got the thirties and forties.  Next section should be the fifties and sixties.” 

Paul headed towards the next section by walking towards the back of the building.  Antonio once again followed him. 

When they got to the middle of the building, Paul stopped and pointed to his left.

“’Fifties that side,” he then pointed to his right, “and sixties that side.  What year you want to search?”

“The year you worked here with Jimmy.”

“1965 it is.” 

Paul turned right and walked down the aisle.  He got about halfway through and stopped.  He waved Antonio over. 

“This is the row for 1965.  Up and down.” 

He pulled a box off the top shelf.  He placed it on the floor between him and Antonio.  Paul pulled the lid off.  He moved his fingers along the file tabs so he could read them.  He found one from January that said “Medical Requisitions,” pulled it out of the box and handed it to Antonio. 

Antonio eagerly looked through the file.  There was one page listing a shipment to Margaret DeMorte.  It listed what supplies had been sent and where they were going.  Under authorized it said M. Wilmer. 

“Who is M. Wilmer?” Antonio asked.

“That would have to be Jacob's dad.  It might have been a standing order, you know, the same over and over.  It wouldn't require real signature.  They would just kind of rubber stamp it.” 

Antonio felt so disappointed.  He knew that any file they found here would be the same. 

“How do we find out who started it?”  Antonio asked.

“Jeez, I have no idea.  This was going on for a long time before I worked here.  And according to this,” Paul took the paper from Antonio's hand, “it didn’t originate here.  The original order came from New Mexico, see?” 

Antonio looked at the paper.  On the bottom of the paper under location were the initials NM.

“New Mexico!  Wilmer's has a lab in New Mexico?”

“Not exactly.  And I’m not supposed to know this, but in the forties or fifties daddy Matthew left his old man to build a lab in New Mexico.  He was really building a lab to create biological weapons.  Now you didn't hear that from me.  It's all very hush-hush now that they’ve gone all respectable, but that's where old Matthew started. 

“I think the name of the place was Los Arms or something like that.  Jimmy told me about it.  I do know they abandoned the place some time ago and shipped all the shit from there here.  We were told they were consolidating and it was more 'cost effective' to ship from the east coast.  My ass.  Since when is it more cost effective to ship anything from New Jersey?”

“And the weapons?”

“I don't think they ever created any.  They did come up with some great over-the-counter stuff, but the lab was really small.  Jimmy went there once.  He said it was divided into two sides.  That's how he found out about the weapons.  He snooped around and got the old guy in charge of that side talking.  Scientists like credit for their work and this guy was no exception.  Jimmy said the old guy almost spilled all the beans and caught himself.”

Paul looked thoughtful.  “Jeez, I can't believe I remember that.  Anyway, the old guy must have been sitting on something big because he really had to hold back.  Weird nothing came of it.  All we were ever told was that it was an old lab due for retirement.  The weapons side was never mentioned.”

They were both sitting on the floor now, resting against the shelves.  Antonio was thinking about Maggie and the man she’d given the plants to.  He had promised to use the plants for good.  Was he the old guy creating weapons? 

“What happened to the employees there?” Antonio asked.

“Don't know.  Maybe some transferred here, but I don't work in the labs at all so I don't know.  I do know Betsy in HR though.  She could tell you if any of them transferred here.”

“She’s been with Wilmer's a long time.”

“Oh, yeah. She's the one that got me the company.  She's my mom.”

After Paul put the box back on the shelf, they walked out the door and he put the padlock back in place.  Before going back to Cranberry, Paul stopped at the Jersey Freeze and picked up another sundae to go. 

Paul talked all the way back about Freehold in the sixties, about going to high school and realizing years later that the skinny sophomore he picked on his during senior year was Bruce Springsteen.  He talked about how much Freehold had changed and how sad it was.  Antonio talked about Florence and his dream of creating a drug to save babies. 

When they got back to Cranberry, Paul took him up to HR and introduced him to Betsy.  He handed her the bag with the sundae in it and shook Antonio's hand. 

“Drop by anytime, Antonio,” Paul said as he walked away.

Betsy was a nice-looking, chubby blond woman in her early sixties.  Antonio asked her if anyone had been transferred to Freehold from New Mexico three years ago.  She nodded her head.

“Oh yeah, we got plenty of them.  I had to process them all in.  What you asking for?”

“I need to talk to someone about the lab.  I have a question to ask them.”

Betsy looked skeptical.  She wasn’t sure if this was an appropriate thing to do.  She had little knowledge of the New Mexico lab, but she did remember things that had been whispered about when she came to work at Wilmer's as a young girl out of secretarial school.  Someone snooping around asking questions about that might cause her no end of trouble.  She was too near retirement and her pension to mess around with that. 

“I'm sorry, but without their permission, I can't tell you.” 

“I understand, Betsy.  A beautiful woman like you with an important job like this, you must do the right thing.” 

“Son, you’re full of it.”  She looked at Antonio and sighed.  Paul had introduced him to her, so maybe he was okay.  “What kind of stuff are you trying to find out?”

“Years ago someone was sending medical supplies to a woman in Brazil.  I just want to know who was authorizing those shipments.”

“Your English gets better and better, doesn't it?”  Betsy sat down by her computer.  She had glasses around her neck on a jeweled string, and she placed them on her nose. 

“I’ll see if I can find out who had the authority to do something like that.”  She started typing and then stopped.  A screen came up that said “org chart”.  She looked at the names and titles of each individual listed. 

“Looks like John Wilmer, Helmut March, and a man named George Ranier were the only ones with that kind of authority in New Mexico.  It was a small lab.  Looks like Helmut ran one side and George the other.  That's all I can give you.  I hope it helps.”  She turned and looked at Antonio.

“Grazie mille!”  Antonio took Betsy's hand and kissed it. 

“Yeah, whatever.”  She took her hand back, waved Antonio away, and turned back to her computer.

*****

Antonio went to the public library that evening.  He asked the librarian if there were any books on Wilmer and March Pharmaceuticals.  She looked in the card catalog and pulled out a title in the reference section.

“'Wilmer and March: The Founding of a Dynasty.’  You'll find it in the reference section under R806.7.  There’s another librarian up there if you can't find it.”

Antonio made his way to reference and, with the help of the other librarian, was able to find the book.  It detailed the founding of Wilmer and March as a small lab in Los Arma, New Mexico.  There was no mention of weaponry whatsoever. 

The book discussed Helmut March's contribution to the founding of Wilmer and March, but George Ranier figured in only one paragraph, where he was given credit for discovering a prophylactic lubricant that would not cause irritation.   Antonio was becoming very frustrated. 

When he got home that evening, he told Teresa what he had been up to.  He explained that unless he could guarantee full ownership of the purple spores, Wilmer and March could swoop down and take all his research away, claiming any miracle drug for themselves. Or even worse, keep it from being used at all. 

“Why don't you take a little vacation in New Mexico?”  Teresa offered.

“You wouldn't mind?”

“Of course not, besides, I’ll be busy finding Chloe a mate.”

 Chapter 26

 1988 Los Arma, New Mexico

Los Arma hadn’t changed much since George Ranier traveled there in 1947.  It consisted of a large, two-sided empty laboratory, several small houses, most of which were empty, and a convenience store with a gas pump. 

Antonio rented a car in Albuquerque and asked for a map showing the route to Los Arma.  The woman behind the counter had a hard time finding it on the map until a co-worker gave Antonio directions. 

When he drove into Los Arma, Antonio felt as though time had stood still.  The houses were all from the late 1940's, built by Wilmer to house his employees.  The one car he saw was at least ten years old, and the convenience store was made of wood. 

Antonio parked his car in front of the store, walked up the two wooden steps, and entered.  There was a counter on one side where an older man was drinking coffee.  Behind the counter was a short, round Mexican man.  Antonio approached the counter.

“Excuse me, please.  My name is Antonio Russo.  I am looking for someone.”  Antonio put out his hand and the man shook it. 

“I am Javier.  This is a very small place.  Who are you looking for?”

“A man named George Ranier.  I believe he used to work here for Wilmer.” 

At the sound of the name Wilmer, Javier spat on the floor and muttered a Spanish curse. 

“May he rot in hell,” said Javier.

“Yes, I agree.  He’s a bad man.  But, can you help me?  Do you know where Mr. Ranier is?” 

Javier began wiping the counter with a rag.  He shook his head. 

“No, I don't know this man.  I have been here for a short time.  Sorry.” 

The man drinking coffee got up, put a dollar down on the counter and left the store.  Antonio thanked Javier and ran after him.  He saw the man walking down the street and ran to catch up to him.

“Excuse me, sir,” he called.  “Please, sir, I just want to talk to you.” 

The man stopped and turned around.  Antonio guessed he was in his late 60s.  He was very tall, and his form suggested he may have once been well muscled.  He stood looking at Antonio.

“Well, what do you want?” the man asked impatiently.

“Excuse me, please.  I wanted to ask you if you knew Mr. Ranier.  He was a scientist with Wilmer and March, and I believe he still lives here.  Can you help me?”

“Well, the first thing I would ask is why you want to see Mr. Ranier.  Do you have some sort of prize to convey upon him?”

Antonio thought for a minute.  He suspected this was George Ranier, but wasn’t completely sure. 

“I have to ask him a question only he can answer.” 

“Really?”  The man paused.  “Well, you might as well come in.” 

The man turned towards a small run down house with a picket fence.  He opened the gate and Antonio followed him to the front door, leaving the gate open.

“You mind closing the gate there fella?”  Antonio rushed back and closed the gate.

Once inside, it was hard to see.  There were heavy curtains on the windows, and the man hadn’t left any lights on.  The sun was blazing outside.  It took a few minutes for Antonio's eyes to adjust. 

“Sit down, Mr. Russo was it?”  Antonio took a seat next to the window.  The man plopped down on his recliner. 

“Yes, my name is Russo.  You can call me Antonio.” 

“And you can call me George.  Now what in the blazes brings you out here?”

“Mr. Ranier, ah George, I need to ask you a very important question.  Do you remember going to the rainforest in 1953?”  Maggie had told Antonio that this was when George had visited.

“God, what makes you ask that?” 

“I went there myself to find Margaret DeMorte.  She said you had been there also.” 

Antonio watched George's face for any sign that he knew what Antonio was going to ask.  George hid his feelings well.

“Well, I guess I did then.  That woman would never lie.  She was a handsome woman.  Smart too.”  George had a funny little smile on his face, and then a shadow crossed over it, making him look a little gray.  “What made you go there?”

“I read about her marvelous plant in a magazine.  I have a desire to help women who miscarry.  I want to make a drug out of her plant.” 

“That wouldn’t be an article out of Life magazine would it?”

“Yes!”  Antonio beamed.  “I went there to see her plant because of that article.”

“How is Maggie?” he asked.

“She passed away,” Antonio said quietly.

George sat back and looked at the ceiling.  “She was a good woman,” he said.  Antonio nodded in agreement.

“I read the article, too.  I saw an opportunity for the lab.  Matthew Wilmer didn’t agree, but I went anyway.  She gave me some of her plants in exchange for medical supplies.”