Fatal Dose (11 page)

“Oh, my God. That’s unbelievable. What did Dennis and Charles think?”

“Actually, I haven’t told them about it yet. I just found out about it an hour ago. I didn’t want to compromise our time together. Anyway, we haven’t actually signed on the dotted line yet. I did a basic check on the deal. On the surface it seems to be legit. It even has the blessing of the Feds, but since Atronen is involved, I’ll be keeping my eye on it.”

“It was thoughtful of you to hold off with Dennis and Charles. They might have tied you up for hours. Do you think that China is being used to replace the low quality knockoffs the cartel has been getting out of Eastern Europe?”

“There’s a good chance of it. If that’s the case, it will help that we have a connection through IIS. My concern is that if the quality of the pills is first class, it will be harder to detect ‘thinning’ I would expect the Chinese to make a higher quality product since it is out in the open. It’s just another one of those damned catch twenty-two situations. Also, I don’t know why PDS wasn’t informed about this? State and Justice both approved it.”

“That’s a good question, Mark. Obviously, we’ve still got a long way to go with communications. At least you have a heads-up on it now.”

“True.”

Cindy showed up with the Riesling. She expertly removed the cork and handed it to Mark. He did the perfunctory cork sniffing, nodded his head in approval, and waited for the ‘tasting ritual’ One sip was all it took. Another nod of approval and the wine was poured into their glasses and the bottle re-corked and nested in the ice bucket next to the table. Cindy ran off to check on the appetizers.

Mark raised his glass in a toast, “Here’s to a wonderful evening.”

Wendy smiled and added, “Amen.”

They clinked their glasses and took a mouthful of the wine. Mark was first to speak “This is really delicious. How long have you been drinking Riesling?”

“About six or seven years. I mostly drink beer when I’m out with friends, but I like wine when the setting is more intimate. I’ve tried a few fad wines over the past several years, but I keep coming back to the Riesling.”

“It’s a great choice. This is really mellow.” He picked up the bottle and showed her the label. “I won’t even try to pronounce the brand name. It must be German.”

“I never heard of that brand either. There are many good ones on the market.”

Cindy returned with a large platter. “We were out of the weenies so I doubled up on everything else to make up for it. Is that all right with you guys?”

“That’ll be fine, Cindy. By the way, the wine is excellent.”

“I’m glad you like it. It’s very popular here at Wellington. Well, you enjoy. If you need anything else, let me know.”

Alone again, they started sampling the food. Everything was fresh and delicious.

Mark decided that it was a good time to find out a little about the woman sitting opposite him. Earlier that week he resisted the temptation to use his background programs to probe into her past. Now he was glad he hadn’t done it. It would be more fun this way.

“How long have you been with the Bureau?”

“It will be five years in October. I joined right out of graduate school. I have no regrets. I like my fellow agents, all the support people and I really feel good about the work we do.”

“I feel the same way, most of the time. I must admit, though, I do have some down days. Sometimes our goals seem so insurmountable, like no matter what we do the bad guys are always one step ahead of us. This drug thing is a good example of that. You must have had that feeling yourself, somewhere along the line.”

“Well, yes, but fortunately, not very often. I had a bad spell a while back when my fiancé was killed in Iraq. We were childhood sweethearts. He was in the guard when he was called up. We were planning on getting married when he finished his tour. If it wasn’t for the support of everyone at work, I don’t know what I would have done. For a long while after that I wondered whether what I was doing really made any difference. One day I went into see Dennis with the intention of resigning. We talked for over two hours. He was so comforting and patient with me. He, most of all, helped me get over my grief. I never want to let him down.”

Tears began to well up in her eyes as she spoke. She dabbed them with her napkin.

“You probably know I had a similar situation when Susan Harrigan was killed. I wouldn’t have had anyone to comfort me if it wasn’t for the people I was working with. Dennis was there for me, too. I don’t have any family and Susan didn’t either. How about you, do you have family?”

“Just a sister. She lives in Portland. I haven’t seen her in about six years. We exchange cards for the holidays and birthdays, but that’s the only contact we have. She’s a veterinarian and married to a corporate executive. She has a sizeable practice, if that’s what it’s called. From what I gather she doesn’t plan on having any children. Her life is totally devoted to helping animals.”

“Well, I guess that’s where she feels fulfilled. It’s good that there are people like her. From what I’ve been reading in the papers lately, animals are being mistreated left and right. I don’t understand how a person can be so cruel to helpless creatures.”

“I know what you mean. That thing about training dogs to fight each other was just awful. On a more pleasant note, I took a moment out this afternoon to look at the bio on you that was passed around when you joined up. You have really impressive credentials.”

“Thanks. They’re not really all that great.” He smiled as he added, “I’ve got a damn good PR man. Actually, I just had a few good breaks along the way and I love what I do. They say that’s half the battle.”

She smiled as she drained her glass. Mark reached for the bottle and struggled with the cork. “Cindy must be a lot stronger than she looks. She practically reset the cork into the neck of the bottle.” He worked on the half inch that was exposed. It took ten twists to finally get it loose. He refilled their glasses and carefully replaced the cork just enough to seal the bottle.

“You know, I think I’m a Riesling convert. This wine puts other whites to shame. Up until now I haven’t been exposed much to wine. When I’m not drinking beer I usually order a Rusty Nail or a Long Island Ice Tea.”

“I’m glad you like it, Mark. It’s not overly expensive, either. As for the mixed drinks, I usually shy away from them. I get high to fast. Wine allows me to feel good a lot slower.”

The evening was going well. They were both relaxed and enjoying one another’s company. Mark thought of it as a first date even though it was not officially planned as such. However, she did use the word “intimate” to define the occasions when she drank wine. In his mind that alone would qualify the evening as a date. He felt very relaxed with Wendy and not just because of the wine.

“Where do you live?”

“I settled down in Lakewood. It’s about ten miles west; a twenty minute drive on a good day. I rent a two-bedroom condo. I’ve got a private garage and a clubhouse with an Olympic sized swimming pool. It’s really nice. How about you? I know you live down in Centerville, but where do you stay while you’re up here?”

“The Bureau owns a small house in Lorain. It’s about thirty-six miles west of the office. Most of the ride is on I-90 so I’m on the road for only a half-hour. That’s longer than the short commute I have when I’m down in Centerville, but it gives me a chance to catch up on the news, sports and weather on the way. My favorite place to eat breakfast is only two blocks away, so, needless to say, I don’t use the kitchen very much in the morning.”

“Which place is that?”

“Barry’s!”

“You’re kidding, I love Barry’s. I go to the one on Marshall Street. I especially love their omelets.”

“Finally I meet a woman who understands what good food is all about. That’s fantastic.”

They had a good laugh and went on to talk about college, travel and a variety of other subjects. Around eleven they drained the last drop from a second bottle of wine. The crowd was beginning to thin out.

“I guess we’d better call it a night,” Wendy said.

Mark knew she was right, although he was enjoying himself so much that he could have stayed there all night talking with her. They ordered coffee and when Cindy delivered it she dropped off the check.

“It sure was a pleasure to serve you two tonight. I hope you’ll come back soon.”

“You can be sure we will, Cindy and we’ll ask for you,” he said as he handed her the signed bill with a generous tip included.

Twenty minutes later they were heading back to the office and to Wendy’s car. Mark pulled into the parking lot and stopped next to her car. He was starting to get out to open her door when she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek.

“Tonight was wonderful, Mark.”

“It was for me too, Wendy. Let’s do it again, soon.”

“I’d like that, Mark. Goodnight.”

Before he could respond, she was out the door and getting into her Toyota.
What a perfect night
, Mark thought to himself.
She
just
might
be
the
one
for
me
. He waved as she drove out of the parking lot. He pulled out behind her, heading in the same direction. After a few minutes he made a right hand turn onto the highway and was alone again with his thoughts.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Every day, at exactly two o’clock, John Ingram walked downstairs to pick up the mail from the box marked 2F. He eased the key out of the lock and closed the door.
Another pile of junk mail
, he thought to himself. On the back of the top envelope there was a box that said that he might be the winner of a new car. He could even choose from among six color options. On another line it said that he could choose between the car and a check for thirty-six thousand dollars. All this was in addition to a chance to win TEN MILLION DOLLARS.
Wow
! He thought to himself,
this is really my lucky day. I can finally move away from here.

Returning to his small, one-bedroom apartment, he tore up the unopened envelope, two appliance store ads and three circulars from neighborhood supermarkets, thereby, once again, giving up all hope of joining the “rich and famous” He tossed them all into the trash can. He emptied his trash only once a week, but at the rate the junk mail was coming in, he would need another trashcan just to keep up with it. Only one envelope was left, one with the return address of the Cleveland Heights Senior Center.
Finally, some real mail
, John thought. He got a small paring knife from the utensil drawer and sliced it open. Inside was a card with a blood donation appointment scheduled for the following Monday. John looked forward to donating blood. It gave him the chance to get away from the apartment for a few hours and socialize with the people at the center.

John Ingram was seventy-two; a retired autoworker. He lost his wife Mary to emphysema several years when she was sixty-eight. She smoked at least two packs a day during the forty-eight years they were married. As she lay dying, she made a last request for one more cigarette. All she said to John was, “What difference can it possibly make now?” It was hard for him to argue with her and he wished that he had argued more over the issue during the previous forty-eight years.

John never smoked a cigarette in his life, even during his years in the army. He did smoke marijuana in Korea, more to fit in than for any pleasure derived from it. He didn’t really like the feeling of listlessness that the weed gave him. Even so, he didn’t stop smoking it until his hitch was up and it was certain that he was going back home. John was aware that the brass knew about the widespread use of drugs in the military; apparently they didn’t care. He even suspected that the army was supplying the drugs for morale purposes, but he didn’t know that for sure. John saw a lot of hypocrisy during his time in the military. That was only one example. He chalked it up to the uniqueness of the Korean War. It was like no other war the US had ever fought. Besides, the times had changed. Marijuana acted as a morale booster in the midst of an unpopular war. He never told anyone about that part of his life, not even Mary.

John and Mary were childless. He was an only child and his parents were both deceased. Mary had a few distant relatives whom he heard from only at Christmas. The last time he had seen any of them was at Mary’s funeral, even though they lived within thirty miles of his home. For this reason alone the Cleveland Heights Senior Center was a real haven for him.

John showed up ten minutes early for his appointment. He had to take two buses to get there. He owned a car, but he didn’t like city traffic and he could never find a decent place to park. The trip took him about fifty minutes, all told. The Bloodmobile van was already sitting out front when he arrived. John started giving blood in the service. Over the years he probably donated at least ten gallons. He was told once that he had a rare blood type that was in short supply. That was all the incentive he needed to continue donating over the years. He was greeted by a volunteer. “It’s good to see you again, John. We have an opening at station ten.”

The donation process started with a check of his blood pressure, pulse, hemoglobin and temperature. John usually breezes through the first stage, but today was different. The technician looked up at him. “I’m afraid we can’t take your donation today, John. Your blood pressure is too low and your hemoglobin is way off. Have you changed your meds recently?”

“I switched to a generic medicine a week ago. Could that be the reason? My doctor said that it was exactly the same formula as the original, just a hell of a lot cheaper.”