Ogrodnik Interior 2.0c (24 page)

Elliot returned to the present and moved behind the desk to look over Jennifer’s shoulder at the screen.

“Okay, we’ll start here in August.” Jennifer scrolled down the time sheet summary; each line represented a single day and contained the date, the number of hours and a field with one or more three-digit codes. There was also a comment field that was sparsely populated.

“What do those codes mean?”

“Each code represents a defined work function. Sarah’s job, as head of records administration, would mean that she would be doing most of her work using ‘600’ coding. ‘600’ code functions are tasks like validating record completeness, cross-referencing related test plans or organizing test plan reports.“

Jennifer continued scrolling down. “I don’t see anything unusual in August,” she said as she loaded the September summary.

“Again, nothing unusual here,” she said scrolling down and then paused at an entry near the end of September.

“This is odd. She starts doing some 300 tasks near the end of the month.”

“What are 300 tasks?”

“300 tasks are data entry tasks. It’s a code we don’t use anymore because what little data entry that we do is done by the researcher during or immediately after the testing.”

“Did she supply any comments for the work?”

“There’s none in this month. Let’s take a look at October.”

Elliot felt a crush of remorse pass through him when he noticed that the next summary was populated up until October 22
^nd
, the day before his wife died.

“There are still lots of 300 codes here. Let’s see what this one says,” said Jennifer talking to herself as she expanded a comments field. Elliot leaned in close to read the text.

Completed scanning PFS batch #1 docs.

“What are PFS docs?”

Jennifer blanked for a second as she fought to bring back an ancient memory.

“Post-Fire-Survivor documents. I didn’t realize she ever worked on those. That’s the name we gave the unprocessed documents that survived the fire.”

“I thought you said everything was lost in the fire.”

“Not quite. All the paper records were burned as well as all the electronic archives. Back at the time of the fire, our process was somewhat different than it is now. All the test results and write-ups were done on paper, and we had staff whose job was to enter that data into the system in the data entry area of the computer room. We used students to do the data entry, and sometimes our backlog of un-entered test results would spike. In busy times, like the beginning of semesters, we might have a few months of backlog. We kept the backlog in cardboard boxes in the storage area in the basement.”

Elliot pointed at the storage area on the floor plan. “The room that was not targeted by the arsonists,” he said as a question.

“Correct. The fire did not spread into that room, but the water damage was extensive. We decided after the fire to let the unprocessed boxes of test results dry out, and we’d assess their condition later. Although I always kept the evaluation and processing of these documents on our to-do list, it was always a low priority and, as time marched on, their relevance diminished. In fact, last year we needed more space in storage, so I ordered them destroyed.”

“It looks like Sarah started processing them. Does that mean that the documents she scanned would be electronically preserved?”

“It certainly sounds like it. The scanning process is used for archival only. The documents are not in our testing applications but kept in mass storage so we can eliminate the paper copy.”

“I think you can anticipate my next question.”

“Great minds think alike. If she put those in mass storage, I should be able to pull them up,” she said already pounding the keys to open a new window.

Elliot kept quiet as he watched Jennifer navigate through a series of file and folder screens.

“I’m going to search for all scanned documents in September and October that were submitted by Sarah.”

Elliot was spellbound by a small, rotating wheel that appeared in the middle of the screen to indicate the search was processing.

“Here we are,” Jennifer said when the file entries filled the screen with a summary at the top stating that two hundred and thirty-eight documents had been found.

“The answer lies somewhere within these documents,” Elliot muttered.

“Jen, do you mind if I go through these documents?”

“What are you thinking?”

“I’m not sure, but if Sarah saw something in these documents, then maybe I can see it too.”

“I’ve got a staff meeting in the MacAvoy Building, but you can stay here and use my account. I’ll lock the door, so nobody walks in on you.”

“Thanks, Jen. Remember, don’t tell anyone what we’re doing. The people behind this will not hesitate to kill.”

Elliot heard the key rattle in the lock. “It’s me,” Jennifer said entering the room quickly.

“Have you found anything?”

“I think I’ve got something here. Take a look at these, and tell me what you think.”

He reached over to a stack of printouts he had on the desk beside him.

“On a hunch, I looked for documents that were processed by your graduate student Carrie Leblanc. There are nine. The one that has me intrigued is this one,” said Elliot as he picked up a set of printouts and handed them to Jennifer.

“This is a failed-test follow-up request,” she said as she scanned the contents of the documents that the researchers created each time a test was failed.

“What can you tell me about it?”

Jennifer took a few moments to scan the document. “It says that during the course of testing, some mice were failing the maze test.”

“What is the maze test?”

“Maze tests are used to test learning ability and memory in the mice. In this case, a multiple T-maze was used. The mice are put at one end of a complex maze, and food is placed at the other end. We record how long it takes the mouse to find the food. Normally, a mouse will take longer to find the food the first time and progressively shorter on subsequent tries until the mouse learns and remembers the optimal route. By graphing the results over time, we can generate a learning curve for mice.

“After a set number of successful navigations, the maze would be reset, and the process starts again. Navigating the maze tests a mouse’s spatial learning abilities, and navigating correctly afterwards tests its memory. Capiche?”

“Capiche.”

“This report is saying that some of the mice in this colony would find the food in the expected amount of time the first time but were unable to navigate more efficiently in subsequent efforts as if they were navigating for the first time every time. In effect, these mice couldn’t remember how to navigate the maze even though they just did it.”

“Okay. I understand that. Whom does this report go to?”

“Our process is that the report is written and submitted to the product compliance group. The compliance group will process the report by entering it into the test plan as a failed test, which makes it official. The research director for that given product is also alerted verbally, or through an email, to give him or her a heads-up that a failed test has been detected and submitted.”

“Is it possible for the director to bury a test result? How do you ensure that the director does not circumvent the test process?“

“Not possible. The director doesn’t have access to the reporting process. The results for every test identified in the treatment test plan are audited by an independent auditing firm for accuracy and completeness. If any test results do not have adequate results attached to them, they are identified, and tests are re-run if necessary. The process is imposed by the governing body of whatever country the testing is occurring. In this case, it’s Health Canada. All AROs use this process.”

“We’re missing something. I thought that the Waller Building was torched to destroy evidence of this failed test, but that doesn’t make sense. You’re telling me that all tests have to be successfully tested, and the process cannot be fudged. If that is the case, then burning the Waller Building wouldn’t accomplish anything because the absence of successful test results will trigger a re-testing for these tests. What else does the report tell us?“

“I can’t answer that without some deeper analysis, Elliot. Why don’t you leave it with me?”

“Will you do that? I don’t think I can overestimate the importance for you to keep this to yourself.”

“I’ll do it this afternoon and text you when I’ve completed the analysis.“

“Thanks, Jen. Here, use this number,” he said as he showed Jennifer the number displayed on his burner phone.

Elliot knew that Rivka was mad at him. She should be. He had unilaterally made a decision to abandon the case. There was no discussion, no reasoning or dialogue to persuade her to do the same. From Rivka’s point of view, she no doubt saw a quitter who would let the killers of his own father escape rather than risk personal injury. The thought of his own weakness sickened him. He’d make this right, but first, he needed to talk to her. To tell her he’d been wrong and that the chase was back in play. Since she wasn’t answering her phone, a visit to her house was in order.

Elliot arrived from the back to find her car was
parked on the street and the garage door open.
That’s odd,
he thought. Peering into the windows in the back revealed nothing, so he cautiously stole around the side of the house into the open garage. The door from the garage into the house was ajar; he pushed it open and entered. A sense of foreboding took hold of him, so he
palmed his gun and advanced. The house was silent, and he debated if he should call out, not wanting to tip an intruder off. At the front entrance area, he found Rivka’s jacket on the chair and purse on the table.

The time for caution had passed. “Rivka!” he called out.

“Rivka, it’s Elliot. Where are you?”

The house replied in silence.

He made his way through the house checking for signs that would indicate where she might be. The bedrooms were undisturbed as were the main living areas. It was when he peeked into the sunroom that his worries were substantiated. On the floor beside the couch was Rivka’s Smith & Wesson, lying on the floor like a dead fish.

Elliot’s heart was pounding. He searched the house for any other indicators and, finding none, went to the exterior to look for points of ingress. The back patio door could have easily been jury rigged. The latch was old and worn, and with little effort, Elliot could open it from the outside. As he made his way around the back, he
stopped at Rivka’s bedroom window and saw footmarks in the garden soil beneath. They were enormous; he estimated size 15 or more, and the shoe imprint was deeply pressed into the soil. The man who made these was large and heavy. His worst fear was founded; Ogrodnik had been here, and he’d taken Rivka. Elliot silently chastised himself for not acting sooner. He pulled out his phone and made his way to the car.

“Hello,” answered a rough voice on the other end.

“Rayce, Elliot here. We need to accelerate the plan for Eastern. Ogrodnik has taken my partner. I’ll be at your place in another hour.”

There was no confirmation, just the sound of Rayce closing the connection.

Ogrodnik pulled out his cell and dialed a number from memory.

“Bonjour,
Etienne
Lemaitre
,
s’il vous plait.”

Ogrodnik sat down as he waited.

“Lemaitre. C’est Ogrodnik,” said the big man as he listened to the response.

“Yes, a fine idea. Your English is better than my French.”

“I need to move my schedule ahead. Do you have a ship suitable for me tomorrow?”

“4:00 a.m. is perfect. Same numbers we discussed last week?”

Ogrodnik fidgeted with his pen while he listened to Lemaitre ramble.

“Lemaitre! I care not how expensive your wife’s tastes are.”

“Enough. I’ll pay, but a word of warning. It had better be everything as advertised or you will be getting a visitor.”

“Yes, I’ll be there at 3:00.”

Ogrodnik hung up and dialed another number.

“Souris?”

“It’s Ogrodnik. I have a business proposition.”

“There’s a chalet in St Adele that I need you to break into.”

“No, nothing like that. I don’t want you to steal anything; I want you to leave something behind.”

“Yes, that’s correct. It’s a small box.”

“Yes, it is unusual.”

“I’m willing to pay five thousand.”

“I thought that might persuade you.”

“I don’t have much time, so listen closely.”

“As you see, we are completely isolated. I’m going to pull the tape off your mouth. If you scream, I’ll put it back on and keep it on. Ms. Goldstein, there is nobody within a kilometer of us, and unfortunately for you, there is no one looking for you.”

Ogrodnik carefully peeled the tape from Rivka’s mouth with a sensitivity that opposed his ultimate intent. Rivka squirmed to relieve the pressure on her hands still bound behind her back.

“You bastard.”

“Please, please. Belay the hostilities. I’ve offered you an olive branch of sorts. I want to get to know the real Rivka Goldstein.”

“In your dreams. Let me go.”

“No, no. There will be no letting go today. Your fate is already sealed, my dear. I thought that before you meet your demise, we could spend some quality time together. I hadn’t planned on seizing you so soon, but your perseverance in finding me has forced me to accelerate my plans. After seeing you in the Hochelaga courtyard yesterday, I couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t return with support. I’ll stop your investigation now and take the chance that you haven’t told anyone about me and Hochelaga. The situation dictates that I hold you for another day until the rest of my plan unfolds. In the interim, we will get to know each other.”