Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) (30 page)

Brian Graylock was wearing an immaculate charcoal gray suit with thin pinstripes. His cufflinks were 24-carat gold, weighing an ounce each, and were in the shape of the letter “G.” His hair glistened and was brushed straight back as if he had just dived into a pool and come back to the surface.

When Graylock turned around, he was smiling. He was also looking at the wall above Curley rather than at Curley himself.

“Do you know what happened to us in the market today?” he asked, still smiling at a spot above Curley’s head. “Down. Six points. From thirty-four to twenty-eight, just like that.”

Graylock lowered his gaze to Curley’s face. He wasn’t smiling now. He was almost expressionless except for the muscles tensed in his neck and face.

“We are getting killed,” he said slowly through teeth that were clenched. “We are getting absolutely massacred.”

Curley felt a sharp pain in his gut. He imagined the gastric acid washing over his ulcer. He wished he had taken the time for a gulp of the Maalox that sat in his desk drawer. He inched across the office and stood before Graylock with the desk between them.

“Brian,” said Curley. “I don’t know what we can do to stop it. We’ve sent out four press releases already denying everything. If it were Sendaki making the allegations or that reporter or the woman, we could respond. But, what can you say about the Kurdish rebels? And, taking on the Times could be counterproductive.”

“You!” Graylock shouted it so sharply and suddenly that Curley stumbled backward in surprise. “You are
no
help! Absolutely
no
help!”

Graylock’s handsome visage was red with rage now. The muscles around the right side of his handsome face were twitching.

“Who is the reporter at the Times? Who is this Barry Templeton?” Graylock was firing the words at Curley in angry, jagged bursts. Curley felt like he was being physically assaulted by them.

“Enzo Lee is feeding him! Follow him! Eventually he’ll lead us to Lee! Do it! Now!”

As Curley walked backwards across the office toward the door, he resisted an urge to clasp his hands together and bow his way out.

Graylock turned back toward the windows and resumed his stare out toward the golden hills. Even alone in his office, he was outwardly composed but seething inside.

“Incompetents,” he thought to himself. “Goddamn, fucking incompetents. I’m surrounded by them. Why must I do everything myself?”

Ever since his security men had intercepted the telephone call from Brent Donsen, leading Graylock to confront Sendaki about the moot court case, he had been under incredible stress.

Graylock suddenly felt the craving. It was one he thought he had left behind him eight years earlier. But, it was back now, stronger than ever. He imagined a six inch line of pure cocaine in front of him, being sucked into his aquiline nose through a $100 bill.

He had tried earlier in the morning to get Ross Drexler, a senior vice president of Goldman Sachs, on the phone. That was three hours ago and Drexler still hadn’t returned his call. He knew that if he had made the call two days earlier, before the articles began, Drexler would have dropped everything to get back to him.

Everyone was abandoning him. He had come so far, too goddamn far to let this slip through his fingers. He was going to have to pull it off alone. He knew he could do it if it didn’t get any worse. First, he had to stop the articles at any cost. They were like a hemorrhage. If they stopped now, he could repair the damage. He would show them. He would do it himself like he had done everything else.

Graylock wondered if his old supplier was still in business. He had to be, unless he was dead or in jail. Graylock picked up one of the phones and dialed his number. Eight years and he still remembered it.

•   •   •

“ALL RIGHT, BOY,” said Barry Templeton. “What ya got for me today?”

“C’mon, Barry,” said Lee. “What is this? You think you can just order them up like a plate of eggs?”

Lee and Templeton sat at a small diner four blocks from the New York Times. Templeton was, in fact, working on a plate of scrambled eggs with cheddar cheese melted on top. Lee sipped his coffee and watched Templeton eat.

“Look, Enzo. I had to hype this story like crazy to get the play I got today. I got editors expecting another Watergate out of this. Don’t turn coy on me now.”

“Okay, Barry. Just remember how easy this is coming to you.”

“Well, unless I’ve lost my touch, you aren’t giving this one away completely gratis are you, Enzo? I don’t mean the money. I mean this is helping get your proverbial ass out of a sling, isn’t it?”

“Yup. A very tight and uncomfortable sling. I guess you’re right, Barry. Okay, we’ll call it even. So, you want to know what’s next?”

“Let’s hear it.”

Lee pulled some folded pages out of the inner pocket of his leather jacket. He laid them flat on the table between them.

“These are sworn affidavits from three AgriGenics employees. The only condition is that I promised them their identities absolutely would not be revealed without their permission. I need your agreement on that.”

“Jesus, Enzo. I can’t make that kind of promise,” said Tempeton. “I’m as ready to go to the slammer as the next guy. It’ll make my fucking reputation. But, I’m sure as hell not going to spend the rest of my life there if some judge goes nuts on me.”

“Sorry, Barry. That has to be the deal.”

“C’mon, Enzo. You can’t do this to me. Hey, let’s say sixty days. I’ll spend at least sixty days in the slammer.”

“Nope.”

“All right. Ninety. I’ll do ninety.”

“This isn’t negotiable, Barry.”

“All right you goddamn sonofabitch. I’ll do a fucking year. A fucking year out of my life. My kids will forget who I am. What more can you ask?”

“The ultimate sacrifice, Barry. No. I didn’t mean that. If it’s the gas chamber, or however they’re killing people in New York nowadays, you get off the hook. Seriously. If you get nailed for contempt, I’ll go back to these guys and do everything I can to get them to relent. I promise.”

“You’re a hard ass, Enzo. Okay. It goes against my better judgment. But, what the hell. So, what do these gems say?”

“In a nutshell, they say AgriGenics is doing large scale experimenting and cultivation of genetically engineered plants without getting the required approval of the federal government,” said Lee. “The worst thing is that they’re playing with some pretty nasty plant diseases. I’ve included a memo that makes clear how that violates the law.”

“What are they growing?”

“Rice is the one that we’re sure about.”

“Where?”

“Arizona.”

“No one grows rice in Arizona,” said Templeton.

“Barry, I saw it myself. Acres and acres of paddies. They’re pumping groundwater to do it. I know it sounds nuts. I can tell you how to get to it if you want to send someone out there. It’s in the middle of nowhere.”

“God. Okay. We go with it,” said Templeton. “You realize your buddies at AgriGenics are going to be a bit perturbed about this. I hope you can get them before they get you.”

“I’m trying. Believe me. Oh, Barry. One more thing. I’ve got to start sharing this stuff with a reporter back in San Francisco. I owe her.”

“Well, ordinarily I’d break your arm first,” said Templeton. “But, in this case I’ll share the glory for a little protection. If any of this blows up in my face, I’ll want the company.”

•   •   •

LORELEI HUNT WAS tall and thin, her cheeks and eyes sunken from too much cocaine and booze, and too little sleep. She was 23 but looked fifteen years older. Her hair was straight and thick and she wore it Cleopatra style. She wore lavender hot pants designed to be skintight. On Lorelei, they were almost baggy. Her bottom ribs protruded where her pink tank top ended. She had silver high heels.

The john with the black curly hair, well-trimmed mustache and slight British accent had asked for her on McArthur Blvd. He said a friend recommended her. They negotiated a price quickly and she hopped into his green Audi.

They had been driving for fifteen minutes. When Lorelei realized they were leaving Oakland for Berkeley, she got a little upset. She didn’t want to spend the whole night driving around with this guy.

“Listen, baby. I know a place right around here. Real quiet.”

“No,” the john shook his head. “I have somewhere special I want to go. I have something special for you, too.” He held his thumb and finger to his nostrils and sniffed loudly.

Lorelei relaxed. If the guy had some blow, that was another matter. She didn’t mind a detour if there was a snort or two at the end of it.

They had turned up into the hills now. They drove through some residential areas and then were into a stretch where the street lights ended. They were probably up in Tilden Park somewhere.

“What?”

“I was saying my friend told me you have a remarkable gift for memory,” said the john.

Lorelei was puzzled. When had she ever discussed her memory with a customer? Maybe a guy had been impressed that she had remembered him or that she recalled what really got him off.

“Yeah,” she said. “I have a pretty good memory.”

“Do you remember everything you see? Can you recall things long after you have seen them?”

“Oh that,” said Lorelei. “Who is your friend, baby? He’s right. I have what they call a photographic memory. Just something I was born with.”

The john nodded and said nothing. He continued driving along a road that twisted its way through hills. After a few more minutes, he downshifted the Audi and then abruptly turned into a small parking lot. In the darkness, Lorelei had barely been able to see the entrance to the lot.

They parked with the nose of the car pointed into a stand of trees. He turned off the headlights and the ignition.

“Get out,” said the john. His voice had a rougher edge to it. A lot of her customers liked to take control. She didn’t mind that so long as they didn’t hurt her or make her do something too disgusting without paying her for it. She hoped the guy just wanted to do it in the woods.

She was grabbed as soon as she got out of the car. Somebody big and strong came out of nowhere and grabbed her arms from behind. She looked over her right shoulder and saw him. It was the burly man with long blond hair that she had seen a couple of weeks earlier, the one that the dike detective had been asking her about. The sight of him terrified Lorelei. She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach. She breathed harder, trying to get more oxygen.

“Please. Please. Please don’t hurt me.” She said it in a whisper. “Please. Please.”

The blond man said nothing. He shoved her to the hood of the Audi and pushed her down on it face first. He used his body to hold her pinned, bent over, on the hood. He released her left arm and used both hands to hold her right arm against the hood, palm up. The hood of the car was hot. Lorelei struggled but it was no use.

When she felt the first prick of the needle, Lorelei flinched. Then, she felt the drug coming into her vein, spreading quickly through her body. She relaxed completely as she felt the familiar tingle and had the sense that the heroin was washing through her. She closed her eyes and let it take control, falling into the high.

She was vaguely aware of sliding off the hood of the car and onto the ground. She paid no attention at all to the Audi driving away. She was deep into a dream. It was a dream of home, of being a child again. She felt a happiness that was extraordinarily pure and sublime. The early-morning jogger who found her would remember her expression for a long time. He would tell his wife and friends how Lorelei Hunt wore a look of utter contentment.

Chapter 37

GEORGE WASHINGTON FISH had been washing test tubes in a basement at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology when Brian Graylock discovered him. At least that was Fish’s day job. During the nights, Fish had been running his own unauthorized experiments in the same genetics laboratory where he worked during the day.

There was a time when the MIT genetics lab would have been honored to have Fish use its DNA synthesizers, sequencers and electron microscopes. That was before Fish was professionally exiled for falsifying research results to obtain federal grant money.

Fortunately, Graylock had recognized Fish’s brilliance and overlooked his previous lapse in judgment. He had put Fish to work fashioning the most challenging of AgriGenics’ creations. Although his training was in virology, not botany or agriculture, Fish had been put in charge of AgriGenics’ Plant Disease Program. It was a dream job for Fish, devising the most effective and elegant way to totally wipe out a plant species. In some cases, Fish had been able to modify plant diseases already on hand at the company. More often, he was left to his own devices.

Fish also had been placed in charge of AgriGenics’ Animal Disease Program, which included human diseases, too. His most difficult task had been to develop a human disease that had the following characteristics:

(1) It had to kill quickly. (2) It had to make death appear natural and/or be nearly impossible to detect. (3) It had to be rendered harmless soon after reaching the intended victim.

Fish had employed his full knowledge of viruses and genetics to design the disease. What he had devised was viral DNA carried in the cell of a bacterium normally present in the human body.

It was an organism that thrived with proper nourishment in a carbon dioxide environment but survived for only a few minutes when exposed to the oxygen in the air. Once it infected the body through inhalation or other means, it reproduced like crazy. The bacterium Fish had used to carry the DNA normally resided in neurological tissue. Once it entered the body, it made a beeline for the spinal cord and the brain.

The viral DNA produced huge quantities of a protein that blocked the production of a particular enzyme essential in preventing clots from forming in the bloodstream. The result was massive clotting within eight to twelve hours. In monkeys, the cause of death had usually been brain stroke.