The Cyclops Conspiracy (15 page)

“What ended the friendship?” Waterhouse snapped.

“We just never stayed in touch.”

“So why is he apologizing?”

“It’s complicated.”

“And why did you go to work at the Colonial for a second time?”

“I told you! I was offered the job.” Jason whipped his head around, looking directly into the skinny man’s eyes.

Waterhouse nodded, apparently satisfied with Jason’s indignation. “I have more documents like that one. There, in his files. I need a pharmacist to interpret them, tell me what they mean.”

“What’s going on at the Colonial?”

“That, Jason,” Waterhouse said heavily, “is the Final Jeopardy question.”

Waterhouse removed the crumpled pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket a second time. He lipped one out and snapped open the lighter. He took a long drag, exhaling smoke through his nostrils. “I’m going to trust you, Jason Rodgers. Not because your past is on the up-and-up, but because it seems Thomas did. I don’t have the answers to your questions. But they’re the same questions I’ve asked myself for weeks. Meet me tonight at six thirty, and we’ll try to figure it all out. Come alone, and tell no one about this meeting. And I mean no one, especially the people at the Colonial. Thomas had a reason to think something was amiss. That’s good enough for me.” Waterhouse twisted his upper body toward Jason. “If you fuck with me, I’ll make you sorry we ever met.”

Jason studied the rustling leaves of the birch tree above them. “I want to bring someone with me tonight.”

“Who?”

“My brother, Peter.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust him more than I trust myself. I’m a little too close to the situation. I need someone who’s objective.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“He comes, or I don’t.”

* * *

The man codenamed Boreas sat behind the wheel of the car, watching as the tall, thin man with the ponytail walked to his Blazer.
Fucking amateurs
, he thought. Their attempts to conceal their conversation were painfully inadequate. They had been engaged in an animated discussion. About what, he had no clue. He picked up his secure cell phone and dialed. “The pharmacist just met with someone.” Boreas listened for a moment, then spoke again. “About six feet, skinny…long gray ponytail. We’re getting photos now.”

His partner, Jack McCall, another codename, snapped several shots of the man through his digital camera from the passenger side. He connected the camera to a small laptop sitting between them.

Boreas listened. “Okay, we’ll stay with the pharmacist. McCall is uploading the images to you now.”

“We’ll identify him and gather whatever information we can,” the voice on the other end replied, “and pass it on to Cooper.”

Boreas disconnected, and the two men waited to see what Jason Rodgers would do next.

“You didn’t call me back!”

Jason spun to see Jasmine Kader, a few feet away, smiling at him. A large shopping bag dangled from her left hand. How long had she been there? Had she seen him with Waterhouse?

Jason had been window-shopping along the open-air market, pondering the conversation he’d had minutes ago. Waterhouse had not been gone more than fifteen minutes. “I was busy.”

“Well, it appears you’re no longer busy. You’re wandering around City Center shopping. Your workload must have lightened.”

“Don’t you have patients you should be seeing?” he asked.

“The office is closed for lunch until one thirty. Why don’t we grab a bite to eat, since we’re both here? The Southern Belle is right around the corner.”

Jason glanced at his watch again, hoping it would give a reason for him to decline.

Kader read his thoughts. “You’re the vice-president now. You mean to tell me you can’t take a few minutes to have lunch?”

Jason hesitated. The come-hither smile was hard to ignore.

“I won’t bite,” she said. “At least, not on the first date.”

Unlike last night at the gala, her clothing today was clinical and professional: white lab jacket, pink silk blouse, and black knee-length skirt. Yet sensuality still managed to ooze from the woman. Jason had never been uncomfortable around women. In fact, in his college days, he’d considered himself something of a ladies’ man, witty and smooth. But for some reason, he was nervous and self-conscious around Jasmine Kader.

“Sure,” he said, unable to come up with a good excuse to refuse. “Lunch would be fine. Just keep your teeth to yourself.”

* * *

Crowded with city bureaucrats, bank tellers, mothers and their adult daughters, and solitary businessmen with loosened ties, the Southern Belle was a favorite lunchtime spot. Jason and Jasmine were seated at a window table overlooking the fountains by a green-aproned, matronly waitress.

Jason returned to the table after stepping outside to call his brother. Peter told him he’d meet him tonight for their rendezvous with the private investigator.

“If I didn’t know any better, Jasmine,” he said upon returning, “I would say you had this little meeting planned. How did you just happen to come equipped with wine and a corkscrew?”

Jasmine smiled and said, “Guilty as charged. Do you want to handcuff me now or later?”

“Were you following me?”

“I just seized an opportunity, that’s all. By the way, who was that man you were talking to?”

“An old friend of mine. Why do you want to know?”

“No reason. So, did you have a good time last night?”

“Yes,” Jason lied, taking a long pull on the pink liquid. The public confrontation with Lily, Jasmine’s overt attempt to fondle him, and
the final coup de grace by Sheila to Jason’s groin made the night quite memorable for all the wrong reasons. He wondered who regretted going more, him or Christine. “You mentioned last night you wanted to talk about some programs for our pharmacy and your clinic.”

“I did say that. But that’s not the only reason I wanted to meet with you.” Jasmine flipped her long black hair over a shoulder. “I want something from you. No, I need something from you. And—Jason—I’m a woman who gets what she wants.”

Christine’s words flashed through his mind.
That woman wants something from you!
“And what is it that?”

His hand rested on the table. She placed hers over his, but exerted no pressure. The touch and her gaze were electric, stimulating nerve endings that ran deep inside him. The exquisite, tan skin on her hand was a perfect contrast to the pink silk of her sleeve. Jason avoided her eyes as if to ward off her spell. He wanted to slide his hand away, but it felt welded to the table.

Jason registered a strange fact. For a woman who flaunted her skin and body, Jasmine always wore long sleeves. At Pettigrew’s house after the funeral, last night at the party, and today, despite temperatures close to eighty degrees, her arms were covered.

“What do you think I want?” she asked, playing with him.

“Dr. Kader—”

“Call me, Jasmine, please.”

“Dr. Kader, I don’t think I’m the type of man you’re looking for.”

“You have no idea what kind of man interests me.”

“True. And you have no idea what kind of man I am.”

“That’s why I want to get to know you.”

“I don’t have time for a relationship. Lily plans on keeping me very busy.” He managed to drag his hand out from under hers.

“There’s always time for fun. Work hard, play even harder, I say.”

He’d downed two glasses of wine. “Do you always mix business with pleasure?”

“If you’re successful, they’re one and the same.” Jasmine glanced at her silverware. She picked up her fork and inspected it. “This is filthy. Look! This knife is as well. Jason, would you be a dear and go ask for some new ones at the waiters’ station?”

* * *

Kader watched Jason walk to the small cubby used by the wait staff as she slipped her hand into her sleeve.

This man was not like her usual targets, who became weak-kneed at the sight of her body. Usually, the alcohol, perfume, and promise of sweaty bodies pressed together was enough to have them hollering for the check. Kader enjoyed the hunt, the banter and the coy double entrendres. Normally, she would pursue her prey more patiently, more subtly. Two factors did not allow that tact. Jason Rodgers was resisting her, and time was limited. His temptation was strong, but so were his defenses. The woman, Pettigrew’s daughter, was in play. She thought getting him alone, away from her, would make him pliable; most men were. But Christine had some sort of hold over him, even when she was not around. Drastic measures were warranted.

Kader slipped her hand into the sleeve of her blouse and removed a small vial. She unscrewed it and poured its contents into Jason’s glass, keeping an eye on Jason. The clear fluid trickled into the empty wine glass, settling on the bottom. She filled both glasses again. With a long, slender index finger, she swirled. In seconds, the thicker liquid mixed with the wine. He returned to the table as she moved her hands back to her lap.

“I took the liberty of pouring you another glass,” she said.

“Thank you. This’ll be my last. I do have return to work.”

Don’t worry. It will definitely be your last
, she thought
.
She lifted her untainted wine in the air. They clinked and drank.

“Do you always drink with such gusto?” she asked.

“As a matter of fact, I don’t. Must be the company,” he said.

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or not.”

“Neither do I.”

“Do you always play this hard to get?”

Jason emptied his third glass of wine. The final drops were bitter tasting. He studied the bottom of the glass as if he had been bitten. “If I’d played harder to get, my life would be a lot simpler. I told you, I’m not interested in a relationship.”

“Who says I want a relationship?”

“What do you want?”

Kader raised an eyebrow and quirked a corner of her mouth. “You know,” she said. “That, and information,” she said.

Jason cleared his throat. “What kind of information?”

“Business information.”

“About the Colonial?”

She nodded and caressed his forearm.

Christine was right
, Jason thought. “Subtlety isn’t one of your strengths, is it? Why not just ask me?”

“This is much more fun. You’re a very attractive man. Life is too short to be a shrinking violet. Most people miss out because they are afraid to go after what they want.” She touched his arm again. The effects were felt much lower.

“You’re not making me feel all warm and fuzzy. I don’t intend to be just another notch on your stethoscope.” A flushing sensation came over him.
Too much wine, too fast
, he thought.

“I don’t give up easily, Jason. I intend to pursue you.” She paused for effect, the consummate actress, and then she whispered the next word. Jason leaned in to hear it. “Vigorously.”

The waitress arrived, and Kader straightened her blouse. “Lily has asked me to invest in her pharmacy venture. I want to know if it’s a sound investment.”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Lily and I are friends. She’s very persuasive, but she isn’t objective. I need someone who will be honest with me.”

“I work for Lily now. How do you know I can be objective?” He pushed the empty glass to the center of the table.

She saw this and emptied the remaining liquid into it. “You haven’t been with Lily long enough to be corrupted by her passion.”

“Corrupted? That’s a strange word.”

“I meant it in a good way. She has a way of making you see only her way. Like drinking the Kool-Aid.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Do you think the Colonial concept will succeed? Does Lily’s plan make sense?”

“If we make wise investments, yes, it will. Lily’s a go-getter and can make it work. But there’ll be a few bumps on the way—she likes to throw her money around. Or, should I say, Steven Cooper’s money.”

“Last night you disagreed with her strategy.”

“Just with her east end idea.”

“But you changed her mind?”

“It seems so.”

Kader tossed back her head, arching her spine, stretching the silk of her blouse against perfect, round breasts. She dawdled there for an agonizingly long moment. “If you were me, would you give a large sum of money to Lily?”

“I’m not in the habit of telling other people what to do with their money, Dr. Kader—Jasmine.”

“Fair enough. But I dare say you wouldn’t have taken this job if you thought it would fail.”

“I wouldn’t say that. If it doesn’t work out, I can always find work. It’s a no-lose situation for me.” The words were coming slower, hesitantly, not quite slurred, but close. His tongue felt like it had doubled in size.

“I understand you worked at the Colonial quite a few years ago.”

Jason squinted at the question. “That’s right. I was an extern there. Then I worked as a staff pharmacist.”

“So you were familiar with Pettigrew, the former owner?”

“He was my mentor.”

“His death must have been a shock.”

“It was.”

“I’ve heard rumors that he was into some strange stuff.”

“Like what?”

“That he was a member of some secret organization. And that he was slightly touched or into drugs. And, of course, that he was a drinker.”

He began shaking his head before the sentence was complete, the temperature under his collar growing. “That’s totally wrong. Thomas had his peculiarities, but he was one of the most grounded men I knew.”

“So what was he into? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Even rumors have some basis in truth.”

“I can tell you that he wasn’t part of some secret club. And I don’t believe he was into drugs or alcohol.”

“Then how did he manage to wrap his car around a tree?”

“Why are you so interested?” His voice had a clumsy edge to it now.

She waved it away. “His death was so sudden and so tragic. People speculate, fill in the gaps. I’d just like to know what to believe.”

“Thomas’s death was a…shock and…very…tragic. And I don’t know what to believe about his accident. It was…incon—sistent with the person I knew.”