Camino Winds (Camino Island #2)(67)
“Maybe. We need some help, and of course you have been paid in full.”
“Indeed we have.”
“One rather significant condition. You do not ‘infiltrate’ or organize any other scheme to collect information without first notifying me. This is not negotiable.”
Lindsey looked at Elaine, then looked at Bruce. “We don’t usually make this concession because it can handcuff us later. You see, Bruce, we don’t always know exactly where the truth might take us. We have to be flexible and we often are forced to adapt on the fly.”
“You also get people hurt. Brittany being one. Three years ago you came within minutes of getting Mercer hurt, or worse. You make me this promise or I’m leaving. Again.”
Elaine said, “Okay, okay. You have our word.”
Everyone took a deep breath, then Bruce plowed on. “We have met the informant, and the informant has confirmed everything we suspected about Nelson, about Grattin, and about its use of Flaxacill, or E3. Nelson’s math was close—about two hundred million a year for the past twenty years. They desperately want to stop the publication of Pulse, and they murdered Nelson. And Brittany Bolton.”
Lindsey nodded along as if this was what she expected. “Okay, tell us the story.”
12.
When he finished, Elaine said, “You insist on referring to the informant as ‘the informant.’ Meaning that you don’t want to reveal his or her gender. But if he was a man, you’d have no problem referring to him simply as he. Therefore, the informant is obviously a woman.” She smiled at Lindsey who smiled back. Aren’t we smart.
Noelle was thinking the same.
Bruce said, “Okay, it’s a woman, and she’s Ken Reed’s former executive assistant who’s now his third wife. She knows a lot. But because she’s married to the guy, she is not willing to blow the whistle. She is also scared. You cannot reveal her identity until I say so.”
Noelle said, “She thinks there’s an urgency here. The company could simply stop using the drug and no one would ever know the difference.”
“You didn’t hire us to bust the company. You hired us to find Nelson’s killer, right?” Lindsey asked.
“Right.”
Elaine said, “The question is: Does one lead to the other? We can’t answer that, but we do have a very rough plan, one we put together before the, uh, termination.”
Bruce asked, “You wanna share it with us?”
“It involves going to the FBI,” Lindsey said.
Elaine said, “We have contacts in high places within the Bureau, and if we can convince them of an epic Medicare fraud, we think they’ll take it and run, especially with a factual background as unique as this.”
“They’ll love it,” Lindsey said. “I need to make three phone calls.”
Elaine glanced at her watch and said, “I’m starving. Have you had lunch?”
“No. Good idea,” Bruce replied.
Lindsey was on her feet, waving them away. “Go eat. Bring me a sandwich. I’ll make the calls.”
13.
On Lindsey’s recommendation, they spent the night at the Willard Hotel on Pennsylvania. The following morning was a perfect spring day, a Friday, and they had been gone for an entire week that they had not planned on spending away from home. They walked five blocks to the main entrance of the Hoover Building and met Elaine and Lindsey. Just inside the door, they were scanned, photographed, ID’d, and told to pose in front of a tiny camera to record their facial features. Once cleared, they were met by two serious young women who escorted them to a conference room on the third floor.
“And who are we meeting with?” Lindsey asked one of the ladies.
“Mr. Dellinger.” She closed the door as she left.
Bruce and Noelle had no idea who Dellinger was, but Lindsey and Elaine certainly did. Lindsey said, “Impressive, the Deputy Director.”
Within minutes, Dellinger swept in with a SWAT team of five assistants, all in matching black suits, black shoes, white shirts, and a variety of bland ties. Rapid introductions were made and all names forgotten in a blur. Dellinger swept his arm at the table and everyone had a seat. A secretary served coffee as Elaine and Dellinger talked about old friends at the Bureau back in the day. As soon as the secretary left and the door was closed, he looked directly at Bruce and said, “First of all, Mr. Cable, thank you for coming forward. I’m sorry about your friend, Nelson Kerr.” It was a pleasant thing to hear, even if it was completely devoid of any warmth or emotion.
Dellinger looked to his right and nodded at Mr. Parkhill, who lifted some paperwork and plunged right in. “I’d also like to say thanks. This appears to be an historic Medicare fraud, and we would not have known about it but for you.”
Bruce nodded, already tired of their gratitude.
Parkhill continued: “We burned some oil last night and verified a lot of the story that’s on the table. Our plans are to begin immediately, at the lowest levels. We’ll pick off a few orderlies and nurses at various facilities and collect samples. We’ll do this without setting off any alarms in Houston. We’ll track down the drug and figure out its distribution channels. Flaxacill has never been approved, so its use in such a widespread scam will probably lead to thousands of violations. That alone could sink the company. At some point, we’ll raid the offices, haul away the bad guys, and seize their records.”