While Justice Sleeps(100)
“Everything okay, Ms. Keene?”
“Yes, sir,” Avery replied. “I wanted to see if you’d found out anything more about Dr. Papaleo.”
In his office, Agent Lee’s brow furrowed. “I sent a couple of agents to do a wellness check, but no response. She hasn’t been in touch with her coworkers, and there are plane tickets in their names for a trip to Mexico. Passengers recall a couple boarding the plane, but no one can recall what they looked like. Their passports scanned, but surveillance at Dulles and in Puerto Vallarta have no images of either person that matches facial rec.”
“How is that possible?”
“It’s pretty sophisticated. A lot of trouble to go through for a midlevel bureaucrat.” Agent Lee waited a beat, wanting to be sure he was understood. “But if she had some knowledge from Homeland Security that would make her a target for foul play, now’s the time to tell me, Avery. I can help.”
“If there’s something to tell, Agent Lee, I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”
FORTY-ONE
Sunday, June 25
Avery drummed her fingers on the conference table that had become her new office.
“I have to call the hospital,” she announced, getting to her feet. “Agent Leighton, I’d like to use the office down the hall.”
At the woman’s assent, Avery strode down the hall to the office she’d used as a decoy before. This time, she settled behind the desk and booted up the computer. She used the office phone to dial Dr. Toca. “Doctor, it’s Avery Keene.”
“Yes, Ms. Keene.” The chill carried clearly across the phone. “How can I help you?”
“I wanted an update on Justice Wynn’s condition. And you should have received the toxicology report by now.”
“His condition is unchanged.”
“And the toxicology report?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss that.”
“Is there a problem, Dr. Toca?”
“Mr. Mumford has advised that we limit contact with you until this situation has sorted itself out,” he admitted.
“This situation is irrelevant until a court rules that I am no longer his guardian. If Mr. Mumford would like to discuss that with me, he is free to call.”
“I will let him know. Is that all?”
“No, sir. I want an answer. Did the hospital determine the drug combination he ingested?”
Dr. Toca did not respond, and Avery demanded, “I am Supreme Court Justice Wynn’s legal guardian—you and the hospital will be breaking the law by failing to disclose his test results to me immediately. I can also come and request the information in person, Doctor. I’m sure Mr. Mumford would love to host the media circus following me into the hospital.”
With a sigh that sounded like relief, he said, “The labs confirmed what I theorized to you when we last spoke. The compound they found in his blood is not registered by any pharmaceutical company licensed to distribute in the United States. As best we can determine, the drug induces a coma that mimics the effects of an aneurysm, but the body’s organs are unharmed. None of our toxicologists have seen anything like it.”
“So you don’t know if the coma is reversible?”
“No. We know nothing about the drug.”
Avery thought of her upcoming meeting with Ani. He would know. It was even more crucial now to figure out the location of their meeting. “Dr. Toca, I need you to call FBI Special Agent Robert Lee. Tell him what you’ve told me. Do it now.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please. Call him and tell him that you’ve spoken to me. He’ll know what to do.” Hanging up, she went to the ariesworld.com site and logged in as NancyDrew. Two messages sat in the otherwise empty in-box.
Be careful, Nancy. The natives are getting desperate and you’re their last barrier. Protect yourself. Here’s the nuclear warhead. It’s up to you to fire first. Duck and Cover! I’ll check on your progress.
The second message had several attachments. She clicked on the one titled “Memo” and hit print, then began to read. The memo had been authored by Betty Papaleo, her missing contact. According to her analysis of several reports, the scientist turned budget guru had discovered a connection between the grants from her shop and research happening halfway around the world. In a code that Avery was learning to break, Dr. Papaleo wrote of CRGs that paid for exactly what Ling had surmised—targeting “lineage” for “dissemination of customized genetic information.”
She shifted from the memo to the pages of financial records Mr. Money had uploaded. As they printed, she skimmed the lines that had been highlighted for her. Grants totaling hundreds of millions sent to a small tech company in India. To Hygeia, Ltd.
He had added in financial records from the company. Lasering in, she noted records of funds funneled into chromosomal research from a string of investors, in a variety of tranches.
Not unusual, Avery conceded silently. She wasn’t an accountant, but she’d reviewed more than her share of lawsuits that hinged on income statements and financial ledgers. According to the banking records attached, each wire had an American origination. For a young company, funding would likely come from a variety of sources—and Americans had a penchant for foreign investment.