While Justice Sleeps(99)
The bartender, a tight-assed prick who recognized her from the picture, pretended not to hear. Rita pounded her glass, to no avail. Figures, she thought hazily. She was thirsty and too aware of the world and running low on the cash necessary for oblivion.
So, when a tall, broad-shouldered, square-jawed man joined her at the bar, she hopefully angled her meager cleavage in his direction. Rita smiled, a wobbly curve of a mouth cracked from dehydration and meth. “Hey, handsome. Wanna buy a lady a drink?”
Hazel eyes met hers, and he tapped the bar. When the bartender stopped pretending not to notice, he held up two fingers and pointed at Rita’s glass.
The bartender sized up the cut of the new guy’s suit and fished out the bottle. He refilled Rita’s glass and served up one to the man. The man placed a note on the bar and waved him off.
Saying nothing, the bartender scooped up the cash. The fifty in his hand easily covered Rita’s tab and the tip he’d decided on for himself. Surprised, he checked Rita out, squinting. Up close, he could see how she might have been beautiful once, but the skinny whore look did nothing for him. Takes all kinds, he decided, as he returned to ignoring his customers.
Unaware of the bartender’s summation, Rita trailed red-tipped fingers along the man’s jacket, fumbled for his tie in a gesture that felt sexy. “You like to party, honey?”
“Sure.”
Rita smelled no cologne, just a clean scent most of the bar’s patrons lacked. She tipped the vodka down her throat in a cleansing rush. “Let’s get out of here, then.”
Phillips swung his arm around her, guiding her staggering path to the door. “Your place or mine?”
In a voice that carried to the unswept corners, Rita giggled and answered, “Yours, honey. Take me anywhere you want.”
Clear of a kidnapping charge, Phillips nodded gallantly. “Yes, ma’am.”
* * *
—
Across town, huddled in the conference room at Noah’s firm, Avery plowed through the research they’d collected, including the grants from Justice Wynn’s FOIA request. The more she read, the more her stomach knotted into tighter bundles.
What exactly are they hiding?
Noah sat down the hall in his office, prepping for Monday’s court hearing. Ling pored over documents about smallpox that a friend at the hospital had couriered over. Bent over his computer, Jared had been working to backtrace the surveillance in her apartment, despite knowing the FBI was on the case. Or, as Avery had learned from their brief acquaintance, because of it.
By her elbow, her cell phone rang. The now-familiar no caller id showed on her screen, and she quickly answered.
“Yes?”
“Hello, Avery. This is your friend.”
The voice was synthesized, just as it had been on both previous calls.
“I told you to leave me alone,” she replied.
“Remember your mythology, Avery? When Persephone ate the pomegranate seeds, she became indebted to Hades. You’ve spent some of my money. I thought it was time to call.”
“What do you want?”
“You’ve eaten the seeds. Now I require payment.”
“Who are you working with? Why are you disguising your voice?”
“Don’t ask irrelevant questions. Just listen.” Nigel thumbed through the memo from Betty, then continued to speak into the burner cell. “You know, governments are good at cleaning up messes. If I were you, I’d find out all I could about a company called Hygeia. I’d follow the money.”
“Follow the money? That’s all you’ve got for me?” Avery goaded. “I know about Hygeia and GenWorks and Advar. About the research. The money trick was nice, but if that’s all you can do, stop calling me.”
“You’re a cynic, Avery. Good idea to be suspicious, especially of anyone claiming to wear white hats.”
“So you’re not a white hat?”
“God, no. I’m not the self-sacrificing type. But there’s one bureaucrat you can talk to. Try Dr. Elizabeth Papaleo at the Science and Technology Directorate in the Department of Homeland Security. She can verify what I’m telling you.”
“Papaleo?” The sneer became a frown. “How do you know her?”
“Follow the money,” he repeated. “It’s always excellent advice, Avery.”
“I’ve been in touch with Betty, but she’s vanished,” she told him. “What does she know?”
“Betty’s missing?”
“The FBI is looking for her. Tell me what she has.”
“You should check out your new email account tomorrow at ten.”
“I have a new email account?”
“You will. How about [email protected]? The password will be—” He stopped. “Let’s make the password Nixon, just to stay with our theme of unreliable public servants. Don’t disappoint me.”
Avery hung up the phone and sent a quick text to Noah. When he joined them in the conference room, she explained the call. “Whoever this is, he knows about Betty, but he wouldn’t say much.”
Looking up from his screen, Jared asked, “Have you heard anything more from Agent Lee about her?”
“Not yet. Let me try him now.” Avery dialed the agent’s number, and he answered on the second ring.