Fair Warning (Jack McEvoy #3)(30)

“Yes. Orange Nano.”

“That’s the lab?”

“That’s the lab. Big buyers.”

“Who runs it?”

“A bio guy named William Orton.”

“Is it part of UC–Irvine?”

“No, privately funded. Probably Big Pharma. You see, GT23 liked to sell to the private labs better than to universities. The private labs paid more and there wasn’t a public record of transactions.”

“Did you deal with Orton?”

“A few times on the phone. That was it.”

“Why were you on the phone with him?”

“Because he would call me and ask about a bio-pack. You know, checking to see if it had shipped or maybe to add to an existing order.”

“He ordered more than once?”

“Sure. Many times.”

“Like every week? Or what?”

“No, like once a month or sometimes longer.”

“And what would an order be? How much?”

“A bio-pack contains one hundred samples.”

“Why would he need to keep ordering bio-packs?”

“For continuing-research purposes. They all do that.”

“Did Orton ever talk about his lab’s research?”

“Sometimes.”

“What did he say?”

“Not much. Just that that was his field of study. Addiction in many forms. Alcohol, drugs, sex. He wanted to isolate those genes and develop therapies. But that’s how I know about dirty four. From him.”

“He used the phrase ‘dirty four’?”

“Yes.”

“Had anybody else used it with you before?”

“Not that I remember.”

“Have you ever been down to Orange Nano?”

“No, never. My only contact was by phone and email.”

I nodded. I knew at that moment that I would be going down to Irvine to visit Orange Nano.





12

I decided that the best use of my time would not be to get into the crush of cars waiting to go over the mountain to the Valley through one of the choked-off freeways or mountain roads. That could take ninety minutes at this time of day. One of the things that made the City of Angels so beautiful also created one of its greatest hardships. The Santa Monica Mountains cut through the middle of the city, leaving the San Fernando Valley—where I lived and worked—on the north side and the rest of the city, including Hollywood and the Westside, to the south. There were two freeways that cut through the big passes and several two-lane winders. Take your pick but at five o’clock on a weekday you weren’t going anywhere. I drove over to Cofax Coffee and set up with a cappuccino and my laptop at a table beneath the display of bobbleheads and other Dodger paraphernalia.

I first sent Myron Levin an email briefly summarizing my interview with Jason Hwang and the leads I had picked up regarding Orange Nano. Next, I opened a file and tried to recall everything Hwang had told me, writing a detailed summary of the interview from memory. I was halfway through my second cappuccino when I took a call from Myron.

“Where are you?”

“Other side of the hill. I’m at a coffee shop on Fairfax writing up notes and waiting out the traffic.”

“It’s six now. When do you think you’re coming back?”

“I’m almost finished with my notes, then I’ll wade into the traffic.”

“So, by seven, you think?”

“Hopefully before.”

“Okay, I’ll wait for you. I want to talk about this story.”

“Well, do you want to just talk now? Did you get my email? I just had a killer interview over here.”

“I got the email but let’s talk it out when you get here.”

“Okay. I’m going to try Nichols Canyon. Maybe I get lucky.”

“I’ll see you when I see you.”

After the call I wondered why Myron wanted to talk face-to-face. My guess was that he might not be as convinced as I was that there was something here. He had not commented on my email and it seemed as though I would need to sell him on the story all over again.

Nichols Canyon was a charmed route. The traffic flowed smoothly through the hillside neighborhoods above Hollywood until the unavoidable bottleneck at Mulholland Drive. But once I got through, it was clear sailing again down into the Valley. I walked into the office at 6:40 and considered it an accomplishment.

Myron was in the conference room with Emily Atwater. I put my backpack down on my desk and gave him a wave through the window. Since I had gotten back earlier than expected, I figured he was probably in a story conference with her.

But he waved me in and made no move to dismiss Emily when I entered.

“Jack,” he said, “I want to bring Emily in to help out with your story.”

I looked at him a long moment before responding. He had done a smart thing. He had kept Emily in the room because that would make it harder for me to push back against his plan. Still, I couldn’t just accept the encroachment without protest.

“How come?” I asked. “I mean, I think I have it covered.”

“This Orange Nano angle you mentioned in your email looks promising,” Myron said. “I don’t know if you know Emily’s pedigree but she covered higher ed for the Orange County Register before coming to FairWarning. She still has contacts down there and I think it would be good for you two to partner up.”