Fair Warning (Jack McEvoy #3)(49)

“From who?” I asked. “You must need a lot.”

“Our primary source is a company called GT23. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

Nodding, I pulled a notebook out of my back pocket and wrote down his direct quote. While I was doing so, Emily continued her role as photographer.

“Dr. Orton, I know we can’t go into the lab,” she said. “But could you go in and sort of interact with what you see in there so I can take a few shots?”

Orton looked at Barnett for approval and the attorney nodded.

“I can do that,” Orton said.

“And I don’t see anybody in the labs,” Emily added. “Don’t you have staff that helps with your research?”

“Of course I do,” Orton said, an irritated tone in his voice. “They preferred not to be photographed, so they have the hour off.”

“Forty minutes now,” Barnett added helpfully.

Orton used a key to unlock the STR-lab door. He stepped into a mantrap where an exhaust fan roared to life and then died. He used the key to open the next door and enter the lab.

Emily walked up to the glass and tracked Orton through the lens of her camera. Barnett took the moment to move next to me.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

“Excuse me?” I responded.

“I want to know what is behind this charade.”

“I’m doing a story. It’s about DNA and how it gets used and protected and who’s out there on the frontier of the science.”

“That’s bullshit. What are you really here for?”

“Look, I didn’t come here to talk to you. If Dr. Orton wants to accuse me of something, let him do it. Call him out here and we’ll all talk about it.”

“Not until I know—”

Before he could finish, he was interrupted by the roar of the fan in the mantrap. We both turned to see Orton stepping out. Concern was written on his face, as he had either heard the confrontation or seen the pointed discussion through the lab’s window.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said before Barnett could respond. “Your lawyer doesn’t want me to interview you.”

“Not until I know what the interview is really about,” Barnett said.

All at once I knew the plan for a subtle lead-up was out the window. It was now or never.

“I want to know about Jessica Kelley,” I said. “I want to know how you fixed the DNA.”

Orton stared hard at me.

“Who gave you that name?” Barnett demanded.

“A source I won’t give up,” I said.

“I want you both out of here,” Orton said. “Right now.”

Emily turned the camera on Orton and me and started firing off shots.

“No pictures!” Barnett yelled. “Put that away right now!”

His voice was so tight with anger that I thought he might lunge at Emily. I slid into the space between them and tried to salvage an unrecoverable situation. Over Barnett’s shoulder I saw Orton pointing toward the door we had come through from the office.

“Get out of here,” he said, his voice rising with each word. “Get out!”

I knew my questions were not going to be answered by Orton or his lawyer, but I wanted them on the record.

“How’d you do it?” I asked. “Whose DNA was it?”

Orton didn’t answer. He kept his hand raised and pointing toward the door. Barnett started pushing me that way.

“What’s really going on here?” I yelled. “Tell me about dirty four, Dr. Orton.”

Barnett shoved me harder then, and I hit the door with my back. But I saw that the impact of my words hit Orton harder. Dirty four had registered with him and for a moment I saw the facade of anger slip. Behind it was … trepidation? Dread? Fear? There was something there.

Barnett shoved me into the hallway and I had to turn to keep my balance.

“Jack!” Emily cried.

“Don’t fucking touch me, Barnett,” I said.

“Then get the hell out of here,” the lawyer said.

I felt Emily’s hand on my arm as she walked by me.

“Jack, come on,” she said. “We have to go.”

“You heard her,” Barnett said. “Time to go.”

I followed Emily down the hall in the direction we had come from. The lawyer followed to make sure we kept going.

“And I can tell you something right now,” he said. “If you print one word about Dr. Orton or one photograph, we will sue you and your website into bankruptcy. You understand that? We will own you.”

Twenty seconds later we were getting into Emily’s car and slamming the doors. Barnett stood in the main entrance of the building and watched. I saw him looking down at the front license plate of Emily’s car. Once we were in, he turned and disappeared inside.

“Jesus Christ, Jack!” Emily yelled.

Her hands were shaking as she pushed the button to start the engine.

“I know, I know,” I said. “I blew it.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” she said. “You didn’t blow anything, because they fucking knew why we were coming. We were never going to get anything. They cleared everybody out of there, then started the phony dog-and-pony show. They were trying to extract information, not give it.”