He had seen the sign Kabo Laboratories at least a hundred times. He passed that spot regularly on his way to and from work, along the back roads of Nashville. Occasionally, he had turned out of curiosity and seen the small metal-framed building a hundred yards off the road to his right (He seemed to notice it more on his way to work.). A gravel road led down to it, and there always seemed to be a few cars there, but no noticeable activity. There was nothing on the sign to indicate what was done there, and the structure was surrounded by grassy fields on all sides, providing a buffer of fifty yards in every direction.
Sanjay Deemina was an investigator. He had worked, years before, as a policeman, working his way up from a patrolman to a detective. By the time he hit age thirty, however, he had shifted over to the private sector, working as a special investigator for insurance companies, and later large individual corporations, such as airlines or health care companies. He was primarily a fraud investigator, but he assisted with internal auditing as well.
Deemina’s father was born near the Kashmir area in India, and had immigrated to the United States in the middle 1950s; Deemina was born two years later. Over the years, he had become the first in a number of professions: The first Indian to be a police officer on the force, and the first to be in the Special Investigative Unit (SIU) for several companies. He had never thought of it himself as particularly different, but it was obvious to him that others did.
The sign saying “Kabo Laboratories” was old and faded, and he wondered if whatever was in that building now had anything to do with that name, or if the name had been associated with a business that once was in the building, and had failed or moved out. He had made a mental note to check on that, but had never gotten around to it. One morning, he was running a little ahead of schedule in getting to work, and he decided to turn into the long driveway leading up to the building. He did it impulsively, and immediately after turning, he wondered if he was doing the correct thing. He had so often wondered about the business, if it was a business, and had so often considered checking into it out of pure curiosity, that he thought perhaps it might not be a good idea to have his car known to anyone in the building. If anyone should happen to see him, he might be remembered if something developed later. Too late now, he thought; let’s get a close look and get away quickly.
The driveway was rough, with numerous potholes caused by heavy rainfalls over the years. It was obvious that the road had not been graded in a long time, many years, and much of the gravel had washed away, leaving bare dirt in major patches. It must be a pain to go to work here, he thought. Still, there were always a number of cars there, always about the same number.
In a few minutes, he reached the building area. There was a wide expanse of white gravel in the immediate area before the building; the gravel there looked much newer than the gravel on the road leading in. He pulled forward slowly, trying to keep an eye on the building for any signs of movement or anything unusual. The building itself, as far as he could tell, was bare; no signs, nothing to indicate what went on inside—just a faded green ugly metal building.
There were four cars parked side by side off to the left in a little gravelly area outside what appeared to be the main door to the building. Deemina pulled his car far to the right of the main gravel area, and then slowly turned back to the left, preparing to circle back onto the driveway leading out to the main road. As he passed by the building, he noted there were no windows on that side, nothing where anyone could see his car, and as he passed the turn in the building leading to the front door, which actually was technically on the side of the building, he saw a small door with no windows, closed, and no other window or doorway along that side of the building.
For just a moment, he thought about stopping the car, going inside on a pretext, and asking a question or two. Just to see who was inside, what it looked like. But he decided to keep moving, and he turned the wheel again to the left and entered the driveway heading out.
He noticed a car coming off the road down the driveway, moving rather quickly, considering the condition of the road, and heading straight for him. He slowed his car to a near-halt and pulled as far to the right as he could. The road was really made for only one car at a time, and he tried to give the oncoming car as much room as possible. As it passed him, he tried to get a look at the driver, but at the same time wiped his hand across his face in as natural a movement as he could muster, trying to conceal his own face as much as possible without being too obvious.
The driver in the other car, as best he could tell, was a young man, slender about the face, with what appeared to be a close cropped goatee around his chin. His hair was dark and cut fairly short, but his face was turned slightly away, and it was difficult to get a good look. He appeared to have a stern look on at least the side of his face that was visible, and there was an intensity about him as he drove past without slowing much and continued on toward the building.
Deemina pulled forward slowly again, keeping his eyes glued on the rearview mirror, occasionally glancing forward to make sure no one else entered the driveway from the road. He saw the car that had driven past him pull up to the building; the man got out of the car and walked toward the door on the side of the building. As he approached, the door opened slightly and a face peered out. Deemina was unable to tell whether it was a man or woman at that distance, but the face seemed to turn and look in the direction of his car. When the man who had just passed him approached the face in the doorway, a short conversation between them ensued, and soon both faces were looking in his direction.
He resisted the temptation to go faster, and eventually made his way to the road. As he turned onto the road, both faces seemed to still be watching him, and although he didn’t look back once he turned to the right, he assumed they were watching him until he was out of sight.
Nashville: The Mood (Part 2) Page 7
