by A. L. Jambor
“I think the name of the place was Los Arms or something like that. Jimmy told me about it. I do know they abandoned the place some time ago and shipped all the shit from there here. We were told they were consolidating and it was more 'cost effective' to ship from the east coast. My ass. Since when is it more cost effective to ship anything from New Jersey?”
“And the weapons?”
“I don't think they ever created any. They did come up with some great over-the-counter stuff, but the lab was really small. Jimmy went there once. He said it was divided into two sides. That's how he found out about the weapons. He snooped around and got the old guy in charge of that side talking. Scientists like credit for their work and this guy was no exception. Jimmy said the old guy almost spilled all the beans and caught himself.”
Paul looked thoughtful. “Jeez, I can't believe I remember that. Anyway, the old guy must have been sitting on something big because he really had to hold back. Weird nothing came of it. All we were ever told was that it was an old lab due for retirement. The weapons side was never mentioned.”
They were both sitting on the floor now, resting against the shelves. Antonio was thinking about Maggie and the man she’d given the plants to. He had promised to use the plants for good. Was he the old guy creating weapons?
“What happened to the employees there?” Antonio asked.
“Don't know. Maybe some transferred here, but I don't work in the labs at all so I don't know. I do know Betsy in HR though. She could tell you if any of them transferred here.”
“She’s been with Wilmer's a long time.”
“Oh, yeah. She's the one that got me the company. She's my mom.”
After Paul put the box back on the shelf, they walked out the door and he put the padlock back in place. Before going back to Cranberry, Paul stopped at the Jersey Freeze and picked up another sundae to go.
Paul talked all the way back about Freehold in the sixties, about going to high school and realizing years later that the skinny sophomore he picked on his during senior year was Bruce Springsteen. He talked about how much Freehold had changed and how sad it was. Antonio talked about Florence and his dream of creating a drug to save babies.
When they got back to Cranberry, Paul took him up to HR and introduced him to Betsy. He handed her the bag with the sundae in it and shook Antonio's hand.
“Drop by anytime, Antonio,” Paul said as he walked away.
Betsy was a nice-looking, chubby blond woman in her early sixties. Antonio asked her if anyone had been transferred to Freehold from New Mexico three years ago. She nodded her head.
“Oh yeah, we got plenty of them. I had to process them all in. What you asking for?”
“I need to talk to someone about the lab. I have a question to ask them.”
Betsy looked skeptical. She wasn’t sure if this was an appropriate thing to do. She had little knowledge of the New Mexico lab, but she did remember things that had been whispered about when she came to work at Wilmer's as a young girl out of secretarial school. Someone snooping around asking questions about that might cause her no end of trouble. She was too near retirement and her pension to mess around with that.
“I'm sorry, but without their permission, I can't tell you.”
“I understand, Betsy. A beautiful woman like you with an important job like this, you must do the right thing.”
“Son, you’re full of it.” She looked at Antonio and sighed. Paul had introduced him to her, so maybe he was okay. “What kind of stuff are you trying to find out?”
“Years ago someone was sending medical supplies to a woman in Brazil. I just want to know who was authorizing those shipments.”
“Your English gets better and better, doesn't it?” Betsy sat down by her computer. She had glasses around her neck on a jeweled string, and she placed them on her nose.
“I’ll see if I can find out who had the authority to do something like that.” She started typing and then stopped. A screen came up that said “org chart”. She looked at the names and titles of each individual listed.
“Looks like John Wilmer, Helmut March, and a man named George Ranier were the only ones with that kind of authority in New Mexico. It was a small lab. Looks like Helmut ran one side and George the other. That's all I can give you. I hope it helps.” She turned and looked at Antonio.
“Grazie mille!” Antonio took Betsy's hand and kissed it.
“Yeah, whatever.” She took her hand back, waved Antonio away, and turned back to her computer.
*****
Antonio went to the public library that evening. He asked the librarian if there were any books on Wilmer and March Pharmaceuticals. She looked in the card catalog and pulled out a title in the reference section.
“'Wilmer and March: The Founding of a Dynasty.’ You'll find it in the reference section under R806.7. There’s another librarian up there if you can't find it.”
Antonio made his way to reference and, with the help of the other librarian, was able to find the book. It detailed the founding of Wilmer and March as a small lab in Los Arma, New Mexico. There was no mention of weaponry whatsoever.
The book discussed Helmut March's contribution to the founding of Wilmer and March, but George Ranier figured in only one paragraph, where he was given credit for discovering a prophylactic lubricant that would not cause irritation. Antonio was becoming very frustrated.
When he got home that evening, he told Teresa what he had been up to. He explained that unless he could guarantee full ownership of the purple spores, Wilmer and March could swoop down and take all his research away, claiming any miracle drug for themselves. Or even worse, keep it from being used at all.
“Why don't you take a little vacation in New Mexico?” Teresa offered.
“You wouldn't mind?”
“Of course not, besides, I’ll be busy finding Chloe a mate.”
Chapter 26
1988 Los Arma, New Mexico
Los Arma hadn’t changed much since George Ranier traveled there in 1947. It consisted of a large, two-sided empty laboratory, several small houses, most of which were empty, and a convenience store with a gas pump.
Antonio rented a car in Albuquerque and asked for a map showing the route to Los Arma. The woman behind the counter had a hard time finding it on the map until a co-worker gave Antonio directions.
When he drove into Los Arma, Antonio felt as though time had stood still. The houses were all from the late 1940's, built by Wilmer to house his employees. The one car he saw was at least ten years old, and the convenience store was made of wood.
Antonio parked his car in front of the store, walked up the two wooden steps, and entered. There was a counter on one side where an older man was drinking coffee. Behind the counter was a short, round Mexican man. Antonio approached the counter.
“Excuse me, please. My name is Antonio Russo. I am looking for someone.” Antonio put out his hand and the man shook it.
“I am Javier. This is a very small place. Who are you looking for?”
“A man named George Ranier. I believe he used to work here for Wilmer.”
At the sound of the name Wilmer, Javier spat on the floor and muttered a Spanish curse.
“May he rot in hell,” said Javier.
“Yes, I agree. He’s a bad man. But, can you help me? Do you know where Mr. Ranier is?”
Javier began wiping the counter with a rag. He shook his head.
“No, I don't know this man. I have been here for a short time. Sorry.”
The man drinking coffee got up, put a dollar down on the counter and left the store. Antonio thanked Javier and ran after him. He saw the man walking down the street and ran to catch up to him.
“Excuse me, sir,” he called. “Please, sir, I just want to talk to you.”
The man stopped and turned around. Antonio guessed he was in his late 60s. He was very tall, and his form suggested he may have once been well muscled. He stood looking at Antonio.
“Well, what
do you want?” the man asked impatiently.
“Excuse me, please. I wanted to ask you if you knew Mr. Ranier. He was a scientist with Wilmer and March, and I believe he still lives here. Can you help me?”
“Well, the first thing I would ask is why you want to see Mr. Ranier. Do you have some sort of prize to convey upon him?”
Antonio thought for a minute. He suspected this was George Ranier, but wasn’t completely sure.
“I have to ask him a question only he can answer.”
“Really?” The man paused. “Well, you might as well come in.”
The man turned towards a small run down house with a picket fence. He opened the gate and Antonio followed him to the front door, leaving the gate open.
“You mind closing the gate there fella?” Antonio rushed back and closed the gate.
Once inside, it was hard to see. There were heavy curtains on the windows, and the man hadn’t left any lights on. The sun was blazing outside. It took a few minutes for Antonio's eyes to adjust.
“Sit down, Mr. Russo was it?” Antonio took a seat next to the window. The man plopped down on his recliner.
“Yes, my name is Russo. You can call me Antonio.”
“And you can call me George. Now what in the blazes brings you out here?”
“Mr. Ranier, ah George, I need to ask you a very important question. Do you remember going to the rainforest in 1953?” Maggie had told Antonio that this was when George had visited.
“God, what makes you ask that?”
“I went there myself to find Margaret DeMorte. She said you had been there also.”
Antonio watched George's face for any sign that he knew what Antonio was going to ask. George hid his feelings well.
“Well, I guess I did then. That woman would never lie. She was a handsome woman. Smart too.” George had a funny little smile on his face, and then a shadow crossed over it, making him look a little gray. “What made you go there?”
“I read about her marvelous plant in a magazine. I have a desire to help women who miscarry. I want to make a drug out of her plant.”
“That wouldn’t be an article out of Life magazine would it?”
“Yes!” Antonio beamed. “I went there to see her plant because of that article.”
“How is Maggie?” he asked.
“She passed away,” Antonio said quietly.
George sat back and looked at the ceiling. “She was a good woman,” he said. Antonio nodded in agreement.
“I read the article, too. I saw an opportunity for the lab. Matthew Wilmer didn’t agree, but I went anyway. She gave me some of her plants in exchange for medical supplies.”
“So you were the one who sent them.”
George nodded. “So, is that what you wanted to ask me?”
Antonio squirmed in his seat. He wasn’t quite sure how to phrase his question. What if George himself had a patent on the purple spores?
“Is Wilmer still studying the Mortevida plant?”
“Wilmer never studied the Mortevida plant. I studied it.” George could feel his blood pressure rising.
“Then they have no interest in the plants, or patents on them?”
George could see where the little goomba was heading. He could put him out of his misery and admit there were no patents, or he could play with him a little while longer to see what the kid was up to.
Rising from his chair, Ranier said, “Look Russo, I'm a tired old man who was 'retired,’ let loose from a job I loved, to sit in the desert and rot. Jacob Wilmer never gave a damn about me or my research. I made the best damn...”
George stopped himself from saying more. He was standing over Antonio and his face was very red. He stood there trying to compose himself before he gave away his secret. He didn’t want to endanger his “babies” safely hidden in the garage freezer.
“Best damn what, sir?” Antonio had been hanging on his every word.
“Nothing. Best nothing. That's what it was. The answer to your question is no, no patents. Nobody showed any interest in using the plants. Truth is no drug company is interested in curing or saving anything. That would put them out of business. So, whatever you want to do with the Mortevida, go and do. No one at Wilmer's gives a damn.” George walked back to the recliner. He sat down and sighed deeply.
“What about you, George? Would you allow me to have the Mortevida spores free and clear? How do I know you won’t sue me for them later on?”
“Anything I did was under Wilmer's banner. I can't lay claim to the research. It all belonged to them.” There was bitterness in George's voice.
“I’m sorry they treated you with such disrespect, George. You seem like a nice man.” Antonio paused and looked around the sad, dreary living room. “Well, thank you, George. I am most appreciative of your help.”
Antonio rose from his seat. He walked over to George and put out his hand. “I wish you well, Mr. Ranier.”
George took his hand and shook it. He even managed a small smile for Antonio.
“Son, you make your drug, but you protect it. They’ll eat you alive if they find out you've got something they want. I don't think Jacob Wilmer remembers anything about that plant, but that doesn't mean anything. His father knew everything that went on in that lab. He knew I brought those plants back and kept them in my lab.
“Don't be surprised if some lawyer digs up some dummied-up file saying they own the Mortevida, some lawyer that will falsify patents. Change the name of it if you have to. I don't believe Maggie would mind you covering your ass. She was all about helping people. If that's the only way you can get your drug out there, then lie and keep on lying for the rest of your life.”
George was holding tight to Antonio's hand. Antonio pulled it away.
“I won't say a word, son. I don't want anything from this but your word that you will give those bastards a black eye.”
Antonio nodded his head. He asked George for his telephone number is case he had any more questions and George gave it to him.
Antonio walked to the front door, bowed, and walked out the door leaving George with memories of the rainforest and a pretty woman who had made him think, if only for a minute, of staying in the jungle forever.
Chapter 27
All the way back to New Jersey, Antonio thought about what George Ranier had said. He hadn't thought about Matthew Wilmer. He hadn't thought about written research from the New Mexico labs. He had searched the computer for any mention of the Mortevida spores and found nothing. What if there were files from the fifties mentioning George's research locked up in Freehold?
Antonio was going to have to ask Paul Christopher if he could get him into the warehouse on a weekend so he could search those files to see if there was any mention of the Mortevida spores or the research regarding them. Only when he had checked those files would he truly feel free to begin his work on a miscarriage drug.
He also thought about George's suggestion of changing the plant’s name. Had Maggie ever filed for the patent on her discovery? Antonio didn’t know how to find out this information. He was growing tired of all the loose ends he had to deal with in order to create his miracle drug. He was a scientist, a researcher; why did he have to deal with all this? It was time to find someone to help him, someone professional who could give him advice.
When Antonio returned home, Teresa greeted him at the door with a big smile on her face.
“I found him! I found him Antonio and he’s perfect!”
Antonio was looking at her as though she had gone mad.
“The father for Chloe's puppies!”
“Ah, the dog daddy. Yes, I remember. Where did you find him?”
“The vet said she knew someone with a combo like Chloe and she contacted them. They told her about Rocky, the daddy dog. She gave me Rocky's parent's phone number and I called them. They agreed to have the dogs meet. I’m going there this weekend. Would you like to come?”
“Not this weekend. I have to work to make up the time I missed.
It breaks my heart to miss it, but what can I do?”
Teresa rolled her eyes at Antonio.
“You could be a little more convincing, you know. But I understand that work comes first. I just finished my finals and I’m off until September. That gives me the summer to have the puppies and raise them until they can be sold. How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for?”
Antonio told her about George and what he said about ownership of the spores. She agreed that Antonio needed an attorney. She told Antonio she would talk to her father in the morning and see if he knew anyone.
“No, Teresa, don't ask your papa.”
“But why?” Teresa looked perplexed.
“Your papa has ties to Wilmer and March. If they ever find out what I’m up to, they’ll ask him. It's not for lack of trust, Teresa, but to protect him. It’s better if he truly knows nothing.”
Teresa could see the logic in Antonio's words. It would be better if her father could be truthful if asked about Antonio's research. Antonio was glad she didn’t press further because, in truth, he didn’t trust her father and his connection to Wilmer and March.
Antonio tried to think of someone he could trust to ask for the name of an attorney. Everyone he knew in the States worked for Wilmer and March. When he came up with no one, he reached for the Yellow Pages.
He flipped through the splashy ads and looked instead for the small ads featuring a name and phone number. There were hundreds of them and Antonio finally closed his eyes and just pushed his finger down on the page. When he opened his eyes he looked at the name his finger landed on. It was Stephen McKenzie, Esq. He wrote the name and number in a notebook he had purchased on the way home. He was going to document everything he did from now on.
The next morning Antonio called Mr. McKenzie before he left for work. The secretary who answered said that Mr. McKenzie could see him on Friday afternoon at 3 p.m. Antonio jotted the time and date in his notebook and went to work.
