After the Fall

by Patricia Gussin

  “Just tell her Dr. Adawia Abdul called. It’s important. Could she call me at my office?” She provided the number, speaking so fast she was asked to slow down and repeat it.

  Hoping for a quick response from Laura, Addie opened the talking points folder. She read the remarks she was supposed to deliver. Easy. No practice needed. She moved to the Questions & Answers section. As Priscilla had warned, the questions varied, but the answers were all pretty much a variation of a list of a dozen responses. Addie found this baffling. Distracted, she left her office to make another cup of tea. Jake would be coming after her soon. She had to leave. But she’d try Laura’s office one more time. This time the kindly woman who answered advised her to contact Laura at the Hay-Adams Hotel in Washington, DC.

  The clock on her desk, a graduation gift from her faculty advisor at University of Michigan, told her it was 10:10. Grabbing her purse, her briefcase, and the folder Priscilla had given her, Addie rushed out of her office, down the corridor, and out to her car.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  A knock at the Hay-Adams boardroom door introduced a bellman, presenting a cream-colored sheet of paper on a small silver tray. “A message for Dr. Laura Nelson,” he announced.

  “Over here,” Laura said, getting up to accept the note.

  For the last hour and a half, Laura had focused intently on instructions offered by her Keystone colleagues and their public relations consultants.

  She welcomed any distraction, any excuse to end the rehearsal for tomorrow’s press conference. The room went silent as she read the handwritten scrawling script: “Dr. Nelson, I am here in the lobby. I need to talk to you. I will wait.” Signed: “Adawia Abdul.”

  “Okay, team,” Laura announced. “I’m ready for the reporters tomorrow. I thank you all for such diligent coaching. I have something I must attend to.” She stowed her documents in an Immunone press kit folder specially designed for the event. “So let’s call it quits until the real deal in the morning. I think we’re at the point of diminishing returns, anyway.”

  “We’re in good shape,” the senior media consultant said. “If a journalist asks anything we haven’t gone over, Laura has her talking points for reference.”

  Laura just hoped that tomorrow she would achieve the right balance of accuracy and spontaneity.

  During the lunch break, Laura had slipped away to a desk in the hotel’s business center to make some urgent calls. Her parents were delighted to hear her voice, but worried about her hand injury recovery. She’d called Tim, but he was still in surgery. She left a voice mail message, upbeat and encouraging, ending with “Love you, Tim.” To be able to say that, meaning it so deeply, felt right to her. Why had it taken so long to understand what she felt?

  Out of old, ingrown habit, Laura had thought for a second about calling her kids. All adults now—not cool for Mommy to call in the middle of their day. She smiled, but the smile wilted when she remembered the family meeting planned for tomorrow night. Nothing she could do about that now. Stay focused. Compartmentalize.

  At Keystone, her secretary had chatted about the cartons of champagne piling up in Paul Parnell’s executive suite. But there was one message she had wanted to bring to Laura’s attention, “From that woman doctor-scientist at Replica. Dr. Adawia Abdul. The callback number I have is her office at Replica.” Laura scribbled the number on her Immunone notepad. “She’s anxious to talk to you. She sounded, well, distressed, even about to cry. I figured she should be upbeat with her drug being approved, but she definitely did not sound that way.”

  “Okay,” Laura had responded, thinking about her early morning call about the Jeep to the Philadelphia police detective. Adawia Abdul had been the one to confirm that the suspicious dark-colored Jeep was Jake Harter’s. “I’ll try to reach her, but if she calls again, tell her she can get me here.”

  “Will do. And, Dr. Nelson, have you seen anybody famous there at the Hay-Adams?”

  “Not yet. This has not been a glamour gig—at least, not so far.”

  Laura’s left hand shook as she’d dialed the next number. The woman in Mayor Young’s office sounded perky, “Mr. Greenwood is in Washington, DC, today. I know he wants to talk to you, Dr. Nelson. He has meetings with former DC Mayor Barry at the Hay-Adams today and tomorrow.” Laura had hesitated before starting to disclose that she was at the same hotel, but, in the brief silence, the woman disconnected. Relief, if only temporary. Can’t think about it now.

  Next, she had called Replica and asked for Dr. Abdul. But Addie’s line just rang and rang. And now, the note saying she was here, in the Hay-Adams, she said.

  Laura got off the hotel elevator and scanned the grand lobby. All but hidden in a remote corner, Addie perched uncomfortably on a hardback chair, bent forward, head in her hands as if she were crying. “Addie?” Laura managed to get her attention from several feet away.

  The young doctoral research star looked disheveled. Not her usual, stylish self. When she raised her head, the red-rimmed eyes, smudged mascara, and uneven makeup left no doubt that she had been in tears. But why, on the eve of her monumental success?

  “Are you okay?”

  “Dr. Nelson—”

  “Laura, remember?”

  Addie seemed to struggle for words, so Laura prompted, “My office said you called, but—”

  “Yes. They told me you were here. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need some advice. Desperately.”

  “You’re not interrupting. Actually, you saved me from another twenty minutes of grueling preparation for the press conference.” Hadn’t someone told her Addie also would be on hand tomorrow, representing Replica, the little start-up company that beat tremendous odds against success in the pharmaceutical space?

  “Replica wants me to be a part of that conference, too, but I don’t think—”

  “Addie, you’ll be fine. If you wanted to go over your part with me, I’d be happy to—”

  “No, Dr. Nel—Laura,” Addie said, seeming to anxiously scan the lobby before lowering her head back into her hands.

  “I am in terrible danger. I don’t know who else to turn to. You’ve been so kind that I—”

  “Addie, let’s go to my suite. We’ll have privacy there. We can take the elevator up to the fifth floor.”

  “Thank you,” Addie murmured, letting herself be guided. Laura kept the pace efficient, but she couldn’t help glancing around for a man whom she presumed to be black and in his forties—wearing an expensive suit, probably. The Hay-Adams clientele, although diverse, looked upscale. What did Lonnie Greenwood look like?

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  Jake stormed through the outer doors into the lobby of Replica. Security had been augmented. A plainclothes agent stood beside Lisa, the same receptionist he’d encountered before on his visits to Addie’s office.

  “Mr. Harter—sorry, no visitors admitted today,” said Lisa. So she recognized him, knew he was from the FDA.

  He looked around the modest lobby, noting how festive it looked. Flower arrangements decorated a rectangular table draped in white linen. Next to it sat cases of champagne. Getting ready for the Immunone approval party.

  “It’s critical that I see Dr. Adawia Abdul,” he said. “As you know, I’m from the FDA.”

  “She’s not here. She’s supposed to be, but she left. Sick, I imagine. Not a good time.”

  The receptionist glanced about the room. Immunone’s approval tomorrow was confidential, could disrupt the financial markets if leaked. “Well, since you’re from the FDA, you must know—about tomorrow.”

  “I most certainly do. That’s why it’s mandatory I speak to her. Who would know where she is?”

  “Home, most likely,” said the clueless woman.

  No, Addie is not home, wasn’t home all night.

  “Let me in. I need to talk to the department secretary.”

  “Mr. Harter, I’m sorry, but I can’t let anybody in. We’re
preparing for…” She hesitated.

  Jake noticed the security grunt step closer, a beefy specimen with “inept” written all over his pudgy face. He still had the Browning in his jacket pocket, and the sudden urge to shoot this clown almost overwhelmed him.

  “Lisa—” Jake said leaning closer.

  “Sir, back off,” the guard said, edging closer.

  Now was not the time for confrontation. Jake took a deep breath and complied. Changing his tack, he asked, quite politely now, if she would simply call Dr. Abdul’s department. The department secretary would know where she had gone. Addie was meticulous about informing her employers about her whereabouts. She wouldn’t simply disappear on the day before her drug’s approval.

  “I can do that,” the receptionist said, as Jake noted the guard ease back to his original position.

  A few clicks later he was connected to the woman who juggled the clerical needs of all the scientists in the pharmacology department. He was told that Addie had been in, but left shortly after ten, not telling anyone where she was going, even though she had to practice for a press conference. “She did seem a bit upset,” the woman offered, “and looked, I don’t know, different. Not herself.”

  Jake was about to ask whether she’d left any messages, when, by some instinct, he swiveled to face the lobby door. He froze. Set down the phone. His other hand went to the bulge in his right jacket pocket.

  Backing up, Jake moved toward the revolving door at the lobby entrance. He needed to time his exit to the exact second. Detectives Finley and Booker stepped in tandem though the door as Jake, his back to them, slipped out.

  He’d parked the Blazer on a nearby side street. He could only hope the detectives had not ID’d the rented Blazer. Jake’s assumption: they’d found the body; connected Dru to Addie; they were looking for Addie.

  Jake spun the Blazer around, heading away from Replica. He needed to find Addie before the cops got to her. Her sense of ethics might entice her to tell them what happened last night. As he made the next right turn, he passed a bridal shop. “Of course,” he said aloud, slapping the steering wheel. At four o’clock that afternoon, he and Addie were to be married. Of course, that’s why she skipped out on work. He admired Addie’s sense of fashion. She’d want that perfect dress. The dashboard clock flashed 2:00 p.m. Plenty of time to get to Ellicott City. He had imagined them driving together, sharing the romantic interlude, but Addie must have learned about the American custom—the groom should not see the bride on their wedding day until the ceremony begins.

  Jake thought about his own attire, not happy with the drab brown suit with a spindly pattern, but he’d been too preoccupied this morning to consider his wedding apparel. But he looked okay, a white shirt and decent striped tie. The one thing Addie and Karolee had in common—the only thing—they admired his style.

  Jake found the moderate traffic comforting. All was normal, no sirens, no apparent surveillance. From now on, until after he and Addie left the country, he considered himself a hunted man. He was prepared, his survival pack loaded with provisions, enough cash to buy his way to a safe place, enough firepower to make it happen. And his wife at his side.

  On the road, heading toward the Howard County Orphans’ Court in Ellicott City, Maryland, Jake considered the risk he was taking now that the police were looking for Addie. But surely, Addie would not have told them when and where they’d be married. He’d be on alert, his piece loaded. He pulled the Blazer into a side street just south of the courthouse.

  He checked his watch. In exactly one hour, Addie would arrive. He’d positioned himself in a recessed doorway across the street, giving him a view of the courthouse entrance. As soon as he spotted Addie, he’d join her and, fifteen minutes after that, they’d be man and wife. Twenty-four hours after that, they’d be multimillionaires on their way to their new life.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  The word sumptuous came to mind as Addie followed Laura into her suite. She’d never been in the Hay-Adams, and she glanced about in awe as Laura went about fixing them a cup of tea. She’d offered to call room service for snacks, but Addie declined, despite having had nothing to eat since she’d fled her apartment last night.

  The two women sat, sipping their tea, mostly in silence. Laura didn’t push her, and for that, Addie was appreciative. She needed to trust someone. With Dru dead and Jake a cold-blooded killer, her support system had collapsed.

  During a prolonged lull as Addie struggled with what to say, the hotel phone rang and Laura got up to answer it. Addie heard her say things like: “Sorry you’re not here; I hope the child does well; I’m trying not to think about tomorrow night.” And finally, “I love you, Tim.”

  Addie imagined herself saying to a man “I love you” and meaning it. She’d come close to sort of loving Jake before last night, when she realized he was a dangerous psychopath.

  “Laura, let me ask you what you’d do,” she said, once Laura had returned to sit down across from her.

  Addie told Laura her story. How her father was ill and the Iraq government wanted her to return; more than wanted, threatened her family if she didn’t proceed immediately—as in tomorrow; how she was coming into a lot of money from Immunone, but had no way of securing it if she had to leave for Iraq so soon; how she and Jake Harter were to be married today, but she had not shown up at the courthouse; how she now realized he couldn’t be trusted and might even be dangerous. She told Laura the Rockville police had questioned her about Jake’s wife’s death. She told her of the DIA’s interest in her Iraqi background.

  Laura interrupted to ask about Jake. She told Addie how Jake had deliberately jeopardized the Immunone approval. “Why would he do that?” Laura asked.

  “I don’t know.” And she didn’t, but right now that was a problem from the distant past. “But I’m glad it’ll be approved. What’s really terrible is that I have—had—a friend who could help me deal with the money I will get. Invest it, that sort of thing, but…he died suddenly.”

  “How terrible,” Laura responded, her tone sincere.

  Addie stopped short of telling her that Jake shot Dru in her apartment. Neither had she dared confide in Laura about Iraq’s plans for using her and her expertise in their bioweapons program.

  “What can I do?” Laura asked, when Addie paused to wipe tears from her eyes.

  “I can’t let Jake find me,” Addie said. “He’ll be very angry. I’m afraid of him. He has a very bad temper.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear that,” Laura set down her tea cup. “Now, back to you. Would you like to stay here tonight? I was expecting my fiancé, but he can’t make it. Early and urgent surgery tomorrow morning. You can sleep over there.” Laura pointed across the parlor to the oversized sofa laden with fluffy, decorative pillows.

  “He’s having surgery?” Addie gasped. “Shouldn’t you be there? With him?”

  “No, he’s the surgeon. Pediatric cardiac surgery.”

  “Oh,” Addie said, “that’s nice.”

  Had Laura actually invited her to stay here in the hotel? Could she stay here, undetected, attend the press conference tomorrow representing Replica, and then…then what? Leave for London, then make her own booking to Baghdad? She had enough cash to do that, but she needed to get the Replica money secured. How would Replica pay her? A check? A money transfer to her bank? And when? Tomorrow? Or would it take days? Or weeks?

  “So, do you want to stay here overnight, Addie?” Laura was asking. “If so, do you need anything? A change of clothes? Makeup?”

  Addie looked down at her wrinkled skirt. “Do you think I can wear this for the press conference tomorrow?” she asked. “I left my apartment so suddenly. I didn’t bring a change of clothes. I did pick up a few items at a drugstore.”

  Laura looked at her appraisingly. “That suit is perfectly appropriate. The hotel can press it and launder your blouse and your bra and panties. I’ve got an extra nightgown and panties in the mean
time. But, we’ll have to get your things to housekeeping soon.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Laura,” Addie said.

  Laura had gone into the bedroom, returning with a fluffy, white bathrobe monogrammed with the Hay-Adams logo. “Why don’t you put this on in my bathroom and, while you’re in there, check out my makeup? I’m happy to share, but frankly, I doubt you need any. Your skin is perfect.”

  “I use a little eye shadow,” Addie said, “but right now, that’s the least of my worries.”

  “I have shades in blue and taupe,” Laura said. “I’m going to call for the bellman to pick up your clothes—”

  Laura was interrupted again by the phone.

  Addie lingered by the bedroom door long enough to hear Laura say, “Hello, Mr. Greenwood.” Then, “I’d be happy to meet you here in the hotel.”

  She was putting on the bathrobe when Laura called, “I’m going to the lobby to meet someone. Stay here. Do not open the door to anyone except the bellman to pick up your clothes for the laundry. Do not answer the phone.”

  “Are you sure that’s okay?” Addie asked.

  “Yes, and when I get back, I’m going to call my son Mike. He’s a lawyer. Maybe he can help you deal with some of the money issues around the Immunone payout.”

  “He’d do that?” Addie asked. She knew American lawyers were powerful and expensive. And now that Dru could help her no more—

  “My kids usually do whatever I ask them,” Laura said. Then Addie heard the door to the suite close and she was alone.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  THURSDAY, MARCH 5

  “What we got on Abdul and Hammadi?” Mack Long directed his question to the two agents seated across from him at the rectangular table in a nondescript Pentagon conference room. “Shit, six thirty already. Supposed to be at my kid’s basketball game. Play-offs started.”

  Agent Mintner took the hint. “We got Abdul’s hard drive from her personal computer, techs working it; nothing yet, sir. Replica’s more of a problem; pharma companies are paranoid about confidentiality. We’ll get it, but it’s unlikely she would use it for bioterrorism. We searched Hammadi’s hotel room, didn’t find a computer. We’ve got Detroit searching his home, which by the way, is vacated. His wife and kids are not there. Left a week ago. She took the kids out of school. Said nothing to the neighbors.”