NH3

by Stanley Salmons

  “You bet.”

  They edged forwards, past the Lexus, taking in the dented bodywork, the shattered window on the driver’s side, the bloody mess on the window opposite. Dominguez cruised a couple of hundred yards, pulled the sedan over to the kerb and switched off the engine.

  “So how do you want to play this?” He asked Milner.

  “I’ve seen the guy before so let me lead off, okay?”

  “Could I have a couple of minutes with Rose first?” Maggie asked. “There’s something I wanted to ask her.”

  “Sure, it’s on the same floor.”

  Dominguez, Milner, and Terry were waiting outside Wyatt’s office when Maggie rejoined them. She nodded to Terry and said quietly:

  “India, Thailand, and China, at just about the right time.”

  He frowned. “The question is, why?”

  “Perhaps this man will tell us.”

  Milner said, “All set?” and opened the door.

  The secretary looked startled as they went in.

  “Here to see Mr. Wyatt,” he said.

  “Oh, do you have an appointment?”

  “Police and FBI. We’re investigating Mr. Signett’s disappearance. I think he’ll see us.”

  She got up. “Just a moment.”

  She went through an adjoining door and they heard a voice say, “Oh yes, Tina. Send them through.”

  The secretary emerged, and gestured for them to go in.

  Wyatt was already on his feet. “Please come in.”

  Milner shook his hand. “Sam Milner, FBI. We spoke yesterday. These here are my associates, and this is Detective Dominguez, Boston P.D.”

  Wyatt indicated some armchairs around a low table and closed the heavy door.

  His office was furnished as luxuriously as the CEO’s but it had a more definite air of business about it: shelves stacked with ledgers and reference books, and a desk burdened with trays of paperwork.

  Wyatt unfastened the single button on his suit jacket and sat down. He looked to be in his early fifties. The chubby face would have suggested an even younger man but his hair was peppered with grey and receding at the temples. He interlaced his fingers over the slight bulge above the waistband of his trousers and tapped his thumbs briskly together before opening the conversation.

  “Before we start,” he said, “there’s been a new development and I think you should know about it right away.”

  Milner raised his eyebrows. “Oh?”

  “Yes. A package was delivered by courier just a few moments ago, addressed to the ‘Acting CEO’. Whoever sent it obviously knew about the kidnap so our security personnel were wary. They X-rayed it. A ring showed up, but nothing to indicate an explosive device. They asked me to join them and we took precautions when we were opening it. Inside there was a plastic bag that did indeed contain a ring. I recognized it immediately. It was the engraved jade ring that Mr. Signett normally wore on the little finger of his right hand.”

  “You kept the packaging, I hope?”

  “Yes, we thought you’d want to see it.”

  “All right, so there’s no doubt that they’ve got Mr. Signett.”

  “None whatsoever. Unfortunately that’s not all.”

  He hesitated. Then he swallowed and said:

  “Erm, the ring was still on Mr. Signett’s finger.”

  Terry saw Maggie’s hand fly to her mouth.

  “Was there a demand with that?” asked Dominguez.

  “Well, there was some sort of message. Perhaps you can help me with it.”

  He unfolded a sheet of paper and handed it to Dominguez. The writing was Chinese, the characters scrawled with a red pen in a vertical column, ending with a stamped symbol of a dragon clambering around a knife, also in red.

  He studied it thoughtfully. “I’ll fax this to a colleague of mine, Henry Chow, at headquarters who can translate it. Can we do that?”

  “Yes, of course. Tina will do it for you now if you like.”

  Wyatt half rose but Dominguez stopped him with a gesture, got up and opened the door to the secretary’s office.

  Milner spoke up: “Mr. Wyatt, while we’re waiting for Detective Dominguez maybe we could pick up on the conversation we had yesterday about Grant Challoner. Do you think Dr. Challoner was in any way a threat to the company?”

  Wyatt almost laughed.

  “Grant? No.”

  “You seem very sure of that.”

  “I am. It’s true that while he was with the company he irritated a lot of people. But that was only because he was so conscientious. Whatever else you might say of Grant Challoner he was a man of total integrity. When a man in a senior position like that leaves the company he’s bound by very strict non-disclosure clauses. You can be sure he would have observed those to the letter. In fact you could say that Grant is – I mean was – even less of a threat to the company after he’d left it than when he was with it.”

  “So that wouldn’t have been a reason to kill him?”

  “My goodness, that wouldn’t be a sufficient reason to kill anyone, least of all Grant Challoner.”

  The door opened and Dominguez came back in.

  “Okay,” he said, resuming his seat. “I asked him to phone me as soon as he has something.”

  Milner nodded, then turned back to the CFO. “Something that’s been bothering me, Mr. Wyatt. How do you think those people knew Mr. Signett was going to a meeting this morning?”

  “That’s been bothering me, too,” Wyatt said. “It suggests inside knowledge.”

  “We’ve been wondering whether this is somehow connected to the murder of Grant Challoner. Any views on that?”

  “I can’t see how.”

  Dominguez’s phone sounded.

  “That’ll be him now,” he said, and got up to take the call in a corner of the room. They waited uncomfortably while he listened, grunting now and again. Then he said, “Okay, thanks a lot, Henry. See ya later.”

  “All right,” he said, dropping into his chair. “Henry says the dragon symbol is the sign of a triad organization in Boston with links to Hong Kong. They specialize in protection rackets and extortion. I’m afraid the message isn’t pleasant, so prepare yourselves. Basically it reads: ‘We will cut into another joint for each day that the organism is at large.’ I’m sorry, Mr. Wyatt. It looks like your colleague is being progressively dismembered.”

  A look of revulsion contorted Wyatt’s face. Terry glanced at Maggie. She seemed too shocked to react.

  “They’re clearly referring to the soil organism, Mr. Wyatt,” Milner said. “The one developed by Dr. Zak Gould and put into production by your company.”

  Wyatt’s eyebrows lifted. “You know about that?”

  Milner took a deep breath. “I’d say it’s high time you levelled with us, Mr. Wyatt. What do you know about that organism, and what did your company do with it? And don’t leave anything out. Mr. Signett’s life may depend on it.”

  Terry glanced at Maggie and their eyes met. He knew what she was thinking.

  His and everyone else’s.

  CHAPTER 49

  “Look,” Wyatt said, “This puts me in a difficult position. I want to be open with you if it’ll help Warren, but what I have to say could be damaging from a company standpoint. Can I be sure it won’t be made public?”

  Dominguez shrugged. “Depends what it is. The way it sounds, Mr. Signett’s been taken in retaliation for something. If he was acting on his own we can try to keep the company out of it.”

  There was a short silence. Then:

  “Very well. I’ll tell you as much as I know.”

  He looked at each of them in turn.

  “First let me say that I have the greatest respect for Warren Signett. He’s been an outstanding CEO. You know, when he was appointed this was a conventional pharma, rooted in traditional research methods. Things are very different now. We’ve been able to maintain a good pipeline of profitable drugs and at the same time we’ve embraced the newer technologies, li
ke genetic engineering. Warren achieved this by absorbing smaller, more specialized companies.”

  “Companies like AB Genetics?” Milner asked.

  “Precisely – AB Genetics is an excellent example. We acquired a non-animal-derived insulin that could be taken orally. With the increasing prevalence of diabetes you can just imagine the size of the market. We’re already having problems meeting demand – we’ve doubled our production capacity and we may have to expand it further.”

  “Nice position to be in,” commented Milner. “And I guess the cash flow funds more acquisitions.”

  “Yes, but there we encounter a problem. You see, in recent years we’ve been subjected to some pretty virulent abuse because of our marketing policies in the Third World. It’s grossly unfair, of course. For example, we spent one point eight billion dollars developing a drug for the treatment of TB; it was unreasonable to expect us to hand it out for next to nothing in sub-Saharan Africa. Unfortunately knocking the company became a popular political pastime. In the end Warren was called before a House Select Committee. Among other things they put it to him that the company was profiteering from underprivileged people. It can’t have been a pleasant experience for him; some of these committee members can be very aggressive. I’m afraid it didn’t do a lot for the company’s image, either. Do you mind if I get some water?”

  Milner waved a hand in acquiescence and the CFO went into his secretary’s office. He returned, sipping from a plastic tumbler, which he placed on the table before taking his seat again.

  “Sorry about that. I’ve asked Tina to get us some coffee, too, if that’s all right?”

  They nodded and murmured their thanks.

  “As I said before,” Wyatt continued, “I respect Warren, but he’s not without faults: he’s not a patient man, he’s very stubborn, and he doesn’t tolerate opposition. After a roasting like the one he got from the Select Committee the very last thing you’d expect him to do is sell drugs anywhere at knock-down prices. On the other hand we couldn’t afford to ignore that lobby entirely. Some of the larger acquisitions we were planning would come up before the Federal Trade Commission. Strictly speaking, their brief is to block developments they consider anti-competitive; in practice they’re bound to be influenced by their perception of a company. This is where you have to admire Warren’s talents; he was thinking ahead two years or more. First, he cultivated Senators who had the ear of the Commissioners. Second, he was on the look-out for ways to improve the company’s record in developing countries – short, that is, of selling drugs cheaply.”

  Milner nodded slowly. “And then along comes Biomolecular Technologies.”

  Wyatt smiled. “The company itself wasn’t worth a dime, but that soil organism was something that would confound our critics – an alternative technology of the type widely applauded by the Green lobby. Warren saw its potential right away.”

  Terry fought the urge to say that the organism wasn’t remotely ready for use or even for evaluation outside the strict confines of a lab. But Wyatt couldn’t know they’d listened to Grant Challoner’s warning at the Board Meeting. It had to stay that way.

  Wyatt took another sip of water. “Warren had the people at Genon carry out a small-scale field test at Richmond. It looked promising so he had a batch made up in the new bioreactor. It seems you already know about that.”

  Milner nodded. “Was he planning to market it?”

  “I believe so. He said it would cost next to nothing to produce, so we could sell it really cheaply. He obviously had in mind the good publicity and the effect of that on the Federal Trade Commission.”

  “So then what?”

  “He was talking about a pilot project in a poor, rural area, somewhere like Northern China. I was horrified and I told him so.”

  There was a light knock on the door and Tina entered with a tray.

  “Ah, thank you, Tina,” Wyatt said.

  They waited while Tina distributed the cups, poured the coffee, and set a plate of cookies on the table. Milner waited until she’d withdrawn. “Can you say why you were horrified, Mr. Wyatt?”

  “Certainly.” Wyatt stirred some sugar into his coffee. “You people may need a little background.” He set the spoon down and faced them, clasping his hands. “Everyone knows China’s growth has been phenomenal in recent years. In many respects the country’s self-sufficient, and that’s the way the Chinese want it. But they have four-and-a-half times the US population to feed from a cultivated area that’s only three-quarters of ours, so they’re forced to import grain. That bothers the regime; they’d prefer the country to be self-reliant in grain production too. Their solution is to slap grain quotas on the farmers. The farmers don’t like it. They could make more money growing high-value cash crops like fruits and vegetables. They see the urban population getting more prosperous and they want part of it.”

  “So what?” Maggie interjected. “With a political system like theirs they can afford to ride roughshod over a few dissident farmers.”

  “You may think so, but actually that’s not a realistic option. About two-thirds of their population earns their living from the land. That’s a lot of people and revolutions have come from that quarter in the past, so they have to tread carefully. Fortunately for them there’s a solution.”

  “Which is…?”

  “The farmers can get a better return from the existing land by switching to high-yield crops and seeds, and harvesting two or three crops a season. Then they can meet the government’s quotas and still grow the more profitable lines they want to. Trouble is, that sort of agriculture takes a lot out of the soil. To maintain the yield they have to use copious amounts of fertilizer.”

  “Right…”

  “The manufacture of fertilizers starts with ammonia. There are, of course, factories all over the world. Who do you think produces the most?”

  “I would have thought we did,” said Milner.

  “No, it’s the Chinese, and by a long stretch. We have about 8 per cent of worldwide production; the Chinese have 28 per cent. Some of that’s used to make polymers and dyestuffs and some is used to make explosives, but 80 per cent is used to make fertilizers. China is by far the world’s biggest producer of fertilizer and they consume nearly everything they make. With me so far?”

  “Yeah, go on.”

  “All right. Now place against that background an inexpensive organism that converts nitrogen in the air into ammonia in the soil and what have you got? The potential collapse of a very large and profitable industry. They certainly wouldn’t take kindly to that. I told him China was a very unwise choice.”

  “And what did he say to that?”

  “He just laughed, said it served them damned well right. You know, he suspected the Chinese of unfair industrial practices. We lost at least one valuable contract to them.”

  “So he ran the trials anyway.”

  Wyatt shrugged. “I suppose he must have. And this – this abduction – seems to be to punish him.”

  “How do you think they discovered the organism was made by Vance?” Milner asked.

  “That I don’t know, but the Chinese have a reputation for cyber crime, don’t they?”

  “You’d have defended yourselves against that, surely? Didn’t the company employ an external security service?”

  Terry couldn’t help but admire the innocent way Milner had slipped the question in.

  “Not that I know of. It’s never cropped up in the books. You might ask Rose if she knows.”

  “I guess we should do that. Something like this, we need to follow up every security angle.” Milner turned slightly so that he could catch Maggie’s eye. She nodded.

  “Anyway,” said Dominguez, “if you’re right, and the captains of China’s ammonia industry decided to take their revenge on Signett, it would have been easy enough for them. They could use the triads in Hong Kong to broker the deal with the cell in Boston.”

  “That would explain the ultimatum, at least,” Wyatt said.
“But what am I supposed to do about it?”

  Dominguez raised his eyebrows at Terry and Maggie.

  Terry said, “Tell me, Mr. Wyatt, do you have any scientific training?”

  “Me? Oh, no. My background is economics and business management. I only have a slender grasp of these other things.”

  “And Mr. Signett?”

  “Columbia Law and a Harvard MBA. He’s very smart.”

  Terry shook his head. “Not as smart as you think. That organism spreads by itself. It will be well established in the environment by now. There isn’t a thing you can do about it.”

  “Oh my God, I wish to Heaven there was.”

  “So, I imagine, does Mr. Signett.”

  Dominguez got up.

  “Okay, at least we know where we are. I’ll report back and we’ll start searching. We’ll use what informants we have but that’s a tight little universe down there – people are afraid of what might happen to them if they open their mouths. And unless we find Mr. Signett soon I can’t say I hold out much hope for him.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Dominguez drove them back to Boston.

  “Eddie,” said Milner. “You know what he said about wanting to keep a lid on this, for the company’s sake?”

  “Yeah, what about it?”

  “I think you should take it on board, and not just for the company’s sake. The Head of the FBI briefed me in person for this assignment and he said heads would roll if anything about the organism became public. Even he didn’t know the full story.”

  Dominguez glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Goes that high, huh? Well, let’s put it this way. I’m pretty sure Signett had Challoner killed. If I had the evidence I’d like to put him in the dock for it but I don’t and even if I did it looks like I won’t get the chance. One way and another I can’t see any of this coming out. All we got from this whole business with Vance is motive. And we still don’t have Challoner’s killers.”

  Maggie leaned towards Terry and murmured, “And we still don’t have Zak Gould.” His lips tightened and he nodded.

  Terry’s phone rang.

  “Hello, McKinley,” he said.