Lee inched his right hand up Sarah’s back, kneading the muscles lightly as she did a slow half shimmy against the pressure. He found the clasp and took a few seconds to unfasten her bra. His lips felt Sarah smile again as he ran his hands over both breasts and teased her now erect nipples. Sarah reached down, rubbed his erection and ran her hand down, lightly caressing his crotch.
After they had stripped each other to the waist, Lee found Sarah’s nipple with his mouth and ran his tongue around in tighter and tighter circles while Sarah clutched his hair. Her breathing became labored. She stopped him from switching sides, leaned away from him and ran her fingers through her hair in that nervous gesture he remembered from their first meeting. Then Sarah began to unfasten his pants.
When they had completely undressed each other, they moved to the bed and lay on their sides. Lee ran the fingertips of one hand slowly and lightly down her stomach and between her legs. Sarah moved her legs apart and Lee kissed her neck and deeply inhaled her scent as he began to gently explore.
“Mmmmmm,” she murmured lazily. “Warm hands.”
Finally, Sarah pulled his hand away, rolled onto her back and pulled Lee on top. She guided him inside of her. They started slow but that didn’t last long. Sarah waited until she felt a change in Lee’s breathing and an urgency in his movements before she let herself go. She came first with a prolonged shudder that helped pushed Lee over the edge a few seconds later. They laughed together in gasps as they regained their breath until they found a slow, matching rhythm. They fell asleep entwined, each with an arm draped over the other. As Lee drifted off, he could feel Sarah’s breath, slow and steady on his chest.
Chapter 20
LEE DRAINED HIS coffee cup and set it on the saucer. He picked up the telephone the next morning and dialed the number that Brent Donsen had written in his Rolodex file next to Benjamin Nussbaum’s name. He hoped Donsen hadn’t inadvertently omitted the area code. The person who answered it was an operator at the switchboard at Columbia University. He asked for Benjamin Nussbaum. After a 20-second wait, he could hear the phone ring again.
“Hello,” answered a young male voice.
“Hello. Is Mr. Nussbaum there?”
“Professor Nussbaum is not in at the moment.”
“When will he be in.”
“Well, his office hours are one to four this afternoon. But, you should make an appointment if you want to see him.”
“I see. Well, I’ll call back later and make an appointment with him. Can you tell me exactly what kind of professor he is?”
“Professor Nussbaum is the chairman of the Biology Department.”
“Thank you.”
After he hung up, Lee walked over to Sarah who was standing by the window watching joggers circle Washington Square. He embraced her from behind and kissed her neck.
“We got a date at Columbia for one o’clock,” he murmured. “Now, what do you think about calling your friend at Justice.”
“Who?” said Sarah, pulling away and looking over her shoulder at Lee with a puzzled expression. “You mean the one who wanted to know my telephone number, address, social security number and my brand of mouthwash? He’s the last one I want to talk to.”
“Look. I think we should try to establish some kind of contact with the feds. Presumably, they know something about AgriGenics. At least we know Donsen had some contact with the company or was looking into it. If we can convince them that AgriGenics, or someone connected to it, took out their guy, that could be our best hope. Face it. We need all the help we can get.”
“Okay, then,” said Sarah, pulling away from Lee. “You talk to him if you want to so badly. As far as I’m concerned, he’s bad news. But, if you want to try him, be my guest.”
Sarah dialed the main Justice Department number in New York. When the switchboard answered, she asked for Brent Donsen’s secretary. She introduced herself to the secretary, reminding her of their conversation two days earlier, and asked to speak to the same man that Sarah had been transferred to then. When she was put on hold, Sarah handed the telephone to Lee.
“Hello. Miss Armstrong. Miss Armstrong.” The insistent voice came over the line.
“Hello. This is a friend of Miss Armstrong’s.”
“Who are you? Where are you? Where is Miss Armstrong?”
“We’re in New York. We thought you might be interested in some information we have about a case Brent Donsen was investigating when he died.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Lee continued, “It involved a company called AgriGenics.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Even if there is an investigation into this company, I couldn’t confirm it. Of course, if you have some information you think might be of interest to us, we’ll listen. Tell me where you’re staying and I’ll come by.”
“We can meet,” said Lee. “But I want to do it somewhere else. Do you know Howard’s on the Park, by the Museum of Natural History?”
“Sure. I know it. Okay, but I can’t make it before four o’clock.”
“All right. My name is Lee. I’m six feet. Black hair. Half Chinese. I’ll be wearing a Yankees shirt. I’ll meet you just inside the door.”
“All right, Mr. Lee. I’m Agent Spreckel. People say I look like a tall Mickey Rooney.”
Lee laughed. “I can’t wait,” he said.
“Will Miss Armstrong be there?”
“Maybe. Tell me. How did you know she would be calling?”
“Miss Armstrong? Oh…we didn’t. All inquiries regarding Brent Donsen are being referred to me. I can’t explain why over the phone, but maybe we can discuss that this afternoon.”
After he’d hung up the phone, Lee described Spreckel’s end of the conversation. When he finished, Sarah shook her head.
“He’s lying, Enzo. Donsen’s secretary definitely recognized my name. I don’t like it.”
“Well, what’s the worst that can happen?” said Lee, putting his arms around Sarah and giving her a hard kiss. “We haven’t done anything wrong. Look, you’ll stay here in case anything happens. If I don’t come back, find the best lawyer an American Express card can buy.”
He tried to kiss her again but she shunned him this time, still upset about the call to Spreckel. Lee shrugged and picked up the phone to make one more call, this one to Lorraine Carr back at the News.
“Lorraine. Yes. It’s me. I’m in New York. No, I’m not on assignment. I told Pilmann I had some personal problems I’m working out and I’m taking vacation. But, I need a big favor.”
“I need to know what happened to Arthur Sendaki. You know, how did he get eased out of AgriGenics? Who did it? How? The works. There’s got to be a former director or some attorney around who would know. Look, if there’s a great story we’ll share it, okay? Right, the Pulitzer, too. And I’ll throw in a leather belt, extra studs.”
“We’re staying at the Washington Hotel, room 813,” Lee went on. “We is yours truly and a lady named Sarah. Now, don’t start. I don’t kid you about Black Bart, do I? I’m under the name Darrel Johnson. Don’t ask, Lorraine. Listen, I owe you big time for this.”
• • •
LEE AND SARAH entered the Columbia University campus from the entrance on Broadway. They walked down the wide path that runs in front of the expansive stairway leading up to the Low Library, a granite structure capped with an impressive rotunda and built with ten massive columns in the style of a Greek temple. They skirted the outside of Low Library and walked past the business school to the biology department.
Nussbaum’s office was on the second floor of a nondescript metal and glass building. The door was ajar. Lee knocked and looked in at Nussbaum sitting at his desk.
Nussbaum was a big man in his 50s. He had a mane of white hair that seemed to radiate straight out from his head as if electrified. He had a full beard, also white but more tame than his hair. He was wearing a wrinkled, brown corduroy jacket and open shirt. A green scarf lay on
a corner of the desk. Lee guessed he cut quite a distinctive figure strolling through campus.
“Professor Nussbaum?” said Lee.
“Hello. Yes. What can I do for you?” he said in a low, gravelly voice.
“I’m Enzo Lee. This is Sarah Armstrong. We’re here to talk to you about a company called AgriGenics.”
“You, too? Come in. Come in. Sit down.” Nussbaum gestured extravagantly toward the two chairs sitting in front of his desk.
Once inside the office, Lee noticed that it looked a bit disheveled, not unlike Nussbaum himself. Stacks of books sat on the floor and on a table behind Nussbaum’s desk, filled with yellow tags marking pages. Piles of paper were perched atop the volumes in the bookcases that filled two walls of the office and in other available nooks and crannies.
Then there were the beetles. There were hundreds, maybe thousands, of them, mounted in glass-covered display trays that covered every square inch of available wall space. Some were tiny, barely visible from across the room. Others were gigantic, more than four inches in length. On the desk before them, in a silver egg holder, sat a beetle encased in an oblong lump of amber slightly smaller than a golf ball.
“A young man, a nice gentleman, a servant of the state, I believe, was here inquiring about the same thing, oh, maybe a month ago,” said Nussbaum.
“Brent Donsen,” said Lee.
“Correct. At his request I arranged a meeting, an encounter, a confabulation between him and my old friend and collaborator, Arthur Sendaki. But, alas, he failed to appear at the appointed hour.”
“A meeting? Here? I thought Arthur Sendaki was in California,” said Lee.
“Here? Hmm. An interesting question,” said Nussbaum. “No. More likely you would describe the locus as cyberspace. The meeting was to have occurred by computer. Arthur, in California. Mister Donsen, here, with my assistance, of course.”
“Of course,” said Lee. “But, why by computer? Why didn’t Donsen just call Sendaki?”
“I gather that he, Donsen, tried that and encountered some impediment. I don’t totally understand.” Nussbaum picked up the piece of amber with the beetle in it and massaged it with the fingers of his right hand. “Arthur and I have communicated solely by electronic means for some time now. I find that quite a sufficient, not to mention an efficient mode of communication. Mister Donsen seemed quite surprised, indeed, elated, to discover that I was in regular contact with Arthur.”
“Did Donsen explain why he wanted to…uh…communicate with Sendaki?” asked Sarah.
“Mister Donsen sent a rather cryptic message to Arthur, mysterious to me anyway.” Nussbaum shifted the amber to his left hand. “Perhaps it had some meaning for Arthur since he agreed to Mister Donsen’s request. Although, Arthur may simply have felt compelled to lend his full support and cooperation, in every way possible, to an agent of the government.
“I may, in fact, be able to retrieve a copy of Mister Donsen’s message,” continued Nussbaum. “But, I should probably have inquired at the initial stage of this colloquy as to your interest in this matter.”
“We are not with the Justice Department,” said Sarah. “I am an attorney. Mister Lee is a reporter. The subject of Donsen’s inquiry was not of interest only to the government. It affects individuals as well, including us. You may not know that Donsen died shortly before your scheduled meeting. We are continuing his inquiry. I guess that would be the message to convey to Mister Sendaki. We urgently want to talk to him about the same matter.”
Nussbaum noticed one of the beetle displays was out of alignment. He walked over to straighten it, stepped back and grunted approvingly. He turned his attention back to Sarah and Lee.
“I am truly sorry to hear of Mister Donsen’s untimely passing,” he said. “I can certainly leave the message for Arthur and let him decide what course to pursue. I should let him decide whether to release to you Mister Donsen’s original message as well. I should tell you that although Arthur usually reads his mail on a daily basis, there is no guarantee that will be the case or when his reply will be forthcoming if, indeed, it comes at all.”
“Thank you, Professor,” said Sarah. “You must be good friends with Mister Sendaki.”
“Ah, yes. We shared a lab eons ago. Our paths diverged rather sharply, quite dramatically as a matter of fact. But, I gather he has been wandering in the wilderness a bit recently. And, in matters purely of science, curiosity and a good mind are all that matter. There is a great deal to talk about these days.”
Lee promised to call Nussbaum the next day. Nussbaum stroked his beard until he could no longer hear their footsteps in the hallway. Then he switched on his computer and began typing as he whistled a Vivaldi fugue.
Chapter 21
HOWARD’S ON THE Park was a pleasant restaurant bordering on the elegant with crisp white table cloths, pink linen napkins and a fine wine selection served in big, spotless goblets. The restaurant was well lighted with spacious windows that looked out across Columbus Avenue on to an open, grassy lawn adjacent to the park.
One reason why Lee had selected Howard’s for the meeting with Agent Spreckel was that it was unusually roomy for a Manhattan restaurant with enough space between tables for a private conversation, particularly before the dinner rush.
Spreckel was already waiting when Lee reached the restaurant exactly at four o’clock. Spreckel’s light brown hair was cut in a crewcut. His face was round and turning jowly. Lee guessed he was in his late 40s. He vaguely resembled a full-sized Mickey Rooney but without a trace of the actor’s famous smile. Spreckel looked somewhat askance at Lee’s attire - old khaki pants, tired loafers and a gray sweatshirt bearing the Yankees logo.
They got a table in the corner room that looked out on the street and the park area beyond. Lee decided to lay a few of his cards on the table.
“I know Donsen was looking into AgriGenics and the guy who founded it, Sendaki, when he died,” he began.
Spreckel shook his head.
“I told you I don’t know anything about that. Donsen probably was involved in a lot of cases. So what?”
“This one was a little different,” said Lee. “Donsen had some inside knowledge about this one. He was privy to something about the company.”
“What?”
“I’m not sure exactly,” said Lee. “Maybe some secret work it was doing. Something to do with genetic engineering. What I do know is that everyone who had access to this information has suddenly developed extremely bad health.”
“Meaning?” said Spreckel.
“Meaning four people are dead who should be alive. They’re deaths that shouldn’t be happening. A young man having a stroke. A mysterious disease no one can identify. A hit-and-run. A boating accident with no witnesses.”
“Accidents happen,” said Spreckel. “Young people get sick. Who else have you told about these…theories?”
“I’m telling you these deaths are linked. One of them was one of your own guys, Spreckel. Aren’t you the least bit curious? What if Donsen was looking into this outfit? What if I’m right?”
At that moment, Lee saw Sarah walk by the window he was facing. She gave him the quickest glance and then continued past. Spreckel’s back was toward her. Lee couldn’t tell where she went but guessed that she had come into the restaurant. He turned his attention back to Spreckel.
“Have you been talking to anyone else about this?” said Spreckel. “Is someone investigating the hit-and-run?”
“Yes. I am working with someone else on this, a local cop,” said Lee. “I’ll tell you all about it in a minute. First, I’ve got to use the head.”
Lee got up and walked toward the back of the restaurant. Spreckel was screened off by a partition that separated the corner dining room from the greeting area of the restaurant. At the other end of the restaurant, in the hallway where the rest rooms were located, he saw Sarah standing by the pay phone with the receiver at her ear.
When Lee reached her, Sarah dropped the telephone and c
lutched him around the waist.
“What is it?” he whispered, keeping his back to the main part of the restaurant and partly blocking Sarah from view.
“Your friend, Lorraine, called the hotel,” said Sarah. Lee could hear the controlled panic in her voice. “She said it was urgent. Bobbie Connors from the police department called the paper looking for you. There’s a federal warrant out for you on a drug charge. Lorraine thought Connors was trying to warn you.”
“Christ. The bastard’s setting me up.” Lee realized that Spreckel was trying to extract what information he could before arresting him. Lee guessed that he had backup agents waiting outside the restaurant, maybe inside as well. He figured he didn’t have long before Spreckel got nervous with Lee out of his sight and came looking for him.
“Listen, Sarah,” Lee said quickly. “Go into the ladies’ room. Wait there fifteen minutes. Then, if everything looks clear, catch a cab and go back to the hotel. If I haven’t called or left a message by five o’clock, check out and then call a good drug lawyer for me. Call Lorraine at the News and let her know where you are.”
Then, Lee walked back toward the main part of the restaurant. He turned into the kitchen and walked quickly through to the back entrance. The kitchen staff was still getting organized for the main dinner crowd. They hardly noticed him. As he pushed open the door, he silently prayed that Spreckel had been either too overconfident or too short staffed to post anyone at the back entrance.
The kitchen door opened onto a dead-end alleyway. No one was there. Lee walked as quickly as he could without running toward the opening of the alley on 84th Street. He listened for the door to open behind him, ready to take off if he heard anything.
When he reached the end of the alley, he stopped. He fought the impulse to just flee down 84th to get as far away from Howard’s as he could.
Lee peeked around the corner. He saw a young man in a white sweater sitting on a bench, reading a newspaper. Two scruffy teenagers were tossing a Frisbee in the grassy area across from the restaurant. Then he noticed the car, a brown Cougar, with a man behind the wheel, parked on the far side of Columbus. The driver was staring at the restaurant and was positioned so he could watch the corner dining room and keep an eye on both 84th Street and Columbus Avenue as well.
Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) Page 13
