“Doesn’t it seem like a normal night?” asked Sarah.
“I know. It feels like a nice breather, doesn’t it? A vacation. I wonder if we could stay here.”
“And polish off their wine supply?”
“Hear, hear.” Lee hoisted his glass, and Sarah followed.
“You know,” said Lee. “I was just thinking.”
Sarah looked at him with her steady open gaze.
“We’ve gone charging off on this…this mission, whatever it is. I hope I haven’t made things worse for you. I don’t know what will happen in the next few days. You might have been better off going to ground in Ecuador or turning yourself in to Spreckel and the feds.”
Sarah continued looking at him, her expression unchanged.
“Well, say something,” said Lee.
“Okay. I would be dead.” Sarah said it flatly as if reciting a well known fact. “Without you, they would have killed me. Maybe I could have run for awhile. But, I would have come back eventually. They thought I was a threat. They were wrong. But they were convinced I knew more than I did. Look what they’ve done to everyone else they perceived to be a threat.”
“I hate to say this, because I’m afraid it will be a jinx,” Sarah continued. “But, I feel like there might actually be a way out. I can actually conceive that I might resume a normal life. I admit, I wasn’t sure about what you were trying to do. But, here we are, and it feels like we’re winning, like we have a real chance.”
Sarah continued looking at Lee. He studied his fingers for a minute. Then, he looked up and took her hand.
“Look,” said Lee. “I have an invitation for you. When this is finished, let’s take a week and go someplace where it is hot, where there are warm mud baths and people who will massage us from head to toe. Let’s lie by a pool, when we aren’t being massaged or soaked in mud, and read cheap novels and make love in the afternoons.”
“I’d like that,” she said, reaching across the table to hold his other hand. “I’d like to spend time with you without being in a state of terror. I feel you turning in bed at three in the morning sometimes. I’d like to find out whether you can sleep peacefully through the night when the world is acting rationally.”
During the rest of the meal, Lee told her about life in New York, the small, out of the way places to go for food, drink, dance and theatre. Sarah told him about her life in Nebraska. How different and exotic San Francisco had seemed when she first arrived. It was only when their coffee arrived that the other world intruded.
“Hey,” said Lee to the waiter, a young man named Gary. “Do you know whether you’re working Friday morning? There’s a company having some sort of a shareholders meeting at ten thirty.”
“Yes, I am,” said Gary. “At least I’m on the schedule.”
“Look,” said Lee. “Call me at this number at nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I have a proposition that I think will interest you.”
He handed a piece of notepaper to the waiter folded in half. Inside it was a $50 bill and the number of the Morris Hotel with their room number.
It was a warm breezy night, almost balmy. But, Lee knew it was Sarah’s presence more than the weather or the wine that made his feeling of well being follow them down the elevator and into the street. It was in her smile and the way she shook her hair in the wind.
Sarah was getting into the cab when Lee caught her hand and pulled her to him as they stood in the doorway of the cab with one of Sarah’s feet already inside. They kissed long and greedily. When they parted, Lee reached up and pushed her hair away from her eyes where the gusting wind had blown it. He became aware of the Caribbean music blaring from the taxi. Lee looked at the driver who was staring out the windshield with a grin on his face.
The ride back to their hotel seemed to take forever.
Inside their suite, they embraced. Lee ran his hands down Sarah’s thighs and then back up, underneath her dress. When he reached her ass, he expected to encounter the bottom of her panties but didn’t. He smiled at the discovery. Sarah gasped and jumped into him as Lee’s hand ran down her buttocks and his fingers discovered the source of her delightful scent.
They made love on the bed lying side by side, Lee holding Sarah from behind. She arched her back as Lee fondled her breasts and then ran his hand over her stomach, past her navel and between her legs. As she rocked rhythmically back against him, harder and harder, Sarah guided his fingers into the swollen places inside of her. Lee could feel the barest pulse. Finally, a series of small convulsions rippled through Sarah’s body like a subcutaneous tsunami.
At 4 a.m., Lee awoke and watched Sarah sleeping. He felt envious as he waited for the sun to rise.
• • •
GARY, THE WAITER, called right on time. Lee thanked him for phoning and got right to the point.
“Here’s the deal, Gary. I’m a journalist. I desperately want to hear what happens at that meeting in the restaurant. You call in sick at the last minute and say you sent me to fill in for you. I’ll be a friend of your cousin.”
“Boy. I don’t know,” said Gary. “I could lose my job.”
“I used to wait on tables in college,” said Lee. “What do you have to do? Serve some Bloody Marys? Bring people coffee?”
“Yeah. And muffins, croissants, stuff like that. It’s all free.”
“See. I won’t even have to make change,” said Lee. “It’ll be a breeze. And, your boss won’t know who I am. I’ll use a different name. He won’t recognize the byline when my story runs.”
“Well. I don’t know,” said Gary, still hesitant. “I’d hate to lose this job.”
“And the best part, Gary, is that it’s worth five hundred dollars to me. All you have to do is let me use your clothes, whatever you’re supposed to wear. I think we’re about the same size.”
“Five hundred dollars?” said the waiter. “Wow. Okay. It’s a deal.”
Lee arranged to pick up the clothes and drop off the money later in the day. When he hung up, he had a moment’s regret that he wouldn’t be able to stay as quiet and anonymous a waiter as he had promised Gary.
Then, Lee tried Barry Templeton. He had left several messages the day before but hadn’t reached Barry. This time he called the Times’ city desk. The clerk who answered said that Templeton had been hurt in a serious mugging incident just a block from his home. He had a fractured skull but was expected to recover.
Lee called Templeton’s wife, Judith. She said Barry couldn’t remember anything about the incident. He was sedated. It would probably be another two days before he would be able to talk to anyone. Lee promised to see Templeton as soon as he could have visitors.
Somehow, Lee knew that Barry’s accident was tied to his work on the AgriGenics story. He realized that he had drawn his friend into a dangerous situation. With all the other media reporting on the company, he had assumed Barry would have the safety that comes with being part of the pack.
Lee mentally kicked himself for not telling Barry everything, not that Templeton would have backed off the story. He just deserved to know everything that was at stake. Dammit! Lee was pissed anew. These people were fucking animals. One way or the other he was going to bring down Graylock.
Lee spoke with an assistant city editor at the Times whom he knew and found out the name of the business reporter who was covering the AgriGenics story for Templeton. It was a reporter he had met playing poker a couple of times.
“Dick Grady.”
“Hey, Dick. It’s Enzo Lee.”
“Enzo. How are you? How is…where are you? Is it San Francisco?”
“That’s right, Dick. It’s wonderful Dick. A village version of New York. You’d like it. You should come visit.”
“One of these days, Enzo. So, what’s up?”
“Well, I’ve been working with Barry on these AgriGenics stories.”
“Oh, yeah? Those have been some great stories. I’m covering their meeting tomorrow. You heard about Barry?”
“Ye
ah. I did. What a shame,” said Lee. “His wife told me he can’t take any calls for a couple of days. You might spread the word. Anyway, Dick, I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I’ve got somebody I’d like to get into the meeting,” said Lee. “He used to be with the company and I think his perspective will be helpful. He’s someone Barry and I have been using as a source. I think he’ll be able to give both of us a lot of insight into the company.”
“So, you want me to get him some credentials?”
“Right,” said Lee. “Actually, I thought he could go in with you as a photographer. You know, if you flash your invitation or whatever and just say he’s your photographer, that should be enough.”
“Ummm. Okay. That sounds pretty innocuous,” said Grady. “He’s a good source, huh? Do you think they’ll recognize him?”
“Nah. I’ll put a hat on him and drape some cameras on him,” said Lee. “They won’t know. Yeah, he’s a great source. His name is Art. He knows all the players. There’s just so much going on beneath the surface.”
“Okay, Enzo. Tell him to meet me in the Times lobby at ten o’clock. Are you going?”
“Me? No. Our technology writer came out from San Francisco to cover it. We’re working together on it.”
It took some doing, but Lee and Sarah convinced Sendaki to shave off his facial hair and to wear a wig. It looked terrible, but it certainly changed his appearance.
Then, Lee found some used camera equipment at a pawnshop. At a second-hand store, he bought a fatigue-like khaki jacket filled with lots of pockets, a fisherman’s hat and hiking boots.
The end result was someone who looked like he should be photographing brown trout in the Appalachians or accompanying a third-world amphibious landing of Marines rather than attending a Wall Street meeting.
Sendaki observed himself dryly in a mirror.
“I look like a fool,” Sendaki said. “But, it will be worth it if I can get my company back.”
Lee thought Sendaki looked like your average big-city news photographer.
Chapter 39
BRIAN GRAYLOCK RODE alone in the stretch limousine. He had his back to the driver so he could take a few snorts out of the vial in his suit pocket without being seen. He needed it to get through the meeting. He was about to walk a tightrope through a lions’ den and he needed total confidence to succeed. The drug ensured that he would have it, the feeling that he could do anything, achieve everything. He had the feeling of invincibility now. He knew he could make the people in the room do anything that he wanted.
A short platform had been erected along the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Delegates Dining Room in the United Nations headquarters. Beyond the tall windows was the East River, deep blue and sparkling in the morning sunlight.
Lee ferried the trays of juice, coffee, rolls and coffee cake between the kitchen and tables set up along the sides of the room. He watched the technicians setting up the sound equipment on the stage against the windows and had the visual sensation that they could easily stumble backwards and fall into the chilly waters below.
Lee wore the green pants, starched white shirt, black bow tie and green jacket that Gary, the waiter, had given him. The head waiter had eagerly accepted Lee as a last-minute substitute and quickly pressed him into service, folding napkins and laying out silverware. As Lee had hoped, posing as a waiter had been tantamount to rendering him invisible to any of the AgriGenics people on hand who might have recognized him.
When Graylock walked onto the platform, the gathering of gray and blue suited investment bankers, analysts and portfolio managers fell silent. Graylock knew that in the room were most of the institutional shareholders of AgriGenics as well as the experts whose advice would determine the company’s fate on Wall Street. Selected members of the press were there, too. Two television crews had completed their preparations. Their cameras were mounted on tripods, the brilliant arc lights illuminating Graylock.
Graylock pulled the microphone out of the stand in front of him, and began pacing back and forth with the river and Brooklyn skyline as a backdrop behind him.
“Thank you all for coming today,” Graylock began. “I hope you’ve had a chance to relax and visit. Now, I’d like to get right down to business.
“Like all of you, we at AgriGenics have been disturbed by all the misinformation, innuendo and flat out lies that have been published about us during the past week. It is obvious to us that we have become the target of a campaign, a campaign to discredit the company and our ground-breaking work.
“If you step back and listen to the themes these stories have in common, you will hear fear,” Graylock continued. “Fear of technology. Fear of progress. It is the fear of the ignorant when faced with change. The greater the change, the more wondrous the new technology, the more severe the backlash.”
Lee looked over the group. He guessed it numbered close to sixty people. He could see a half dozen men stationed in the front and along the sides of the room. They held their arms in front of them, one hand gripping the other wrist in a parade rest posture. Lee couldn’t be sure whether or not they had guns under their coats.
“It may be folly to suggest to the people in this room that they buck the trend toward investing according to short-term results,” Graylock went on. “But that is exactly what I am going to do. I urge you to look to the future, to see beyond the fears of the ignorant, the reactionary. See the promise.”
Lee sensed it was time to make his move. It was now or never. He began making his way to the microphone that had been set up on the left side of the room for questions.
“That is all that I ask. See the value of this work. Like electricity, or the proliferation of personal computers, this is technology too powerful to stop…”
Lee was near the microphone now. He saw one of the men stationed along the wall, a young man with a bodybuilder physique, start toward him but Lee already had his hand on the microphone.
“Mister Graylock! Mister Graylock!” said Lee into the microphone. Heads spun toward him. The audience shared looks of confusion. Who was this waiter interrupting the meeting? Graylock stopped pacing and stared.
“What about the Department of Agriculture investigation?” said Lee. “What about the allegations that AgriGenics has been testing genetically engineered plants without the government’s approval?”
The young man was nearing the microphone where Lee stood. He had his hand inside his jacket. Lee half expected it to come out holding a gun. Then, Graylock waved the muscular fellow off and he stopped in his tracks.
Lee knew Graylock couldn’t afford to have the meeting disrupted. Having Lee dragged away from the microphone would ruin Graylock’s attempt to ensure investors nothing was amiss at the company.
“Who are you?” said Graylock. “If you want my order, I’ll take a Spanish omelet and coffee.” The crowd chuckled.
“I’m Enzo Lee of the San Francisco News.” Lee saw with satisfaction the consternation that replaced Graylock’s smirk at hearing his name. “What about it, Mr. Graylock? What about the testing?”
“It is not true,” said Graylock finally. Lee could almost feel Graylock’s unblinking gaze boring through his chest.
“I have been told by AgriGenics’ employees that the company is cultivating not just rice but other crops that have been genetically engineered,” said Lee. “They say you also have been testing genetically engineered diseases.”
“They are all liars. They are people who don’t understand that first and foremost, AgriGenics is a business. They think we exist in an ivory tower.” Graylock looked away from Lee and appealed to the roomful of Wall Street’s powerful.
“Don’t you see the conspiracy? The scientists have always resented the fact that I, alone, respect the bottom line. They never understood that I saved the company, that I enable them to continue their precious projects. They are feeding these lies to the press.”
“Mister Graylock.” It was the
diminutive Lorraine Carr standing in her black dress across the room at the other microphone. “Way to go, Lorraine,” thought Lee. Everyone’s attention shifted to her.
“We have copies of your company’s internal records that show tens of millions of dollars were paid to the company from overseas,” Carr said. “Yet, the company makes no mention of this source of money on its financial reports. What was the money for?”
“What was it for?” said Graylock. “It was for whatever they wanted to buy. Am I to be faulted because I knew foreign buyers who wanted what AgriGenics had to sell? We had assets that people wanted to buy and I sold them.”
“What were the assets, Mister Graylock?” asked Lee. “Were they viruses and diseases designed to destroy entire crops? Were they diseases genetically altered by AgriGenics that kill or injure people?”
“Do you think we are the only one with a fungus that kills corn or a virus that is fatal to cattle?” said Graylock. “How do you study these things if you don’t have them? I can’t control what other people do. Do you think that someone who wants to use these things will stop if they can’t buy them from us? They’ll just find something else, maybe something worse. Is a virus worse than a jet fighter? American companies sell those abroad all the time. If we violated any laws, the violations are trivial and we will pay the fines.”
“When did AgriGenics get into the business of creating and selling biological weapons?” asked Lorraine.
“Ask Arthur Sendaki. These horrors, as you describe them, were already on the shelf when I took over. I don’t know where they came from. Ask the government. Any competent lab can grow more of the same virus. Is that our crime?”
“The people who paid you for this,” said Lee. “You knew, didn’t you, how they planned to use them?”
“No…no. That’s absurd,” said Graylock. “I don’t know anything about that. Look, you are trying to blame me for the way the world is. It’s not my fault that there are terrorists and dictators and nations that want to destroy each other. It’s always been that way. Frankly, I don’t care.”
Project Moses - A Mystery Thriller (Enzo Lee Mystery-Thriller Series) Page 25
