Bex pounced. “How could it have been administered externally? If someone had stuck Zane with an epipen he would have felt that, surely?”
“It can be administered in topical form on skin or via an inhaler, but usually it’s injected.”
Bex considered Jeanne’s words. Was it possible someone had rubbed epinephrine on Zane’s skin? She couldn’t believe Zane wouldn’t have noticed someone rubbing a lotion into his skin. He had been at work all day, before heading to the Manhattan Club for a meal with Walt while she raced home to pack and collect the car for their trip to Armonk.
“Could he have ingested it?”
“Even if he had, epinephrine is broken down in the gastrointestinal tract. It wouldn’t have resulted in any lasting damage. Why are you asking these questions, Bex? Do you suspect foul play?”
“Jeanne, Zane was a very healthy man. He had a full physical and blood tests two months before the accident. He had no high cholesterol and normal blood glucose levels. There were absolutely no indicators that he was a candidate for a heart attack. I’m trying to figure out if something triggered a high enough adrenalin rush that could have caused one. You said it’s possible, but very rare. So, if the adrenaline didn’t come from natural sources, it makes me wonder if it was administered, even if accidentally.”
Jeanne drummed her fingers on the desk while her forehead knotted. Her voice sounded as perplexed as she looked. “I ran a routine autopsy on Zane to determine the cause of death, but I wasn’t looking for indicators of foul play. Why didn’t anyone bring this up at the time?”
“Because to everyone else this was a routine car accident. No one even paid lip service to the idea that it might have been anything else. At the time I never considered the angle that someone slipped a substance to him to cause the heart attack.”
Jeanne’s lips compressed into a tight line, making it obvious she didn’t relish this line of thought.
“If I had been informed there was anything suspicious about his death, I would’ve examined the toxicology differently. Now I’m worried because excessive amounts of potassium chloride can mimic heart attack symptoms. It’s used to treat patients with low levels of potassium in their systems, but there have been known cases in hospitals where too high a dose is injected and it’s been fatal within a few minutes.”
“That’s not viable because there were only the two of us in the car before the accident. If someone injected him he would have died before we got to the car.”
“Potassium can be ingested. In fact it’s readily absorbed from the GI tract. Although if he’d ingested a potassium tablet that shouldn’t have caused him any issues. They’re slow-releasing. Is it possible he ate something accidentally that was laced with potassium chloride? Where were you before the accident?” Jeanne asked.
“We were in the Manhattan Club. Zane had dinner with Walt. What if someone deliberately added potassium chloride to his food?”
“The substance is odourless, and usually comes as white granular crystals but he would probably have noticed the salty taste.” Jeanne shook her head, the action querulous and impatient. “It wouldn’t matter anyway. Ingesting potassium doesn’t have the same effect as an intravenous injection. It wouldn’t cause a heart attack. I seriously think you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
Jeanne’s face was arranged in a polite mask. Bex fought not to slump in her seat. It had been an emotionally brutal day, and now she waited for the last fall of the ax as Jeanne softened her voice to say, “Girl, I’m sorry to say, it’s time you accepted that Zane simply had an unexpected heart attack.”
Chapter 18
FBI Offices, Federal Plaza
Wednesday, 25 April
Dr. Wyatt Tomei and Adrian Mathers, Chief Security Officer for Quest Biorobotics, sat on one side of the table facing Cole and Eisley. Cole hadn’t wanted to risk his presence visiting the QBE building, while a phone call to Mathers had been worse than useless. Mathers refused to be forthcoming because he couldn’t verify Cole’s credentials over the phone and wouldn’t accept an email copy. It had taken the threat of police presence at the institute to bring both men to Federal Plaza. Cole had coordinated the visit with Eisley and was pleased when she had volunteered to be present for the interview.
With the four of them inside, the room, which had seemed a reasonable size for Cole on his own, felt confined.
Cole waited while Mathers examined his NCA warrant card in such detail he almost expected Mathers to produce a magnifying glass.
“I’ve never heard of National Crime Agency,” Mathers finally said, his heavy brow furrowed. “You’re not American and I can’t imagine you have any authority here in New York.”
“But this does.” Eisley produced her own badge, flashing it in Mathers’s direction.
Cole stepped in. “As I said, I’ve invited you two gentlemen here as a courtesy. If you’d rather go through more formal channels then I’ll arrange a subpoena to examine all your patient records.”
Cole let the threat hang in the air for a minute. He used the time to take a good hard look at Tomei. Leaning back in his chair, he gave the impression of owning the room. While the reflective glare from his lenses hid his expression, there was an intensity to his demeanor, an authority and confidence in his gestures that Cole guessed would be attractive to vulnerable women despite his plain, almost mousey, features.
He saw Tomei give an infinitesimal shake of his head to Mathers and the younger man sat ramrod stiff, crossing his arms over his chest and looking twisted out of shape to be brought to heel.
“As my CSO says, it seems odd that British intelligence should be interested in our facility.” The tone of Tomei’s voice was smooth, clear and well modulated. Cole guessed the refinement wasn’t natural but a result of long hours of practice.
“Not the facility per se, just one of your clients,” Cole answered.
“You should know that even the doctors within the facility don’t know the names of our patients participating in the research trials. Patients are identified by a unique number that is computer-generated. In fact we keep no personal records on the premises for our experimental research projects. There’s no need because the treatment offered by these projects isn’t covered by health care providers.
“You must understand, given the nature of the research we conduct that we must guarantee absolute privacy to our clients.”
“That sounds like an expensive exercise for the patients. How are they billed?” Eisley asked.
“All costs for the clients chosen for the experimental research are covered by sponsorship and donations. Individual patients in the program are not billed. As I said, we do our utmost to ensure that absolute privacy is maintained.”
“You must understand that if one of your clients has broken the law they’re no longer entitled to their privacy,” Cole said.
He removed two five by eight photos from a folder and placed the images side-by-side in front of Tomei and Mathers for viewing. Sophie and Lander Dresden.
“We believe this man is one of your experimental patients. The woman is his wife. What we need from you is confirmation of their presence at QBE.”
Tomei and Mathers took their time examining the photos.
“It’s difficult to be sure. I don’t deal with every patient on an individual basis,” Tomei said.
Cole addressed his next question to Mathers. “Does the medical center have security cameras inside?”
Mathers looked annoyed, his eyes cut sideways to Tomei, searching for a clue on how to answer. It seemed to Cole that Tomei was leaving his CSO on his own.
“Yes, QBE has security cameras both inside and out. We have a secure room where the security footage can be viewed if necessary.”
“Then I want you to take these photos to QBE and go through the footage until you’re sure you either have a match or you can eliminate Lander Dresden from your patient list. If he is identified, I’d like QBE to volunteer to help us by providing surveillance of his
room so we can be alerted when his wife visits.”
Tomei leaned forward, his stance combative.
“Then what, you think the feds can quietly swoop in and arrest a patient within our facility? I won’t tolerate that kind of publicity. It would ruin us!” His mouth thinned and he held up a hand before Cole or Eisley could interrupt. “QBE does not want to be associated with any criminal intent. What I can offer you is that Mathers will take these photos with us to see if they can be matched with vision from our security footage. If we have a match we will let you know. As I said, QBE does not want to be on the wrong side of the law, but I ask that any arrests take place outside QBE itself. We wish to be as far removed from this business as possible.”
Cole considered the offer. He exchanged a quick glance with Eisley who offered a barely perceptible shrug. The decision was his.
“Agreed. You inform us immediately you have a match. You keep us in the loop about when Sophie Dresden appears, but we won’t grab her until she’s well away from the building.”
Tomei and Mathers stood and Eisley led them from the room. When he was alone Cole phoned Fausch to fill him in on the latest developments.
“Once QBE offer a positive ID, I’ll book Banks and Weaver on a flight to New York,” Fausch said. “In the meantime I’ll get the ball rolling on extradition papers. I don’t want anything to stand in the way of bringing Dresden to justice here in London.”
When Fausch rang off, Cole redialed Bex’s number. It went straight to voicemail, letting him know her phone was still switched off. He swore under his breath as he hung up. Why wouldn’t she answer her phone? He was itching to talk to her, and not just about Dresden.
He felt his gut cramping as the thought crossed his mind that she was avoiding him. Don’t be bloody paranoid, you berk! he lashed out at himself. No doubt she was just busy with whatever family business had brought her to New York and had no time to spare for him. He flinched, because he hated the thought that other matters in her life were more important. How was she able to ignore the chemistry between them when he couldn’t? Why was it that of all the women he’d known since Lara, Bex was the only one who’d tempted him to open up about the deep-rooted pain in his past? He knew next to nothing about her, but he was convinced she had been hurt from life as badly as he’d been.
When he reached this point in his thoughts, he gave himself a swift mental kick up the rear, reminding himself he didn’t want a serious relationship. He shook his head as though that would dislodge thoughts of a woman with a body like a Norse goddess. Bloody hell, I’m too tired to think straight!
Cole flexed his shoulders to release a knot of tension. Exhaustion was catching up with his jetlagged body. He was in the middle of a yawn when the door opened and Eisley stuck her head around the edge.
“Have you got any plans for dinner?” she asked.
“Back to the hotel for room service I guess.”
“Listen, there’s a strip mall in Staten Island that has a decent Italian eatery. I can drive us there. You’ll get to do a little sight seeing while you’re here in New York, plus the entrées are damn good value.”
“A strip mall? Are we sight seeing at a nudist colony? Will all the diners be starkers? Because I have to tell you I’m not that comfortable baring my skin in public.” Cole hiked an eyebrow above puffy eyes and a crooked smile.
Eisley’s puzzled expression finally broke into a returning grin.
“Oh, snap, so now you’re a smart ass, English. Okay, I don’t know what you call a mall in London, but the only bare ass you’ll see is at the beach if you visit in summer.”
As Cole stood up and picked his jacket off the back of his chair, his stomach gave an audible rumble. “I trust you know your onions, so lead onto this ‘eatery’ establishment of yours. But I warn you, I’m giving entrées the boot and opting for mains. The bigger the better.”
Eisley shot him another puzzled look, but asked no questions.
Cole pocketed his phone. If Bex didn’t call him back tonight, he would call her again in the morning.
Chapter 19
Crowne Plaza Hotel, Times Square
Wednesday, 25 April
The vibrating phone squirmed like a worm on a hook. Bex ignored it. Walt, Neil and Cole had been calling intermittently throughout the afternoon but she had no desire to talk to any of them. Instead of dwelling on current issues, after arriving at her hotel room she had got stuck into researching potassium chloride on the Internet.
It had been easy to learn that potassium was an electrolyte and that potassium ions carry a positive charge when dissolved in water. She now knew that bodies used this electricity to expedite a number of processes including nerve signals and muscle contractions. With sufficient digging she had also discovered that two years ago a pharmaceutical company had developed a drug based on potassium to boost the positive charge sufficiently to heighten the nerve signals and muscle contractions. The drug was aimed specifically at patients suffering from nerve damage. The drug had reached the trial stage, but it appeared the severity of the side effects didn’t allow the formula to pass Food and Drug Administration requirements.
After another hour wading through interminable tracts of medical jargon, Bex realized she still hadn’t accessed any actual trial data for the potassium drug. The information she sought was firmly locked behind subscription services and scientific literature. She wasn’t even sure she would be able to interpret it if she did access it.
She picked up her now silent phone and dialed Jeanne’s number.
“Jeanne, do you have any spare time this evening?”
“I’ve got to put this cadaver back together and then I might have time for a microwave dinner before collapsing into bed,” Jeanne responded.
“Can I bribe you to come over here for a hearty hotel-cooked meal?”
There was silence for thirty seconds, then Jeanne snorted, “Girl, you’ve got yourself a done deal!”
Ninety minutes later Jeanne had ordered a ten-ounce center-cut top sirloin with Sriracha glaze, melted blue cheese and garlic mashed potatoes with a quinoa and baby greens side salad and an Angry Orchard Cider. Looking at Jeanne’s trim frame, Bex wondered aloud where she stashed all those calories because they didn’t show.
“Hard work, baby. I’m on my feet all day long and cutting into bodies is tough physical work. You bet I build up an appetite. Besides it’s not every day I’m given carte blanche at a fancy hotel.” As she forked the steak into her mouth, her flexed biceps made her humerus tattoo pop.
Finishing off her cider, Jeanne flipped open her laptop, logging into the hotel’s wifi.
“Sit down and chill,” she ordered Bex. “This could take a while. I’m subscribed to a number of online medical journals and someone’s bound to have written up this trial.”
Bex sat on a striped armchair in a corner near the bed and got stuck into her own laptop, web surfing to discover what she could about the three companies which had participated in the potassium trials. The first two were standard teaching hospitals, the last company was Quest Biorobotics Enterprises. A shiver rippled down her spine when she read the company’s credentials and specialization. She made a note to tell Cole about QBE as being of possible interest to Dresden. Then she lost the thought when Jeanne swiveled her screen towards her. Tapping a finger against a page of text she began speaking in her professional medical tone.
“Essentially, the body needs a delicate balance of potassium to keep the heart and other muscles working properly. All three trials involved paralysis patients, the first two were interested in stimulating regrowth of nerves to enable patients to regain control over their limbs, the third trial involved patients being fitted with robotic prostheses.
“While the drug did successfully increase nerve sensitivity, this article explains the side effects that were unacceptable to the FDA, leading to the trial being canceled and the drug pulled out of production.”
“What were the side effects?” Bex asked.
>
“The hyperkalemia or high potassium levels caused both rhabdomylysis, or break down of muscle tissue, and dangerously erratic heart arrhythmia. The effects kicked in about thirty minutes to an hour after the drug was ingested.”
“What does heart arrhythmia mean?”
“Palpitations of the heart caused by irregular beating. In this trial it resulted in increased beats per minute, called supraventricular tachycardia. The medical investigators for the trial believe that was because of blocked electrical signals in the heart. Essentially the elevated potassium in the drugs screwed with the electrical signals to the heart. The medical investigators were afraid if the tests continued it would result in fatal heart attacks.”
Bex’s pulse quickened and she shot to her feet. There was no space around the king-sized bed for her to pace so she settled her hands on her hips instead, exclaiming, “This is the break I’ve been looking for, Jeanne!”
Behind Jeanne’s head city lights twinkled through sheer drapes moving softly in the breeze from the air conditioning. She brought the bottle of cider to her lips and took a deep swig.
“Say something!” Bex demanded.
“We’ve come across a potassium-based drug that has the potential to cause heart attacks, but hasn’t been in use since its trial two years ago. What kind of policing do you indulge in to make a massive leap from that fact to tying it into the cause of Zane’s death? There are way too many questions. For instance, how did the drug get into Zane’s body? Who gave it to him? How did they get hold of a drug that was no longer being produced and had never been available except for closed clinical tests? And why in the world would anyone want to kill Zane? Girl, as far as I can see you’ve raised more questions than answers.”
Bex Wynter Box Set 2 Page 51
