He handed the phone back to the shaken young man.
“What’s your name, kid?”
“Josh Lefebvre.”
“Josh, none of this is your fault. Okay?”
The kid stood there, mouth open, wide-eyed, and afraid.
“Josh, I need to borrow one of your bikes. It’s a matter of life and death. I promise I’ll get it back to you.”
Before the kid could respond Halliday removed a business card from his wallet. He handed it to the kid. “That’s how to contact me.”
He climbed up on the trailer and said, “Help me get this bike on the road.”
Chapter Forty Four
The Ducati bike danced around the assemblage of RVs, pickups, and SUVs arranged in two straight lines. Most of them hauled trailers. Up ahead, Halliday saw the hold up. Men in blue on motorcycles had put up a temporary road block. They were checking all vehicles.
Halliday cut across the highway in front of another RV with motorcycles hanging off the rear. The demonstrators had used good strategy by bringing along an army of trail bikes. The RV driver honked his horn and cussed. Halliday waved behind as he turned off the highway.
He sped down the narrow lane bordered by forest. An opening on the right revealed a large motor pool that housed Genevive’s fleet of white pickups along with the battery operated trams that ferried workers around the campus. He slowed at a guard shack. A sign read: ABSOLUTELY NO VISITORS ALLOWED. PLEASE REPORT TO THE MAIN GATE.
Halliday drove up to the guard shack. He flipped his I.D. at the guard and said, “Detective John Halliday, Santa Reina PD. You see any tourists coming down this way?”
“No sir, Mr. Altman assigned four personnel near the Parkway junction to monitor the situation. They called and told me a black suit on a bike headed this way.”
He should have seen them. “I’ve got business with Mr. Palmier.”
After a quick glance at a list the guard said, “Yes, sir.”
The guard lifted the gate arm.
Halliday drove through. A group of motor pool mechanics eating lunch at a bench beneath a canopy paid him no attention.
The lane continued a half mile before the Ducati roared up to an intersection. A sign said, NO VEHICLES ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT. Halliday saw a clump of bushes off to the right. He cut the engine, letting the bike coast into the dense foliage.
He headed on foot in the southwestern direction where Laurel’s map had placed building C-14. He had an hour before their meet up. White security pickup trucks apparently were exempt from the “no vehicles” rule. He had to change directions twice to avoid them.
Halliday got his bearings from the water tank atop the hill. Where possible he used the canopies that connected the buildings as cover. He felt like the lead character in his favorite 50’s sci-fi movie. Alien pods had taken over the bodies of the Genevive employees, not Halliday’s. As in the movie he walked deliberately to show that he was one of them.
“Detective Halliday, where are you headed?”
The deep voice from above startled him. He stopped and looked up.
On the second floor of the building, a large black man leaned into the railing with a coffee cup in his hand.
“Come on up, Detective Halliday,” Genevive Security Chief Altman said. He held up his cup. “We’ve got fresh brewed coffee.”
Halliday knew he had no choice but to comply with the security chief. He had plenty of time before he met Laurel at C14.
When he arrived at the second floor veranda Altman offered a cup of coffee. With a smug look, he said, “I bet you’re a black coffee man, detective.”
“It shows, huh?” Halliday pretended to relax. He dropped into a comfortable overstuffed chair.
He sipped the delicious coffee blend, waiting for Altman to say something.
“Who escorted you through security?”
Palmier must have ordered Halliday’s name to the list without notifying Altman. “Agent Coulter. I heard him mention an emergency security meeting. I thought it would be a good opportunity to tour your fine campus.”
“Tour the campus, huh?” Altman’s expression said he didn’t believe him. “Coulter rough you up?”
“Comes with the territory. Are you going to do something about those protesters?”
Altman gave a wolfish grin. The man looked larger than when Halliday had seen him at the cabin. He stood six and a half feet and must have weighed in at close to three hundred pounds. His head resembled the shape of a hatchet with a long, skinny neck. His lower body, the larger portion of him, sported thighs the size of tree trunks.
Halliday ignored the brute’s intimidating stare.
The man who might have murdered Jillian Andrews leaned over, draped a badge over his neck and said, “We have a hospital on campus. I don’t think you’ll need it, though.”
The way Altman said it gave him pause. Halliday peered down at the badge. “What’s going on? This says James Hallowell.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Altman said. “It’s just temporary. Come on, we have to go.”
“Where are we headed?” Halliday said. A wave of dizziness caused him to stop and bend over.
The big security chief gave him an annoyed look. “To my security annex, Halliday. Mr. Palmier will join us there.”
Altman led him past the rustic, two-story buildings with wide porches. Each one of them had a “Welcome” mat. Each floor contained a lounge area and the equivalent of a Starbucks, which served caffeine laden drinks that he could never pronounce. He could see why people wanted to work amid the picturesque campus setting.
He looked over his shoulder. Altman’s pasted-on smile impersonated a company man. He made short crisp remarks about the weather to passersby. He wished a pregnant woman named Sheryl good luck on her upcoming birth. Sheryl would be shocked to find out that Altman had no doubt authorized the capture of vagrants for research and dismemberment purposes. Unless Sheryl belonged to the mad scientists’ group and already knew.
The eerie campus tranquility coupled with the employees’ docile demeanor was too reminiscent of his favorite sci-fi movie. He could imagine bio-extremists breaking through the front gate. The doe-eyed employees would offer them lattes laced with whatever potion had turned them tranquil.
He saw no feasible escape route.
Altman steered him along a footpath through a grove of trees, into a large open area. Halliday could no longer hear the sounds of the protestors. The campus pedestrian traffic ceased. After the long trek the two men stood in front of a small square two story building without porches, verandas, or windows. Beyond, Halliday could just make out building C14 through the trees. The large black cube appeared to belong at Fort Mead, Maryland, home to the National Security Agency.
“Hands against the wall, detective,” Altman ordered.
Halliday leaned into the wall while the security honcho patted him down.
“It’s S.O.P.,” Altman said. “No way are weapons getting through our security.”
Yeah, right.
Altman swiped his badge across the reader. The annex door opened. Altman said, “Halliday, get your sorry ass in there.”
Altman’s transformation into chain gang jargon would have upset the happy passersby.
Halliday heard the door slam behind him and felt a shove. He lost his balance, barreling into an empty desk.
“I am the law inside the gates of Genevive Labs, Detective Halliday. Remember that.”
He righted himself. “Private property or not, you can go to jail for assaulting a police officer, Altman. What is this place?”
“The security annex is my jurisdiction,” Altman said. “People that come here find it an unforgettable experience. Now move your ass.” He pointed in the direction of the lit hallway.
None of the offices had names or numbers on the doors, although the hall carpet appeared worn. The building looked vacant. Near the end of the hall, on the left, a door had a red alarm light above it.
“Move away from th
e door,” Altman said.
Altman swiped his badge again. When he turned the door handle, the red light flashed once followed by a delayed audible alarm. Altman fumbled with a remote control that he pulled out of his pocket. It silenced the loud shrill.
“I gotta get that fixed.”
The interview room resembled a smaller version of the kind the big city police departments used. The Santa Reina PD had neither the budget nor the need for one. A full length one-way mirror separated the room. A viewing area next to the window enabled security personnel to observe interview subjects.
“Look familiar, Halliday?” Altman flipped a switch that illuminated the interview room behind the dark windows.
“Why would a research and development lab need an interview room that rivals LAPD’s?”
“Security involves much more than just keeping people out,” Altman said. “Scientists here are developing products that promise to slow the aging process. People will live decades longer. They’ll stamp out diseases that were long thought to be incurable. Sometimes people get greedy and want to go into business for themselves.”
Altman’s sincerity belonged on a chain gang.
“Thanks to the scientists at Genevive I’ve been cured of prostate cancer. Two years ago a doctor told me that I had six months to live. Now, I am cancer free. The drug’s not even on the market yet.”
It must be the same prostate drug that Palmier used to prolong the chief’s life, Halliday thought. The drug kept the chief in line. It began Laurel’s transparency miracle.
“Dr. Krabbi told me Lamar Festus was Genevive’s poster boy,” Halliday said. “I think you should be their boy.”
Altman raised his eyes. “Dr. Krabbi told you that?”
Halliday nodded. “That doesn’t justify taking the law in your own hands. Why have you been interviewing people here?”
“My task is to keep a safe environment for the scientists to perform their miracles. Sometimes, the enemy comes from within. Then I deal with it.”
The egomaniac Altman conversed well when the need arose. If Genevive’s disregard for humanity got anymore preposterous, though, Halliday might flat out start laughing. He figured his chances were better revealing what he had discovered of Genevive’s secrets in front of the battle scarred Altman rather than the calculating Brad Palmier.
“Does Genevive policy condone abducting vagrants to use for experiments?”
Altman’s face appeared to belong to a robot that had received too much input data. He couldn’t adjust. His facial features failed to manage the right expression. He stepped toward Halliday. “Who the fuck told you that?”
“Come on, George, everybody’s aware of the experiments the mad scientists have been conducting here. Mice and rabbits are one thing, but humans? It’s just a matter of days before the state Attorney General rounds up your gang in front of a grand jury. They’ll pull the plug on this lawless operation.”
Irate, Altman swiped Halliday’s head with his big hand. Halliday fell to the floor. He shook out of a daze as the angry security man lunged forward.
The audio alarm’s short-lived yelp stopped Altman.
When the door opened Altman blurted out to Palmier, “He knows about the ASCENT Project and our experiments… with them.”
Halliday pulled himself up off the floor. He gave Palmier a challenging stare.
Fear, a new emotion, surfaced in Palmier’s face. The executive muttered, “That crazy little doctor will be our downfall.”
He must not have heard the news yet. Halliday figured that Doctor Krabbi wasn’t the only weak line in this comedy of horror. “You’d better get used to fallibility,” he said to Palmier. He raised his arm, prepared to deflect another roundhouse smack by Altman.
“At ease, George,” Palmier said in a controlled voice. “We’ll take care of him later.”
To remain alive Halliday knew he would have to resort to tactics he would never have considered a few days ago. Lying deserved a reward with these two. “Palmier, did you receive the FBI reports?”
“I didn’t receive any reports. If you’re lying we’ll get the truth from you.”
He needed to give them a reason to doubt themselves. “That’s odd,” he said. “Agent Candiotti called this morning. He mentioned he had had a conversation with Mr. Altman a few days ago. He said he told Altman that the suspect, Laurel McKittrick, is the girlfriend of the Morning Glory leader.”
The furious Altman stuck his huge fist in Halliday’s face. “You lying sack of shit.”
Halliday kept his cool. He said to Palmier, “Get smart. The biotech extremists are using your deceased ex-wife against you. I don’t know why Altman is keeping it from you. Maybe he’s playing the other side or he’s just plain stupid.”
Palmier gave Altman a disappointed glance. “Lay off him, George.” Then he said to Halliday, “Your allegations regarding my ex-wife sound preposterous. At this point it doesn’t matter, though. An hour with Mr. Altman will have you begging to tell the truth.”
The two Genevive employees stood in an awkward silence. Altman would have a lot of explaining to do.
“You shut down the public hot springs because of the water contamination,” Halliday said. “Then you had Altman murder Jillian Andrews to quiet her. You people disgust me.”
Palmier stood rigid wearing a stunned look. For the first time since Halliday had met him the executive seemed to lack confidence.
Halliday stuck it to him, “The coup de grâce came with your insane idea to abduct San Joaquin Valley vagrants for mad scientific experiments. What were you people thinking? That’s monstrous.”
Palmier remained speechless. Halliday feared that Altman, now consumed with rage, would do something stupid.
“George, go over to building C14. Round up everyone for the security meeting. I want the scientists involved, too. Take everyone over to the building B1 conference room.” Palmier glanced at the wall clock. “In twenty minutes, at noon. Before you leave, lock down C14.”
Altman gave Palmier a starved dog look and said, “Yes sir, what about Halliday?”
“Lock him in the interview room. I want him to see what’s in store when we return.”
Palmier must have noticed the rage in Altman’s eyes. “Don’t hurt him yet. He has information we need.”
“Let’s go,” Altman said to Halliday.
“Evidence is being forwarded to the State Attorney General even as we speak. It proves that Genevieve, in collusion with the federal government, doctored the Foxworth’s original deed,” Halliday called over his shoulder to Palmier. “This place is going to be a ghost town this time next month.”
“Through the door, asshole,” Altman said.
He glanced behind as Brad Palmier stood, stiff as a scarecrow. Halliday thought the man’s mind must be racing.
“I’m going to have fun with you later, Halliday,” Altman said as he shut the door. “Take a look.”
Although the high tech chair appeared innocent enough, the paraphernalia positioned around it worried him. “You torture your own employees?”
“I find the truth. My success rate is one hundred percent,” Altman said.
The high voltage generator next to the chair had a large red dial to vary the voltage during Altman’s torture exercises. An intravenous network snaked to a termination point. Hypodermic needles lay readied on a dental table. Various medical, dental, and mechanical instruments were laid alongside the needles. A medicine cabinet on the wall held Altman’s preferred drugs.
Crazy monster.
All of the items had been designed to fix things. In the hands of the egomaniac Altman, they would be capable of inflicting excruciating pain.
“Prepare to enter the gates of hell soon, asshole,” Altman blurted in Halliday’s ear as Brad Palmier entered.
“George, get going,” Palmier said in a voice tinged with irritation.
The distraught security honcho slammed both doors during his departure. Halliday said to Palmier, “Yo
u should keep him on a leash.”
Palmier pointed a gun at him. “I have issues to take care of. When I return you are going to tell me all you know about the ASCENT project. I want to hear what you know of Jillian Foxworth Andrews’ death. Where is my ‘back from the dead’ ex-wife, Laurel McKittrick?”
“Back from the dead? Your fantasies don’t end in the labs, do they, Palmier? If I were you I would give the FBI report more credence than Altman does.”
“No one has ever left this room without telling all.”
“Why should I say anything? Altman just threatened to murder me.”
“That was just George being George,” Palmier said. “We don’t remove people from society for no reason. We’re concerned citizens performing a difficult job that will benefit mankind.” A debate went on in Palmier’s face before the man said, “Besides, the lives of a few bums don’t amount to much.”
Does that include detectives?
Palmier added, “You know what I think?” The suave executive straightened his tie.
“There’s no evidence on the way to the State Attorney General.”
Halliday didn’t do a good job at refuting Palmier’s statement with his damaged face.
“Halliday, I suggest you have a seat. We designed that chair for maximum comfort. George will be along soon. He’s a skilled craftsman of the art of torture.
Halliday stood steadfast.
“Don’t bother to attempt an escape.” Palmier raised his ID card. “No exit without one of these.” He knocked on the wall. “Solid core, steel reinforced. You heard the siren in the hallway. You can’t disable it without a remote control device. If a miracle happened and you made it through the door, at the same instant an electronic signal would alert the security team. They would arrive before you reached the annex entrance.”
Palmier’s overconfident gave him hope.
Chapter Forty Five
Palmier and his bulldog, George Altman, had motivated him. Halliday allowed two minutes for the rat to exit the premises.
Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold Page 26
