by Elle Gray
“Okay, what’s the longest clip in the folder?” I ask.
Brody scans through them and stops at one recorded two days before Takahashi was killed. “This clip is a little more than ten minutes long.”
“Sounds like a lot more going on than Takahashi getting up and going into the kitchen then sitting back down.”
“I’d guess there’s a lot more going on.”
“All right, let’s see what he caught.”
Brody plays the clip and I instantly recognize the two faces on the screen. My body tenses up and I grit my teeth.
“Those are the two who jumped me in the parking garage,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive,” I confirm. “I’d recognize them anywhere.”
Brody flashes me a grin. “Okay, I take back what I said before,” he says. “I am duly impressed that you handled both of these monsters on your own.”
I laugh softly and watch as both of them seem to take turns posing in front of the camera. They’re looking for something on the shelves of course, but they unwittingly gave us a perfect view of their faces. We watch the whole ten-minute clip of them searching Takahashi’s. I wonder where he is considering he doesn’t get out much. The two men look everywhere but don’t seem to find whatever it was they were looking for. They confer with each other, then back out of the apartment and the video camera shuts down.
“Can we print those face shots then run them through facial recognition software?” I suggest. “We might be able to get some names to put with those faces.”
“Excellent idea,” Brody says.
The printer whirrs to life as Brody prints out the pictures. After that, he puts them into the portable scanner and converts them to PDFs on his laptop.
“Search the military databases first,” I say. “I’m thinking these two are ex-military.”
“On it.”
With that process running, Brody and I scan through the rest of the files on the hard drive. There isn’t much else that’s new to us. The information we need just isn’t there. He and Veronica hadn’t been able to dig it up before she was killed. It only makes me more determined to get it and expose what’s going on behind closed doors at Lomtin Labs. But how, is the question.
The door to our war room opens and Marcy walks in, giving us both a smile. “I thought I’d find you both in here,” she says. “It’s late. Don’t you think you guys need some sleep?”
Brody glances at his watch and a look of surprise crosses his face. Frankly, I have no idea what time it is, and I’d rather be putting my energy to use here than sleeping. I honestly don’t think I could sleep very well anyway. But I shouldn’t be a jerk and force Brody to live by my schedule. I give him a nod.
“Why don’t you and Marcy go on home and get some sleep?” I offer.
He nods. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. What about you?”
“I’ll catch a couple hours of sleep here. There are some things I need to work out.”
A soft beep sounds from the computer and a pair of photographs pop up on the video screen. It’s the two guys who jumped me—the same guys who broke into Takahashi’s apartment.
“Sergeant William Devers of Chicago, Illinois, and Corporal Thomas Staley of Buffalo, New York,” Brody reads from his computer screen. “Both served in the Army, doing tours in both Iraq and Afghanistan. Both honorably discharged.”
“And now both working for some shady private security firm,” I add. “This is good though. Really good.”
Devers is the bigger of the two—the guy whose arm I broke—while Staley is the one who suffered the skull fracture. As I stare at their faces, plans start coalescing in my head. A sly grin touches my lips as I start to piece together an idea about how we’re going to get the information we need to go after Lomtin. It’s still a little raw and half-baked, and I think maybe Marcy’s right. A little sleep might not hurt. Perhaps a little sleep will help the plans firm up. I turn and give them both a smile.
“Uh oh,” Brody comments. “I know that smile. You’ve got an idea running through that head of yours.”
I nod. “I do. But I want to sleep on it,” I say. “Give it a chance to marinate. So Marcy’s right. Let’s get a little sleep then regroup for breakfast in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” Marcy says.
“Sounds terrifying,” Brody mutters. “When he gets that smile, nothing good ever follows. Like ever.”
I laugh. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Have I ever steered you wrong before?”
“Yes,” Brody replies instantly. “Yes, you have.”
“And yet, you’re still alive. That has to say something.”
“Yeah, that’s probably not the ringing endorsement of your half-cocked ideas you think it is.”
I shrug. “Maybe not. But it’s better than the alternative,” I say. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“How about Stu’s?” Marcy asks.
“You always want to go to Stu’s,” I laugh. “But Stu’s it is.”
Twenty-Five
Stu’s Greasy Spoon; Belltown District, Seattle
I woke up this morning with a fire in my belly and the ideas fully formed in my head. I know how we’re going to do this. All of it. There are still a few details I want to work out, but I know how we’re going to expose Lomtin. It’s going to require a whole lot of nerve and a little bit of luck, but I think we can pull this off.
Brody and Marcy come through the door and spot me sitting in the corner booth. They both look tired and are lurching forward like zombies. I suppose I could have waited until nine to text them, but I was up at seven and just figured they would be too, I guess. Apparently, not everybody functions as well on three hours of sleep as I do.
“I hate you so much right now,” Marcy mutters as she slides into the booth.
“What she said,” Brody adds.
I laugh as the waitress brings a pot of coffee and sets it down on the table. She gives me a smile and departs.
“Well, good morning to you too,” I grin. “Have some coffee. It’ll perk you both right up.”
“I’m not sure anything short of an adrenaline shot straight into my heart is going to perk me up,” Brody says.
“Well, if coffee doesn’t do the trick, we can go by the hospital and see if they can administer that for you,” I reply.
“How in the hell are you so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, Paxton?” Marcy asks.
I shrug. “Three hours of sleep is all I need, really.”
She groans and drops her head into her hands, giving me an obscene gesture, which only makes me laugh.
I pour them both a cup of coffee and as they drink up, I see them slowly coming back to life. That’s good. I need them both thinking clearly and on their A-game. The waitress comes by and takes our orders then bustles away to get our meals working.
“So, judging by that look of smug satisfaction on your face, I’m guessing your idea fully formed in your head,” Marcy notes.
“It did, actually.”
“So, let’s hear how you’re going to get us all killed. I’m all ears,” Brody says.
I laugh softly. “Relax. There are parts of the plan only I can do—”
“Like what?” Marcy asks.
“Dealing with our ex-soldiers, for one,” I explain. “I don’t want either of you getting mixed up in what I’m going to do. And no, it’s better that you don’t know.”
“That sounds ominous,” Brody notes.
I shrug again. “Nothing for you to worry about,” I insist. “Brody, what I really need from you is to hit the computer hard and find Emma Welsh. I don’t care what you have to do, but we need to track her down. We need to talk to her.”
“I want a raise.”
“You got it.”
“And what about me?” Marcy asks.
“I do have something for you, but it’s dangerous,” I tell her. “And I don’t want you doing this if you have any doubts or fears. I don’t wan
t to force you into something. I won’t do that to you. So, after you hear me out, you can decide then.”
“Now,” she turns to Brody, “that sounds ominous.”
“You’re not wrong,” he replies. “What sort of life-threatening, crazy-as-hell stunt are you putting my girl in the middle of, Pax?”
“None if she doesn’t want it,” I protest.
“Well, let’s hear it so I can make a decision.”
“Fair enough,” I reply. “But let’s eat first.”
The waitress sets our plates down in front of us and my stomach instantly growls. We all tuck into our meals, all of us eating in silence. The food’s good, as it always is, and my mood definitely gets a little brighter with a full belly. Though it’s fraught with peril, the more I think about it, the more I think it can and will work. I think we’ll be able to throw open the doors and let the light shine on the darkness inside Lomtin. We’ll be able to cast a spotlight on anybody and everybody involved with what’s going on over there.
We finish our meals and push our plates to the center of the table. The waitress swings by and refills our mugs, then gathers the plates and walks away. It’s as if she senses none of us are in the mood for chit-chat and is giving us the space we need.
“Okay, so, we’ve eaten,” Marcy says. “Let’s hear it.”
“All you’re going to have to do is interview Sjoberg. If what Veronica said is true, he’s going to want to talk about Xytophyl. That’s your in. Tell him you want to know more about this wonder drug. He won’t be able to resist,” I say. “I’m going in with you and will pose as your photographer or something. I just need to be in the room with you. Ideally, we’ll get Rogers in the room too. I want them both on record.”
“On record for what?” Brody asks.
“I want them on record denying what we’re going to accuse them of,” I say. “I want to shake them up. Rattle them and put them on the defensive. Maybe they’ll let something slip.”
“How are we going to do that?” she asks.
“We’re going to hit them with everything we have so far,” I say. “We’re going to confront them with the fraudulent trials, the dead babies, and the dead mothers. We’re going to him them hard and fast. Catch them off guard and see what shakes out.”
“What if they don’t take well to that?”
“Leave that to me. You just get us an interview with them. Tell them whatever you have to but don’t make it sound adversarial up front,” I say. “Odds are, they won’t know who you are so tell them you want to do a puff-piece profile. On them. Just get us in the door because the other part of my plan depends on it.”
“And what is the other part of your plan?” Brody asks.
“Getting a bug into his office,” I say. “Seems fair to me, since they bugged our office.”
Brody smirks. “It does have a poetic ring to it,” he says. “But I’m not really crazy about you using Marcy as bait.”
“And that’s fair,” I acknowledge. “My idea is that when it’s done and we have the bug inside, Marce, I’ll use my family’s private jet to get you out of the country until this blows over. I’ll send Nick with you to keep you safe.”
“Hey, what makes you think I can’t keep her safe?”
“Because I need you here working this with me, unfortunately,” I tell him. “But if this all works out, I’ll send you two anywhere in the world you want to go. Take an extended vacation on me.”
Marcy taps a finger against her lips, considering the pros and cons of this whole thing in her mind. “Anywhere in the world?”
“Anywhere,” I confirm.
“Yeah, I’m still not crazy about this plan,” huffs Brody. Marcy elbows him in the rib.
If they’re not crazy about this part of the plan, I can only imagine how they’d feel about the other half of my plan. I’m not going to mention it simply because it’s part of the plan only I can pull off. That’s my part of the deal.
“What do you think?” I ask.
She nods. “Yeah, I’m in. I told you I’d do whatever it took.”
“Maybe we should talk about this first,” Brody says.
“Nothing to talk about. I’m a big girl, Brody. I can handle myself,” she says. “And if this brings us a step closer to getting justice for Veronica, then I’m all in.”
Brody clenches his jaw and looks down into his mug but eventually nods. I know he’s struggling with this, and I wish I could ease his burden. But if we’re going to get to the bottom of this, we’re going to have to take risks. We’re running into the same walls and roadblocks Veronica did, so if we want to expose these monsters, we’re going to have to be flexible, adaptable, and just as ruthless as they are. Sometimes it’s necessary to become the monster you’re hunting if you hope to catch it.
“Just be careful,” he says then cuts his eyes over to me. “And you take care of her.”
“I appreciate your concern, babe,” Marcy says. “But Pax is right. We’re going to have to take some risks if we’re going to beat these guys.”
Brody runs a hand through his hair and nods. “I get it. I really do. And I’m in too,” he says. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to worry.”
Marcy leans over and gives him a gentle peck on the cheek. “And you’re sweet because you do,” she says then turns to me. “I’ll start making calls and get the interview.”
“And I’ll work on running down a woman who doesn’t want to be found,” Brody says then looks at me. “What are you going to do?”
“First, I’m going to the war room with you,” I say. “And after you get me current addresses on Devers and Staley, I’m going hunting.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Marcy asks.
“No. But both of them are dinged up and I’m not going to get a better chance at these two,” I say.
“What are you going to do with them once you have them?” Marcy asks.
“I’m going to find out who their employer is,” I tell her. “I’m going to extract every piece of information out of them that I can. I’m going to find out who killed Veronica. I don’t care what I have to do to get it out of them.”
“Okay, now that sounds ominous,” Brody comments.
Marcy nods. “I agree.”
“I’m done playing around with these people,” I say. “Now, let’s get out of here and get to work.”
Twenty-Six
Office of Didrik Sjoberg, Lomtin Laboratories; Seattle, WA
“Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Sjoberg says, his voice colored by a faint Swedish accent, as he comes around his desk to shake hands with Marcy. “Thank you for coming and giving me this opportunity to speak about Xytophyl. It’s a miraculous drug I’m extremely proud of and I want the whole world to know about it.”
“Oh, trust me, Mr. Sjoberg,” Marcy starts, putting on the perfect picture of a smart, capable journalist. “When we’re done, the entire world will definitely know about Xytophyl and Lomtin Labs. I guarantee it.”
She’s wearing a blazer and slacks to perfectly cover her myriad of tattoos, and over the last week, she enlisted Brody and me to help bleach and tone her hair to even out the blonde. She even took her nose ring out. I have to admit, it’s like looking at a different person.
“Excellent to hear, my dear,” he says.
Chuckling to myself, I look down at the cameras in my hand and get ready to start shooting a few photos. It took a little more than a week to get this meeting; I was on pins and needles the whole time. It was absolutely critical for us to get into his office. Thankfully, we’ve had no recent run-ins with his goon squad. Things on that front have seemed to calm down some. I used the lull in the action to harden my plans and prepare myself for what I’m going to do.
To start, I had Brody hack into Lomtin’s systems and insert me as an employee—somebody in the janitorial staff. He cloned me an ID badge that would work to get me into the building, then built me a background, backstopping all my information going back about five years. It wou
ld pass a cursory inspection, but probably not something deeper. Brody was concerned about it, but I told him not to worry and that everything would be fine. He didn’t seem to believe me. But then, I don’t know that I believe me either, to be honest.
After consulting with somebody I know who does special effects and makeup work in Hollywood, I put together a disguise and she taught me how to apply it. Once I was ready, I took my ID badge for a test drive and pulled one of the overnight shifts inside Lomtin Laboratories. I’ve done that twice this week and it worked flawlessly. I’m still learning the layout of the structure and trying to locate the records room. I want to find the original paperwork on the trials to prove they falsified the records to gain FDA approval for Xytophyl. It’s going to take a little time to get ingratiated enough to pull something like that off. But I’m going to do it.
I tune out, but Sjoberg is still laying it on thick as he has from the start. Marcy handles herself like a pro. She’s warm and receptive and seems to put Sjoberg at ease right from the jump. He’s less certain about me, though. He’s cordial, but far less enthusiastic. Perhaps he knows I can smell his BS from a mile off and wants to avoid me calling him out. Or maybe he’s just more receptive to pretty girls. Who knows?
This is my first look at the man in person, and I have to say that I’m underwhelmed. I was expecting some intellectual giant, or a man carrying himself with culture and refinement. But to be honest, in the first five minutes we’ve been here, he’s seemed more like a carnival barker. A huckster. An old-time snake oil salesman. Personally, I find him to be gauche and gaudy. He may have more money than God, but I think he’s tacky and tasteless.
“Please, sit down,” he says, directing Marcy to the sitting area in his office. The furniture sits atop a large, square Persian rug that probably costs more than most of his rank-and-file employees make in a year. If there’s one thing I can tell about Didrik Sjoberg after spending five minutes in his office, it’s that he enjoys the finer things in life and isn’t afraid to spend money to surround himself with riches and finery. He’s a peacock who likes to flaunt his wealth.
