“Erik, hi. I wanted to see if you have some time today. First, though, tell me how the students are.”
“One is still in intensive care. She has another health problem, which made it harder for her body to deal with the poison. The other five are under observation. For now, they can’t leave. Too unstable.” Remembering Lishan’s request, he said, “Why don’t you come to my apartment? Likely a safer bet than yours these days. Don’t go back to your apartment. By the way, where were you last night, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Auntie’s. I’ll tell you later.” Lishan agreed to come by. Thirty minutes later, she knocked on his door.
“Hungry?” he asked, as she settled in. A nod sent Erik to the kitchen, returning to the couch with sushi from the deli and a Sierra Nevada Pale Ale. As he ate, he looked at her as though he were waiting for something.
She picked up on the hint. “Oh, yes. Auntie. We worked on Mazzini emails until late. Then she took me to breakfast this morning.” Reaching its end, she knew she couldn’t contain her thoughts any longer about where she would live, and Rafael, both of which were stressful baggage for her. “Erik?”
Her tone must have alerted his instincts. “You want to talk about where you should live, right?”
“Yes,” she said, though inside, she was screaming to get the confrontation with Rafael out in the open.
Finally, Erik spoke, relieved that Lishan didn’t want to talk about men, Rafael in particular. “I asked my friend Jean-Antoine if he had a place for you to stay, just in case. He’s an artist who owns an apartment building two blocks from here. He has a room being renovated, mostly done, that you can use. If you help with the work, or do the remaining work yourself, he’ll cut you a freebie deal. I doubt he’ll charge you, in any case, but I thought you would like to help out.”
“That’s good news. Artist that he is, can I call him Watteau?” Lishan gave a weak smile at her quip and added, “You know how much I love it here. It’s difficult, thinking about leaving.”
“I’m hoping it’s just a temporary move, until you’re safe again. I had already talked with Antoine yesterday about the possibility. By the way, have you ever had a broken arm—in a sling—annoyed by the incessant question? What I mean is, don’t call him Watteau.”
“He’ll break my arm?”
“No. Well, maybe. That’s not what I meant, though.”
“Then…” Lishan interrupted herself, thinking best to just move along since she was merely jousting, attempting to lighten the mood.
“I should tell you, he can be a bit narcissistic. He prefers to be called Antoine—something to do with his ego, and women.”
“Wonderful,” Lishan said dryly. “And when am I supposed to move to the Louvre?”
“Cute. Tomorrow. Tonight is up for grabs.” Erik looked at the time on his cell phone. “I have to get back to the office. Settle in here. I’ll be back this evening, okay?”
Lishan felt her breath stiffen. She still carried the Rafael burden with her.
- - -
The afternoon slid by, one slow minute after another. Lishan intended to be productive, but residual fatigue and depression caught up. Thoughts of Rafael and Erik knotted her gut. She napped on the couch instead. A ring-ring on her phone woke her as 5:00 p.m. approached.
“Hi. It’s Auntie. I’ve got the details for meeting with Maya. Monday, ten in the morning.” She paused. “Were you asleep?”
“Yes. Tired. Where do we meet?”
With the details written, Lishan thanked Niesha and begged for a shorter conversation, if she didn’t mind. She put on a Kenyan decaf to brew, wondering if Erik would call. She dug into FDA.gov and continued her search.
At 8:00 p.m., she could hear the key in the door. It was Erik.
“Progress today?” he asked.
They exchanged the essence of the afternoon. By 9:00, both of them were haggard.
Lishan picked up The Economist from the coffee table.
Erik nibbled on a few nuts from the bowl on the coffee table. “Tell me an Economist story.”
“Here’s one. I’ll paraphrase. The FDA’s Nanotechnology Task Force is evaluating the ramifications of using nanotechnology in food production. When asked how small a nanoparticle is, they said that to compare it with a meter is like comparing the diameter of a dime with that of the world. Damn, that’s tiny.”
Lishan continued. “The food industry is looking at this to improve shelf-life, especially for those foods with oils in them.” Lishan turned to face her companion. “Unfortunately, many in management will pursue ways to improve their profits without being absolutely certain of the effects on the human body and mind. The FDA, when pressed, tells the public that its GRAS—Generally Recognized As Safe—classification is awarded after an appropriate amount of time and testing has taken place. ‘Generally’—can you believe? The problem is, industry and its lobbyists have strong connections and pull. Last year, industry alone contributed more than thirty billion dollars to further their own political stratagem. The politicians don’t like to ignore those folks. Shall I continue?”
Erik leaned in a little closer, chin now resting in his palm, clearly engaged.
“Conner Foods was responsible for nearly one-quarter of those—shall we call them—donations. Bribery is more like it. The additive that killed those people at Factory 17 is similar to an earlier rendition that was initially given a GRAS classification, before it was revoked. It never hit the market in that deadly form. But that isn’t the point.”
Lishan stopped for a breath, measuring the pulse of her confidante.
“The article states that an investigation of the nanotechnology in use at Conner Foods was terminated after the GRAS announcement, but it’s now under review due to some problems at Conner. Quoting: ‘Jack Conner, CEO of Conner Foods, announced yesterday that the nanotechnology being developed at Conner Foods is cutting-edge, a boon to the food industry.’ B.S. He is such an egoist.”
Erik added, “Will the data Niesha—you and Niesha—collected help bring this guy down?”
“It would seem. No, that’s not good enough. Yes is the answer. Yes, we will bring him down.”
Lishan reached for her laptop, thinking she would examine the Conner emails further, but then she remembered the move tomorrow. “What do you think about tomorrow’s move?”
Erik looked at her, conflicted. “I know it’s best,” is all he said.
“Yes.” Lishan glanced around the room. “I guess the idea of my moving sounds better than the reality of it. I’m thinking we both agree it’s the right thing to do.”
Lishan knew it was time.
“Erik?” Her tone was somber.
He felt paralyzed. Erik held his breath, feeling trapped though he didn’t know what followed.
“I saw Rafael yesterday. I called him because I, once and for all, wanted to know if I should consider him a friend or not. I stopped by his apartment, but just for a few minutes.”
“You slept with him.” Erik could feel his love taking wings out the window.
Lishan’s “NO” came out a little more forcefully than she intended. “What I finally understood was that I just wanted to know whether to write him off my list of friends, my list of associates in the newspaper world, or not. Then he made a snide, racist remark about you, one I couldn’t stand, so I left. On my way out the door, I saw my missing Frazier book on his kitchen counter. I screamed at him, took my book, and left for good.”
Erik stood. “Did you consider fucking him?” He took note of her defense of him, but he felt her loyalty was thin, given their commitment. “You haven’t forgotten the thirteenth?”
“No to your first question,” Lishan said with some force. “And I haven’t forgotten the thirteenth.”
“Should we?”
“Dammit, Erik. You’ve got it all wr….”
“Hold on, Lishan. Let’s get it straight who is hurt here.” Hostility controlled the small muscles in Erik’s face as they became wel
l defined and visible. All manner of softness had disappeared.
Silence, the color of dread, filled the space.
Lishan gently grasped Erik’s hands, attempting to lower him back onto the couch. But he resisted, standing back.
The air between them was thick—a barrier, palpable.
“I think it’s best if I call Antoine. He’ll get in touch with you later,” Erik said.
It was clearly time for Lishan to leave. She heaved a sigh before departing. No kiss. No hug. Devastation. Tears.
Entering her apartment, Lishan knew hypervigilance was key. I shouldn’t be here. But where? Turning on every light as soon as she could, she scrutinized every corner, every hiding place, from a distance. Finally, convinced she was alone, she set the dead bolt, wedged a chair under the doorknob, checked the windows, and put a kitchen knife on her nightstand. But she couldn’t think about sleep.
For the second time in a week, she thought of the cove—the quiet, the safety. Staying in the apartment had become just too fraught with darkness. Yes, she would go. Packing an overnight bag, enough for the weekend, she left. Her senses were heightened as she left for the closed garage where Erik had moved her car. Damn, I forgot my disguise.
As she approached the garage, around the edges of the garage door she saw a dim, erratic light coming from inside the garage, as though a flashlight was on. Her heart sped up, the adrenalin doing its job. When the sudden, muffled sound of breaking glass stopped her, she panicked, yelling out “No.” Before she could think about her error, the side garage door opened and out stepped a man she had not seen before. He was about the same size and age as the man who sat behind Beck at the restaurant, but he was clearly someone else. An overcoat with upturned collars made him look menacing.
Lishan’s eyes grew round and frightened as he ran straight for her. Just before he got to her, Lishan finally broke her own spell and ran. And ran. She did not look back until she just couldn’t run anymore. I’ve outrun him. Thank God was all she could say to herself. Her overnight bag was a small one, meant for easy foot travel, so it hadn’t slowed her down much at all. She was glad she hung onto it, almost like a homeless man’s shopping cart is full of his life, his security. She found herself in a neighborhood whose streets she hadn’t been on before.
I just want out of this darkness. Let me find a place to stay where nobody knows I’m there. Nobody. Finally, she found her way to a main thoroughfare. There she grabbed the first bus to come along, not caring where it was headed. Perhaps an hour had gone by before it had taken her to the other side of D.C., an area she didn’t know. Seeing a small motel with a Mexican restaurant and an Indian restaurant nearby, she got off the bus. This was where she would stay, for now, maybe forever.
44
Monday morning found Lishan tired and alone, not quite sure where she was. She called M to say she wouldn’t be in. She retrieved a voice mail message from an unknown caller. It turned out to be Antoine, wondering what happened to her. She decided to let it go, for now. She just didn’t want to deal. Then she called Niesha.
“I’m okay, but I should tell you some hoodlum found my car Friday night. An older guy. The style of his overcoat made me think of the Mafia, likely on Conner’s payroll. I was going to go to the cove when I interrupted him breaking into it. He came after me. I barely got away, running until I couldn’t run anymore. I took a bus to the other side of D.C.”
Niesha didn’t say anything at first, letting her niece get it all out. “What can I do for you, dear? If I get within five meters of this guy, he’s toast. I’ll hang him by his fuc….” Niesha caught herself.
“Auntie!”
“I’m sorry, Lishan. It’s the temper side of me you don’t get to see—and you don’t want to.”
Her auntie cussing suddenly made Lishan feel a little less safe, if that was possible. Lishan needed to be able to abandon all worries when her auntie had her under her wing.
Niesha tried recovering.
“My anger really isn’t that bad. It just comes out when someone I care about is threatened.” She continued. “You’ll be okay. I know it. We’ll talk some more when I see you, okay?”
“Yes, okay.” Wanting to move past the chaos, she changed the subject. “Are we still meeting with your prosecutor friend?”
“Yes. At ten. She’s not far from here. We’ve arranged to meet her there.” Niesha paused, sensing her niece might be holding something back. “Is there anything else, dear?”
A hesitation as Lishan remembered. “Yes. Erik’s jealousy is driving a wedge. It’s all feeling like just too much.”
“Will you be all right until I see you?”
“Yes...Yes.”
They agreed to meet at nine at the same café where they met the previous week. This gave Lishan a little over an hour to find her way.
Arriving a few minutes early, Lishan noticed a People’s Advocate rack with a front-page headline that caught her eye. Front and center was a cartoon with the FDA commissioner eating hydrogenated oils while some Food & Drug CEO put a fistful of dollars in the commissioner’s pocket. The headlined story read, “FDA Turns Blind Eye to CEO’s Toxic New Trans Fat?” Lishan read the first couple of paragraphs, all she had time for at the moment.
There’s news on the street that some uppity Food & Drug CEO has arm-twisted—or otherwise influenced—the FDA commissioner, hoping to get FDA approval soon enough to have it in the stores by Christmas. If you thought the current trans fat clogs arteries at an alarming rate (what’s a mere twenty years cut off your lifespan?), wait until you try the new and “improved” version—if you survive it. Word has it that certain employees were used as test subjects, unbeknownst to them. They didn’t fare so well, unless you disregard death and illness. How will this get approved in the FDA? I saw the commissioner and said CEO laughing it up the other day at a swanky restaurant. Guess who picked up the tab? We heard that Jack Conner was in the restaurant. Of course, there’s no connection.
Yes, it was Howard’s byline.
Lishan found Niesha sitting comfortably in a booth, coffee in hand, a USA Today laid out.
“Hi, Auntie. I thought you didn’t like mainstream newspapers?”
“I don’t, as a rule. But I do like to keep tabs on the Republicans. You know, they manipulate the news to drive their agenda. I don’t want to be blindsided.”
Lishan nodded. “Did you see this?” She put the Advocate over the USA Today.
“No, I haven’t.”
Lishan told her about the conversation with Howard Perkins.
“You do get around, don’t you? I mean that as a compliment.”
Both women were pleased.
A few seconds later, the breakfast arrived along with an additional cup of coffee. Lishan looked up at her aunt, a questioning look on her face.
“As long as I’m coordinating your life, sweet niece of mine—yes, I already ordered.” They managed a lean smile.
“Tell me what you can, Lishan.” She reached out and touched her niece’s hand.
Lishan added in a few remaining details about the garage incident, then explained her visit to Rafael’s apartment and the evening at Erik’s, prompting her to head to the cove.
“I’m tempted to offer advice about Erik, but I’m thinking you already know what you need to know. About your car, at least you’re safe. I’ll call the police. Just give me the address.”
Lishan nodded, thinking about her life. She wrote down the address and continued. “I need to give him some time. The body latches onto these emotional hits, only slowly releasing them over time. I need to forgive him for being jealous. I wonder if something happened to him years ago.”
Niesha nodded, sipping her coffee. “It sounds like it.” Niesha paused. “I know the relationship issue with Erik is important, but we need to focus on what happened to you at the garage. When can you move? I know you’ve been thinking about it.”
“Yes, Auntie. I know.” Lishan stopped, thinking. “I’ll bet that guy wa
s Rudy.”
Niesha thought about the implications. “Maybe so. We’ll stop him, in any case. At Maya’s, we’ll come up with whatever plans are necessary to keep you safe, okay?”
“Okay, Auntie.” Defeat had lodged in Lishan’s voice.
Her head was swimming. Then she remembered the students. She relayed their current status, as Erik had told her. As she was finishing telling Niesha of Erik’s call, her phone rang. It was Erik.
“She died, Lishan. The young college student died.” The grief in Erik’s voice was beyond Lishan’s comprehension.
“Oh, no,” Lishan cried out, looking at her auntie. “The student in ICU just died. Erik, I’m so sorry. What can I do? I’m sitting here with Auntie. Oh, Erik.”
“Just put those sons-of-bitches behind bars. Every last one of them. You two talk. Figure it out. I can’t stay on the phone.” As his eyes flooded with tears, he hung up.
Niesha moved to her niece’s side of the booth, holding and consoling her until the sobbing had slowed. They spoke of the tragedy of the loss of such a young life until they just couldn’t discuss it anymore. Niesha’s wisdom then suggested it was time to move along. Lishan agreed. Besides, the tone in Erik’s voice left her with the impression that he was still angry with her. Yes, it’s time to move along.
Lishan dried her eyes, listening.
“I have copies of every pertinent Mazzini and Conner email, including what you and I already shared. Also, the documents Fatima gave us, and her written, signed statement. Do you think you can look these over?”
“I have to, Auntie. I have to.” Lishan skimmed the emails, sharing her thoughts with Niesha as best she could.
“Look at this,” Niesha began. Her notations in the side margins were standard fare, as was the pink highlighting. “I made quadruplicate copies before making any marks; one is for Maya.” Sipping her coffee, Niesha continued. “Each email is numbered, a number you will find on the spreadsheet that was on top of the stack.” She sat back, taking a bite of her omelet while Lishan perused the rows and columns Niesha provided.
“You’ll see there are five columns. Each email’s relevancy is indicated: Factory 17, Jack Conner, the FDA, Senator Libby, or miscellaneous. We can further break it down if need be.”
Silence Her Page 25
