Camden's Knife

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Camden's Knife Page 18

by John Patrick Kavanagh


  “So what happened?”

  “Nothing. Not after I bought her a couple of drinks and a guy in the bathroom told me she was married to a dude on the police force. No thank you. Good-bye.”

  “You’re not as stupid as people tell me you are,” Stonetree said, shaking his head.”So, tell me about the place. The phone call.”

  “The place is great. It’s a huge single story log cabin out on this pond in a wooded area. Farmish looking except for the half dozen regular and one massive white dish antenna he’s got up on the roof. It has to be eight feet wide. He cannot be away from the Atlanta Braves during the baseball season or the news anytime. He’ll watch CNN, then Fox, then ESPN, then repeat. He’s an information freak.” He paused.”The inside is beautiful. A big, open living-dining-kitchen area. Nice den. One master and five other bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms. The best of everything. He must have put a lot of money into it. So that’s where he is. Thinking.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “First of all, he said he tried to get hold of you at home a few times but no answer. And he won’t call you at SUE. He’s a little paranoid about that but told me to tell you he’d tried. I told him I was going to see you today so he gave me the story.”

  “Where did he get my phone number?”

  “I gave it to him. You’re not listed, remember? Now do you want to hear the story?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Remember the CY6A4 distillate, the liquid gold he dumped down the drain, that stuff they made from the blood drive?”

  “Sure. We talked about that.”

  “The stuff is priceless.”

  “Trisha, I mean Lane, sure thinks so. Picard was pissed in spades when it got dumped.”

  “Well, it didn’t.”

  “Didn’t what?”

  “It didn’t get dumped. It’s still there.”

  “The CY6A4? The four ounces? It’s still there?”

  “You got it. Waiting for the dear doctor’s triumphant return.”

  “But how?” Stonetree asked, amazed at what he was hearing.”Did he set the fire?”

  “No. He said the fire really was an accident,” McReynolds continued.”But he’d been thinking around then that he was about to get the boot and decided if he did, he wanted to make sure he got out with some of it so he could finish off his experiments. So he stashed it but Trish threw his ass out before he could get to it.”

  “No shit.”

  “No shit, old stick. It’s true.”

  “So why has he waited ’til now? Why couldn’t he get somebody to smuggle it out before?”

  “I’m not sure,” McReynolds said, scratching his head.”I think it has something to do with his contract. If they knew what he’d done I doubt if he’d have continued getting his welfare checks.”

  “That money they sent him is literally a drop in the bucket compared to what CY6A4 is worth. I don’t like it. He could find himself in big trouble for this. That stuff is priceless. You couldn’t buy it for ten armored cars full of gold.”

  “I think he realizes that. I think he knows he might be facing some hard time in prison. He got religion after Friday.” Religion, Stonetree thought, the blood draining from his face. Religion? He’d tried to steal. You could buy the Mona Lisa and then the Taj Mahal to hang it in. Thank you Lord for not letting me get caught. I promise I will never, ever, the rest of my life do anything dishonest. I’ll return those other Bradeans and the albums I swiped from Target in eighth grade. I’ll do anything. Thank you.

  “So what’s with the apple juice?”

  “He told me he had a feeling they were going to be on the lookout for him over there, especially since his non-compete was close to ending. He figured, and I can see why he wouldn’t even tell us about it, that maybe he should try a dress rehearsal of the recovery operation before the real thing. Also, if he was caught on the dry run nobody’d be in trouble, at least not with the law.”

  “That makes sense. I’ve got, well, I’ve got a small problem with it.” He thought a beat.”I would have liked to have known all this before we paid our visit.”

  His friend nodded and took a long, slow sip from his glass.

  “Sure you would. So would I. But he probably…and I understand this too…wanted to check us out. It makes sense when you think about it. So what he did was just put the flask in the briefcase to see what would happen. Said he left the real thing where it was.”

  “Did you see it?” Thank you, God. I promise, never again.

  “No. I was at the elevator. He wasn’t gonna show me, not on the run-through. He’s smart.”

  “And a good judge of your character,” Stonetree laughed.

  “Yours too,” McReynolds retorted.”The doctor, I think, trusts you because he thinks you’re not bright enough to lie very well.”

  “I can do it if I try. So what now?”

  “Well he isn’t going to do a repeat of Friday. He thinks it was just normal getting stopped, but he won’t do it again.”

  “Then how does he get what he wants?”

  “I’m not sure. I think maybe my dreams of the big story might have to be put on the shelf for a while, maybe for good. He won’t do it again. He has too much to lose.”

  “Then why doesn’t he just get somebody to go in there and bring it out for him?”

  “I really do not think,” McReynolds said, leaning forward and lowering his voice, “that he’ll trust anybody to do it. He took a stab at it and that’s it. He doesn’t want to get into a serious game of hardball with Picard or Trisha or anybody else over there. He’s just not up for it.”

  “Why doesn’t he just call up Lane or the board and say, Hi! It’s me. I’ve got four ounces of CY6A4 and I’ll trade it for my college notebooks?”

  “I asked him that. He said if he did the first thing they’d do would close off the whole Research and Development Department and dismantle it down to the steel girders until they found it. That makes sense too.”

  “You’re right. Man, this is complicated. You ought to write a book about this.” He paused.”But don’t put my name in it, okay?”

  “I’m trying to write it, asshole. But as of last night, I’ve only got the first chapters. And do not, I repeat, do not discuss this with anybody else. Even if we don’t get to hit the jackpot on this, I don’t want to screw this guy in any way. He took us into his confidence. We tried, we failed. I’ve got a feeling if sweet SUE found out about it, there would be big, big trouble. People could get hurt; maybe even us.”

  Discuss it with anybody, he thought. Discuss it with anybody? If they suspended the first degree murder laws for one minute, I’d ring your fucking…oops…sorry, God. I’d ring your neck until you turned navy blue, Robin.

  “I won’t tell anybody. This is a little too, uh…know what I mean? I thought losing a couple thousand in Las Vegas was serious. It isn’t.”

  “We might have to go down with the Titanic on this one. Big orchestra. Nearer My God to Thee. The end.”

  “Are you sure he won’t approach them? It’s such a waste. I mean if he’s onto the cure.”

  McReynolds shook his head.

  “That’s what he wanted to do the serious thinking about. He wants to go over his formulas, and I’m here to tell you the man has a shitload, then walk through all his theories. He thinks maybe he can finish it off without his old research. It’ll just take a lot longer.”

  “I guess.”

  “It’s funny,” McReynolds continued.”When I was talking to him we got onto the Picard issue. I didn’t notice it so much before when I first talked to him, but last night I could really sense some pain, some hurt he still has over it. Like he was betrayed, sold out by his big brother for your pal Trisha.” He paused.”I tried to keep an open mind about it and to tell you the truth I went into this thing taking the party line, believing that he essentially got what he bargained for. He’s a big boy; he was on a level playing field. But it really is bigger than that. It’s bigger than him or P
ierre or SUE. It’s bigger.”

  Stonetree looked at him quizzically.”What are you talking about? You’re starting to ramble.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry.” Robin sighed, rubbing his eyes.”I’m exhausted. This whole thing has really got me down. It seemed so easy just a few days ago. I almost wish I hadn’t gotten involved at all.” He paused.”I suppose it’s too late, though. I get maybe the biggest story in the history of science and I’ve got to keep it to myself. You cannot imagine how that feels. I know there are bigger issues here than my shot at a Pulitzer Prize, but man this hurts.” He shook his head.”And the fame! When we were coming down the elevator, I could taste it. I could feel it in my pocket.”

  “So what do we do now? Is there anything we should do?”

  “I guess we just wait to see what Camden does. If he bags it, he bags it. That’s it. You want to go have something to eat? I’m starving.”

  “I’ve got some errands to run. Maybe after we hear from Camden.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.”

  “But I’m glad we got together. This all makes a lot more sense now. I feel a lot better.”

  They finished their drinks, discussing the article. Then Stonetree got up to leave, shaking McReynolds’s hand and apologizing for his friend’s disappointment. And in a way apologizing for his own. If only it had all fallen into place like a train wreck run backwards on Blu-ray. The dream of the big break, the easy way out, was gone. At least, he thought, if he’d lost out on one adventure he had another waiting for him just a few blocks away. Just one more night, a few more hours, and he’d straighten his life out.

  “So what are you doing tonight?” he asked McReynolds as they walked out of the bar.”Hot date, maybe?”

  “No. I’ll probably go back home and sleep. I’m really exhausted.” He paused.”Maybe there is some rest for the wicked.”

  “Let’s share a lim. I’m going that way.”

  He had to contain his amusement as McReynolds exited the car and said good-bye. He wanted to get out too, but protocol required that he have the driver drop him a few blocks away to wait a little longer for the final scene in his nomad life.

  CHAPTER 10

  When the elevator door opened on Trisha’s floor, it was obvious that all levels of Wilson Towers weren’t equal. The higher one went, the finer the appointments. Instead of the small love seat and coffee table on McReynolds’s floor, the furniture in the second-from-the-top foyer was luxurious. There were Oriental rugs, couches, chairs, tables and two large lithographs accenting the walls. Instead of numbers and arrows indicating which way to go there was a brass plaque instructing he’d find Lane to his right. The guard in the lobby had told him he was expected.

  He pushed the buzzer and heard her call out that she’d be right there then heard muffled sounds that always seemed to accompany such a greeting. In a moment she opened the door. It was Trisha, but a different Trisha.

  Her hair was fuller and a bit disheveled. She was wearing more makeup than usual, especially on her eyes and cheeks. It conveyed a smoldering sensuality he’d imagined but had never seen, the perfect setting for her smile decorated with bright red lipstick.

  She was again wearing the necklace Smite had given her. Her crimson top was low cut and blousy in marked contrast to the black skirt which she must have poured herself into prior to his arrival. A thin red leather belt with two or three buckles, wrapped three or four times around, hung casually on her narrow waist and hips. Her black pumps, which he quickly realized matched the Scotch tape dispenser in her office, complemented her perfect legs. She looked terrific for thirty-three he told her, or for that matter any age. She leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek then methodically patted away the brand she’d left.

  “Buonasera,” he said.”That’s Italian for good evening.”

  She placed a hand on her hip then cocked her head, smiling at him as if he was a child trying to impress his big sister.”Grazie per essere venuto da me stasera. Ho aspettato con ansia il tuo arrivo da quando ti ho invito.”

  “You speak Italian?”

  “Mmmhmm. Romance languages were my favorites in high school with Italian topping the list, so in college I minored in that and French. Spent a summer in Milan teaching English as a second language.” She paused.”In a pinch I can even get by with my Portuguese if I stay in the present tense.”

  “Well then, all I can say is anch’io ero molto contento per l’invito.”

  She seemed stunned.”Your accent is perfect! Did you used to live in Italy?”

  “Nah. Just picked it up from my adopted family when I was a kid.” He smiled.”God you smell great.”

  “Shalimar. My favorite. But only for special occasions. Thank you.”

  He handed over his two offerings.

  “For me? How nice,” she said, kissing his cheek again.”This one feels like wine,” she continued, weighing the larger box.”I won’t guess at the other. Let’s save it for later, okay?”

  He nodded and followed her into the kitchen, watching the shimmering fabric of her skirt cling against her thighs.

  “Can I get you a drink?” she asked as she set the packages on the granite-topped island then adjusted one of its four high back swiveling stools.”I’m having gin and tonic. This is number two for me already. But I figure,” she said, flipping a hand, “why not? We only turn 33 once, right?”

  “Thank God.”

  “What did you do on yours?”

  He thought a moment.”It was a Saturday, a rainy Saturday. I stayed home, read, watched TV, ordered a pizza, cleaned out my closet and went to bed.”

  “Now I would have thought you would have gone out to celebrate, David,” she replied, a touch of disappointment in her voice.”You seem more earthy than that.”

  “Earthy?”

  “Sure. You like sensual things. From our conversations I can tell you appreciate wine and art and I know you love music. Which reminds me. I’ve got a surprise for you later.”

  “For me? What?”

  He pictured her reclining on the island. No, on a beach wearing a black bikini. She’d have a half-finished pina colada in one hand with a small green umbrella poking out of it. It would be late afternoon, a sweet breeze drifting around them. The palms would rustle, the beginnings of a nap calling her away from the chaise. With her other hand she’d reach toward him, touching his elbow to distract him from his book, sighing “Let’s go back to the room.”

  “You’ll see. Be patient. So let’s get you a drink and I’ll give you a tour of SUE casa.”

  “Su casa?” he asked.”Don’t you mean mi casa?” The beach would be near the northwestern tip of Aruba.

  “No. SUE casa. Like the house of Southern United Enterprises. They paid for the place.”

  He looked at her, perplexed.

  “I mean, they didn’t buy it for me,” she said with a laugh.”But if I’d never taken the position, I doubt…What would you like to drink?”

  “Scotch would be fine. On the rocks, please.”

  “Let’s see,” she replied, slowly tapping her temple.”We’ve got 25 year old Chivas Regal. Or how about this? I’ve got a bottle of their Royal Salute. Another gift from Mr. Smite. It’s something special. I believe they only made an edition of 25. Why not try that? Never been opened.”

  “Sounds great.”

  He followed her out of the kitchen into another room that could be described only as magnificent. It was maybe 30 feet by 50 feet, the ceilings higher than he was used to with two entire walls that were nothing but glass. These floor-to-ceiling windows afforded a panoramic view of the city to the west and north, bathed in the glow of a lazy orange sun hovering above the skyline.

  At the near end was a long, narrow Scandinavian teak dining table with tiles running down the center and seating for six, the places at either end set. Two candles were flickering over a bowl of fresh flowers and a small bar sat in the corner. There was nothing along the longer glass wall save two oversize love seats with a low
teak table between them, one facing the glow and the other the large entertainment installation on the inside wall. Rugs of different sizes covered about half the rosewood floor. The far wall held a trio of paintings spaced perfectly and echoing those in her office.

  First was another Johns, this time featuring repeating letters of the alphabet instead of numerals. The third looked to be another Picasso, again an abstract of a woman. Between them was another example of Combat Art, this one featuring large stenciled letters at the top spelling The Serpent hovering over three abstract renderings of snakes in black, white and grey. In addition, off to one side was what looked to be a lithograph in blacks and grays repeating the word Illinois.

  “This is beautiful,” he gasped.”What a view!”

  “It is, isn’t it? Sunset is my favorite but at night it’s pretty, too. There was supposed to be a formal dining room and living room but I decided to have just one large open space. I think it works.”

  She reached to the shelf above the bar and grasped an elegant bottle decorated with a raised silver and gold label accented by sparkling black and white crystals.

  “Doug sent this to me the day the first single off the Covers album charted. I notice you have your Crypto on tonight, a very nice touch.” She smiled.”Is this to be an all SUE night?”

  “No,” he replied, starting to unpin it.”No Wexford.”

  “I didn’t mean you should take it off. Just no SUE. And I didn’t say no Wexie. There’s always room for him.” She laughed.”Uhhh…except there’s a problem in Houston, at the distribution center. I…if I get the calls I think I’m going to, I’ll have to take them. So I apologize in advance.”

  “I understand. Completely.”

  She dropped some cracked ice into a squat, chunky glass, opened the bottle, poured in a generous helping and handed it to him.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “he knew I liked having a scotch once in a while. It came with a document from the distillery describing the entire process that went into its creation. Try it.”

 

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