Serena studied the man, Heinrich Duran, as much as possible given the scant window of opportunity. She wondered what this man’s purpose was in Brandt’s organization. He fairly reeks of private security, secret police, or . . . She was only able to dwell on this thought for a moment when the receptionist announced, “Mr. Brandt will see you now.”
Serena opened one of the large oak doors leading into the CEO’s office, and held the door open for Desiree.
A voice from within said, “Please come in.”
Desiree entered first. Two chairs had been placed in front of the solid Teak desk where Karl Brandt sat, imperious in his expensive looking pin striped suit, swept back pompadour silver fox hair, recently manicured nails, and face handsomely aged with wisdom crinkles around his clear blue eyes.
Desiree sat slightly closer to the desk than Serena to indicate herself as the lead representative, and to command Brandt’s attention, allowing Serena to observe Brandt and study the surroundings.
Serena noticed two Acer Ultrabook laptops, one open and one closed, on the window table behind Brandt’s desk. A black laptop carrying case with a red closure flap lay on the table next to the closed laptop. She guessed the open laptop with the company logo on the desktop screen and attached to a power cord was a company unit kept in the office. She further guessed the closed laptop was Brandt’s personal unit. Brandt probably carried the closed laptop home with him. Serena needed to get her hands on Brandt’s personal laptop as a source of personal and conspiracy data.
Brandt rose to his feet, reached across his desk, shook their hands with a firm manly grip, and asked, “Is there anything I can get for you ladies? Some wine, perhaps?”
Serena wanted to get Brandt out from behind his desk, the better for Desiree and herself to study him, and get access to his computer. “I don’t normally drink in the middle of the day, but I wouldn’t mind trying the local drink I’ve heard so much about.” Serena’s research had revealed Karl Brandt’s many interests included the making of the Brazilian drink Caipirinha.
“Are you referring to our Caipirinha?”
“Yes, that’s it.”
“And for you Miss,” Karl asked, indicating Desiree.
“Desiree al-Rashid, but please call me Desiree. I would accept a cool glass of water with ice and a twist of lime, if you don’t mind. Thank you.”
Brandt studied her for a second. “Muslim, I assume.”
“Yes.”
CEO Brandt pressed a button on his desk console, and a full bar opened out from the sidewall. He walked over to the bar and Serena followed him. “I’d like to watch how a Caipirinha is made.”
Desiree walked over to the large vista window overlooking downtown Sao Paulo and checked to make sure Serena had Brandt’s full and undivided attention.
Serena leaned over the bar low enough to reveal a less than modest expanse of her bounteous cleavage.
While Brandt was distracted, Desiree slipped a small GPS transmitter into one of the utility pockets of the laptop carrying case.
“Making a Caipirinha is one of my specialties.” Enjoying the attention of a beautiful woman, Brandt selected two old fashioned glasses from the glass rack and a lime from the cooler, and with a Ginsu style knife cut the lime into eight wedges. He dropped four wedges into each glass. “One teaspoon of sugar or two?”
“One please,” Serena replied.
“Same here. Two teaspoons make it too sweet for me.”
He deftly sprinkled sugar onto the wedges while he mashed the sugar and lime with a teak spoon. “The spoon has a special name, a muddler.”
Serena nodded as if absorbed in the process.
Brandt filled the glasses with crushed ice and added the Cachaça nearly to the brim. “A perfect Caipirinha, the Brazilian National Drink, for you my lady.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Let’s be less formal, please. How about we enjoy our drinks and conversation on my sofa and easy chair like civilized business people . . . And call me Karl, please.” He carried his drink and Desiree’s glass of ice water with lime to the sofa area.
“Yes, sir; I mean, Karl.” Desiree followed Karl and Serena to the matching overstuffed soft leather-upholstered sofa and easy chair next to the bar.
Desiree opened the discussion with, “We’ve been visiting pharmaceutical companies with the potential to conduct research and development of drugs to combat emerging viruses and bacteria. We wish to partner with those who can produce the drugs in large quantities on short notice, or can subcontract the research, the development and or the production.”
“With your position at the CDC, why travel all the way down here to our humble Brazil to my company? There must be many companies in the United States that would slit each other’s throats, excuse my crudeness, for such a contract.”
“We desire global disease control capability. Our considerations include having multiple companies in multiple locations on contract and possibly dividing up the responsibilities. If a disaster occurs in one location, others are already in place to continue the work.”
“I understand; forgive me for being cynical. We’re very competitive, even here in Brazil.”
“We would appreciate a tour of your facilities, research, development, and production and would like to give you a sample scenario for which you would give us an approach, a timeline, and costs associated with an outbreak response. We would not share your response with any other company. We would use the response to select four companies to consider further. The second tier test would involve a small scale simulated response to a virus we have in our database.”
“I’m aware of a virus that has emerged recently, the one that caused havoc in London for the CDC and the World Health Organization. Is that the second tier test?”
“Very astute, Mr. Brandt. Yes, it is. We would subsidize the simulation if you were selected for the second tier test.”
“Call me Karl, please. I have good news for you. I’ve already received a sample of that virus through my medical contacts, and would be willing to demonstrate our capability without any payment. I would like to be a part of your consortium for fighting viruses. If you insist, I can have one of my senior personnel work up the first tier response.”
Desiree’s attention perked up at Brandt’s mention of having a sample of the Notting Hill virus, since she had checked before arriving in Brazil and found no evidence of any official transmittal of Notting Hill virus samples to Tridente Pharmaceutical. “I have a copy of the first tier test in my briefcase.” Desiree reached into her briefcase and handed a large manila folder to Karl. “Let’s assume that, excuse the vernacular, your first tier response is a ‘slam dunk.’ Would you mind giving us a tour of your facility?”
Looking at his watch, Karl said, “My next appointment starts in five minutes, but will only take about twenty minutes. For time’s sake, how about if I have one of my senior managers, Juan Vargas, start you on a tour. And I will join you as soon as possible to answer any further questions you may have.”
Good, Serena thought. We can ply Vargas for information that Karl might not want to reveal.
Karl pressed an intercom button on his desk and said, “Teresa, please send Juan in to take our guests on a tour.”
Juan, who must have been waiting in the outer office, entered and said, “Welcome to TP. I’m honored to be able to give you a VIP tour of our facility.”
Desiree stood and greeted Juan with a smile and a handshake, Serena did the same. Desiree sized up Juan as a handsome Brazilian representative, bright smile, firm handshake, a typical PR man who was used to acting as charming as necessary. “My name is Desiree. I’m from the Center for Disease Control, and this is my assistant, Serena.”
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Juan, bring them back here to me when you’ve concluded the tour if I’m unable to join you. My next appointment should be only twenty minutes.”
“Yes sir, let’s be off.” Juan opened the door and they began the
tour.
Desiree was impressed with the cleanliness and orderliness of the facility and the friendliness and apparent competence of the employees. The laboratories were white, clean, and organized as though they had been sterilized by Teutonic efficiency. Trying to be businesslike and not be suspiciously snoopy Desiree asked, “What bio-safety levels do you have for handling deadly agents.”
Juan replied, with an attitude of pride, “We operate the only Bio-Safety Level 4 Facility in all Brazil. We have used it to assist with the development of treatments for Bolivian and Argentine hemorrhagic viruses. Would you like to see it?”
“We would appreciate a tour,” Desiree replied.
“It’s in a separate building.” Juan led them out of the main building and into an adjacent windowless cinder block building. “Most of this building is a Bio-Safety Level 2 laboratory with level 3 and 4 laboratories contained within.” Juan walked to a door with an electronic combination key lock next to a plate glass window.
He pointed to the room inside the glass window, specifically at the biohazard suits hanging in the room. “That is the changing room for entering the 2nd, 3rd and 4th levels. This door is the first of multiple airlocks allowing access to the changing room, a series of showers, two ultraviolet light rooms, a vacuum room, and all the CDC-mandated safety precautions one has to go through to gain access to the Level 4 facility beyond the Level 2 and Level 3 facilities. I could take you in and show you the Level 2 facility, but I know you are familiar with all the biohazard requirements, and no active lab work is being conducted in any of the labs at this time.”
“What pathogens are stored here?” Desiree asked.
Juan replied, “The only Level 4 pathogens we have are the Bolivian and Argentine hemorrhagic viruses I mentioned earlier.”
Desiree’s prevaricator alert went off. Either Juan was lying about not having the Notting Hill virus in the lab or Brandt let it slip that he had the Notting Hill virus in the lab without Juan’s knowledge; or Brandt had the virus, not in the company’s Level 4 lab, but in another, probably unauthorized location.
“I hoped I could catch you while still on tour.”
Desiree turned to see Karl Brandt standing behind her. “You’re a quiet one.”
“Sorry if I surprised you. I told you I would join the tour as soon as I could.”
“We’re impressed with your facility. We will need the specifications and drawings of your Level 4 facility. I am sure it’s more than adequate, but the Notting Hill virus has to be handled in a Level 4 environment. Although the NH virus is water-borne and not an airborne pathogen, we at the CDC feel Level 4 containment will be required. You said that you had some samples of the pathogen, but Juan said the only items stored under Level 4 security in your lab are the Bolivian and Argentine hemorrhagic viruses.”
Karl stepped between Juan and Desiree, “Juan is not current on our pathogen status. We do have the Notting Hill virus stored safe and snug in the Level 4 facility. We have done some preliminary studies on the virus, but have not pursued a cure at this time. We employ all the CDC-approved safety measures.”
“Do you personally work on the development of cures?” Desiree asked, probing into Karl’s motivations.
“I do when I get the opportunity. I would rather do research than business drudgery.”
Desiree considered his answer before commenting, “You seem to be well poised to become a partner in our program. What about production?”
“Our production line is capable of producing hundreds of thousands of solid pills or liquid doses of medication per week. If we had enough demand, it would be easy to expand. Let’s go to our production floor and give you a tour.” Karl Brandt led the small group out of the Bio-Safety building into the largest building in the complex where machines punched out pills and bottled them in a large production line. “This batch of pills is only aspirins, but where would we be without aspirin? It’s our bread and butter product.”
The ‘click and clack’ of the rotary tablet-pressing machines, the bottle-feeding conveyor line, and the bottle-filling machines made it difficult to talk. Karl said, “We seldom operate at full capacity. We supply the demand, and although Brazilians suffer from headaches and other aches, many people cannot afford the necessary drugs. Our production is as automated as possible, keeping drug costs as low as possible.”
Desiree smiled at Karl and he smiled back. Karl focused on Desiree and paid little attention to Serena, which was the way she wanted it. She sensed he was putting on a show. If he created the virus, the data wouldn’t be on a company computer. He was too smart for that. She needed access to Karl’s personal computer long enough to copy all of the files. He probably carried his personal laptop home each evening. She worried that his home would have as much security as his office with video cams, motion sensors, or even hired guards. He may also lock the computer in a safe at night.
Desiree hoped the GPS tracker she placed in the laptop carrying case would let Serena or Jacques follow the unit to his home where they could gain access to it.
They returned to Karl’s office where he returned to his desk, and Desiree and Serena took their seats in the straight back chairs still in front of the desk.
“To get to the point, what next?” Karl asked.
Desiree answered, “We would like to receive the first tier test report, even though your company appears to be an ideal partner. Then we need to draw up a contract that’s acceptable to both you and to us, and start work.”
“I can have the first tier test report to you before week’s end. Do I fax it to your office in Atlanta?”
“Yes, please. The fax number is on my card.” Desiree handed Karl her card. “Can we send you the first draft of our version of the mutual assistance agreement by email?”
“Yes, here’s my card with my company email address.” Karl handed Desiree a business card. “Send your draft as a PDF file. I will read and edit it as I see fit and return it. Can we use GoToMeeting to converse online about details? I don’t have time to do multiple revisions.”
“We can.”
“Please excuse me. We must conclude our business now. I have another appointment at four o’clock. I look forward to hearing from you.”
“Since we’ve not been to your fair city before, we could use some culinary advice and some company if you’re available,” Desiree said, hoping to keep Brandt available for further investigation.
Karl brightened up at the suggestion of dinner with two beautiful women. “I have appointments until seven, but if you don’t mind eating later, we could meet at Mani’s, a wonderful restaurant. They make the best Caipirinhas, appetizers, lamb and sea bass, and desserts that are not found anywhere else.”
“Sounds wonderful,” replied Desiree. “What do you think Serena?”
“I’m in.”
“I suggest my chauffeur pick you up at your hotel and drive you there. Sao Paulo traffic can be a challenge at night. Where are you staying?”
“We’re staying at the Comfort Inn, Oscar Friere. Government employees, as you probably know, aren’t authorized five star hotels.”
“I’ll have my chauffeur, Carlos, pick you up at seven and drive you to Mani’s . . . and return you to your hotel after dinner, of course.”
“Of course. Thank you, Karl. We’ll take you up on your offer, seven it is.” Desiree and Serena left Karl’s office and rode the elevator down to the ground floor without comment, assuming the elevator conversations might be monitored.
Forty-Three
Kurt had all of his clothes and necessities efficiently packed in two Samsonite suitcases, one large and one carry-on. He owned the full set of luggage, but he had loaned the rest of the set to Leora for her trip to India during her summer break. Kurt wondered if he would ever return home to visit his father and grandfather again. Maybe after their anger died down he could tell them he doesn’t want to be a puppet in their plans. He intended to marry Leora and if need be work his way through whatever specialty h
e chose with Leora at his side. He felt guilty that he’d been tempted to spend time with the Cuban secretary, but he’d shown his devotion by not showing up the next evening to make up for his lapse in loyalty.
Heinrich told Kurt he would take him to the airport the next morning. He doubted his father or grandfather intended to wish him a fond farewell. As far as Kurt knew, his grandfather had gone to their compound in the jungle. Except for one night in the jungle house where he read about the Select, Kurt had spent his time in his father’s home in the city. Apparently, whatever they were up to in the jungle house was not something they wanted to share with him. Both of them seemed glum for the past few days. Whatever experiment they had been working on had either failed or been cut short, and they were worried about the sponsor being disappointed.
His cell phone beeped, indicating a text message from his father. ‘Having dinner at Mani’s with CDC rep. Do not disturb. Be home late.’
Kurt’s cell phone rang as he closed his mailbox. His ringtone of Michael Buble’s It’s a Beautiful Day startled his thoughts. The call was from Leora’s cell phone.
“Hello, Leora, I miss you.”
“I’m here.”
“Here? Where?” Kurt was puzzled.
“Here in Sao Paulo at the Guarulhos International Airport.”
“Why are you here? I thought I would see you in Munich tomorrow night.”
“I have something important to tell you and couldn’t wait.”
“I’ll take one of my father’s cars and be there right away. Which airline did you arrive on?”
“Air France, Flight 456 from Paris. I just got off the plane. I only have one carry-on bag so I’ll meet you in front of the terminal.”
“I’ll be right there. I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Kurt ended the call. He wondered, what could be so important to Leora to make such a long flight when she would see him tomorrow night? He hoped something terrible hadn’t happened in India. He worried she might want to break off their engagement. Kurt hurried to the garage and took the keys to Karl’s Mercedes-Benz CLK convertible off the key hook on the wall next to the garage door opener. He should take the Fiat Bravo he usually drove when he was home, but he felt like throwing caution to the wind, at least for the time being.
The Honorable Knight Page 31
