Lethal Savage

by Dave Edlund

  “That’s true. It’s not my intention to malign your product. However, I think we would both be satisfied if we could sample even one bottle from that production lot. If it looks clean, then we can eliminate your product as the source.”

  “I don’t see why that matters,” Price said, his tone somewhat defiant. “Let’s assume that somehow a pathogen or something contaminated that single production lot. So what? That lot is gone, either consumed or discarded. And the fact that there are no cases outside of Warm Springs, and no complaints of any kind that my bottled water is making people sick… well, I just don’t see how this question is anything more than an intellectual curiosity.”

  “You can’t say with certainty that bottles from the lot in question were all consumed. What if there is still product out there? People need to be warned.”

  Price sighed. He wasn’t going to assuage Peter with logical reasoning. “Very well. Let me show you the production line on the way to our warehouse. If any of the lot in question is left, that’s where it will be.”

  Peter walked beside Darnell through the bottling plant. It was a large, open space filled with lines moving rows of bottles past machinery that applied the label, filled the bottle, twisted on and sealed the cap, and then packaged the product. Pointing to a large stainless-steel pipe, glistening like chrome, Darnell explained that clean water entered the plant through that pipe. It was then filtered multiple times before being bottled.

  “And those are the filters?” Peter asked, pointing at the three large cylindrical housings with pipe entering and leaving the top of each. Like all of the process machinery and piping, the filter housing sparkled in cleanliness.

  “Yes. Three successively tighter filters. The last one, with the smallest particle retention size, will remove single cell microbes—protozoa and the like. It functions just like a backpacker’s water purification filter.”

  “You don’t irradiate the water with ultraviolet light to kill viruses that are too small to be retained by the filtration steps?”

  “UV irradiation is very expensive, and not required by the state.”

  “But you said this degree of filtration was not required either. And yet you have chosen to implement it.”

  “Next year this will be required. I simply opted to start a year ahead of schedule. My brand is all about purity and the highest quality. This gives me a marketing edge on my competitors.”

  Darnell led Peter through the bottling plant into another large room with stacks of pallets containing cases of bottled water. “We can store up to three weeks of production in our warehouse, although that would be tight. Typically, we have shipments going out several times each week.”

  Peter swiveled his head, taking it all in. Across the floor were many squares outlined with yellow tape. Pallets holding cases of water were stacked high within each taped-off area. Plastic stretch wrap held the cases in place. On each palleted stack of cases was a simple lettered card. Peter approached the closest. It listed the name of a retail store and the location. “I gather these are the customer names?” he said.

  “That’s right. The delivery location.”

  Darnell flipped the card over. “On the reverse of each card is a barcode that has relevant information about the shipment, such as the lot number or numbers included in the delivery. This information would allow us to track specific customers and production lots if there was ever a reason to do so.”

  “How is a production lot defined?” Peter asked.

  “That’s a good question. Other companies may do it differently, but I’ve insisted on a unique production lot for each shift and each day.”

  “In other words, if you run two shifts a day, then you have two unique production lot numbers for that day.”

  “Yes. It’s important that we are able to trace any quality control issues to the source.”

  A new thought popped into Peter’s mind. “Is it possible that the production lot I’m interested in went to customers other than Warm Springs?”

  Darnell shook his head. “No, I already checked our records. Understand that a production lot is fairly small, since it is the output of only one shift.”

  “I see. Well, what about the lots immediately prior to and after the one in question? Where were they shipped? Maybe I can acquire samples.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Savage.” Darnell’s tone had lost all measure of informality. “I have indulged your curiosity and agreed to this meeting. It is not my policy to open our records to just anyone who raises questions.”

  Peter realized he’d pushed hard and hit a wall, so he changed tactics. He spied a large mountain of cases across the warehouse. He walked over to it and read the destination on the card.

  “All of this water is going to Kano, Nigeria? That’s a long way from Oregon.”

  Darnell smiled. “It is indeed. My company tries to help out. Sadly, there are far too many needy people in the world.”

  Peter nodded. “You’re certain you don’t have any more cases of water from the production lot that you donated to the people at Warm Springs?”

  “Positive. I checked after you called.”

  “Do you mind if I poke around the wall over there?” he pointed beyond the stacked cases. “Maybe some bottles fell off a pallet when loading.”

  “Be my guest.” He motioned forward.

  With Darnell in tow, Peter searched around the perimeter of the warehouse, but to no avail. No loose bottles or stray cases of any production lot were found. There were only the ready-to-ship cases in the designated staging areas. “Well,” Peter said. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

  “No apology is necessary. I hope you understand now that my company takes safety and quality very seriously.”

  “I do. I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Peter shook Darnell’s hand and then followed him to the lobby. He hesitated at the door, and turned back toward Darnell.

  “Just one more question, if I might. Why Nigeria?”

  “For the moment I’ve decided to focus all of my company’s charitable giving to needy people in Africa.”

  “Africa is so far away, shipping must exceed the value of the bottled water. Why not just make a monetary contribution?”

  “Like I said, there is no shortage of people who are in desperate need of help—food, water, medicines.”

  “And you’ve made other donations this year—to Warm Springs, for instance?”

  “I fail to see your point, Mr. Savage. Surely you aren’t faulting my charitable donations?”

  “Not at all. It’s just that I don’t see how you can make any money. I’d have thought the margins on bottled water were pretty slim.”

  Darnell’s lips drew tight, and when he spoke, there was no pleasantness in his tone. “You may run your business anyway you wish, and I will do the same with mine. Good day.”

  s

  After driving a short distance from Cascade Aqua, Peter pulled onto a side street and parked. He phoned Lee Moses.

  “How did your meeting go?” Lee asked.

  “Fine, I guess. Strange is probably a better description.”

  “Oh? Why is that?”

  “Turns out we couldn’t find any leftover bottles.”

  “You knew it was a long shot. Why do you find that strange?”

  “In the warehouse there was a pile of cases staged for shipment to Nigeria.”

  “So?” Lee said.

  “Well, why Africa? This is a small-time water bottling company, and they’re shipping water to Africa?”

  “Maybe they’re getting a good price for it? If I were in charge of sales, I’d be reaching out to expand my market, especially if I could make more money. Maybe the people in Nigeria think bottled water from Oregon is… I don’t know… exotic?”

  “Well, that’s the strange thing. Darnell Price, the owner of the company, told me he was donating it to Nigeria. And not just what I saw, but he said he planned to make more donations to people in Africa.”

  “I’m
not surprised. The council is grateful for the many pallets of water he donated to the tribe.”

  “So, how does he make money?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t care?”

  Peter exhaled a sardonic snicker. “Yeah, right. A businessman who doesn’t care about making money? Anyway, as I was leaving, I asked him.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He as much as told me to mind my own business.”

  Chapter 27

  Eugene, Oregon

  March 27

  From his office window, Darnell Price watched as Peter Savage drove away. He phoned Simon Ming, and they agreed to meet at Utopian-Bio.

  “I gather that this person who visited you has caused you some concern,” Ming said. He spoke slowly, appraising his guest.

  Darnell shrugged, but he couldn’t hold Ming’s penetrating gaze. “No. Well, a little, maybe. I just thought you should know.”

  “I see. Under the circumstances, I felt it prudent to have my associate, Roger Corbett, present.” All three men sat around the conference table in Ming’s office.

  Corbett cast a steely glare toward Darnell, who fidgeted with his hands on the edge of the table.

  Ming’s eyes bore into the CEO sitting across from him. “Mr. Corbett may have an important take on your meeting this morning.”

  “Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Corbett said, since he was not a party to the brief phone call Darnell had placed to his boss.

  “Sure. As I told Simon, this businessman from Bend contacted me a couple days ago. He’d been helping a friend—who happens to be a member of the Warm Springs Tribal Council—to investigate the outbreak of the viral infections. He thinks bottled water produced by my company may be the cause. But, of course, he has no proof. So, he was looking for a sample.”

  “Which you don’t have, so you couldn’t give it to him even if you wanted to,” Corbett said. Then facing Ming, he added, “I fail to see the problem.”

  “He’s the person who got the CDC to investigate,” Darnell said.

  “Does this person have a name?” Corbett asked, trying to hide his growing irritation.

  “Peter Savage.”

  Ming’s eyes widened, and Corbett noticed. “That name mean something to you?” he asked.

  Ming nodded. “Another matter. But Mr. Price, please continue.”

  “Well, I took him to the warehouse. He wanted to see if there were any bottles lying around from the donated production lot shipped to Warm Springs. I knew he wouldn’t find anything, so I thought, why not? So, I was showing him the pallets loaded with cases of bottled water, staged for shipping. All fairly normal.”

  “If it was all normal,” Corbett said, “you wouldn’t be spooked and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’re holding something back.”

  Darnell squirmed in his chair. “There was a shipment slated to go overseas, and he noticed it.”

  Corbett pressed the issue. “Go where overseas?”

  “Kano, Nigeria.”

  “You surprise me,” Ming said. “I didn’t know Cascade Aqua had international sales.”

  “No, of course not. This shipment is a donation to a local aid group.” Darnell twisted up the corners of his mouth in a forced smile. “All part of the plan. That water is doped with your virus, just like the bottles my company shipped to the tribal council.”

  Simon Ming’s expression hardened. “We should have discussed this before you acted.”

  “Oh, come on!” Darnell leaned back in his chair and folded his arms, trying to steady his nerves. “The test was an unqualified success. There’s no reason to delay any longer. You just keep sending the powdered agent to me and I’ll keep bottling it up and sending it out. First Africa, then the Indian subcontinent.”

  “I only gave you the one sample,” Corbett said.

  “That’s right. I used it to make the product that went to Warm Springs. But rather than cleaning out the line right away, I had the next shift produce a full production run before they sterilized everything. It only took one phone call to find an eager recipient in Kano. I thought the shipment had gone out already. I didn’t realize it was still in the warehouse.”

  Ming had a menacing edge to his voice when he spoke. “You were only authorized to produce the specific number of cases of doped water that you shipped to Warm Springs. Yes?”

  “Dr. Ming—”

  “Yes or no!” Ming shouted, cutting off Darnell.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s just… Well, I mean this is what we agreed to do. The population is growing exponentially in Africa and the Indian subcontinent. So why not ship water there?”

  Ming eased back in his chair. He steepled his fingers, considering Darnell’s argument. “Perhaps you are right.”

  Darnell visibly relaxed with the approving reply, his body molding to the contours of the chair.

  “Now tell me, Mr. Price,” Ming continued. “And I want you to be completely honest, do you understand?”

  He nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  “Do you have any more samples of my virus? Perhaps locked away in your office, or hidden in storage somewhere?”

  “No, no,” he stammered. “No, sir.”

  “You’re certain?”

  Darnell nodded.

  “Good. So there will not be any more miscommunications.” Ming pointed a finger at Darnell. “From now on, you will follow our plan to the letter. No more improvisations.”

  “Yes, of course. And I apologize. It’s just that…”

  Ming waved a hand, ending the matter. He’d heard enough and allowed his head of security to pick up the questioning.

  “You’re certain all the bottles laced with the virus are staged for shipment?” Corbett asked.

  “Positive. I double-checked myself. Anyway, he—”

  Corbett interrupted. “You mean Savage?”

  Darnell nodded. “Yes. Mr. Savage took special interest in the pallets waiting for shipment to Nigeria. Asked a lot of questions about that.”

  “What questions?” Ming said.

  “Like, why would my company ship bottled water all the way to Africa. And how could I afford to donate so much of my product. Maybe he knows something?”

  “Give me a break,” Corbett said. “If he knew anything of our operation it would be the state or CDC investigators at your door, and not some nosey guy from the other side of the mountains.”

  Chastised, Darnell sat silently, glaring at Corbett.

  Ming steepled his fingers again, strategizing the next steps. The pause was beginning to become uncomfortable when he spoke. “Perhaps you are right to be concerned. This is something I must give more thought to. Unfortunately, I have an important business meeting and dinner to attend shortly. But this should not be put off any longer than absolutely necessary. Can you meet me here this evening at ten o’clock?”

  “Uh, sure.”

  “Good. Mr. Corbett will be in the lobby. When you arrive, he’ll unlock the door and let you in.”

  Ming rose, followed by the other two. He patted Darnell on the back and ushered him to the door. “Thank you. You did the right thing by sharing your concerns.”

  Corbett remained standing at the table as the door closed behind Darnell Price. “Something is bothering you,” he said to his boss.

  Ming stood at the window, his back to Corbett. “Peter Savage is a name I know. He was responsible for the death of my father. It happened in Sudan, and Savage was working with American Special Forces.”

  “How do you know this?” Corbett asked.

  “Because… I was there.” He turned to face Corbett. “My father built and operated a secret biomedical facility. His specialty was genetic modification. Insertion of altered genes into refugees, using viruses. I was a young man, having recently received my doctoral diploma in biochemistry, and was learning first hand in his laboratories. The most brilliant minds worked under my father’s direction. And I was there, an eager student soaking up their colle
ctive genius.”

  Corbett was speechless. For the first time he understood how Simon Ming had advanced the genetic engineering of the mumps virus so quickly.

  “My father acquired a fortune doing research no one else could do, or was allowed to do. And now, I am humbly following in his footsteps.”

  “You must have known that Peter Savage lived in Bend. If he’s a business owner as claimed by Price, it wouldn’t be hard to find him.”

  “True, I knew where to find him. But I had preferred to enable others to deal with that situation, allowing me to focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately, it appears delegating that task was an error in judgement.”

  “And now?”

  Ming cast a steely glare at his head of security. “I think a meeting is appropriate, don’t you?”

  “Do you want me to bring him here?”

  “No, that would be too conspicuous. Mr. Price is a sufficient liability, and we don’t want to add further loose ends. We cannot allow ourselves to be distracted. Soon, when the time is right, I will deal with Peter Savage.”

  s

  The building was empty except for Simon Ming, Roger Corbett, and three hired enforcers that Corbett knew from his days working private security. These men had no scruples so long as the pay was good. And Ming always paid very well.

  Alone in the lobby with only the normal security lights on, Corbett opened the door just as Darnell Price approached. He then locked the door again.

  “This way. Dr. Ming is waiting.”

  He followed Darnell into the executive’s office. “Have a seat,” Ming said. “I have been thinking about our meeting earlier today.”

  Darnell turned his palms up and shrugged. “I told you what happened. Mr. Savage is asking questions, but I didn’t give him anything.”

  “I believe you.” Ming paused, pressing an index finger to his lips as if he was deep in thought. “But still, I think you are losing control. Maybe your confidence in our mission is shaken?”