Lab Notes: a novel (18 page)

Diane jumped up from her chair and ran out the door, neglecting to pay.

μ CHAPTER THIRTY ONE μ

Diane studied the Italian restaurant’s gallery wall crowded with astronaut portraits, then turned back to the woman across the table. “Now I remember. You were in the small runabout the night of the BRI Mexican fiesta.”

Agent Sara Solomon nodded. “I was with Frank. He keeps an eye on your house at night. He lives nearby.”

Diane almost choked on her iced tea. “Do you think I’m in danger?”

“Just taking precautions. Two scientists are dead… I’m sorry about your husband. We’ll have someone follow up on the hit-and-run boat.”

Diane nodded, accepting her sympathy and her help.

“We’re watching over Drs. Wentzel and Sabedra also. But they don’t need to know that.”

Their salads arrived. Diane poked her fork into a crouton and said: “So, you bumped into the
Lab Rats
online when you were both investigating Harry Lee’s technology. But how did you know the technology existed to begin with?”

“Dr. Lee contacted the National Technology Transfer center looking for funding and/or a strategic partnership. We have friends there who keep us apprised of technology that might interest us.

“Shortly after that, Harry Lee described his invention on a techie blog. He was trawling for investors. Our computers picked it up. That might be where his murderer found him too.

“Our computers also made a match when Dr. Lee’s murder was reported in the Hong Kong newspapers. At that point we had an American scientist with sensitive technology who was murdered abroad, so we could legitimately poke our noses in it. The police were cooperative. But Harry Lee’s uncle wouldn’t talk to us. I think he’s running scared.”

Diane gave up on her salad. In fact, she might never eat again. “As I told the group yesterday, Hu Lee stonewalled me too. I’ll let you know if my end-run to get through to him is successful.”

Sara took a deep breath and leaned forward. “The Agency and Homeland Security are both interested in the possibility of reverse engineering the prototype of Dr. Harry Lee’s biometric device at BRI. I understand it’s in your laboratory. Do you have any idea who owns the technology at this point? And does it work?”

Talk about cutting to the chase. “I was told that Dr. Lee deleted all the technical information from BRI’s computers when he left. So I assumed he owned it. And as far as I can tell, it works. Harry Lee programmed it as a personnel screening device and intrusion alarm. We call it ‘Maggie.’ Why don’t you phone Bellfort and ask to see it?”

“When we investigated Harry Lee’s background—education, employment history and such—we discovered he had worked at BRI. So, naturally we looked into the company. That’s how we know about the prototype. But we also found that Raymond Bellfort does not own controlling interest in the company. His cousin, Gabriel Carrera, owns sixty percent of the stock in BRI. So, he’s the ultimate decision maker—even though he doesn’t have anything to do with the day to day operations at BRI. David Crowley says you have a close business relationship with Carrera. What can you tell me about him?”

After recovering from the shock of this new information, Diane reported what little she knew about Gabriel: “He’s a wealthy industrialist with international holdings, U.S. educated, head of Colombia’s Economic Development Council and rabid about bringing his entire country into the twenty-first century.”

Sara nodded as if Diane had confirmed what she already knew.

The two women were heading to their cars when Diane turned and called to Sara. They walked back toward each other and met in the middle of the parking lot. Diane said, “I have something I’d like to show you before I leave the country. Do you have time to follow me to the house?”

“Sure.” Sara grinned. “If you lose me, I know where you live.”

Diane took Sara Solomon up to the cupola where she showed her the numbers on the wallpaper. “That’s not Vincent’s handwriting. It has to be Harry Lee’s. I discovered only last night that those numbers match the ones in Vincent’s notebooks. I’ll give you copies. Some of them look like telescope settings and compass headings, and others appear to be GPS coordinates. I have no clue what the rest are.

Diane gave Agent Solomon a copy of the Hong Kong newspaper article to refresh her memory about the details of Harry Lee’s murder as well as the copies of Vincent’s notes. Then she walked her out to the driveway.

Sara started her car and lowered the window. “Do you want us to keep an eye on you while you’re down in the Caribbean?”

Diane smiled. “I’ll have people with me at all times. I’ll be fine. But thanks for the offer.”

“Have a good trip.” Sara patted the briefcase on the seat beside her. “If our cryptographers make something of these numbers, Dr. Lee could be providing us with testimony from the grave.”

μ CHAPTER THIRTY TWO μ

Olimpia showed Diane to the living room. “You will have some privacy in here. Come to the side patio when you have finished your call.” She headed to the kitchen to give lunch instructions to the maid.

Diane took in the dramatic sea view through the north-facing wall of windows while she tapped in the phone number.

“Hello.” It was Maxine’s voice on the other end of the line.

“Hi. I’ve arrived safely. I’m at Olimpia’s house. How is everything there? Are the animals getting along okay?”

“Huck and Jackson are having a great time. But I’m afraid my cat is planning to live behind the sofa for the duration of Huck’s stay.”

“I’ll have to bring back something to make it up to her. Did I tell you that Huck’s heartworm preventative is due next week?”

“Yes, you told me. He’s fine. All the animals are fine—including the chimps. Thanks again for hiring the guards…Oh, and before I forget to tell you, Bellfort is going to Australia—deep sea fishing. He’ll probably be gone for awhile. I’ll have a lot of time to check out his computer then.”

“Good.”

“Another thing: I finally got into Doreen’s computer. When you were driving back from Everly’s ranch that day, you asked me to check for any reimbursements for trips to Asia in December of last year? Well, Everly left Houston for Taipei on December 3
^rd
and returned from Taipei on December 9
^th
.

Diane remained silent.

“Diane? Can you hear me?”

“Yes… yes I hear you fine.”

“Do those flight times give you clues to anything?”

“I’m not sure. But thanks for your trouble.”

“No trouble, partner. I was worried about you. I tried to reach you at the airport before you left. But your phone was already turned off. Amelia said that you were in danger and that you shouldn’t leave for the trip. But apparently your flight went okay. Amelia gets it wrong sometimes. She says it’s because of global warming; Gaia is out of phase with the universe… I’m so glad you’re safe.”

“Thanks for your concern. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

“Have a great meeting. And bring back a lot of good plants from your jungle trek.”

Diane hung up the phone and stared out the window. Fifty feet from the house, white spumes of the Caribbean shot up like geysers just beyond the cliff’s edge. But all she saw before her was the headline:
“Murder Suspected in American Scientist’s Fall.”

Harry Lee’s body was discovered in Hong Kong on December 7
^th
. Leonard Everly was in Asia at that time. A coincidence?

Olimpia reappeared wearing an apron over her khaki slacks. “Come, lunch is served.”

Unnerved by Maxine’s information, Diane followed Olimpia, vowing to put the BRI labyrinth out of her mind, and hopefully out of her life. Two weeks after her return to the states, she had a job interview scheduled on a leafy campus in Maine—a perfect spot for healing. She’d leave the cloak and dagger to the Lab Rats and their friends. They were better equipped to find
Peruvase
than she was anyway.

But… could she just walk away from them? When she was sworn in to the Lab Rat organization, she had vowed to share anything that might be helpful to their many causes.

She stopped in her tracks and shouted to Olimpia who had moved on: “I’m sorry; I just remembered I have one more phone call to make. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” She went to her purse and dug out Sara Solomon’s business card.

Long after the dishes were cleared away, Diane and Olimpia remained outside discussing the changes in science during their twenty-six year acquaintance. When dusk set in, they agreed upon a light supper and an early bedtime to rest up for the conference that was to start the next day.

Lying in bed, glancing around the darkened room at the graceful shapes of antique furniture and listening to the rhythmic roar of the sea, Diane thought about her day.

Olimpia had picked her up at the airport in an open four-wheel-drive vehicle. Her jaw-length, windblown hair had grown more salt than pepper since their last meeting.

The view along the road to the house was hardly the palm-laden Caribbean paradise Diane had envisioned. Rather, she beheld a parched landscape covered with cacti, scrub foliage, boulders eroded into bizarre shapes by the trade winds and lots of spooky divi divi trees. She imagined off-road travel to be impossible except by camel or, better yet, a Mars rover.

Olimpia’s island home was about five thousand square feet of soaring ceilings, marble floors and massive furniture. It was constructed of stone, heavy wood and thick tinted glass to withstand the constant assault of the sun and winds.

There was no way Olimpia could afford all that on her university salary. It was probably left to her by a well-to-do relative. Diane had always sensed Olimpia’s family was wealthy, maybe because she once mentioned an uncle with a yacht. At any rate, the house was not the “cottage,” Olimpia had mentioned over the years.

Now, the conference had brought Diane here. And she was glad. But it occurred to her that for all the years she had known Professor Olimpia Garza professionally, she knew very little about who Olimpia actually was.

The three-day Ethnobotany Conference was held at the Radisson Aruba Resort and Casino on the protected side of the island. It was well-attended by researchers and pharmaceutical company representatives from all over the world.

Diane’s paper:
Contracts with the Americas
drew mixed reactions. A heated discussion ensued: Some scientists and pharmaceutical companies felt they should be free to tramp about the jungles of the world, harvesting possible curative plants without any formal agreements with the countries or indigenous tribes involved.

But the conference was declared a success on the last night with gambling, dancing and the imbibing of a fruity concoction that many swore would provide the cure for just about anything.

Midnight found Diane and Olimpia propped up on stools at Olimpia’s kitchen island, enjoying brownies and milk. Diane had been delivering an animated recap of the convention when she realized Olimpia wasn’t responding.

“What’s wrong?”

Olimpia was absently-mindedly peeling the tiny pedigree labels from green apples piled in a colorful pottery bowl. “I have a confession to make,” she said in a weary voice.

Attempting to lighten the mood, Diane looked at her brownie and said, “Don’t tell me there’s marijuana in these things—and I thought my elation came from being far away from Texas.”

Olimpia didn’t smile. “I was responsible for Bayside Research hiring you and Vincent… Gabriel Carrera found me at the university and tried to recruit me for BRI. The program he laid out sounded good, but I did not want to move to the States. So, I gave him your name.

Olimpia propped her elbows on the countertop and rested her forehead on her hands. “Since Vincent disappeared, I have been tormented… I meddled in your life. If you had not moved to Texas, your husband would still be alive.”

Diane slid off her stool and patted Olimpia’s shoulder consolingly. “You may have been the reason we got the job offers, but
we
made the decision to go there. And Vincent went sailing to fulfill a lifelong dream. You can’t blame yourself for our choices.”

“I wish it were that simple.” Olimpia muttered, then changed the subject. “What time are you being picked up tomorrow?”

Returning to her stool, Diane said, “I don’t think I should go.”

“Gabriel has helped you get into all the Amazon countries. You should go.”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Losing Vincent had made her emotionally vulnerable in every sense of the word. And she didn’t feel up to testing whether the attraction that erupted in Quito was caused by the Shaman’s potion alone.

Olimpia tried to reason with her: “They are powerful men. Such a slight would not go unnoticed.”

“Gabriel had mentioned dinner in an email; nothing definite. Then yesterday Carlos phoned and invited me to their island for the weekend. He was just being polite. I’ll phone him and tell him something came up.”

Diane thought she saw a wisp of fear pass Olimpia’s eyes but dismissed it. She shook her head. “Me, alone on Carrera island with two men?”

Olimpia laughed. “I think you will be far from alone. They have a staff the size of a small army out there. And at least half of them are female.”

Diane’s face brightened. “I’ll ask Carlos to invite you too. I’d feel more comfortable then.”

Olimpia stood up, walked around the granite-topped island and rearranged the salt and pepper shakers. Returning to her stool, she sat down heavily and looked Diane in the eye. Her voice was firm. “You will be perfectly safe out there. Do not seek an invitation on my behalf. I do not move around in the Carreras’ society.”

Diane opened her mouth to protest, but sensed there was no point in pressuring her. She held up her palms in submission. “Okay, okay. I’ll go alone.