Terminal 9 (27 page)
“It seems odd that Clay would entrust his keys to Addison Shaw,” Dana said.
“Maybe not. Mullins was in his late eighties. Maybe he wanted the attorney to have quick and easy access in the event of his death.”
“Maybe,” Dana concurred. “I'm confused, though. If Shaw had a key to the box, why didn't he remove the papers concerning the railroad museum? If we hadn't found those papers, we might not have gotten a search warrant.”
“Maybe he didn't know it was there.” Mac yawned. “At any rate, I'm taking Frank's advice to head home.”
After dropping off Dana at her car in the compound where Russ had left it the day before, Mac parked and went into the office to log in the safe-deposit key. From there he headed straight home, collected Lucy, and after eating a Mexican TV dinner, fell into bed.
M
AC FOUND DANA AT HER DESK when he arrived the next morning and set the extra cup of coffee he'd bought for her next to the empty one.
“Thanks.” Her acknowledgement told him she wasn't in the mood for conversation any more than he was. She took a sip from the fresh cup and went back to her computer.
“You're welcome.” Mac headed over to his own desk. Barely after seven in the morning and she was already working on her second sixteen-ounce cup of coffee.
How long has she been here?
Mac wondered.
“Where's mine?” Kevin called from his office as Mac walked by.
“If I'd known you'd be in this early, I'd have picked one up for you.” He lifted the cup. “I could go across the street . . .”
“Naw. The missus is limiting me to one cup a day. I'm thinking about giving it up altogether.”
“That's got to be tough.” Mac stepped into the office. “How you doing?”
“Not bad, feeling pretty good actually.” Kevin sat back in his chair and grinned. “Went for a walk with Jean this morning. It wasn't a run, but the fresh morning air got me going.”
“You hear about our new developments yesterday?”
“Sure did. Frank brought me up to speed when he brought your evidence in. All the stuff is in temporary evidence; I'll get to copying the documents this morning while you two are out and about.”
“Thanks. Any luck on a polygraph for Mason and Rita?”
“All set up. Melissa Thomas is heading out to Columbia County later this morning to administer the tests. Sergeant Hanson from our Scappoose office is going to give her a hand with Mason in case he gives her any trouble.”
“Great, thanks for setting that up.” Mac's pager went off. He looked at the number after pulling the pager from the plastic holder. “Crime lab. Wonder why they're calling so early?”
“They called here yesterday afternoon. Allison Sprague was looking for you or Dana. She said she wanted to run some results by you; I told her you were in the field and gave her your pager.”
Allison Sprague was one of the few sworn forensics supervisors within the agency who held the rank of Criminalist. Most of the forensic scientists hired in the past fifteen years were non-sworn, a cost-savings measure primarily to prevent paying the expensive pension costs the state afforded to police officers.
“I'll call her in a bit. I need to get those computers over to Carl Jensen so he can start digging through the hard drives for evidence on our case. We need to get a copy made so I can return the hardware to Addison Shaw.”
“I'll take care of that. You know how fast those computer guys work. I bet he can copy the hard drive this morning and have it examined in a day or two for documents. You can't hide much from Carl, not even the deleted documents.”
“Thanks, Kevin. I really appreciate it.” Mac lifted his cup in a salute and headed for his cubicle. “Still wish you were out in the field with us, though.”
“Not meâI'm getting a full night's sleep,” Kevin yelled after him.
Mac knew better but didn't respond. He called the lab and spoke with Allison.
“Hi, Mac. I got some results on the examination I did on Clay's diabetes drug kit. I think it might be best if you came over here. It's a bit complicated to explain over the phone.”
“Sure. But it may take me a while with all the traffic. It was already backed up on the Glen Jackson Bridge on my way in this morning.” Even on weekends, getting from the east side of the Willamette River to the west side could be murder.
“I'll be waiting.”
Mac and Dana started for the Portland forensics lab of the State Police, located in the Justice Center downtown. The building housed the county jail prisoners on the first four floors, then a few floors occupied by the Portland Police Bureau precinct, and finally the forensics lab on the twelfth floor. They arrived at the lab by 8:30, badging their way through the front-door security to the elevators.
“I'm coming here way too often if the security is starting to recognize me and doesn't need picture identification,” Dana muttered as the elevator doors shut.
“Some people are more memorable than others.” Mac winked at her. “I'm sure you made an impression on the guy your first time through.”
“Oh, shut up.” Dana slapped Mac on the arm with her notebook.
“Ow.” Mac feigned insult as well as injury. “Sheesh, see if I ever pay you a compliment. You don't need to go ballistic.”
She rolled her eyes and faced forward. “I didn't go ballistic.”
Changing the subject Dana asked, “Why didn't Allison just tell you what she found over the phone?”
Mac shrugged. “She said it was complicated. She's got me curious, that's for sure.”
The elevator opened and they took the hallway to the left, walking past the doors that led to the various specialty units within the lab until they arrived at the main reception area. Mac told the receptionist at the front desk they were there to see Allison.
“Hi you two.” Allison came out before the receptionist had a chance to page her over the intercom. “C'mon back.”
The receptionist buzzed Mac and Dana through the security door, and they followed Allison to her office.
“Dana, I haven't seen you since . . .” Allison hesitated.
“Since I was shot.” Dana finished the sentence.
“Sorry, it occurred to me just in time to stick my foot in my mouth.”
“That's okay. I'm fine with it now. I must admit those were not some of my best photos, though. You didn't get my good side.”
Mac was confused. “Photos?”
“While I was in the ER,” Dana answered, “Allison photographed me in the buff after the shooting to document my injuries.”
“Fortunately it wasn't a bullet hole.” Allison leaned against her desk.
“For sure. That magnum round would have killed me if I hadn't been wearing the vest.”
“If I remember right, you were bruised from your waist to your neck. That must have hurt for quite a while.” Allison grimaced.
“Yeah, the next day I remember thinking that getting killed might have been better. My shock plate dispersed the trauma but made for major bruising.” Dana winced. “I was sore all the way through my ribs and back, and I couldn't take a deep breath without hurting.”
Glancing at Mac she added, “Of course, I don't know if that was from the gunshot or Superman here jumping on me to see if I was dead.”
“I didn't jump on you,” Mac protested. “I was just making sure you were alive.”
“Or not. I'm kidding.” Turning to Allison she said, “Anyway, thanks for asking. I'm doing great now.”
“That's good to hear.” Allison gestured to the chairs. “Have a seat. I have some interesting news for you.” Mac and Dana sat down in the two chairs across from Allison's desk as she flipped through some files. “I called for you yesterday with some questions. I was getting some confusing results on my initial lab tests, but I was able to work through it without you. Heard you were swamped.”
“You might say that,” Mac agreed.
“Anyway, after some preliminary testing, I had some questions regarding Mr. Mullins's medical history and insulin dosages, but none of that mattered when I'd completed the final analysis. I called Kevin this morning to give him the news, but he wanted me to tell you and Dana first.”
“What?” Mac was surprised Kevin didn't let Allison give him the information.
“He said it was your case and you'd been working hard on it, so you should hear it first.”
“Okay. What tests are we talking about?” Mac asked. “His insulin?”
“Yes. More specifically, the contents of his insulin vials. The problem we have here is that much of the liquid in that little glass vile was not insulin; it was ricin.”
“Ricin?” Mac choked on the response.
“Exactly. The liquid in the container was insulin infused with ricin.”
“Didn't I hear something about ricin being found in a letter to a senator recently?” Dana asked.
“Right. It made national news.” Allison handed Dana a folder.
“That stuff is lethal,” Mac commented. “The first I ever heard about it was in college. A KGB agent killed a politician with it years ago.”
Dana straightened. “I remember that. A big cloak-and-dagger deal. The guy was stabbed with a cane or something, and they found poison in the tip.”
Allison nodded. “It was an umbrella actually, and it happened in the late seventies. The victim was a Bulgarian named Georgi Markov. He was in London when another pedestrian with an umbrella stuck him in the thigh. A few days later Markov died from the wound. They soon discovered the killer had used ricin.You'll see all that in your folder, along with a full rundown on the stuff.”
“What is it anyway?” Dana asked. “Some type of chemical?”
“Yes and no.” Allison leaned against her desk. “Ricin is produced from castor bean mash. The castor bean plant is primarily used to produce castor oilâyou know, the awful stuff every mother had in the medicine cabinet years ago.”
Mac nodded. “My grandmother used to tell me it was good for me. I thought she was trying to poison me. Apparently, I wasn't far from wrong.”
Dana chuckled. “Well you're still here. I've heard of castor oil but never had to eat it. Sounds like I didn't miss much.”
“Castor oil is not the problem. But the same process that makes castor oil produces a waste mash that can be refined into ricin. Ricin can be made into a mist or powder that can be inhaled or eaten in foods. It can also come in the liquid form that would require injection. That's what we have here.”
“So we have the liquid form of ricin in our victim's insulin bottle.” Mac blew out a long breath. “Now comes the million-dollar question. Was there enough ricin in that bottle to kill Clay?”
“It only takes about five hundred micrograms of pure ricin to kill an adult if injected, less than a pinprick would be enough. An actual injection of a substantial amount, like a hypodermic injection, would be lethal.”
“How does it kill you? With a heart attack or something?” Dana asked.
“That's possible, but you might expect total organ failure in as soon as thirty-six hours. The injection of ricin would have no immediate effect. Rather, it slowly destroys cells by attacking their ribosomes.”
“Ribosomes?” Mac was wishing he'd paid more attention in his anatomy and physiology courses.
Allison gave Mac a patient smile, like a teacher with an eager student. “Ribosomes are the protein-producing mechanisms of our cells. The ricin enters the bloodstream and starts to slowly destroy the mechanism, causing failure to the lungs, liver, and kidneys. A heart attack could certainly be a by-product of the organ failure.”
“How about being delusional and losing motor function prior to death?” Mac glanced at Dana.
“You mean like trying to call 9-1-1 and being unable to speak, so you ride for help on your motorized scooter?” Dana added.
“Yes. You could expect that,” Allison said. “The medical examiner will probably have more info for you there. I left a message for Kristen but was told she had three autopsies to do this morning and she was not to be disturbed until she got them finished. Those guys are way behind.”
“I'm not surprised. We've had our share of murders around here lately.” Mac stood up. He could understand Allison's excitement. He was feeling rather elated himself. Clay Mullins had been murdered, and now they had the murder weapon. “We'll head over there right now. What do you need from the body? We're still holding it in case something like this came up.”
“Great. I need samples of the flesh around the injection sites. The tests at the medical examiner's office on the blood work probably wouldn't have caught the toxins associated with ricin. We can run some tests here, but I'll want to coordinate with the Center for Disease Control for confirmation on the test for ricin. That will likely be an overnight job.”
“Do you need more blood?” Mac asked.
“Nope. What Kristen sent should do it.”
“You'll have those samples within the hour. In fact, we'll hand-deliver them.” Mac sensed the same elation in Dana. “Are you going to be around for a while, Allison?”
“Yep. I'm not going anywhere. This is moving up on my priority list. I've never worked a ricin case before, so I had to do quite a bit of research on the subject. I was so curious about the results, I came in early. I really want to do some more homework on the topic, but I'll need those samples for blood and cellular examination.”
“You've got it. We'll call Kristen on the way over and have her get our guy back on the table, let her know there's some more work to be done.”
“I have a hunch she'll be thrilled. Kristen loves this kind of stuff. Tell her I'll fax my findings to her.”
M
AC AND DANA COULD HARDLY WAIT for the elevator doors to open on the first floor of the Justice Center, and they practically ran to their car.
