Knockout Mouse Page 10

  “Who are you?”

  She swallowed before answering. “Jenny Ingersoll.”

  His blunt features stiffened. His brows gathered like thunderclouds. “You dare to come here?”

  “Well, yes, I feel involved. We were the ones who went to the hospital—”

  “You’re involved, young woman. Up to your ears.”

  Jenny flushed. “What, you think I poisoned your daughter?”

  His hands quivered. He looked ready to throw her out. “We’ll settle that soon. You’ll own up to your responsibility!”

  I moved in. “It’s true the dinner party was at her house. But Jenny and Fay were very careful about the menu.”

  Harros’s eyes flashed on me. Their fleshiness turned imperious when he opened them wide. “What does this have to do with Fay?”

  “She hosted the party with Jenny. Didn’t she tell you?”

  Fay sprung up from the sofa. “Jenny, what are you saying?”

  Jenny set her jaw. “Don’t listen to her,” she said to Harros. “She’s misled you.”

  “Fay’s helping us.”

  “That’s exactly wrong!” Jenny cried. “Fay was the one who stole your daughter’s diary!”

  Fay’s mouth hung open. She had talent, all right. “Is this how you thank me, Jenny?!” She gave a glance of appeal back to Marion. Marion wagged her head sadly, as if dismayed at the depths to which Jenny had sunk. “Is this really about Sheila’s death, or is it about you and your guilty feelings?”

  Fay had struck a nerve. Jenny’s eyes were liquefying. I took her arm just as Harros was about to loose his thunder on her.

  “You want to help, young woman?” he said. “Then we’ll sit down together and you’ll tell me everything. What you did all that day, and the day before, in your kitchen. Who brought what to your party. You’ll tell me the truth, and you won’t wait for me to get an order to scour your apartment. You’ll let us come and do it now.”

  “This minute?” I demanded.

  “Whenever I’m ready!” he exploded.

  I steered Jenny away from him. “Come over anytime,” I said over my shoulder. “We’ll tell you what we know. But you’re going to have to do some listening, too, Mr. Harros.”

  His shoulder muscles relaxed a notch. But if Harros was appeased for the moment, his son was not. Abe had circled and was zeroing in on my briefcase again.

  “While you’re coming clean,” Abe said, “how about letting us see what you’ve got in there? It’s been glued to your hand like a nuclear trigger.”

  “It’s nothing that concerns you.”

  “No, I saw you. When I was coming back up the hill, I saw you closing it. Come on, open it!”

  Under other circumstances, I might have let him look, just to show him up. I could invent a good reason for the camera. But the audiotape was too valuable. With one hand keeping a grip on the briefcase, and the other crooked into Jenny’s elbow, I had to use my shoulder to push past him.

  “Show some respect to your guests,” I said.

  Abe jabbed his finger at me. “You’re up to something, Damen. I’m going to find out what it is and I’m going to nail you.”

  We marched from the room. Jenny turned to shoot Fay a look. Dugan’s eyes bored into the briefcase. Salzmann looked baffled, the LifeSciencers skeptical. The aunt had a worried expression that fell short of sympathy. Whether it was for us or Harros, I couldn’t say.

  Once we were in the parking lot, Jenny jerked her arm away from me. We’d come in her car. She thrust the keys into my hand without a word. I put the briefcase in back and turned the ignition. Jenny jammed herself into the passenger seat as if trying to crush it.

  As I spun by on my way out of the lot, I saw Mrs. Harros sitting in front of the building in her wheelchair. For some reason she’d been left outside. Her head bobbed slowly in our direction, though she didn’t really see us. Her neck was tilted at an awkward angle. The wind flailed her hair, and a gnarled hand reached for some object that did not exist.

  15

  “What do you mean inviting him to my house? Since when do you have the authority?”

  Jenny had been silent the whole way back to her apartment. I’d been preoccupied with the events of the funeral. I knew she was angry, but I figured it was at Harros.

  She threw the keys on the dining room table. They slid across it and fell off. She stomped into the kitchen, filled the teapot with water, and slammed it down on the burner.

  I unpacked my briefcase in the living room. Jenny came and stood in front of me, waiting for an answer.

  “What can they find? We’ll have the Harroses on our ground,” I said. “Let them poke around all they want. They’ll have to listen to us while they do.”

  “There it is again. Our ground. You don’t live here, Bill.”

  “You want to deal with the guy yourself? Be my guest.”

  Jenny stamped her foot. “See? I knew you’d leave me to handle this alone. You’re not serious about us.”

  I didn’t recall saying either of those things. I tried to get to the real point. “Jenny, I’m sorry I didn’t come down to the burial with you. I had other things to do.”

  “What if it was me in that box? Would you even care?”

  “Don’t say that. Of course I’d care.”

  The teapot whistled. Jenny didn’t move. She just sat there staring icicles at me.

  “What is it, Jenny?”

  “Well? Are you going to move in or not? You talk about it, but you don’t do anything.”

  The teapot was screaming. I got up to turn it off. “What do you want?” I called to the living room.

  “You know what I want!”

  Either chamomile or a marriage proposal, I figured. I tossed the tea bags into the cups, took them to the coffee table, and sat down. “If we do live together, I don’t think it would be here.”

  “Of course not. We’d get a bigger place. I hate these curtains.”

  “No, I mean here on the Peninsula.”

  “You’re not thinking we’d live in your flat.”

  “What’s wrong with my flat?”

  “It’s old and mildewy. Besides, the work is down here. The parties, the Frisbee games, people you see in cafes. All your connections.”

  “No, no. My work is not down here. I do industrials when I have to, but they’re not my work.”

  “You don’t even have a cell phone. It’s still broken from two weeks ago.”

  “Yes, and I don’t miss it a bit.”

  She folded her arms. “When are you going to get a real job? Or start a real business?”

  “I don’t need a real fucking job! I’m doing fine as a camera operator. It’s enough for now. I’m thinking about what I’m going to do next, and no one’s going to rush me.”

  Her anger hardened into sarcasm. “Yeah, you’re real good at that. Thinking’

  I opened my mouth to say she could be better at it. To say that while I very much wanted to resolve the question of what happened to Sheila, the question of whether or not Jenny and I were right for each other in the long run was one I was not ready to take on yet.

  In the end, I closed my mouth. She scowled at the steam curling from the teacups, stood up, marched into the bedroom, and closed the door.

  “This tops off a really pleasant day,” I said to no one.

  My machines sat mute on the couch. The white curtains stared at me. Jenny was right. They were repellent. I packed up the equipment and went out to the Scout.

  I wasn’t ready to drive away just yet. I opened the briefcase again, plugged headphones into the DAT recorder, and listened to what I’d gotten at the funeral home.

  After some bumping and rattling, the voices started to come through. They were distant and echoey, but by cranking the volume I could make them out. The first one was McKinnon’s.

  “… put into the ground. Too painful. I have to get back to the lab in any case.”

  “It’s a tough break.” This was Dugan. “Extr
aordinarily bad luck. This kind of thing doesn’t happen very often, does it doctor?”

  “It’s rare. It takes the right—or wrong—mix of circumstances.”

  “Yes. She had an adrenaline injection with her, but apparently it spoiled. What would cause that?”

  “Heat. Time.”

  “We don’t know how long she would have lasted anyway,” Dugan said.

  There was a pause. “Meaning—?”

  “I don’t suppose it matters now. Well, I should get back, too.”

  “Busy time for us.”

  “More than I’d like. Why did you tell the board we’re ready to start Phase I on MC124?”

  “Simple. We are. The IND determination is due back from the FDA on Friday. That’ll clear the way to start testing it on human subjects.”

  “Yes. But wait for it. The chief hasn’t signed off yet.”

  “The results are solid. I’m the scientist, Neil.”

  “But it’s my job to verify. There’s some loose data floating around. I think you know that.”

  “It’s nothing to worry about. An anomaly. There’s one—many—in every program.”

  “I hope you’re right. I hope it has magically disappeared, because I can’t undo your announcement.” Dugan cleared his throat. “Tell me, what’s your theory on what happened to this girl?”

  “It looks pretty straightforward.” McKinnon paused. “Unless you know something you’re not telling me.”

  More silence. “There’s plenty I don’t tell you, Frederick. You do not have the same privilege. I’m the COO. You answer to me. If there are any red flags on MC124, you must write them up. Human trials will not commence until we’re sure. We will put a hold on the program if necessary. No matter what it costs the company in the short run.”

  “The big pharma money is ready to come in, Neil. They’ve been knocking down the door.”

  “Oh, I know. I keep an eye on you. But I’m warning you—don’t make any premature moves. We have to do this right.”

  “You don’t actually want to see this fly, do you? You’d be happy if I just went away. Oh, but don’t forget to leave behind the science that started this company. Look, if you don’t step lightly, I will leave. And I’ll take the program with me.”

  Dugan chuckled. “We want your program to succeed. Very much. There’s no rivalry here, Frederick. We all know what it would do for the company. Pave the way for the IPO. The biggest monoclonal breakthrough in years.”

  “And I think you have a problem with that. With the credit I’ll get.”

  Another laugh. “No, I’ve only got a problem with the huge crater you’ll leave if you’re wrong.”

  “On the contrary, I think you might enjoy it. As long as it’s my crater, not yours.”

  “It’s the company’s crater, doctor. That’s my sole concern. This is not a lab experiment you can throw out if it goes wrong. We have obligations. You take the risks in science. We take the risks in business. That’s what we were brought in for.”

  McKinnon’s voice, under control to this point, turned angry. “You want to know how safe MC124 is? I’ll demonstrate. I’ll inject it myself. Would that satisfy you?”

  Dugan laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You just proved to me how little you know about the field, Neil. It’s an old tradition. My team will administer it to ourselves. It won’t give us results on the target, of course, but it will address toxicology. That all right with you, Mr. Dugan?”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Thank you for your permission. I guarantee the effects will be negligible. Guarantee it.”

  “Nothing would make me happier. But one more thing. Don’t broadcast it up and down the industry. Your announcement of MC124 at the medical conference in San Diego was unacceptable.”

  “It’s my work. My call when to publish.”

  “I understand you’re giving Doug top billing on the paper.”

  “Christ, Neil, does your snooping never stop? This program has turned LifeScience into a money magnet. We could become the next Genentech. What exactly is your complaint?”

  “True, the product will be huge—if it works. True, it has attracted investors, short term. Our pipeline is filling up. But if MC124 fails, if there’s a problem, the damage to the company in the long run will be equally huge. With so much at stake, we don’t need the backdoor tactics you pulled with the board. Never do that again, Dr. McKinnon.”

  The clump of footsteps followed. This must have been when McKinnon came out on the porch. The rest of the tape was room noise, then the skittering of the mike being reeled in.

  I clicked off the recorder. Somehow I felt better. Other people’s problems can do that for you. I was less inclined now to drive off, at least not without speaking to Jenny. More inclined than ever to find out what was really going on at LifeScience.

  That meant I’d have to play my Gregory Alton card. I thought back to my day of shooting with Rita at Kumar Biotechnics yesterday. Gregory had been lurking in the parking lot late in the afternoon. We watched him from Kumar’s window. By the time we packed up, though, Gregory was gone.

  I finished stowing the DAT recorder in the briefcase and went back inside. Jenny’s door was closed. Taking a nap, maybe. She’d slept poorly the past two nights. We’d gotten up while it was still dark on Monday morning to go to her office and scan Sheila’s journal. I didn’t know how big a force Dugan had following us, but no one appeared to be on duty at that hour. Once we had the diary digitized, we could produce copies at will. I instructed Jenny to package up the two photocopies we had and mail them to the police, just so Dugan couldn’t get us on that one.

  I went to the dining room and called Rita to make sure work had gone all right today, since I’d been replaced by the new DP. She described it as splendid. “Best DP I ever had,” she said.

  “Ha ha. Well, I’ll be in to check on you tomorrow. Will you put those items I left with you in the camera case?”

  “No problem,” Rita said. She still had the zip disks and the tape of Sheila in the parking lot. The security of my flat and of my jeep were questionable, and I trusted her as much as anyone to keep them safe. “I need the HD cassette, though, so I’ll transfer it to video for you.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  I called Wes next. He wasn’t happy about what I wanted him to arrange for tomorrow night, but he couldn’t turn me down.

  Then I dug Gregory Alton’s card out of my billfold. I hated doing this. I tried to block out the image of his smug blond mug on the other end of the line.

  “Hello, Gregory. It’s Bill.”

  “Bill! Where were you today, buddy?” Apparently he didn’t mind admitting he was stalking me.

  “I had to go to a funeral.”

  “Oh, gee. I hope it wasn’t anyone—”

  “How much do you actually know about LifeScience, Gregory? Did you know a researcher named Sheila Harros?”

  “Not specifically. But I can bring you up to speed on the company. I’ve had a few meetings. Scoped them out, got some juicy confidentials. If, that is, you can—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know what you want. Okay, you got a deal. I want to see you tomorrow. You’ll tell me about LifeScience.”

  “And you’ll bring some goodies for me.”

  “Hold on. I missed today’s shoot, you know. I don’t have the footage. Give me another day or two on the job.”

  “Whoa, whoa, Bill. This isn’t what I call even-Steven.”

  “You’re going to go first, Gregory. That’s the way it is.”

  I heard just enough of a pause. “Why should that be?”

  “You need what I’ve got more than the other way around. That’s the fact. I hate to be like this, but I’m going to be like this.”

  He gave in with a knowing chuckle. “Film people are all about deals, aren’t they? Okay. I’ll give you the data dump on LifeScience. And by Friday you’ll give me what I need on Kumar.”

  We agreed to meet for lunch
. I hung up the phone and bounced onto the couch, feeling magically lighter. Pushing Gregory around had improved my mood even more than listening to Dugan and McKinnon duke it out.

  Still, I was buying his information on credit. I didn’t know if I’d actually follow through on my end of the bargain. Kumar had been incredibly decent to us so far. I didn’t want to betray him. But I needed Gregory’s “juicy confidentials” right now, and I’d worry about paying the bill later.

  16

  I met Gregory Alton at Perry’s in downtown Palo Alto on Thursday. What a difference a year had made. I had stopped even trying to come down here at the height of the boom. University Avenue traffic had stood still then, like a pipe clogged between Stanford at one end and Highway 101 at the other. Now I actually found a parking spot on my first pass. The sycamore trees along the avenue were curled a dusty yellow. I strolled the sidewalk without being knocked over by lines of marching MBAs. Attendants at the salons and spas loitered by their doors, wondering where they’d have to move for their next job.

  I got a table right away. Once upon a time I would have waited outside, along with the mostly male clientele in their polos and striped shirts. Cell phones, PDAs, and laptops would have been arrayed on the blue-checked tablecloths like pieces on a chessboard, the buzz of electrons and venture capital in the air.

  Gregory swaggered in and took a look around. “It’s a good thing biotech is happening, huh?” he said as he joined me. “Otherwise I’d probably be doing egregiously trivial sys admin for some corporate suit.” He said suit in a manner meant to imply he and I were brothers-in-arms. “And you’d be—what, shooting weddings?”

  I ignored this. “You new to biotech?”

  He shot me a sneaky grin. “I majored in computer science in college because I loved video games. Got an MBA so I could speak the tongue of the suits. I was in the first wave in South Park.” South Park was the epicenter of the Web boom in San Francisco. “Dude, in those days it was like a gumball machine. Put in a penny idea, turn the knob, and get a wad of cash. You jump on that?”

  I gave a sort-of nod. I did get mesmerized by those candy colors, until I had to factor in consorting with the Gregorys of the world in order to turn the knob.