Knockout Mouse Page 20

  “Nope,” Marion cut me off. “Not Carl. Not to Sheila.”

  “He says someone asked him to bring them in for her.” I didn’t want to tell her who just yet.

  Marion’s brow furrowed. “Now you’re starting to make sense. Someone who knew about the allergy.”

  “Someone who also knew the truth about MC124,” Karen added. “Someone who knew how it would react with the tomato. Neither would do the job on its own.”

  Marion stood up. “I have to say, you’re turning up some good soil. This calls for some wine, don’t you think? It’s getting to be dinnertime.”

  Karen got up to help. I slumped into the couch and let the wool scratch against my neck. Marion seemed to have chosen the precise moment when I’d revealed the most and she’d revealed the least to break off the conversation. I still hoped to bring her over to our side, but it looked like her allegiance remained only to herself.

  The tree branches had turned to dark fingers. A few lights twinkled out in the bay. I let them drift out of focus, then noticed a stack of magazines under the wicker coffee table. I picked up a few. They were standard fare: Science, Nature, Annals of Botany. A couple, though, reflected a more definite point of view: Living Planet, Earth Island, The Greenpeace International Newsletter.

  The doorbell rang, followed immediately by a sharp knock. I jumped up to get it.

  Marion met me at the entry. “It better not be Wes,” she warned.

  I shook my head. I knew it wasn’t. She swung open the door to find a sullen face staring back at her. It was Abe Harros. And standing right behind him was Neil Dugan.

  29

  I slid past Marion to shake Abe’s hand. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”

  His expression remained flat. “Why not? Sounded like a party.”

  I looked at Dugan and said, “I was hoping you were a waiter on wheels.”

  Dugan, in his own special way, smiled. He hadn’t shaved, and yesterday’s five o’clock shadow smothered his jaw. “The party will have to wait.”

  Marion’s mouth hung open. It seemed for a moment that she had lost her touch. But then she turned and disappeared into the kitchen, leaving the three of us in a standoff. It only ended when she returned and stuck a glass of wine into each of our hands. They were flat glasses, European style.

  “Go sit down,” she ordered.

  I led the way into the living room. Dugan and Abe took the couch, Dugan on the far side. I planted myself in the rocking chair across from them. Marion and Karen reappeared with glasses of their own. Marion put a plate of Gouda on the coffee table and sat cross-legged on the floor. Karen gave Abe a friendly greeting and pulled up a chair between me and him. I had a bite of cheese and smiled, hoping to force Abe or Dugan into the first move.

  Abe didn’t touch his glass. His eyes had not left me since we sat down. “You asked me to come here,” he said. “Now tell me why.”

  I ignored a seething glance from Marion. “There are some facts you should know about your sister’s death. It would be better if we could talk without Mr. Dugan, but what the hell.”

  Abe’s face was set like stone. Karen seemed about to burst. “Listen to him, Abe!” she said.

  Abe swivelled slowly to look at her. His features softened a tad. “We got your message yesterday, Karen. That’s the only reason I’m here. I wouldn’t trust him an inch otherwise.”

  “Doesn’t matter to me one way or another, Abe,” I said. “Just listen for a change. Your father can drop the lawsuit against Jenny. Sheila herself brought the food that killed her at dinner. This is not about negligence. It’s about murder.”

  Dugan broke into laughter. Abe didn’t.

  “We thought so,” Abe said. “What are these facts you’ve got?”

  “MC124 was fatal to a lab mouse. Sheila was investigating how it killed the mouse. The reason appears to be that it puts the immune system of certain mammals on a hair trigger.”

  “A dead mouse and a dead woman are quite different things,” Dugan said.

  “We believe Sheila herself injected MC124,” I said evenly.

  “She’d already knocked her own genes into the mouse,” Karen added. “It came over from Salzmann’s lab with her.”

  Dugan and Abe simultaneously leaned forward. “You have proof?” Abe demanded.

  “We can back it up, Abe,” Karen said. She avoided Dugan’s scowl. “The shellfish protein that set her anaphylaxis in motion had been engineered into a tomato line by Tomagen, which is now part of LifeScience’s agri division. Sheila brought those tomatoes to the dinner party, tomatoes someone at LifeScience had given her that day. She suffered an allergic response. She might have had only a mild reaction to the protein in the tomato if that was the whole story. But MC124 had primed Sheila’s immune system. It went after the allergen with a fury. That’s what killed her.”

  Abe was bent forward now, elbows on his knees. “This is incredible, Karen. If it wasn’t you telling me…” He glanced at Marion.

  “It’s plausible,” Marion agreed. “The shellfish protein protects the fish from cold. People have been trying to put antifreeze proteins to use in tomatoes, strawberries, and so on for some time. You find the proteins in fish, bugs, bacteria, and certain plants. I don’t know why Tomagen chose the shellfish one. Pretty stupid idea, if you ask me.”

  “I’m sure they thought they could neutralize its allergenic properties,” Karen said.

  “What I’m saying is that neither the protein nor MC124 alone would have killed Sheila,” I went on. “The two were put together on purpose by someone at LifeScience. Someone who knew how MC124 worked. Someone who also had access to the tomato.”

  Abe’s gaze travelled across the table from me to the man sitting next to him. Dugan’s rock of a head remained steady on his shoulders, his expression surprisingly chipper. He took his time with a sip of wine, just for effect. “Not bad,” he said, swirling it. “This has been a productive visit. I’ve heard some useful information tonight.” He looked at me. “I thank you for it. And I’ll thank you to turn over documentation of your claims. If there’s a problem with MC124, we need to know about it before ten o’clock Monday morning. Our lawyers will get a court order if necessary.”

  “We’ll give the documents to the right people at LifeScience,” I responded. “As soon as we know who they are. I’d like to know why you were so persistent and aggressive about getting your hands on Sheila’s diary. You had Pratt following her the day she died. I’ve got it on tape. You were willing to do anything to stop her from exposing the flaws in MC124.”

  A broad smile, which for all the world looked genuine, sliced across Dugan’s face. “Your theory’s got one problem. You pointed it out yourself. Access to the tomato. We don’t grow it at LifeScience.”

  “But you know that Carl Steiner still grows it at home. You got him to bring in a bagful to give to Sheila.”

  Dugan drained his glass. “How very helpful you are, Bill. We’ll be speaking to Carl about this.”

  I touched Karen’s shoulder. “Call Carl. Warn him.”

  “In the kitchen,” Marion said.

  Karen went. Dugan rose halfway to his feet. “If he destroys evidence, he’s as good as proven his guilt,” he called after her.

  “Your board of directors will be fascinated to hear all of this,” I said.

  Dugan snorted, then bumped into the stack of magazines as he sat down again. They spread like a deck of cards. He glanced over them idly. “Oh, they’ll be fully briefed. I have nothing to hide.”

  “I want to know what’s going on, Neil,” Marion demanded. “Why were you after Sheila?”

  “We had reasons.” He raised the corner of a magazine gingerly. “Just how active in Greenpeace are you, Marion? They’re not exactly biotech’s best friend.”

  “It all depends, Neil,” she said coolly, “on what we use the technology for. We had a good bioremediation program going, before you came along.”

  “Maybe you’re not LifeScience’s be
st friend either,” Dugan replied. “Maybe your goals and ours have diverged.”

  Marion was flustered. “You weren’t invited, and you have no right to poke into my private business. It’s time for you to leave.”

  Dugan stood. He moved surprisingly quickly around the coffee table to block the path to the front door. “I’m not going anywhere without those documents.”

  “You are too.”

  Marion’s sharp intake of breath matched my own. Karen had emerged from the kitchen, behind Dugan. In her hand was a large knife.

  “Put that down before you get hurt,” Dugan commanded.

  I moved in Karen’s direction. So did Dugan. When I stopped, he did.

  Karen bit her lip. She was upset, but she wasn’t shaking. “You killed my friend.”

  She gripped the knife a little tighter. When she didn’t retreat, Dugan realized she was serious. He forced a laugh and sidled toward the front door. “The least you can do is call me a cab,” he said to Marion.

  “How about an ambulance?” she replied.

  Dugan’s arms hung ready at his sides. Now that he was a few steps out of Karen’s range, his alpha bearing returned. I went quickly over to Karen before the situation got out of control again. I was more concerned about him hurting her than vice versa, but avoiding bloodshed seemed wise all around.

  Abe joined me. “Don’t get excited, everyone. I’ll take Mr. Dugan home.”

  I looked Dugan up and down for the bulge of a weapon. If he had one, he wasn’t going for it. Not yet.

  Abe made his way cautiously to the door. “We’re leaving. I’ll talk to you later, Karen. Right now, there are some things I’d like to ask you about, Neil.”

  “There are some things I’d like to tell you about,” Dugan answered smoothly, opening the door.

  “We don’t have the documents on us,” I called after him. “In case Pratt is waiting outside.”

  Abe looked at Dugan. “Don’t worry,” Dugan said. “He’s not.”

  The three of us watched from the doorway as Abe’s car drove away. Karen nonchalantly replaced the knife in the kitchen and picked up her coat. “I’m tired. I’m ready to go,” she said.

  Marion stood hugging herself. “That man…”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I had no idea Abe would bring him.”

  Marion seemed to accept my apology, so I went on. “I’d like to go into LifeScience tomorrow to talk to Doug Englehart and Frederick McKinnon. Can you get me inside?”

  Marion didn’t hesitate. “Shall we say noon?”

  “Fine,” I said. “I’ll meet you at the entrance to the parking lot. I don’t want to take my jeep in there.”

  “You’re on. God would it feel good to nail Dugan.”

  “What’s happening to us, Marion?” I said. “We agree on more and more every day.” I decided not to add my lurking fear that we could end up nailing McKinnon instead. There was always the chance he and Dugan had perceived Sheila as a common enemy and collaborated on her murder. Now that she was out of the way, their alliance was done and they’d reverted to their original rivalry. Except that each held a trump card that could destroy them both.

  Karen and I said little on the drive back to Redwood City. I half expected her to break down, but she remained collected. My impression was that she really would have used that knife on Dugan, if he’d come at her.

  When we exited the San Mateo Bridge, I made a few U-turns and dashed through a few yellow lights, in case Dugan had lied about Pratt. No one followed us.

  Back at Karen’s hideout in Redwood City, a note said her friend was staying with her lover that night. Karen had the place to herself. Though her features still seemed composed, I noticed that her knees were going weak. The emotions of the night were catching up with us both.

  “I’ll stay here with you,” I offered. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  She let herself fall onto the couch. “That’s all right,” she sighed, lying down. When she noticed me standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room, she patted the couch. “I don’t mean to hog the whole thing.”

  She sat up partially so I could sit, then put her head right back where it had been. Except now it was in my lap. Her hand found mine and squeezed. For reassurance, I was sure, nothing more.

  “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?” she murmured.

  “I think I’m your bad luck charm.”

  She laughed, then pulled my legs up to the couch. “Lie down.”

  I took off my shoes and scrunched into the couch on my back. She slid alongside me and put her head on my right shoulder. Her hand tucked under my left shoulder. I held the back of her head. We lay like that for quite a while as the tension drained from our bodies.

  My eyes closed and I drifted into a half sleep. I awoke to the sensation of lips on my cheek. Karen’s lips. Her mouth slid over to mine, and soon we were engulfed in each other. I liked her taste. She wore no scent or makeup. No flower or spice or store-bought musk. Just skin and tongue. Very pure. Very simple. Very human.

  I don’t know how long we went on like that. It could have been twenty minutes, it could have been hours. Our hands moved slowly up and down each other, outside our clothes, brushing a more sensitive zone now and again. We stopped for periods of time and simply rested with one another, drifting.

  At some point, I found my hand sliding under her shirt. I felt the strap of her bra, and then, under the material, her breast. Her breath quickened. I nudged the nipple with the tip of my finger, and felt her hand moving up along my thigh. We let the moment linger on the edge of something more. Somehow it was more erotic and delicious than the most avid sex. I felt close to Karen, disconcertingly so in just two days.

  I kissed her neck once and put my arms around her, tightly. My head came to rest on the pillow of her hair. She returned the embrace, and we were still.

  30

  I awoke to find a blanket over me and a pillow under my head. Light streamed in through windows unknown to me, but it was hard to tell what time it was. Nor could I fathom what was I doing on a plaid sofa.

  A faucet turned on in the kitchen and it all came back. Marion’s house last night. Abe. Dugan. Karen.

  She poked her head out of the kitchen. I blinked at her. She smiled. “Just checking.”

  I was still in my clothes. That was good. I shuffled into the bathroom, splashed myself with some cold water, and shuffled into the kitchen. The kettle was humming over a burner.

  “Did you sleep all right?” she asked.

  “Like a wall. I didn’t know where I was for a minute.”

  She folded her arms and leaned against the sink. Her form was hidden under a long flannel nightshirt decorated with bluebells. I stood by the refrigerator with my hands in my pockets. The patina of morning brightness fell from her face. She looked at me from under lidded eyes. I remembered why it had been so nice to kiss her.

  “I’m sorry Bill. Last night, I—”

  I stepped forward and took her hands. “Same for me.” I was sorry, too, though I wasn’t sure whether it was for what happened or what didn’t happen. Not that I would have cheated on Jenny—more out of principle, I had to admit, than direct feeling at the moment. The little pang of guilt I’d felt when I awoke did not center on Jenny, but on Sheila. As if somehow we’d taken advantage of her death.

  Karen touched a finger to my lips. “You have the nicest little fold at the corners of your mouth. And eyes.”

  I kissed her forehead. She gave me a slap on the hip. And we got on with our morning. She fitted a filter into a coffee cone. I hunted up some food in the cupboards and refrigerator. We moved past each other easily in the kitchen, as if it were a familiar choreography.

  We ate quietly, looking through the Sunday paper. Karen did the crossword. It was a pleasant fiction to eat the little smorgasbord we’d rustled up—toast, apples, cheese, tomatoes, olives, jam—as if we had nothing much else to do today.

  At eleven-thirty I folded the paper and said it
was time for me to go to LifeScience.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Karen asked.

  “I better go alone. Marion is taking me inside. You never know, Dugan might be hunting for you.”

  “Nah, he’s scared of me now.” The hint of bravado in her smile told me she didn’t mind staying in.

  I tucked in my shirt and put on my jacket. The DAT and mini-DV were still in the pockets. I changed the DAT cassette and cued it up. Karen gave me a peck on the cheek and asked at what point she should start to worry about me. I waved it off, but she fixed me with one of those direct looks.

  “I’ll check in around three. Call Wes if you don’t hear from me.” I borrowed her pen and wrote Wes’s number on the crossword.

  “Fine. What do you plan to do when you get inside?”

  I’d started thinking about it last night on the way back to the condo. “I’ll see what else I can get out of Doug Englehart and Frederick McKinnon. New information tends to make people talkative. Marion’s going to look for more on MC124. I’ll try to find other senior people in the company, too. With the big Curaris deal happening tomorrow, I expect they’ll all be working. I’ll tell them I know how Sheila died. I won’t accuse anyone; I’ll act like I think someone else is to blame. Then I’ll watch how they react. See what I see on their faces, listen to what they say, and decide on my next move.”

  “What if you run into Dugan?”

  “I’ll hope I don’t. But if I do—same as the others.”

  Karen nodded and sent me off. The sky was an immense plate of scalloped ridges, puckered with billows and whorls. The first big rain front of the season was approaching from the Gulf of Alaska. The barometric pressure had dropped, and there was an expectancy in the air.

  Marion was waiting for me about a hundred yards down the street from the turn to the LifeScience parking lot. I motioned for her to follow me, then I drove another quarter mile to an empty industrial street. I parked the Scout and got into her car.

  The first thing I did was explain why I’d invited Abe Harros to her house the night before. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t sore about Dugan showing up. “I was trying to bring Abe over to our side,” I said.