Ask Not For Whom The Panther Prowls (6 page)

“
How did
that work?”

“
It was fun,
we'd Skype someone and help them talk well in English.”

“
That
all?”

“
Usually. It
wasn't normal Skype or chat. We'd have to enter some funny numbers
first.”

“
Really? Do
you remember what the numbers were?”

“
There were
either four or six of them. Numbers and letters. It was like
AF.86.54.FF. Not that it was the same all the time.” It sounded
like an IP4 or IP6 internet address, but I'd have to ask a friend
to confirm it.

“
Funny thing
was once I made a mistake and this man came up. He was really
upset.”

“
Could you
identify him?”

“
Maybe. He
had a funny accent. I could barely understand him.”

“
If you'll
wait a second.” I called Laura on my cell. “I'm busy Will, what is
it?”

“
Not much,
can you send me that picture?”

“
What
picture?”

“
The man we
saw in the airport, the trafficker?”

“
Why?”

“
I need to
see if one of the students recognizes him.”

“
Students?”

“
One of the
ones who had an attack. She said she made a mistake while tutoring
ESL students and this man came up.”

“
One of your
'hunches', darling?”

“
Of
course.”

“
I'll get it
forwarded to you. See you tonight. Bye.”

I told Tamika and her parents that I'd need to
show them a picture of someone, after I received it.

Meth
synthesis is so mundane. Dr. Isabelle Carling was producing it
without using pseudoephridine or anything the DEA would consider
unusual via a Grignard reaction from Benzyl chloride, acetaldehyde
and methylamine. A relatively simple synthesis for a skilled
organic chemist like her, it was an excellent way to supplement her
income. Since the state legislature forbid the Board of Regents
from raising salaries for “lazy good for nothing Godless academic
scum”, she had found her own solution to those pressing financial
needs. Her contact, a janitor, routinely picked up her high quality
product on Friday and put her share of the proceeds in her top desk
drawer early Monday morning.

This
symbiotic arrangement proceeded in a mutually advantageous manner
until the drug gang that was the distributor had a 'change in
management'. The body wasn't found, but the DEA suspected he had
been taken deep sea fishing. Or else he was helping to prop up the
new 17
^th
street
bridge in the manner that a 'watching man' was used in Viking
construction. In any case, instead of a polite request for another
few grams of clean Methamphetamine, the order came for some more
difficult to synthesize and correspondingly more profitable drugs.
Derivatives of MCPP or MPPP. Being averse to fishing, or more
correctly being the bait while somebody else fished, she dared not
disobey.

2

Morrison
called me as I was on my way to another lecture of 'Poetic
Physics'. He was excited with by the news.

“
Will, I
think we found your poisoner.”

“
Hey that's
great. Who?”

“
Dr.
Isabelle Carling, from chemistry. She was running a tidy little
drug lab in addition to her research. Helped to pay the
bills.”

“
I supposed
it's easier than getting funded by NSF.”

What had
happened was simple. One of the bi-products of a botched synthesis
for MPPP is MPTP. MPTP kills part of the brain and induces a form
of Parkinson's disease. When several participants suddenly came
down with the shakes at an 'Exploration of Altered Consciousness'
party, it hadn't taken long to trace back the supply to the
unfortunate Dr. Carling. It seems, in order to enhance the
experience of these new journeys of discovery, she had engaged in a
little free-lance dealing on the side.

Dr. Carling
had connections. The 'Explorations of Altered Consciousness'
parties had been held in a mansion in Buckhead. There isn't
anything like real old fashioned Rockefeller-style 'old money' in
Atlanta, but 'new money' talks just as loudly and she'd been bailed
out by the time Morrison and I could arrive. It was cash, and not a
bail bond so she could be anywhere. She wouldn't have had to talk
to us, but she might have. Now we'd just have to track her down
ourselves. With luck we'd find her before the drug gang did.
Otherwise, she wouldn't be in any shape to answer questions. The
gang had already found the janitor. Let's just say GSU had a new
vacancy in the maintenance staff and there was already a mess for
him to start cleaning.

3

I called
Arthur that evening and he reined me in.

“
Will, what
did the medical examiner say about the students? Was Meth
involved?”

“
No.”

“
Let the
police handle this one. They're paid to do it, you're
not.”

“
But?”

“
Until
there's some evidence she was involved, this chemist is a
distraction.”

He was
right, damn it. Unless something turned up to connect her with the
real poisonings, she wasn't of any interest to us.

Nonetheless,
I still felt I should ask a few questions. Not many, but I started
by looking at pub-med. During my office hours, when I was sure I
wouldn't be disturbed, I started digging from the machine in my
office. Her work was in organic synthesis, which was largely a
closed book to me. I'd taken organic chemistry in college, but that
was too many years ago. The synthetic targets were interesting,
various neural channels. I was surprised she was having difficulty
with grants since all of her work was directed towards obvious drug
targets.

Just for the
heck of it, I passed the channels through pub-med and found they
were not your garden variety target for depression or whatnot. LSD
and PCP interacted with the same channels. So it was possible she
was working, not just on drug design, but designer drugs. I thought
Morrison might want to know. He'd pass it on to the proper
people.

4

I called my erstwhile clients, the Phillips. The
first thing they said after picking up the phone was “Any
progress?”

“
Maybe. Is
Jane around? I have a couple of questions to ask her.”

There was a bit of confused noise, and then she
came on the phone. Her father was listening in the background.

“
Jane, a
couple questions.”

“
Sure.”

“
First, how
did the ESL tutoring work? What did you do.”

“
That was
easy. We were given a bunch of numbers to type in for connections.
Then we'd see the student and talk to him.”

“
What were
the numbers like?”

“
I don't
remember completely, well there was one I used a lot more than the
others. It went A7.AA.8F.F0, and connected me to someone in China.
He was sort of sweet.” I thought I could hear her father's teeth
grind in the background, but that may have just been my
imagination. Nonetheless, I expected she'd have a discussion about
this with her parents soon. “The other thing I have to ask you
whether you ever had anything odd happen when you were
connected?”

“
Oh, yes.
The day before I had my attack. There was some sort of error and
this man came up. Strange man. We shut down right away.”

“
Do you
think you might recognize him from a photo?”

“
I might,
but it was a long time ago.”

“
Was there
anything else you can remember?”

“
He had a
strong accent. Wasn't Spanish, or Indian.”

“
Mr.
Phillips?”

“
Yes.”

“
Do you mind
if I email your daughter a mugshot?”

Unfortunately, neither Jane nor Tamika recognized the
picture. It wasn't anyone connected with the drugs. That would have
been too easy.

The body
slowly swung in the air at the end of its rope. It twisted as it
swung. The pendulum it formed swung in small oscillations and
followed the equation out of the sophomore physics book. It hung at
the junction between the bridge on Courtland street and the walkway
to the student center. Initially it was thought that Li Chen had
committed suicide because of his difficulties in class. A stellar
student at home, with outstanding TOEFL scores, he found that he
didn't do as well when he was forced to use English in real life.
There was a note, written in almost correct Mandarin, left in his
room.

There were a
couple of troubles with this convenient scenario. Li was a
relatively happy and popular graduate student in computer science.
Linguistic difficulties aside, he was ready with a smile and a
cheerful attempt to communicate. I'd met him at a computational
astrophysics joint seminar with the CS department and while it was
sometimes difficult to understand him, his questions showed
considerable scientific maturity. Given a few years study, he'd be
ready for bigger things. So suicide seemed unlikely. The presence
of traces of duck tape adhesive found by the police on his arms,
legs and mouth confirmed that he had assistance in departing this
world.

2

My cell rang late in the evening. I answered it,
“Will Sharpe here, who is calling?”

A heavily accented voice asked me, “You with
Argus?”

“
Yes, what's
this about?” I could hear the sound of waves crashing in the
background, it was faint and overlaid with the much louder and more
regular drumbeat of a boat's diesel engine.

“
Question
for you.”

“
I'll try to
answer it.”

“
That
chemist, Carling. What are the police looking for about
her?”

“
Three
reasons, one is apparently she was making illegal drugs, for sale.
Second, it wasn't just for sale; she was distributing them at
parties. The last reason has to do with a series of what look like
poisonings.”

I could hear what sounded like Spanish as my
answer was relayed to someone. There was a short discussion and
then my caller was back. “Poisoning?”

“
We think
someone may have been poisoning students and the occasional faculty
member with a potent neurotoxin.”

“
Neurotoxin?”

“
Is Dr.
Carling there?”

There was more discussion and then Isabelle,
“Will,” she began, “they're debating whether to drop me in the
ocean or ship me to Columbia.”

“
I'd say Columbia was the better option, wouldn't you?
Anything I can do to help?”

“
What's this about a neurotoxin? They're scared by the idea
that I was involved.”

“
You know there's been an epidemic of 'heart attacks' on
campus?”

“
Yes. That's what I heard at your party.”

“
From what I have found, there's a shellfish toxin that will
simulate one. It only takes a tiny dose of the toxin. You haven't
been making that, have you?”

“
No, I want my users to live so they buy more of my
product.”

“
That's what I would think. So you haven't heard anything
about this, have you?”

“
Nothing I've been involved with. At one of my parties, when
I was experimenting with pentathol analogs, one of the ESL
professors muttered about some scheme. It involved cheating on the
tests. That's all I know about it, well all I remember.”

The phone made noises as though it was roughly taken from
her, and the first voice returned to talk to me. “Is she up for a
murder charge, for poisoning?”

“
No, it is nothing to do with her. I think you've got a fine
drug chemist there, I'd keep her alive if I-.” There was a click. I
made notes, including the time and called Morrison with them. Maybe
he could get the cell records tracked. I never did find out whether
it was the University of Atlantis or somewhere in Columbia that got
a new professor.

3

Morrison called me back in the morning at a more civilized
time than I'd called him. “That was Dr. Carling's phone. It was
last tracked off Savannah harbor. Even if she isn't, it's almost
definitely swimming with the fishes.”

“
Oh well. There was chance she would be making drugs
directly for the company.”

Morrison had a question for me, “Will, what do you know
about the dark net?”

“
Dark matter, a little from my friends in astrophysics,
what's a dark net?”

“
That's what I'm asking you. That student who was hung,
Li?”

“
Yes?”

“
There were more than a few notes in his room about the dark
net. They aren't to easy to read, being in a mixture of Chinese and
English, but I thought if dark net was a standard term, maybe you'd
know.”

“
He was in computer science, maybe one of the networking
people would know.”

“
I'll ask. Thanks. Oh, before I let you go, do you know
anything about Falun Gong or various religious
organizations?”