Dues of Mortality (34 page)

“
I
believe it’s what you’d call a ‘lead.’ I want
you to do the full workup. Prints, DNA, serial number, everything.”

“
Is
this still about Glenda Jameson’s hero?”

“
Like
I said, you’re a capable detective. Whatever you find, run it
through all the databases and get back to me.”

“
When
do you need the results?”

Gabriel
didn’t answer. He instead opted for “the look” as a
far more unambiguous communique.

Northcutt
sighed, and a flower of steam blossomed on the windshield. He turned
his comwatch face-up
and checked it
.
“I
think I can squeeze it in this afternoon,” he said. There was
still plenty of time to get back downtown and every clock in the
world could be set by Silas Lally's lunch breaks. Silas was the
nerdiest, most predictable forensics guy in the precinct. And he wore
the label proudly. Plus, doing the prints would be a snap for
Northcutt, especially with that new software. DNA, on the other hand,
would take something more in the way of tools and time and most
likely be a wasted effort. Although, there was no need to tell
Gabriel he wouldn’t bother to try.

“
You’ll
hear from me tonight or first thing tomorrow, depending on what I
find.”

****

Glenda fought valorously the urge
to call her parents and make sure they were alright. Louise and
Jeremiah had to be going ape-shit. Not only was there daughter
missing, but the police and news media were hawking their every move.
As crazy as it sounded, Glenda took a measure of relief in the
latter. For whomever it was hunting
her
,
would have a hard time getting past the news cameras to use her
parents as bait. She sat at the coms hub with her fingers fluttering
over the 3D panel.
If I
could just get a
message through somehow.
If I could
...In
that instant, she recalled her alias web account. Her mother had been
the only other person she’d entrusted it to if she needed to
reach Glenda during her “getaways” with the Human
Dingleberry, as Louise referred to him.
Would
she even remember it?
Glenda thought.
Or
know enough to use it where she wouldn't be seen?
Could she even get out
of sight long enough?

It
doesn't matter
, Glenda decided. She had to try. She opened
the email and typed in a short, but sweet, message: I'm OK. Don't
believe news. Love you.

She
hit send and prayed quietly that it would reach the eyes of her
mother in short order. Glenda then breathed a sigh of relief and
scrolled back to the Case Western Reserve University contact page.

“
Dammit!
It dropped again!” she shouted. The connection to University
reception was proving hard to maintain. “This is the fourth
time in twenty minutes!” She buried her eyes in her hands. “I’m
getting nowhere! There’s not a single person from BioCore,
Millenitech, or even staff at the university who knows where Richard
Kelmer might be or how to reach him. All I’m doing is harassing
people.”

“
Even
a total recluse has some kind of lifeline,” Xavier assured her,
“something or someone who’s still on the outside.”

“
I’m
beginning to think not.”

“
You
knew him. How’d you meet?”

“
I
was still a student at Case Western. I was having a hard time with
biology and chem and I...” Glenda perked up.
“
Student!
God, am I dumb!”

“
Just
for the record,
you
said that, not me,” Xavier
said

Glenda
poked out her tongue and spat him a raspberry.

Xavier
laughed.

“
I’ve
only been considering his peers,” Glenda noted. “Maybe I
should try asking his students. There was one I remember meeting
through him in passing. He made her his lab assistant, said she was
his best student, that she was special.”

“
Special?
When a guy uses that word to describe a woman, it usually means she
can tie a cherry stem into a knot with her tongue.”

“
Not
in this case,” Glenda said certain. “Richard mentioned
his work in the message he left me. If his work has something to do
with this, then maybe she would know.”
Glenda
punched up the Case
Western directory, hoping she had the last name spelled right in her
head. When she saw no direct line for Dana Holliman, she tried the
department line for the microbiology lab.

A
tender female voice pitched from the webscreen. “Case Western
Science Department, Microbiology.”

Glenda
thought for a second. Maybe she could convince the receptionist that
she and Dana were old pals. “Dana? Wow, is that you? You sound
different. It hasn’t been that long, has it girl?”

“
I’m
sorry, I think you have the wrong connection. Can I redirect you?”

“
Oh,
not again,” Glenda said politely. “I thought they got it
right this time. I’m trying to reach Dana Holliman. They
already transferred me like three times.”

“
One
moment, please.”

The
line went silent for several seconds. If eyeballs could sweat from
exertion, Glenda’s would have looked like an NBA player’s
head at halftime.
Please don’t
get suspicious! Please don’t get suspicious
,
she
prayed
. I’m
not showing a picture because I’m having a bad hair day, that’s
all
.

“
Hello?”
the receptionist said.

“
Yes?”
Glenda answered.

“
What
did you say your name was?”

Shit!

“
Karen...Karen
Henderson?” Glenda said as if asking if the false name was
acceptable.

“
One
moment.”

This
time the pause took noticeably longer.

“
You
said you hadn’t seen Dana in a while?” the receptionist
asked?

No,
but if it helps
.
“Yeah, I know, I’ve
been caught up in my own drama for so long. She was always telling
me, ‘Karen, you need to stop being so neurotic. You need to get
more organized, and you sure need to stay away from stupid guys.’”

“
Dana
Holliman isn’t here anymore. That’s probably why you’ve
been getting transferred a lot. Some of the staff aren’t up to
date.”

Glenda
silently fell apart, watching her ill-fated hope sprout wings and
head for the window. “You’re kidding. Oh, no, I’m
only going to be in town until tomorrow afternoon. I’d hate to
have to leave without at least talking to her.”

“
She's
on staff at Roxxon Pharmaceuticals, now. If you'd like, I could give
you their number. She’s only been there about a month, so
you’re probably not the first person they’d have to put
through again.”

August 30, 11:48 a.m.

Glenda
and Xavier had purchased some secondhand clothing to mix things up
costume-wise. A sport coat here, a tennis outfit there, all cheap
little numbers purchased from a resale shop to keep them under wraps
for whatever the situation called for. For their trip to Roxxon
Pharmaceutical Laboratories, Xavier went with a casual blazer and
black slacks, while Glenda a pink sweater set, gray denim jeans and
sensible shoes. Her digital glasses still reflected blue eyes, but
she'd changed the frame display to a simple black outline. Also, she
was now a blonde. The process had taken forever with the coloring
kit, but the results were well to her liking. She looked damn sexy
and it did wonders for her confidence. It even helped her schmooze
her and Xavier's way into a pair of visitors' badges at Roxxon
without having to produce a single scrap of ID.
Well,
that and the low-cut sweater that turned the male receptionist into a
drooling simp
, Xavier thought. Thank god this place didn't
have more aggressive security issues. Xavier worried it would be a
serious problem as they started out, but as it happened, Roxxon labs
was a smaller, community-based company, that didn't have
storm-troopers posted every exit like some global conglomerate.
Roxxon outsourced a hefty percentage of their research &
development and profited by acquiring niche drugs from their
multinational counterparts. In short, it just wasn't very economical
to hire trained professionals to guard the formula for dandruff
shampoo already on the market ten years.

As
she and Xavier walked toward their destination, Glenda readjusted
herself inside her sweater to knock down the weaponized cleavage
she'd used to K.O. the receptionist.

“
You
really know how to use those things,” Xavier said.

“
It's
all in the delivery,” Glenda japed, doing up the buttons. The
couple had decided to go with being colleagues of Dana Holliman’s,
from her Case Western days, arriving for a lunch date, if anyone
asked. It was a good cover, seeing as how Dana was at Roxxon, so
fresh from Case Western, and kept regular contact with other
grad-students. Xavier still wasn’t happy about a physical
encounter, but he couldn’t argue Glenda’s instincts about
not talking turkey over the web. After walking barely five minutes,
he and Glenda soon found themselves in front of a lab door with the
name “Dana Holliman” taped over the nameplate above the
entry scanner. The door had a single, eye-level window, and Glenda
peered through it nervously. She scanned the room. “Empty,”
she reported. “Damn.”

The
barren hallway leading to her lab module echoed Dana Holliman's
hastened, but dainty footsteps, sounding almost like the
tick
tick tick
of a track coach's stopwatch. Dana had memorized
the layout of the building on her first day, if for no other reason
than, to find the shortest route to its vital areas and ease the
demand on her sense of taste. At 250,000 square-feet, Roxxon labs was
a humungous four-story tribute to pointless, abstract architecture.
Hallways forked at uneven angles, throwing off Dana's sense of
direction and odd-colored protrusions of stone and glass ran the
exterior of the building for reasons totally imperceptible even by
people who worked there. It all made Dana curse under her breath with
every trip to and from the cafeteria. If a certain area or office was
listed at being north or east of another then, damn it, there should
be
one
corner to
turn not
three
.
Adding insult to injury, the most preposterous paintings and
sculptures tastelessly impugned the Roxxon lobbies at virtually every
entrance.
Gross,
Dana
thought
.
She had piddled out more fascinating creations with modeling clay and
finger-paints in kindergarten. She longed for the simplicity of Case
Western where the bricks and mortar were in earth tones and the
creative droppings of any beetle-brained pot-smokers were confined to
the Arts department.

Dana
decelerated when she noticed two strangers—one male, one
female—loitering outside her module. She judged them as a
couple pausing to share a joke or perhaps a public display of
affection. The latter if the female was lucky; the man was terribly
handsome.

“
That's
her,” Glenda whispered to Xavier. He was the one who would make
their opening. Dana and Glenda had met only on the briefest of terms,
but scientists were famous for nothing if not their ability to apply
their memories. Assuming the disguise didn't pass muster, shoving
Glenda right in her face could shock Dana into a reaction that would
draw onlookers fast.

Xavier
proceeded, jutting an open hand straight at her.
“
Dana
Holliman, good to see you,” he said.

Dana
toddled, almost dropping her code key. Her reflexes directed her to
extend a polite, if not, surmising hand and the handsome and
forthright stranger had to cover the remaining distance to take it.

Dana
wasn't the most glamorous woman he had ever seen, Xavier thought. But
as brainy types went, he'd certainly let her do
his
homework. Dana was a garden-variety carrot-top with all the
trimmings: white skin, red hair, green eyes. But apparently, or
unless she was a whiz with a makeup brush, she had been spared the
relentless community of freckles that tended to accompany her Celtic
heritage. She was also younger than he imagined—younger than
Glenda, perhaps—and if his eyes weren't deceiving him, was
giving Glenda a run for her money in the body department.

“
I'm
s...sorry,” Dana said. “Have we met?”

“
No,
but I've heard of you. We have a friend in common: Richard Kelmer.”

Xavier
let Dana's hand slide away as a chill bubbled up between them.

“
Who
are you?” she asked, not so friendly.

Xavier
curled a cheek. The change in Dana's demeanor was subtle, yet swift
and he knew, in an instant, not to play coy. She knew something.
Something that gave her reason to wax suspicious at the mere mention
of Kelmer's name.

“
We
are
friends of Richard Kelmer's,”
Xavier said, “and we very much need your help.”