Nano (25 page)

39.

PAUL CALDWELL’S APARTMENT, BOULDER, COLORADO

FRIDAY, JULY 19, 2013, 9:52
P.M.

Pia sat on Paul’s couch, drinking her third glass of wine of the evening. Nothing about Pia’s story of her difficulties getting into Nano had changed since Wednesday, but she had recounted it again over dinner, and it appeared to Paul as if she were about to do so again.

“Okay, Pia, I don’t wish to be rude, but I know what happened. Nano has revoked your access to your lab until you have a medical release, and you’re pissed. Understandably. I get it, they’re ungrateful bastards with all the work and help that you have given them. But I don’t see what you can do about it other than hire a lawyer to get you that meeting with human resources.”

“I don’t need a lawyer!” said Pia, for the tenth time.

“An employment lawyer. I’m not talking about a personal-injury lawyer or anything like that. Nano hasn’t terminated you, but you can’t get into work, even though they are still paying you. Funny, a lot of people would love such a situation.”

“It’s not the money,” Pia complained.

“I know. Come on! Calm down! I’m talking about an employment lawyer who will get this resolved, and if he can’t get you into the lab, then he will get you a settlement. Then you can move on with your life. You can’t go on like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like this, Pia, going over and over the same things like you’re picking at a scab. Not every mystery gets resolved. Go to the newspapers with your story. See what they can do. Perhaps the Chinese runner and this more recent Chinese cyclist will remain a mystery. Right now, only you and I even know it’s a mystery, and I must admit, I’ve lost most of my interest in it.”

“If I go to the newspapers, even if they pick up on it, I’m sure Nano has contingency plans. It’s not going anywhere unless I find out what they’re doing and can be specific with the press.”

“But your hands are tied. If you can’t even get into the place, there’s no way you can figure out what they are doing. It’s as simple as that. Frankly, right now, I don’t even want to think about it anymore.”

“So I’m on my own. Is that what you’re telling me?”

“Of course not. I didn’t say that. I will help you get a good lawyer. I know lawyers. In fact I know the scariest lawyer in Boulder who happens to be involved in labor law. He’d be perfect. As soon as he calls, they’ll roll over and give you whatever you want.”

“I want access to my lab.”

“A lawyer is not going to be able to get you access if Nano doesn’t want you to have access. Be reasonable. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Will a lawyer be able to make them tell me why they tried to kill us?”

Paul let out a sigh. “No, Pia, that’s not going to happen. Nor do we know for sure that they had anything whatsoever to do with the accident. I just have this imprecise recollection of a vehicle behind us just before we went off the road. But I’m not sure about that. You’re not going to get anywhere trying to reopen that can of worms. Because there are no worms!”

“I’ll never accept the idea that I just ran off the road. It’s absurd.”

“You are entitled to your idea, but I’m telling you that you can’t keep on with this monomania. It’s like
Moby-Dick.
”

“What?”

“Never mind. Do you still want to come down to Denver with me? We both could use a diversion. Come on, Pia, what do you say?”

“I’m good,” said Pia. “I’m not in the mood.”

“You sure?”

Pia nodded. She wasn’t in the mood for socializing and small talk at all. And she’d had enough wine for the night.

“Hey, Paul,” she said. She sounded brighter. “Do you still have that camera you borrowed from your friend? The one we fooled around with that time?”

“Yeah, it’s still here. Why?”

“Can I borrow it?”

Paul hesitated. He tried to look Pia in the eye, but she quickly looked away. “Why do you want to borrow it?”

“I don’t have a real camera, and I feel like going hiking tomorrow while you’re in the ER. I think my ribs can take it. I want to take some pictures of the wildflowers that are blooming in the foothills.”

“Pia . . . ?”

“C’mon, Paul, don’t be so suspicious. I’d use my phone’s camera, but I have in mind to make large blowups for all those bare walls in my apartment you’re always complaining about. So I need the high definition.”

“Exactly what’s brewing in that mind of yours?”

“Nothing,” Pia said casually. “I just feel like being creative, seeing as I have all this free time. What do you say? Or do I have to go out and buy one?”

“Okay. I’ll get it,” Paul said. She could be so damn willful.

“And can I have that cord that connects it to the Mac, too?” Pia called after him. “You’re an angel.”

“I know,” said Paul. “And probably a fool,” he said under his breath.

40.

ZACHARY BERMAN’S HOUSE, BOULDER, COLORADO

SUNDAY, JULY 21, 2013, 9:15
P.M.

Zach Berman clicked off the Web site he had been looking at on his computer. The Tour de France had finished that day, won by the Spanish rider who finished the last stage among the leading procession of riders enjoying the final ride down the Champs-Élysées. But Liang Dalian had taken his place on the dais during the awards, wearing the red polka-dotted jersey of the King of the Mountains, the rider with the best record on the hills over the whole race. He was lauded as the first Chinese to win a stage at the Tour, and the first to win one of the prestigious in-race competitions. Liang was featured for a minute or so on the cable TV coverage of the race (“Was China about to invade the sport?”), but there was far more about his triumph online.

Berman saw an interview with Liang, conducted through the same translator he had met numerous times with the team. Liang was well coached in his responses. He was delighted and amazed at his own achievement. He humbly thanked his teammates and the sponsors and his trainers. He explained that coming to Europe to race was difficult for him and his teammate Bo because neither of them had been outside of China before. He concluded by saying that he hoped this was the first victory of many for his fellow countrymen—and he said perhaps he could win the whole Tour next year, who knows?

Alas, that wasn’t going to happen, Berman thought. Berman guessed that there was some teenage peasant riding his bike for fun in a far-off province who would get that honor, and he would be raised in China and trained in China and be a professional who could be a star in the new China if he wanted to. But the risks with persevering with Liang were too high lest his true biography came to light, and Berman knew that something would happen to him in the next few months that would wreck his dream.

Berman located another Web site he felt he needed to check on. The opening ceremony of the World Athletics Championships in London was now less than a week away, and he would be in town, waiting for the competition with the same anticipation he felt for the Tour, only doubled or tripled in intensity. It was coming down to this watershed event. Berman’s whole future rested on just one race. But the trainers told him repeatedly not to worry. They said the same things Liang’s personal trainer told him one morning somewhere in France during the Tour. Berman had nothing to worry about—the rider was performing extremely well, even though he was utilizing only about 85 percent of his physical capacity. The trainer said Liang could win the whole race if necessary, and with ease. In London, they said the same. The problem wasn’t going to be winning, it was winning by too much.

Berman took heart from all the comforting words, but still he was unable to relax. So for the umpteenth time, he visited the Web page for the Chinese athletics team. It was the biggest team of any coming to London, and it was stacked with medal prospects. He found the marathon team, and there was the familiar face of Yao Hong-Xiau, a late entrant who had missed the trials in March but who had put up a stunning time in a private race in June. Berman knew strings had been pulled to get Yao in the race, but his name was still there. Yao would be running in London.

Berman’s concentration was gradually interrupted by a strange sound. It was a distant noise that had seemingly taken some time to penetrate the thick walls of his post-and-beam and stone house with its triple-glassed windows. Looking away from the computer screen so that he could concentrate, he strained to listen. The sound was just beyond his hearing threshold, but it was definitely there.

“It’s a goddamn car horn!” Berman said out loud. “Where the hell is that coming from: the East Coast?” He scraped back his chair. Leaving the den, he passed through the foyer and entered the monitoring room.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” One of the monitors had halted its sweeps to stop at the view of the driveway gate. The system was programmed to zero in on any significant movement beyond the swaying of tree branches in the wind. There in full view was Pia Grazdani, looking directly up into the camera, eyebrows raised expectantly. She was sitting in the driver’s seat of a sedan with the driver’s-side window down. Berman could see that she was leaning on the car horn.

“Looks like manna from heaven,” Berman said, answering his own question. His heart beat a little faster and a sense of excitement quickened in the reptilian centers of his brain. Pia had come to see him, and it seemed her timing was immaculate. He was in the mood to celebrate, and he couldn’t think of anyone he’d rather celebrate with than Pia Grazdani. He was going to make up for having passed out on the occasion of her previous visit.

•   •   •

P
IA KEPT THE
car horn pressed. She had planned on doing it for five minutes, and it was now approaching that point. Coming to Berman’s house had been a sudden, impulsive decision born out of desperation and frustration. She had tried the same trick four days earlier without success, after failing in her attempt to get into her lab, but she thought things might be different tonight. She had no idea whether he was in Boulder or not, as he hadn’t returned any of her calls, texts, or emails, just like Mariel, but Paul had said that he thought he was in town, thanks to a tip from a friend who worked in general aviation at the airport. The report was that at least the Nano jet had returned. Whether Berman had been on it was anybody’s guess.

When she had first arrived at the gate at the base of his driveway, she’d been encouraged seeing lights in the distant house, even though that was no guarantee he was there, and even if there, that he’d be willing to see her. Nonetheless, she was going to be persistent, as Berman was her last shot. She knew it was unrealistic to hope to solve both her problems—her lack of access to her lab and her need for answers about what was going on behind the scenes at Nano. And Pia was realistic enough to understand that continuing her employment at Nano might well be an untenable proposition. But her desire to find out more still burned, and Berman was her only hope.

Pia had debated a long time about what to wear for this occasion, in case she actually got to see the missing CEO. Her black dress seemed inappropriate for an impromptu visit, even though it might be what Berman wanted to see. She thought it better to look casual, as if she were just dropping by. In the end, from her hardly extensive wardrobe, she picked a pair of skinny jeans and an embroidered, tailored black shirt that she thought flattered her athletic figure. Her hair looked reasonable pulled back in a ponytail that masked the six-week-old shaved spot. More bothersome were the gauntlet cast for her distal radial fracture and the sling for the break in her humerus, but there was nothing to be done about them until the following Wednesday, when they were scheduled to come off.

Suddenly the massive wrought-iron gate shuddered, and then with a screech of metal on metal it began to swing open. Pia let up on the horn, allowing the nightscape to return in a rush to its previous silence. Pia’s ears were ringing from the harsh clamor. For a second she hesitated. Not fully recuperated from her accident, she knew she wasn’t in fighting form and therefore felt more vulnerable. But her determination trumped any reservations. She put the car in gear, passed through the gate, and motored up the long serpentine drive.

Pia parked in the cobblestone turnaround at the base of the stairs leading up to the house, as she had done on both her previous visits. She put the camera strap over her shoulder and let the camera rest in the small of her back. She started up the stairs. As she topped the last step, the door opened, and Berman stood at the threshold. He was dressed surprisingly similar to her in jeans and a dark cowboy-style shirt with snaps instead of buttons. His feet were bare. His lips were pressed together in a self-satisfied smile.

“Well, well. Hello, stranger.”

“Hi.” Pia winced but gave Berman a coy wave with her free hand. She realized she was very nervous.

“You’re waving, that’s nice. It’s a different gesture from the one you gave me a few days ago.”

“What?” said Pia before she remembered that on her previous, unsuccessful visit she had flipped off the camera.

“Oh, yes. Sorry. I was frustrated. I was gesturing at the world in general rather than you in particular.”

“You were frustrated that I wasn’t here?”

“Well, yes,” said Pia. Berman was making it all about him, as usual, and Pia played along.

“There was a lot I wanted to talk to you about, and no one at Nano was returning my calls or emails, including you.”

“Whitney and Mariel thought it best,” said Berman. “But now you are here. Do you want to come in? As you said, we have unfinished business together.” He laughed before stepping aside to give Pia room. Pia sensed he winked at her, but it was out of the corner of her eye as he moved to the side. Was he that brazen?

“Yes, I would like to come in,” Pia said. “Thank you.” It was all she could do to keep from rolling her eyes at the possible wink, knowing he had a completely different take on what she meant by unfinished business. Did his BS actually work on women? “I know it’s late but I was up in the foothills taking photos of wildflowers.” She hefted the camera and stepped past him. “I was driving by and I just thought I’d see if your lights were on. Hope you don’t mind. I wanted to ask you why I can’t get into my lab.”

“Mind? I’m thrilled.” Berman closed the door behind Pia before he strode into the depths of his home.

Pia followed into the living room. She noticed that the door to the den was closed when she passed. Otherwise the place looked as it did the last time she’d been there. As it was with her own apartment and despite all the home’s accoutrements, in general it had a decidedly impersonal atmosphere except for the den.

“First, let me get you a drink,” said Berman, smiling. “I should be a good host.”

“Maybe a single glass of wine, thank you. I don’t want a repeat of what happened last time I was here.”

“Yes, you’re right. But I will have a proper drink just the same. I have a lot to celebrate, but believe me, there’s not going to be a repeat.”

“What are you celebrating?” said Pia, but Berman had retreated into the kitchen to fix the drinks. Pia breathed deeply in and out. She needed to keep her nerve. Berman returned with a glass of what looked liked neat scotch and a glass of white wine. Tucked under his arm was the white wine bottle wrapped in a cloth napkin.

“This okay? It’s a Pinot Grigio. I rather like it, although I don’t drink a lot of wine, except with meals. Will it do?”

Pia nodded and took the glass. She intended to drink very little, so it didn’t matter what it was.

Berman directed Pia to one of the living room’s oversized couches. He took a neighboring matching club chair.

Pia shifted the camera around so that it was by her side. The strap was still over her shoulder. She wondered how she was going to get around to taking pictures of the man.

“So you say you can’t get into your lab. Well, I understood you were asked to wait for a medical evaluation.”

“Mariel called me while I was still in the hospital and told me not to come back to Nano until I was fully recuperated, which I believe, for all intents and purposes, I am even if I still have a cast and a sling. By the way, I heard you came to visit me in the hospital, and Jason Rodriguez came one time as well. Thank you. But you didn’t return, and nor did Jason.”

“I’ve been doing a lot of business travel lately. Funding issues are coming to a head, and I’ve been away far more than I’ve been here. I checked that you were doing well. If there had been any complications, I would have been there.”

“As far as my medical bills are concerned, they have all been paid, or so I’ve been told, and I have to assume that is Nano’s doing. This past Wednesday I tried to go back to my lab just to check things out, but I couldn’t get in. My clearance had been ‘revoked,’ according to security. It was after that incident that I came looking for you here. I was a good employee. I
am
a good employee, and I think I deserve better treatment.”

“I’m sure you do, Pia,” said Berman. His face was noncommittal.

“You’re sure I deserve better treatment, or you’re sure I think I do? Which is it, because there’s a big difference.”

“Okay, Pia.” Berman leaned forward in his leather chair. “Of course you deserve better, but Nano demands the highest standards of discretion from its employees, as we made clear on many occasions. Security is our biggest concern here at Nano, as it is in all nanotechnology companies. Competition is fierce, as you know. Billions of dollars are at stake. We are averse to publicity, particularly negative publicity, on all accounts.”

“When was I not discreet?”

“When you went with that ER doctor after the van from Nano containing the cyclist. To do what, I have no idea, but it is obvious you had in mind to intercept it.”

“Ah, so you did know where we were going.” Pia’s tone had risen. Berman seemed to be admitting something important. Had she been under surveillance?

“I didn’t say that we knew. But you admit you were chasing after Nano employees going about Nano business that had nothing to do with you or the Boulder Memorial Hospital. We pieced together what happened after the accident. The radio conversations with the EMTs in the ambulance, the phone call to you from Dr. Caldwell from the Memorial’s ER . . .”

“How did you know the ER doctor and I were trying to intercept the van with the cyclist?”

“. . . the story you and your doctor friend are trying to concoct about Nano’s involvement in causing your accident. Good grief, woman!”

Pia stopped trying to talk above Berman.

“You haven’t exactly been discreet, have you?” he said.

“You’re admitting to a lot of things here . . .” said Pia. Berman was being transparent, and Pia found it hard to know how to respond. She expected more lies and evasions.

“I’m admitting to nothing. Someone overheard Dr. Caldwell call you from the ER. Your statement to the Boulder police about the accident is in the public record as well as his. You later accosted a Nano employee in the parking lot who had been warned not to talk with you . . .”