Transparency: Bio-Tech Cavern Secrets Untold (8 page)

Halliday felt that Brad Palmier put his reputation ahead of Genevive Labs. He said, “If the woman’s motive escalates to extortion it would be a felony offense. Are you pressuring me to drop this investigation?”

“No, no, you have it all wrong. I’m trying to point out that this
threat
hits at Genevive Labs, too. It’s just that, well, we have an extremely sensitive project going on. We don’t want any publicity. Chief Brayden told you that environmental extremists are planning a visit next week?”

Halliday added, “The Santa Reina PD will ensure that it’s a peaceful demonstration.”

Palmier glanced at his watch. “Yes, Chief Brayden mentioned you would be supporting us. Let’s discuss that later over the phone. I have a meeting in five minutes.”

“No problem.”

Palmier stood and carefully put his suit jacket on. “Do you mind if I borrow this flash drive? I’ll listen to the voicemail again after work. I can have my secretary mail it back to you.”

“Keep it.” Halliday reached into his inside jacket pocket. He slid his business card across the table.

“Thanks for dropping by John. It was a pleasure.”

Brad Palmier was once again the cool executive. Halliday caught the imperceptible odor of tobacco. This guy probably owned a solid gold cigarette case with his initials etched on it. He absently shook the outstretched hand that practice had made perfect.

Halliday said, “If anything else comes up please feel free to give me a call.”

If he mentioned the disappearance of Lamar Festus it would open up a whole new can of worms. “One other thing,” he said to Palmier. “Did Doctor Epstein ever comment on your ex-wife’s demise in the New Mexico cave?”

Palmier straightened his tie and said, “Why, no, I never talked to him following Laurel’s outburst in the San Fran restaurant.”

Halliday devoured a German bratwurst sandwich at the Rhineland Deli in the woodsy “Village” shopping complex just within Santa Reina city limits. He could sum up Brad Palmier in one word: Superficial. Granted he wouldn’t have expected much more from a PR man. Palmier’s brand of superficiality was too studied. The man had secrets.

Herr Deiter, the deli owner, waved. Halliday returned the salute. The German engineer had worked on the construction of Genevive Labs. He married a local girl. After buying the deli from the original owner Deiter retired from construction. He had put his heart and soul in the place. Halliday stopped by once a week to say “
Guten tag
.” He had become hooked on German bratwurst after a Diplomatic Security detail to protect the Madam Secretary in Berlin a few years ago. Deiter put together a mean brat sandwich.

Halliday relaxed underneath one of several yellow umbrellas at the grassy dining area, beneath two rows of pine trees. In lots of ways, Santa Reina reminded him of his childhood, growing up in Ithaca, New York. The powerful Genevive Labs dwarfed Santa Reina like Ithaca bowed to the famous Cornell University. Although Halliday didn’t consider himself an outdoorsman he had enjoyed canoeing the Finger Lakes around Ithaca. His thoughts drifted back to that lake, the quiet splashes the fish made, how the sun had warmed his shoulders.

When his phone beeped Halliday adjusted the Bluetooth hanging on his ear to listen to the voice message.

“Hello Detective Halliday. This is Laurel McKittrick. I’m in danger. I need your help.”

He pressed the device against his ear to hear well.

“Don’t believe what Brad told you. He’s a pathological liar. Ellen Helmstead, his administrative assistant, is a good person. He also employs a private
research
skank named Emily Collier who has a police record for prostitution. I bet he didn’t mention her. I will forward a picture of them to you at the police station. He’s
had
most of the pretty young things on the Genevive campus, including that little tart at reception.”

Halliday swung around. A soccer woman with her two teenage sons in knee length socks sat two tables away. Three men dressed in green jumpsuits labeled CITY MAINTENANCE argued playfully two tables to their left. He scanned the deli and the surrounding shopping complex. No one fit the description of Laurel McKittrick. How had she known he’d been to see Palmier?

She could have followed him to Genevive. The meeting, though, with Palmier, had been closed door. She bugged Palmier’s office? Could Genevive security be that bad?

“You’re probably wondering why I chose you.”

Yes, go on.

“In the caves I’ve learned to watch and listen. There’s not much light down there. The mere flutter of a bat’s wings can crash a novice into the rocky floor.”

The voice pauses were maddening.

“I’ve been watching you, Detective Halliday.”

The way she said it caused him to sit up in the chair. He scanned his surroundings again.

“Something happened to you before you came to Santa Reina, didn’t it? You blame yourself for your fiancé’s death, don’t you detective.”

Could the pauses be part of a computer program that overlaid Laurel’s voice on the speaker’s words? He hit the table and knocked his ice tea over. That garnered odd looks from the soccer mom. The green suited city workers chuckled.

“I have a confession to make. My vengeance for Brad is not the main reason I have come back from the dead.”

Another pause.

“It’s because of the evil goings on at Genevive Labs. I will explain later… I’m sorry I have to go now. I’ll leave another message soon.”

He slapped the tabletop again, glancing around. The girl vexed him. Was she nearby watching through high-powered binoculars? Was she even a real person? Or a computer nerd’s creation? Or a poltergeist let lose to haunt him? How had she known about Judy’s death? She must know about the confidential Asia detail with Diplomatic Security.

Halliday decided he would have to be more careful from now on. He’d install a security monitor in his apartment.

An article in today’s Santa Reina Tribune on the next table caught his eye. He picked the paper up.

GENEVIVE LABS NANODRUG USES HUMAN BODY’S

BIOCOMMUNICATIONS SYSTEM TO ATTACK

PROSTATE CANCER CELLS

Palmier announced that the company had released documents to the Food & Drug Administration that would appear in next month’s New England Journal of Medicine. They supported the company’s news of a medical breakthrough in Nano medicine. The unnamed Nano drug wouldn’t be available for public use for two years. It promised to halt, and in many cases cure prostate cancer. Genevive Labs had used revolutionary molecular computing in tangent with their industry leading genome therapy techniques. The article mentioned biological “spider” robots that destroyed the pathogens.

Halliday skimmed over the paragraph of technical gibberish that followed. The process converted electrical energy into ATP or Adenosine-5’-triphosphate. ATP transported chemical energy within cells. ATP reacted with an amino acid called leucine, the same agent that made fireflies glow during the chemiluminescent process.

Fireflies? “Spider” robots? Halliday formed a mental picture of an army of green glowing spiders crawling under his skin in the direction of his private parts.

An accompanying article listed Genevive’s achievements over the past three years. It pointed out that much of the company’s success belonged to the management team led by CEO Robert Gartner and his capable staff. The final paragraph explained how the Labs had helped grow Santa Reina’s economy while at the same time not drawing the negative civic elements associated with rapid growth. It offered a statistical graph illustrating that crime had decreased during Genevive’s presence. However, Halliday didn’t need a graph to tell him that domestic violence had snowballed.

Halliday tossed the newspaper back on the other table.

His phone rang again. He answered, “Halliday.”

“John, this is Benita Merced.”

“Hi, Benita, any luck with the research?”

“I’ve forwarded loads of background information on Palmier to your folder. But, can I ask why you requested a recent background check on a woman who expired six months ago?”

The research specialist had asked a fair question. “It’s complicated, Benita. I’m looking for sisters, girlfriends, coworkers, who may have been close to Laurel before her death.”

“After Laurel McKittrick’s divorce from Brad Palmier in February of this year, and her subsequent disappearance and death in that New Mexico cave, there’s not much current information on her.”

“I understand. Listen, Benita, did you find anything in your research that confirmed that Miss McKittrick died in that New Mexico cave?”

“They never found her body. From what I read, it didn’t surprise the authorities. They mentioned miles of tunnels down there. Even the professional searchers had a difficult time navigating the tunnels. The experts are sure that she’s still down there… somewhere. I called the lead member of the search team named Travers. I forwarded our phone conversation to you. Travers has no doubts that she didn’t survive for the simple reason that Laurel McKittrick has not been heard from since.”

Until today.

“You may find something in my research prior to the cave incident. Laurel McKittrick had few friends, mostly coworkers. No living relatives in the area. Her deceased mother was part Miwok. I doubt that is relevant. I couldn’t find any link on her mother’s side.”

Benita believed he was chasing a ghost as no doubt would the entire staff at the Santa Reina PD by close of business today. “Thanks Benita, I’ll phone you if I have any further questions.”

After he finished his sandwich Halliday glanced more than once at the parking lot beyond the restaurant entrance. He pulled the Bluetooth off his ear and stuffed it in his shirt pocket.

Is that what I’m doing? Chasing a ghost?

Halliday returned to the PD in late afternoon, where he slipped into the closet sized copy room. He made color copies of Laurel’s photograph that he had downloaded from her website. Although odd, it didn’t surprise him that her website had still been up.

Palmier hadn’t overhyped her looks. A tall green-eyed brunette, Laurel’s wholesome face seemed to comfort the viewer. Standing next to the entrance to a forbidding cave, the camera had captured her adventurous spirit. Laurel’s bronze skin was accented by blue shorts, an orange T-shirt and a backpack of the same color mix. Her face, too, was a work of art. Her beauty lay in its simplicity. Halliday saw no high cheek bones or distinctive jaw common to Indian tribes.

Why had she married a louse like Palmier in the first place?

He began to crop the photos when he noticed an anomaly with the date. Beneath a magnifying glass, the numbers appeared to have their tops whacked off.

Were his eyes playing tricks again?

The date stamp appeared to have been the 14
th
of June. That couldn’t be, as Laurel had been reported lost in the New Mexico cave in May. The camera’s date settings could have been set wrong.

Halliday returned to his desk. He was studying the photograph when Leo Bergman surprised him.

“Leo, you’re still here?” He covered Laurel’s photograph with an old wanted poster.

“Dedication, John. What’s the status of the ghostly divorcee?”

“The ex, Brad Palmier, is on the surface more concerned about Genevive Labs and his reputation than her threat,” he said. “My feeling is that Mr. Palmier is looking out for
numero uno
.

Leo leaned in further. He whispered, “Many are afraid of disturbing the sleeping giant in the woods.” He added in a normal voice, “Keep me posted, pal, I love ghost stories. By the way, Tommy Hartnett, Santa Reina Tribune’s finest was looking for you earlier. He claims extraterrestrials have been infiltrating Genevive Labs.”

Although Leo was joking, Halliday knew that the reporter’s conspiracy theories could fill a tabloid’s pages. “Thanks for the heads up, Leo.” The forty year veteran chuckled down the hallway, headed home to his wife of thirty-nine years.

# # #

Halliday nodded to the table of blue uniforms, then settled into a quiet nook at the far end of Cindy’s. He ordered his usual ice tea.

Benita’s research on Brad Palmier had uncovered a checkered past of a rich kid from upscale Alamo, California, up in the Bay area. Palmier’s father, a computer company executive, died at a young age. His father’s death left them penniless. His mother had to move them into a low income lifestyle that he wasn’t accustomed to. The anger may have never left him.

“Here you go, John.” Carmen placed a large glass of ice tea in front of him.

Halliday nodded and continued to examine the man’s bio. At the age of eighteen, Palmier had been arrested for grand theft auto at Union City in the Bay Area. Later that year the Fremont PD had taken him in for questioning regarding a credit card scam. The charges were dropped due to insufficient evidence.

Palmier had some smarts. After obtaining an MBA at Pepperdine University in Southern California, he landed a job at a pharmaceutical company in Los Angeles. In two years he jumped from staff to communications director. Palmier jumped ship to Genevive. Soon afterwards his previous company cited “internal problems” when their stocks plunged.

Halliday shook his head at the words, “internal problems,” which often linked to wrongdoings.

Nothing else stuck out so he replaced Brad’s bio in the folder.

Laurel Beth McKittrick had been born in Paso Robles, California to Adrian and Kiaweah McKittrick. Her father was a longtime history professor at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo. Her mother, part Miwok Indian was a Central Coast artist. This concurred with Palmier’s story. Laurel graduated second in her high school class. She attended Berkeley for five years, majored in physical education, and was the number two sprinter on the swim team.

Laurel’s proclivity for second place reminded him of his own failed attempts in life. At Syracuse University he had been a member of the rowing team that always came in second to Cornell or Colgate. A cramp in his leg had cost the team an upset win over Cornell on the home team’s Onondaga Lake. Laurel, too, must have learned that second place finishes were great motivators for excelling in other areas.

A beep signaled Halliday he had voicemail.

“Hello, Detective Halliday. Please go to my website. Leave a comment under the article, ‘Cavers and Canoes.’ Please do it before 3:00
a.m.
as I will erase the comments by tomorrow morning.”

He made a note.

“I’m committed to incapacitate Brad Palmier on Friday, the 31
st
of October. Yes, it’s Halloween, a few days away. It’s also my birthday.”

“Please provide a secure account on the internet. Include the link in the comment. Create the account using the password,
88LM19
. I’m sure you can set it up through your police network. I will drop important information into the account.”

Halliday waited through the long pause.

“Detective… Oh my god, the knowledge I possess goes beyond matters of life and death. This involves national security.”

National security? Halliday nodded absently as the waitress topped off his ice tea.

“There are illegal activities going on at Genevive Laboratories that would horrify people. I want to reveal this to you. First, I need your trust. I know this sounds crazy. I assure you it will all make sense once you see the whole picture.”

Her words harbored fear. Could computer nerds duplicate that with software?

“I can’t explain now. I possess an unusual set of circumstances that I will reveal to you as our trust grows. I’m sorry, I have to go now. I look forward to your comments on my blog.”

Halliday mulled over the message while he sipped ice tea.

When the light shifted, he looked up.

A familiar figure stood in front of him.

“John, mind if I sit down?”

He gathered his research into a pile on the seat next to him. “Tommy, have a seat.”

Tommy Hartnett, a senior staff writer for the
Tribune
, was once addressed as Mr. Hartnett at a bar outside of town. A brawl ensued. He didn’t appreciate Tom or Thomas either. The sixty-some year old Santa Reina newshound wore an unkempt beard that fit his prospector-like attire. His signature cowboy boots, needing a polish, rattled the chair legs as he sat down. Halliday took a sip of tea. He prepared for the latest buzz.

“I hear we have a bio-extremist group coming to town soon,” Tommy said.

“They promised a peaceful demonstration.”

Tommy leaned forward while gazing around to see who was present. “I wouldn’t mind it if they rioted, even stormed Genevive Labs. Run those bastards out of Santa Reina.”

Everyone in town knew Tommy’s position on Genevive. “Now Tommy, that wouldn’t bode well for our fair city.”

“Did you know Genevive tried to buy out the
Tribune?
Those bastards tried to hide us on the internet. Hell, we’re the only voice this town has. Besides, nobody with any sense in their head resorts to local news on the internet. International news, sure, the internet is a good venue for it.”

“I hope it never happens that we lose the
Tribune
, Tommy. You ever come across the Executive VP over at Genevive by the name of Brad Palmier?”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, his eyes afire. “Palmier’s the slick bastard who tried to sink us under. He paid us a visit six months ago. I don’t know what Palmier said. My editor hasn’t been the same since. I think the bastard threatened her. We haven’t printed anything remotely critical of Genevive Labs since that day. You could say that today my big mouth is our only voice against those sons of bitches.”

Halliday was accustomed to Tommy’s forthrightness. Something had ticked the veteran reporter off more than usual. “What’s on your mind, Tommy?”

The longtime reporter confirmed that no one was within earshot. He leaned in even closer and said, “Pal, you’re one of the few I can trust at the PD. I’ve heard rumors from workers at Genevive Labs. There’s this top secret building, you see. I’m told scientists there are performing weird genetic experiments on animals rustled from our neighbors in Santa Reina and Red Bluff. John, don’t just listen to me, please go talk to the property owners out east of the city. They’ll tell you the wildlife are disappearing.”

Halliday scratched his head. Chuck Bibby had said the same thing. This time Halliday asked the question: “With all their money why wouldn’t Genevive purchase their own livestock to experiment on? They could do it on the sly. Buy it out of state.”

Tommy almost fell off his seat. “That’s what I said. You know why they need the local animals?”

“Why?”

“One of the technicians told me it has to do with what type of vegetation the animals here eat. He didn’t get specific other than the vegetation gives the animals ‘special properties.’”

Special properties? Tommy scrutinized him as Halliday considered a comment before he blurted out, “You sure about all this, Tommy?”

The newsman leaned back. “No shit, John. Check it out yourself.”