He was sure there was a logical explanation, but at the moment he couldn't imagine what it could be.
But if it was findable, he'd find it. He smiled as he started the car. This could be fun.
12
"How many old tires can you scrape together?" Jack said into the phone in the Ashe brothers' office.
He'd come to terms with Frank and Joe on the when and how of the delivery; now he had to arrange for the payload. For that he'd called Sal Vituolo.
"Old tires?" Sal said. "Christ, I got tires up the freakin' wazoo. They ain't good for nothin' though, 'cept maybe dumpin' in the ocean."
"I've got another use for them. Can you put together a truckload?"
"You kiddin'? I can put together two or three. What you gonna do with a buncha old tires?"
"Trust me—you're going to love it. Pile them in the back of your biggest truck and I'll be by later to pick them up."
"This got something to do with the little matter we talked about earlier?"
"It do."
"Awright! You got 'em!"
As Jack hung up he wondered what sadistic uses Sal was imagining for those tires. He turned to Frank and Joe.
"It's a go."
Frank grinned through his droopy mustache. "Gotta hand it to you, Jack, you sure do come up with some fun stuff."
"Boy's downright evil," Joe drawled.
They sealed the deal with a handshake; then Jack headed back to the car. Gia and Vicky had seen all they wanted of the aircraft and were waiting for him. He reminded himself to call Nadia when he got back and let her know that her fix-it was being cofinanced by another party, so she'd only have to pay half the usual fee. Sal, however, would pay full fare.
He threw an arm around Gia and kissed her. He was feeling very good about the day.
"Why are you smiling?" Gia said.
"Just glad to see you."
"Uh-uh," she said. "You've got that cat-after-a-canary-casserole look."
"Well, I did just solve a little problem that's been nagging me."
"Does it involve a certain Serb?"
"It do."
"I don't want to know about it," she said, slipping in behind the wheel. "I just want to know if you'll be in danger."
"Not this time. This gig will be strictly arm's length."
At least it'll start out that way, he thought. Things go right, it'll stay that way. But when was the last time everything went right?
13
Doug was not his usual gabby self at dinner. Nadia watched him push his chiles rellenos back and forth across his plate while his Corona went flat. All around them in the Lost Coyote Cafe people were laughing, talking, calling across the room to friends, but their table was an island of silence.
"Earth to Doug," Nadia said. "Earth calling Douglas Gleason, are you there?"
He snapped his head up and straightened in the seat, ran a hand through his sandy hair, and smiled. "Sorry. Just thinking."
"About what? Something wrong?"
"I'm not sure," he said.
His blue eyes held hers as he told her about the call from the pharmacist this afternoon and the other calls he'd made.
Nadia's last sip of her margarita soured on her tongue. "Is the company in trouble?"
"That was my first thought," he said. "And it occurred to me that maybe it wasn't such a good idea for both of our incomes to depend on the same source. If something goes wrong with GEM, we could both be out of work."
If something goes wrong with GEM... She didn't want to think about that. She'd just started…
"But you said that magazine, what was it called?"
"Pharmaceutical Forum."
"Right. Didn't it say that TriCef was tops in its class?"
Doug nodded. "But it's a lie."
Nadia tensed. "How can you know?"
He glanced around, looking furtive, then leaned forward. "My company laptop hooks into the GEM system to let me download my data, email, and new information on the product line directly, and upload my contact reports. I spent a few hours this afternoon using that entree to hack into other areas of the GEM network."
She gasped and reached across the table to grab his hand. "Doug, you could go to jail for that!"
"Maybe, maybe not. I don't know. It's not as if I was trying to crash their system or anything. My company laptop puts me on the other side of their fire wall, so I'm not really breaking in. But I didn't push things. I was very careful. If I ran into a secure area, I tried to sneak past rather than break through."
"This sounds dangerous."
He sipped his Corona. "But what was I going to do, Nadj? I couldn't just sit around wondering and not do something to find out. You know me."
Yes, Nadia knew Doug. Once he sank his teeth into a problem, he wouldn't let go until he'd solved it. She'd seen him stay up for forty-eight hours straight resolving a programming glitch.
"And obviously you learned something you're not supposed to know."
"Yeah. I broke into the sales master files." He glanced around the little restaurant. "I guess I'm not such a great salesman after all. My sales figures for TriCef stink. The only consolation is that I'm not alone—the entire sales force has tanked on TriCef."
She could feel his hurt. "But your commission checks—"
"Inflated. Just like everyone else's."
"But that doesn't make sense!"
He sighed. "Tell me about it."
"So the company's in big trouble?"
His eyes fixed her again. "That's just it: the company's bottom line is fine. TriCef is a major hit overseas, doing gangbusters business. The dollar amounts are staggering."
"So much so that they can pay you commissions on antibiotics you haven't sold?"
"Apparently, yes. But why the discrepancies between the real and published sales figures? Why are Pharmaceutical Forum's figures so inflated?"
"Obviously, to hide the fact that TriCef is a flop in the U.S."
"But it's a monster overseas. What's the point?"
Nadia shrugged. 'To protect the stock price?"
"I don't see that. They're operating in the black."
"How about company pride?" Nadia knew Dr. Monnet was a very proud man. But would he involve himself in a deception of this magnitude? Surely he valued his personal reputation more than the company's.
"You might have something there," Doug said after a swallow of beer. He picked up a blue corn chip and dipped it in the salsa. "GEM started as a generic company. TriCef is their first time out competing against the big boys and they want to look like winners."
"I'm sure that's it."
"Well, I'm not that sure. I've still got a few questions that need answering." He grinned. "Let's go to my place when we're done. I'll make you into a hacker."
Nadia forced a smile. "OK."
She knew Doug would gnaw this bone till he was satisfied no morsel remained to be gleaned from it, and she had an uneasy feeling she should stick as close as possible to him on this.
14
The front section of Ozymandias Prather's trailer served as the business office for the Oddity Emporium. Luc Monnet sat inside and glanced at his watch. Almost time.
He'd been enormously relieved to learn that the creature was still alive.
He looked around the tiny office: a rickety desk, two chairs, and no room for much else. The rear section, Prather's living quarters, Luc presumed, was curtained off. Curiosity about the lifestyle of this strange man with an even stranger business nudged him to take a peek, but he resisted. He was not a snoop.