“Buddy, you got to come through. Here I’ve been spitting data all through lunch. What have you got for me?”
I crunched on some crispy noodles. “Is there a woman named Karen working at your company?” It had occurred to me that that would explain Sheila in the parking lot — she was meeting Karen. Karen might work at either BioVerge or Kumar.
“Maybe. It’s a common name. Now come on. Give me something. Anything’
He pushed his plate away, locked his hands behind his head, and heaved his feet up onto the chair next to me. I stared at the soles of his expensive boots and weighed my options. “You’re right to be worried about Kumar. The software’s deep in beta.
Our film’s wrapping next month. That means they’ll be making an announcement.”
Gregory sucked air between his teeth. “I know all that. It’s the fine grain I need. Screen shots. Documentation.”
“I told you I missed the shoot yesterday. I’ll be back on it again tomorrow,” I lied. “I’ll try to copy some footage.”
“Why aren’t you there today?”
“It’s just second unit stuff.” As if Rita had a second unit.
“I want to see the goods tomorrow night. No later.”
The waiter dropped off the tab. I snatched it. “This one’s on me, Gregory.”
He made a smirk of agreement, then stood to leave. “Ciao. I’ll see you tomorrow, when you’ll have you-know-what in your hand.”
“You’ll get it, all right.”
I was glad to pick up the tab. What he’d told me was worth the price of lunch. But no more.
As I waited for my change, a pattern kept dancing in my head. The big diagonals on the soles of his boots. Bits of mud stuffed in the crannies. I’d seen the pattern before. Now I remembered where: in the moist soil of my backyard.
I stayed at Perry’s a little longer. I wanted to make sure Gregory was clear of the area. Then I headed for the business park shared by Kumar and BioVerge. I didn’t use their parking lot. Instead, I put the Scout in another manicured lot on the far side of a four-lane divided boulevard.
The reception desk at Kumar Biotechnics paged Rita for me. Five minutes later I was upstairs with her. She was shooting in a third-floor conference room. The chief technology officer was getting ready to go on camera. Monitors, flasks, pipettes, and circuit boards were set up behind him. My replacement DP and the gaffer were fussing with the lights. Rita came with me into the corridor, through which the crew’s gear was scattered.
“What’s all that stuff doing in a conference room?”
Rita chuckled. “They actually use some of it for presentations. But we brought in some extra for background. We need something more than computer screens.”
“Silicon Valley action picture. Guys working a mouse with their tongues sticking out.”
“We did get some cool probe lens shots yesterday. These chips are incredible — one day they’ll carry your entire personal genome.”
“Sorry I missed it. Is the new DP doing all right? He looks like a tweaker.”
“Yeah, I love it. He’s cute, too.”
She was still trying to make me jealous. I gave the proper frown, then said, “I left a couple of things I need in the camera cases. I’m going to poke around for a minute.”
“No problem. Just don’t step in front of any cameras.”
The DP called Rita into the conference room. I made sure he was watching as I blew her a little good-bye kiss. Then I picked through the maze of padded bags until I found the one in which she’d put my things: the tape of Sheila, along with the computer disks from Sheila’s apartment. I deposited them into a wrinkled plastic grocery bag I’d brought.
Inside the conference room, Rita gave directions to lock down the set. I took the opportunity to pick through some of the other bags. I’d unzipped a million of these things, and could do so with hardly a sound. I looked until I found two DAT cassettes with yesterday’s date scrawled on them. They went into my grocery bag. No HD videotapes, though — Mr. Perfect must have hidden them away good.
Rita’s fanny pack was by the door. I found her cell phone in it and scurried down the corridor. I called information, covered the mouthpiece, and mumbled that I wanted the number for BioVerge. The operator didn’t hear me. As I mumbled it louder, Arun Kumar came around the corner. I froze. He smiled at me and put out his hand. I got the number and clicked off the phone.
“Are you back on the job?” Kumar asked. He had a fleshy chin and round, inquisitive eyes. His thick black hair fell across his forehead in a double wave.
“I’m afraid not. Just came by to see how it was going.” His gaze fell to the crumpled plastic bag in my left hand. “And pick up a few items of mine,” I added, mentally kicking myself up and down the hallway. If Rita noticed the missing DAT cassettes, and she and Kumar put two and two together…
“We’re very pleased with Rita. Very pleased.”
“It’s good to know she can get along without me.” I smiled and resisted the urge to hide the plastic bag behind my back. “I’ve been meaning to ask — do you have a woman named Karen working here?”
“I believe we have a Karen in accounting.”
“Hmm, probably not her. Maybe she works across the way.” If he’d heard my phone request, I might as well cover myself. Kumar showed no reaction at the mention of his competitor, so I pushed a little more. “What do you hear about BioVerge?”
His laugh was gentle. “I don’t lose any sleep over them.”
“Does Gregory Alton have any idea what he’s doing?”
Kumar shook his head. His tone was almost regretful. “Very little. It makes my job easier in one way, but in another it reflects poorly on the sector as a whole.”
“Thanks a lot. Good to see you.”
“Drop by anytime.”
I hoped he’d still feel that way in a few days. Flipping open the phone again, I called BioVerge and asked for Karen. The receptionist gave me a choice of two. “The bioscientist,” I said.
That would be Karen Harper, the receptionist said, and connected me.
I started right in. “Karen, this is Bill Damen. I’m a—”
Click. That was as far as I got. But it confirmed I’d found the right Karen. I redialed and asked for her. The receptionist told me she wasn’t in. What did Karen Harper have against me?
I returned Rita’s phone. She was still shooting in the conference room, so I left without saying good-bye. I was outside waiting to cross the boulevard when I heard footsteps pounding in my direction. They belonged to Gregory Alton. His sunglasses were pushed up on top of his brushed-up blond hair.
“Bill!” he said, breathless. “Aren’t you coming to see us?”
“Not until tomorrow, Gregory.” How did he know I was here?
He eyed the crumpled plastic bag. “Second unit, huh? It looks like you’ve got some goodies right now.”
“I told you. Friday. And when I do come, I want to see Karen Harper.”
As a grin spread over his face, I realized how he’d caught me. I’d used Rita’s phone to call Karen. Caller ID showed Rita’s number. Karen told him I’d made the call, and he knew Rita was at Kumar.
“Karen might have accidentally heard the wrong things about you,” he said. “I’ll have to set her straight. After you’ve made your delivery.”
I hated to do it, but I needed Karen. I reached into the bag, drew out the two marked DAT cassettes, and held them up for him to see. He made a grab. I dropped the tapes into the bag and brought my right elbow up hard into his solar plexus. He staggered backward with a grunt, his shades flying off. I took a stance. He thought about it for a minute, then stooped to pick up his glasses.
“Easy, buddy,” he said. “I just wanted to look.”