Sara said, “Considering his hypertension, they feel that Bellfort had a stroke when he hit his head on the floor. I like to think of it as a death of convenience—the authorities would have had a hard time proving Raymond Belfort killed Vincent. The video was the only proof of foul play. And I’m sure he destroyed it a long time ago.”
Sara went on: “I’ve heard of double jeopardy, but this was double irony. First the dart gun, then Harry Lee reached up from the grave and unleashed the power of Maggie.”
Diane walked along silently, feeling that Sara’s comments didn’t require a response. They had talked about most of it a couple hours ago on the phone.
However, in recounting to Sara her near-death experience in the lab, she had neglected to mention that, when the advantage shifted her way, she had spiraled into a murderous rage and was thrilled by the hunt.
Sara asked, “Do you know the origin of the phrase ‘the handwriting on the wall’”?
“It’s from the Bible, isn’t it?”
“Yes, the Old Testament. By deciphering handwriting on a wall, a man named Daniel was able to prophesize the downfall of Babylon to King Belshazzar.”
The women walked along mulling this over until Sara said: “I guess David told you about the BRI extortion mill.” She looked at Diane who nodded. Sara continued her story anyway.
“The Lab Rats found that BRI would entice scientists to come to Houston and bring their technologies with them. Once they were in their web and they had signed over their inventions, Bellfort and Everly would shop the products in the marketplace. They’d approach companies who stood to lose the most if the BRI products were released. Everly was a pro at shaking down people who were anxious to bury the new technologies.”
Sara went on to tell Diane about Leonard Everly’s indictment for the murder of Dr. Harry Lee. The authorities had plenty of evidence against him.
TekTranz had disclosed that they sometimes made payments to Everly using a second bank account. They apparently turned a blind eye to the fact that he was double dealing.
Sara added: “We checked that account and found he had an infusion of five million dollars two days after Harry Lee’s death. The money came from a bank in Bahrain. That Saudi account’s been closed, but we’re on the trail of its former owners. With that information, and now that we have Bellfort’s and Everly’s computers and Hu Lee’s testimony, a strong case can be made.”
The women stopped at a fish food dispenser and fed it some coins. They leaned on the rail and sprinkled the pellets into the water below.
Diane said, “I’ve decided to cancel my interview in Maine and stay on a little longer to clear things up here. Gabriel’s email placed me in charge of BRI. He asked that I oversee an audit of the books. That’s the least I can do. I was so cruel to him that day on his plane. I really don’t know how I’ll face him again.”
“It was an easy mistake; his yacht was on the video. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Sara dumped the last of the pellets into the water, now roiling with fish, and turned to Diane.
“I can see all this coming together: Hu Lee has asked you to develop Harry’s new technology. Gabriel has placed you in charge of BRI, albeit temporarily. But I have a feeling he’ll extend your contract. And we would fund the project.
“BRI could be a kind of Janus in the biotech world. The face turned to the public would continue with its present programs. Let’s see.” She counted on her fingers: “There are the Wentzel and Sabbedra’s projects, and I’m sure you’ll want to finish Chimeron and dabble in ethnobotany in your spare time. And who knows, maybe you’ll be able to rescue Peruvase.
“But BRI’s other face, its secret face, would develop Dr. Harry Lee’s new technology—Maggie’s next generation.”
Diane was quick to object. “It doesn’t make sense to use BRI. I’m sure Hu Lee would trust your organization with the technology. Then, wouldn’t you be better off finding a big lab that has experience with this sort of thing?”
Sara shook her head. “No. The Agency and Homeland’s research arm, the Science and Technology Directorate, would like a small off-the-books research facility—a ‘Boutique Lab’ if you will.
“BRI is perfect. And so are you, Diane. We can get you all the help you need.
“This is an important biometric device. Terrorists and drug smugglers can use counterfeit passports, cover their irises, mess with their finger and handprints, but they can’t disguise their cell physiology or the mechanics of their motion.”
Diane lowered her head and fluffed some of the drizzle from her hair. She studied the boards on the walkway, then raised her eyes to Sara.
“I find all this confidence in me very flattering.” Her voice cracked. “But I stand here, still a bit shaky from having a serious threat on my life. I’ve experienced jeopardy before, but this encounter transcended bodily endangerment. And it has forever altered the smug sense I had of myself… So I ask you, why would anyone knowingly set up herself and her staff and families as targets of who-knows-what organization? Why would anyone expose herself and her employees, day in and day out, to something that, in Hu Lee’s words, ‘will be a very dangerous undertaking?’”
Sara cocked her head, studied Diane’s face for a moment and said, “I suppose that’s something we all have to determine for ourselves, Dr. Rose.”
μ CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN μ
Diane parked under the treehouse and stepped out of the SUV. Opening the front door, she realized it was the first time in weeks that she hadn’t looked over her shoulder.
Huck didn’t show up on the stairs to greet her, but she shrugged it off. He was probably out on the deck chasing a squirrel or chewing on a bone. She tossed her keys into a bowl on the entry table and turned to go into the kitchen. But something made her stop and look back toward the living room.
The sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds. It slanted through the windows sending orange stripes along the living room wall behind the sofa where Carlos Carrera sat. The lower band of sunlight lit up his mane of white hair; he looked like he was on fire.
He stood and walked toward her. “I was afraid you would not invite me in, so I let myself in.”
Diane was paralyzed. The only thing that kept her from fainting with fright was the memory of Gabriel assuring her that Carlos and his “knights” would never hurt her.
Carlos stopped when he saw her terror. “It kills my soul to have you look at me with such fear. You are the daughter I never had. I would not harm a hair on your head.”
He motioned toward the living room. “Come. Sit with me. We must talk.” He returned to the sofa.
Diane walked haltingly into the living room and sat on the edge of a chair across from him. “Where’s my dog?”
Carlos smiled. “He is on the deck enjoying the soup bone I brought for him.”
His smile faded, and he leaned forward as if to say something important. But he paused, groping for words. He appeared distraught. Several silent seconds passed while he studied the rug, then he looked up at Diane and said, “Gabriel has died of a heart attack. He was cremated and his ashes were spread on the sea near Carrera Island.
Diane stifled a sob. It wasn’t possible that another man she loved had died… Loved?… Yes, she had loved him in a way.
She stared at Carlos in disbelief. The room went out of focus. Outside, a neighbor’s dog barked and Huck answered. Above, a pine branch scraped along the roof. That should be pruned, she thought. On the other side of the room, Carlos was saying something.
“My son was not a perfect man, but he was not a murderer. Gabriel called the shipyard in Corpus Christi where the Maria V has her annual maintenance. They keep records. The boat’s hull sustained damage we were not aware of. The receipts show that Raymond paid for the repairs with his own money—”