“I wanted to speak with you, Mr. Buchanan.”
“Nobody calls me Mr. Buchanan. Gordon is fine.” He smiled.
“All right. I think we need to talk, Gordon.” She returned the smile, the thought dragging through her head that this was one very self-assured and quite handsome man.
“About what?” he asked, motioning toward a door leading to the afternoon sunshine.
She waited until they were outside to respond. She slipped off her hard hat and held it in her hand. “I work for Veritas Pharmaceutical.” The moment she uttered the words, she saw Buchanan’s face and eyes harden and his body language shift to the defensive.
His voice was different when he spoke, almost threatening. “Why are you here?” he asked, leaning on a tubular steel railing outside the planer building.
She faced him, the afternoon sun in her eyes. His face was in the shadows, but she could see his eyes, and they were focused on her, unblinking and cold. “I’ve been with Veritas for about three months now, in the Alzheimer’s research group. Actually, I head up the group. Kenga Bakcsi worked for me. She was my office administrator.”
Gordon was silent. He crossed his arms on his chest. “What does this have to do with me?”
“I was taking care of Kenga’s cat while she was on vacation. When I was feeding the cat, I thought of something that might be important to my research. I logged on to Kenga’s home computer and typed the information into a file. As I was signing off, I saw a file that contained restricted information-a file that if the brass at Veritas knew was on her computer would have gotten her fired. I glanced through it. And I found your name.”
“What was in the file?” Gordon asked.
This was the moment Jennifer had been dreading: the point at which she would either tell Gordon what she had seen or keep the data close to her chest. She had flown all day to get here, and she knew that his brother had died and she strongly suspected he was looking at Veritas for answers. The chances were good that Buchanan already knew what was in that file. She made her decision.
“The file contained both the formula and the process for manufacturing Triaxcion, an antibalding drug commonly prescribed to middle-aged men. A drug that had been prescribed to your late brother, Billy.”
“I’m still not sure how this interests me, Ms. Pearce.”
At least he was using her name. She pushed on. “A couple of days ago, I got some bad news. Kenga Bakcsi was killed while vacationing on a Caribbean island. I kind of put two and two together.”
“And what did you come up with?” Gordon asked.
“That you think Billy’s death is somehow tied to Veritas Pharmaceutical,” she said. He didn’t respond, and she continued. “Kenga couldn’t possibly have accessed that information on Triaxcion by accident. She had that formula on her computer for a reason. And your name. Why would she store the name of a sawmill owner from Montana inside a secure, stolen file? But when I read about your brother dying, I knew I had the connection.”
“That Triaxcion killed my brother.”
“Somehow, yes. At least, you think it did.”
“That’s very interesting, Ms. Pearce. And if any of this were true, what would happen? Why are you here?”
“Kenga’s dead, Mr. Buchanan. And I think her death may be suspicious.”
“So you’re concerned that someone in your company found out Kenga was stealing classified information for me and they had her killed.”
It sounded crazy when put that way, so matter-of-fact. “Yes, something like that.”
“So you’re accusing your own employer of killing its employees. That’s quite a serious accusation, Ms. Pearce.”
As much as she tried, she couldn’t read the man. She felt he was prodding her, knowing all along exactly what she was telling him but never opening the door, not even a crack. “I flew out from Richmond, Virginia, specifically to meet with you, Mr. Buchanan. That speaks to how serious I think this is.”
“All right, let’s assume some glimmer of all this is true. A dead woman on St. Lucia, my brother’s death tied to Triaxcion. What then? Where do we go from here?”
“You’ve probably already tried the legal channels, where the biggest and most prestigious firm in your hometown sends Veritas a series of threatening letters and they swat at you like you’re an insignificant insect,” she said. There was something in his eyes that told her she had hit a nerve, and she continued. “It’s pretty typical. The drugs that are released on the markets often have side effects. Listen to the television advertisements. Half the talking is the announcer telling you not to take the pill if you have high blood pressure, diabetes, are subject to skin rashes, are or could be pregnant, blah, blah, blah. There are risks associated with taking prescription drugs. And with risks come reactions to the drug and accidents the research company did not foresee. Suddenly, there are seriously injured or dead people looking for justice.
“So their lawyers begin to circle the castle. But the guys inside the castle are smart, powerful, and flush with cash. The corporation’s lawyers fill the moat, pull up the drawbridge, and fortify the walls with a hundred high-priced lawyers. Then they tell you to come and get them. Most legal firms won’t touch a major pharmaceutical company unless they’ve got a serious tort case. Even then, there are no guarantees. So if Billy’s death is tied in to Triaxcion, it’s natural that you’re going to want answers. Just as I want answers about what happened to Kenga. But answers and retribution are slow coming, if ever.”
“And how would we find those answers, Ms. Pearce?” Gordon asked, leaning forward. The waning light ebbed onto his face and she could see an incredible inner strength in his eyes.
“You could have a source inside the company,” she said.
“According to you, I already had one. She’s dead now. Remember?”
Jennifer didn’t take the sarcasm well. “I came to you,” she snapped. “I’m offering you assistance. Being facetious is not necessary.”
“Why would you offer me anything, Ms. Pearce?” he asked, backing off, his voice softer.“You don’t know me from a hole in the ground, yet here you are, asking me if I want your help nailing your employer to the wall. Can you see how I may be a little skeptical?”
“Why would I want to help you?” she asked, and he nodded, unfolding his arms and dropping them to his sides. “Because I liked Kenga. She was a really nice woman, with a life that no one had the right to take. If they murdered her, then they should pay.”
“I see,” Gordon said quietly.
“And,” Jennifer added, “because I’m scared. I don’t want to work for a company that kills its employees. I don’t feel safe quitting, not after seeing what I saw on Kenga’s computer. And I know that someone from the company came back to Kenga’s computer and removed the Triaxcion file. The file that had your name in it, Mr. Buchanan. I didn’t know where else to go. I thought of asking the local police for help, but that would be insanely stupid. If the police were to begin nosing around, whoever killed Kenga would be looking for a piece of paper somewhere in the precinct report with a name on it. And eventually they would find it. Then I’d be in the same condition Kenga is-on a cold slab in some morgue.”
“There are other avenues of help available, Ms. Pearce,” Gordon said. “Both the FBI and the FDA would probably take an interest. The CIA as well, as Kenga’s death happened outside the country’s borders.”
“Same reason,” she said. “I’m sure the FBI could protect me much better than the local police, but what about my life? I’m a pharmaceutical researcher with a great career. And if I went up against these guys, I could never work in my chosen field again. I don’t want to end up in a witness protection program for the rest of my life. And that’s the best-case scenario.”