to my office. We weregoing to have lunch together. This was right after Sam left my office.”
“Okay. What was his name again?” she asks, another attemptat cover.
“Doctor Neil Lomas,” Benjamin says.
“Right. That’s right. Okay. Tell me about that again.”
“Well, he could probably see the look on my face. He told meI looked upset. We were supposed to have lunch in the cafeteria-we did thatonce a week. I said I needed some fresh air. We went across the street to thisItalian place. Neil-Neil and I-Doctor Neil Lomas,” he explains. “He’s one ofour top researchers. Works in pediatric drugs.”
Oh, yes. McCoy knows all about Doctor Neil Lomas, one of thechief pediatric researchers for Flanagan-Maxx Pharmaceuticals.
“We’ve been pretty close, recently. Neil’s wife left him,just like that, about a year ago.”
Fourteen months ago, to be exact.
“And he’d gotten into some problems. He’d been-well, I don’tknow if I-Neil came pretty unwound when his wife left. It was out of the blue.He was a train wreck. So-he’d been having some problems.”
Some problems. McCoy would react, visibly, under othercircumstances. Yes, Doctor Neil Lomas has been having some problems. Cocainefor starters, a habit that set him back about twenty thousand dollars over thelast year. McCoy doesn’t know if this was the result, or cause, of his wife’srather hasty departure. Now he gambles, too, and he’s not very good at it.Self-destructive habits, both of them, and McCoy has always wondered whetheraddictive gamblers, deep inside, want to lose. Lomas has a second mortgage onhis house and tough alimony payments to boot. Yeah, a few problems. He was intoa bookie for over fifteen thousand before his debt was purchased by someonewith another agenda, and he’s not off the cocaine yet.
A drug-addicted, distraught gambler. The perfect scientistto compromise. Buy his debt, supply him cocaine, whisper whatever bullshit intohis ear that he needs to hear, and he’s yours.
Benjamin, given his audience, doesn’t want to mentionLomas’s narcotics use or gambling problems, and McCoy won’t force the issue.She won’t tell Benjamin that she knows the identity of the person who purchasedLomas’s gambling debts from the bookie Jimmy that she knows that this is thesame person who is supplying Lomas with cocaine on a daily basis, after work.McCoy wants, in fact, to give the impression that she is entirely unconcernedwith Doctor Neil Lomas. But that may be difficult.
“So there was a history of confiding in each other,”Benjamin explains. “But I swear to you, I didn’t go into detail. I just toldNeil there were some problems. That there was some possibility that someone hadbeen doing something they shouldn’t, and that there would be a federalinvestigation.”
“And how did Doctor Lomas respond to that?”
“He was concerned. Like a friend should be.”
“Be specific, please, Mr. Benjamin. Word-for-word, if youcould.”
“Word-for-okay. Well, he asked me questions. He wanted toknow what kind of investigation. He wanted to know what department was beinginvestigated. He asked me who was interested. He wanted to know who hadinitiated this investigation. He wanted details.”
“Word-for-word, Mr. Benjamin.”
Benjamin closes his eyes a moment. “God. Okay. I said theremight be a problem with something. I said someone outside our company hadraised a very disturbing concern. He wanted to know who had raised the concern,he wanted to know what kind of concern. Well, he could pretty much figure out the‘who’ part.”
“He could?”
“Well, he had seen Sam walk out of my office. In fact, out ofcommon courtesy, I had introduced them.”
Jesus. McCoy’s stomach reels. This is new information, aseemingly innocuous detail from Walter Benjamin’s perspective. Benjamin hadgiven Doctor Lomas a name, a name that Doctor Lomas had passed on.
“So,” McCoy says, with all the casualness she can muster,“Doctor Lomas knew that it was Sam Dillon who had some disturbing information.”
“Yeah. I mean, the name ‘Sam Dillon’ meant nothing to him. Ijust said, Sam had raised some questions.”
“And what did Doctor Lomas ask about that?”
“Well, he wanted to know what questions. I said I didn’tknow.”
“You lied?”
“Yes. I said I didn’t know, because if I told Neil I didknow, he’d keep pressing me. You have to understand Neil. You have tounderstand our relationship. I’ve been his confidant. The guy he talks to. Heneeds someone like that. So he would expect the same from me. He would expectme to be open with him. So I lied.”
“Tell me, Mr. Benjamin, exactly what you said.”
Walter Benjamin pauses. “I said, ‘I don’t know the details.All I know is that Sam told me something illegal was taking place, and he wasgoing to report it to the U.S. attorney, and he wanted me to know in advancebecause the feds might be paying us a visit soon.’ ”
McCoy looks at her partner.
“And I told Neil, that was all I knew. I said I didn’t knowany details. Sam had just paid me a courtesy call, I told him, so I wouldn’thave my pants down when the FBI showed up.”
“And this was Tuesday, February third?”
“Umm-right. Yeah. I remember that day mostly because it wasthe last time Sam and I spoke. It was, what, less than a week before he wasmur-”
Benjamin’s face goes cold. The room is silent. McCoy triesto avoid his stare but she can’t; her eyes involuntarily move to theFlanagan-Maxx executive, staring at her, his mouth open.
“Oh my God,” he mumbles.
“Hold up.” McCoy waves her hand furiously. “Hold up. I’monly asking about Doctor Lomas because I need to know who you spoke to. That’s it,Mr. Benjamin. Don’t connect him with Sam Dillon’s death. Really. There’s noconnection there.”
There is such a thing as protesting too much, and McCoywants to dance that fine line. This is what she feared when she brought up thetopic, but it was too important not to address. She cannot let Walter Benjaminblame himself for this. She cannot ask him to bear that kind of a burden.
She will bear it herself. The death of Sam Dillon was herfault.
“Who have you spoken to in the company since this investigationbegan?” she asks.
Walter Benjamin’s face is flushed. He is still grapplingwith the thought he has just had.
“Did I get Sam ki-” His throat closes. He places a hand onhis chest, as if struggling for breath. “Did I-”
“No, you most certainly did not. Really, Mr. Benjamin. Thishad nothing to do with you. Now, could you answer my question?”
“Who-have I spoken to at the company? Well, our CEO. Ourchief counsel. That’s it.”
“Doctor Lomas?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to Neil. Should I-what do you want meto do?”
“Don’t go out of your way to initiate conversation. What Iwould like for you to say is, ‘There’s something going on in my department.I’ve been instructed not to discuss it.’ Just something like that. To anyonewho asks, not just Doctor Lomas. I’m sure Mr. Salters here has already givenyou that advice.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Okay.”
“You’ve been put on a paid leave, correct?”
“Yes, I have.”
“You’ll be back soon, Mr. Benjamin. No one thinks you hadanything to do with the bribing of those senators, and we’ll make that clearwhen the investigation is over.”
Benjamin brings a trembling hand to his face. “That’s-verynice to hear.”
“But you will comply with what I’ve asked?”
At this point, Walter Benjamin looks like he just completeda marathon. He would probably agree to stand on his head if she asked. “I willrepeat what you said. ‘It has something to do with my department. I’ve beeninstructed not to discuss it.’ I’m not talking to anyone, Agent McCoy. Believeme.”
“Thank you, sir. Thanks, Mr. Salters. I think that’s all Ihave for you.”
Benjamin and his attorney stand up, the former with somedifficulty. He looks at McCoy as she gathers her things.
