Terry nodded. “Outside the main door. You go through two sets of glass sliding doors into the lobby, then through the metal detectors into the rest of the building.”
“Metal detectors?” I said. I glanced at Sean.
“Isn’t there a back way in or something?” The last thing I wanted to do was go into the dragon’s den unarmed. “We might as well write ‘Eat Me’ across our foreheads and cover ourselves in barbecue sauce.”
Terry allowed herself a small smile, but shook her head firmly. “The whole security system was overhauled at the start of this year,” she said. “They brought in consultants and tested it pretty thoroughly. The only way you stand a chance of getting in is walking right in through the front door and having somebody they trust vouching for you.”
The mention of the word
My mother was sitting next to her at the table. She reached across and put her hand over Terry’s, gave it a squeeze.
“You’re doing the right thing, dear,” she said. “You must know that. These people you work for, they’re prepared to let patients die for the sake of profit, and then pass the blame on to someone else.”
“It’s not like—” Terry began, then broke off, bit her lip. “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’re right, of course. It’s
Sean and my father both got to their feet as she did. She gave them another wan little smile and headed for the stairs.
“What about her phone?” I asked quietly once Terry was out of earshot.
“I removed the landline phones from every room except the living room, and I have Terry’s mobile right here,” Sean said, lifting a small gloss-black cell phone out of his pocket.
“She gave it up without a fight?” I said. “You surprise me.”
“Did you have to remind me about that?” Sean winced a little. “I wasn’t prepared to go another round with that lady.”
My father, meanwhile, seemed to be paying little attention to our conversation but was focusing on his whisky glass, which was now all but empty. He tilted it and stared regretfully into the bottom, then pushed his chair back purposefully.
“I think you’ve had enough, Richard,” Sean said, and this time he allowed the fangs to show through the veneer of civility that habitually cloaked him. It even made my father pause, but only for a second. With a careless shrug, he reached for the bottle of single malt.
“In your opinion, perhaps,” he said.
“No, Richard, in my opinion too,” my mother said with quietly commanding dignity. She looked across the table straight into his eyes and suddenly her face seemed much less soft than I could ever remember it. “Tomorrow’s going to be a trial, but with any luck this will all be over soon,” she said, her voice soothing. “We can go home—back to our normal life.” She let that one sink in for a moment, then added gently, “Why don’t you go to bed, darling? Get some rest. I’ll be up shortly.”
He seemed to waver, then nodded, his face grave. There was a very slight sway to him, I noticed. The food had not quite managed to absorb the amount of spirits he’d put away over the last couple of hours. He was not a drinker by nature and his system wasn’t hardened. It was starting to land punches.
“It seems I’m outnumbered,” he said stiffly. “In that case, I’ll say good night.” And, with an almost firm tread, he walked out of the room.
We watched him go. Sean glanced at my mother. “Thank you,” he said.
She made a little self-deprecatory movement of her shoulders. “I didn’t do it for you,” she said simply. “I did it for Richard. And for myself, if I’m honest.”
She looked down at her hands, at the plain gold band on her left hand. “And I’m going to do something else for Richard tomorrow—and I know you’ll argue, Charlotte, but my mind is quite made up about this.”
I saw it coming, felt the jolt of that realization like a fist to the stomach, knocking the breath out of me. “No,” I said. “No, you can’t—”
“Elizabeth—” Sean began at the same time, his voice a low growl.
“Yes, I can,” she said calmly. “He needs me. You’ve seen that—both of you. He’s been strong for me for most of our married life. Now it’s my turn to be strong for him.” She got neatly to her feet, her face almost serene now her mind was made up. “When you go into Storax tomorrow, I’m going with you. And I’m afraid,” she added with a firm but apologetic smile, “that nothing either of you can say will stop me.”
At precisely 8:15 P.M. the following evening, we drove through the main gate into Storax Pharmaceutical.
I was with Terry in the Porsche. The Camry containing my parents followed more sedately behind, with Sean at the wheel.
Terry greeted the guy on the gate with an easy rueful smile that made me wonder about her acting abilities. She behaved as though coming into work on a weekend evening was normal, rather than the exceptional circumstance of trying to smuggle four people into the building who might very well topple the company. It was only if you saw how tightly her hands were gripping the steering wheel that you would have realized anything was wrong.
Fortunately, it was a Saturday night and there was some kind of ball game playing from the radio in the gatehouse. The guard waved us on after only a cursory inspection.
Terry had driven the GT3 with verve and skill on the way there, zipping through the light traffic without appearing to take risks, or hold anyone up. She was immaculately dressed, too, every inch the successful corporate lawyer, in another suit that looked as if it cost about the same as the car. By contrast, I felt very shabby. No change there, then.
We’d spent a restless night from Friday into Saturday morning. Sean and I had taken turns to keep a watch, dozing on the sofa between times. The cats ambushed us at regular intervals, as though they’d been instructed to make sure we got little rest. I tried shutting them in the kitchen, but they just yowled until we let them out again.
We spent most of Saturday cooped up inside, waiting, each preparing in the way we knew best. With some reluctance, Terry had gone about her usual Saturday domestic chores. My father stayed largely in his room and I didn’t feel inclined to disturb him. Sean went out to the garage to strip and clean our guns, one at a time. We wouldn’t be taking them in, but it was a soldier’s ritual for him, I recognized, soothing as a mantra or a rosary.
My mother, on the other hand, chatted brightly with Terry over laundry and lent a hand with the ironing, commenting cheerfully that it was only what she’d be doing if she were at home.
I knew full well that my mother had a morosely efficient cleaning lady who came in twice a week and could iron with military precision, but I didn’t spoil the illusion. My mother caught my eye with a faint smile and I realized she was quite intentionally mounting a charm offensive. As if that would make it harder for Terry to betray us, if she liked us.
Now, Terry wheeled the Porsche into a space that had O’LOUGHLIN on a little white marker board at the head of it, like a grave. Sean pulled into a designated visitor’s slot further down. Terry switched off the engine and sat for a few moments, not moving, staring straight ahead at the huge building that loomed in front of us.
“As my mother said, Terry,” I told her quietly, “you’re doing the right thing.”
“Am I?” She turned her head, regarded me bleakly. “So, why do I get the feeling that nothing good will come of this, either way?”
“We just need you to get us through the door,” I said, sidestepping the question. “After that, you can walk away. Claim we duped you—threatened you, blackmailed you. Whatever you like. But don’t back out on us now.”
“I won’t,” she said, eyes flicking back to the building again. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m just not used to
