To avoid an accusing audience, thought Parnell, at once. The cultures weren’t sterile, so there was no reason why they shouldn’t be transferred. No reason, either, why Newton or Benn should be humiliated further. ‘Sure. Did you tell Paris we want everything that hasn’t been tested?’
Newton said: ‘I’m going to speak to Saby again, later. I haven’t forgotten.’
‘I’ve already prepared a schedule of what’s to come,’ added Benn, supportively, offering the single sheet of paper from which Parnell quickly saw that there were still six missing items. All were for child treatments.
‘They need to be withdrawn, ahead of any examination.’ said Parnell.
‘That’s what I’ve told Paris, that everything’s got to be stopped,’ assured Newton.
Parnell paused, mentally rehearsing his promised approach. ‘I think it would be appropriate for my unit to be thanked officially, by letter, for their contribution yesterday.’
‘You’re the unit director,’ said Newton, sharply. ‘Haven’t you thanked them?’
‘Of course.’
‘Then it’s done,’ insisted Newton. ‘Just as I thanked you, last night.’
‘I’ll tell them Dubette is grateful.’ But not tell you I’m doing it by the official letter you’re frightened will lock you into a scandal, Parnell decided. He’d known in advance what Newton’s response would be, and had only asked the question because he’d promised the unit he’d do so. Newton’s rejection was still… What? Indicative, he supposed.
‘When’s the meeting with the FBI?’ asked Newton, abruptly.
‘Not fixed yet,’ said Parnell.
‘But it’s about Rebecca…? Her death…?’
They were shit-scared about France, Parnell guessed at once. With every cause and reason. ‘They didn’t tell me what it was about. But it has to be connected with Rebecca, doesn’t it?’
‘There’s… I’m sure you’re aware…’ stumbled the vice president.
‘You got something to say, why don’t you say it, Dwight?’ demanded Parnell.
‘After Rebecca’s murder, your discovery could totally destroy Dubette if it ever became public,’ blurted the thin man.
‘Dwight! That’s what I told you, in as many words, remember? I’m not going to talk to anyone about it. Neither is anyone in my unit. Your only risk – Dubette’s only risk – is if some of this stuff has already been shipped, for sale or use. And people start dying.’
‘I know. And thank you, again. For the assurance, I mean.’
‘That’s what we need, not my positive assurance, but far more importantly the positive guarantee from Paris that every-thing’s recovered. Destroyed. We’re agreed on that, aren’t we! We can’t be anything else but agreed on that!’ challenged Parnell, abandoning all his previous reservations about what he said at this encounter. Abandoning, too, any reliance upon Newton to achieve anything. Into Parnell’s mind drifted Beverley’s cynicism: You’d be surprised what someone will do to keep five hundred thousand a year and stock options . The vice president and Benn were still shell-shocked, their ears ringing – deafened – from the reverberations of an explosion they hadn’t ever imagined.
‘That’s what we’re getting,’ promised Benn.
Parnell wasn’t at all sure that was what they were getting – or would get. He still needed to be convinced, even, that Dwight Newton had done everything he should to contain the situation. Fleetingly doubting it was something he should do as head of department – but very much aware of his undertaking to distance everyone else in his unit from any further involvement – Parnell personally transferred all the exploding HPRT cultures to Russell Benn’s section – to which Benn had still not returned – pedantically insisting that he got, while he waited, an individually itemized receipt from Benn’s impatiently sighing secretary for every sample. He missed Barry Jackson’s returned call while he waited, but reached the lawyer at his second attempt, glad of the further delay because it had given him time to think and decide upon something else, something he initially dismissed as paranoid, until forcing himself to confront Rebecca Lang’s murder, and his insisting upon driving home the previous night with Beverley, and the fear of blazing headlights in his rear-view mirror. Jackson said the following morning, before eleven, was good for him, and Benton promised they’d be expecting him at the FBI’s Washington field office any time after nine.
When he went back to Jackson to confirm the FBI encounter, Parnell said: ‘There’s something else I think I need to do, before tomorrow. You free at lunchtime?’
‘I don’t often eat lunch.’
‘I wasn’t inviting you to lunch anyway.’
Russell Benn said: ‘Parnell’s got us by the balls. And he knows it.’
‘You think I need to be told that?’ said Newton, impatiently. The conversational carousel had gone around and around since Parnell left, always arriving back at the point at which it began.
‘You’ve got to call Saby.’
‘I don’t need to be told that, either!’ retorted Newton.
‘Why hasn’t he come back to you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘It’s been despatched, hasn’t it? Some of the stuffs already gone into distribution.’
‘We’ve got to give him time!’
‘Are New York giving you time?’
‘I’ve got another couple of hours.’
‘We’re going to stay together on this, aren’t we, Dwight? You and I? I mean…’
‘I know what you mean,’ cut off Newton. ‘Of course we’re together on this. What else can we be?’ He fervently wished he knew – that there was some escape he could make, abandoning the other man.
‘I don’t like my balls being in a vice,’ said Benn.
‘I’m in there with you.’
‘You think you can trust the son of a bitch?’
‘How the fuck do I know – does anyone know?’ erupted Newton. ‘He came to me – didn’t blow any whistles to any authorities.’
‘As far as you know,’ cautioned Benn. ‘That reassure you? It sure as hell doesn’t reassure me.’
‘Just making a point,’ said Newton, wearily. He didn’t think he’d slept at all the previous night and he was having problems now concentrating upon every point being made to him.
‘What did Grant say?’
‘He didn’t believe it was like Parnell said, that it was a spur of the moment decision to analyse the samples, just because they were there.’
‘What are you going to tell the board?’
‘What the hell can I tell them? We screwed up. Parnell might – just might – have saved us. Saved the company.’
‘ We screwed up,’ echoed Benn, although with emphasis.
‘I’m not going to dump on you, Russ. How can I?’ repeated Newton.
‘You really sure we’re all right? I got commitments, Dwight. More commitments than I know what to do with – know how to handle.’
‘We’re going to be all right.’
‘Providing Parnell stays all right. You should call Paris.’
‘Let’s give Saby another couple of hours.’
‘Another couple of hours, that’s all,’ conceded Benn. ‘I think whatever Parnell does – or might do – depends on whether or not France has started distributing.’
Barry Jackson went line by line through Parnell’s sworn affidavit and still didn’t speak after several moments. Finally he said: ‘Sometimes lawyer-client confidentiality is a burden.’
‘One we’re both having to bear,’ said Parnell.
‘You did the right thing, swearing this statement,’ reassured Jackson. ‘You think Dubette killed Rebecca?’
‘I think someone in Dubette knows who did. And why.’
‘You going to tell the FBI that tomorrow?’
‘Without an iota of proof?’ challenged Parnell, in return.
