'Yeah, I hope so.'
They had flirted with Tagawa earlier in the year. But the Japanese company wanted too large a piece of the company for the money, and negotiations broke down early. Though Proteus was mentioned in the early meetings, the Tagawa representatives were never fully briefed and never got near the lab. Now Pierce had concern himself with exactly how much about the project was mentioned, because it stood to reason that the information was passed on to Tagawa's new partner, Elliot Bronson.
'Let me know if you need anything and I'll get it done,' Condon said.
It brought Pierce out of his thoughts.
'Thanks, Charlie. You going back home now?'
'Probably. Melissa and I are going to Jar tonight for dinner. You want to go? I could call and make it for three.'
'Nah, that's okay. But thanks. I've got the furniture coming in today and I'll probably work on getting my place set up.'
Charlie nodded and then hesitated for a moment before asking the next question.
'You going to change your phone number?'
'Yeah, I think I have to. First thing Monday. Monica told you, huh?'
'A little bit. She said you got some prostitute's old number and guys are calling all the time.'
'She's an escort, not a prostitute.'
'Oh, I didn't know there was a big difference.'
Pierce couldn't believe he had jumped to defend a woman he didn't even know. He felt his face getting red.
'There probably isn't. Anyway, when I see you Monday I'll probably give you a new number, okay? I want to get done here so I can get in the lab and do something today.'
'Okay, man, I'll see you Monday.'
Condon left then, and after Pierce was sure he was down the hall he got up and closed his door. He wondered how much more Monica had told him, whether she was spreading alarm about his activities. He thought about calling her but decided to wait until later, to talk about it with her in person.
He went back to Lilly's phone book, leafing through it once again. Almost to the end he came across a listing he hadn't noticed before. It simply said USC and had a number.
Pierce thought about the envelope he had seen in her house. He picked up the phone and called the number. He got a recording for the admissions office of the University of Southern California. The office was closed on weekends.
Pierce hung up. He wondered if Lilly had been in the process of applying to USC when she disappeared. Maybe she had been trying to get out of the escort business. Maybe it was the reason she had disappeared.
He put the phone book aside and opened the Visa statement. It showed zero purchases on the card for the month of August and notice for an overdue payment on a $354.26 balance. The payment had been due by August 10.
The bank statement from Washington Savings amp; Loan was next. It was a combined statement showing balances in checking and savings accounts. Lilly Quinlan had not made a deposit in the month of August but had not been short of funds. She had $9,240 in checking and $54,542 in savings. It wasn't enough for four years at USC but it would have been a start if Lilly was changing her direction.
Pierce looked through the statement and the collection of posted checks the bank had returned to her. He noticed one to a Vivian Quinlan for $2,000 and assumed that was the monthly installment on maternal upkeep. Another check, this one for $4,000, was made out to James Wainwright and on the memo line Lilly had written, 'Rent.'
He tapped the check lightly against his chin as he thought about what this meant. It seemed to him that $4,000 was an excessively high monthly rent for the bungalow on Altair. He wondered if she had paid for more than one month with the check.
He put the check back in the stack and finished looking through the bank records.
Nothing else hooked his interest and he put the checks and the statement back in the envelope.
The third-floor copy room was a short walk down the hall from Pierce's office. Along with a copier and a fax machine, the small room contained a power shredder. Pierce entered the room, opened up his backpack and fed the pieces of Lilly Quinlan's opened mail into the shredder, the whine of the machine seemingly loud enough to draw the attention of security. But no one came. He felt a sense of guilt drop over him. He didn't know anything about federal mail theft laws but was sure he had probably just compounded the first offense of stealing the mail by now destroying it.
When he was finished he stuck his head out into the hall and checked to make sure he was still alone on the floor. He then returned and opened one of the storage cabinets where stacks of packages containing copier paper were stored. From his backpack he removed Lilly Quinlan's phone book and then reached into the cabinet with it, dropping it behind one of the stacks of paper. He believed it could go as long as a month there without being discovered.
Once finished with hiding and destroying the evidence of his crime, Pierce took the lab elevator down to the basement and passed through the mantrap into the suite. He checked the sign-in log and saw that Grooms had been in that morning as well as Larraby and a few of the lower-tier lab rats. They had all come and gone. He picked up the pen and was about to sign in when he thought better of it and put the pen back down.
At the computer console Pierce entered the three passwords in correct order for a Saturday and logged in. He called up the testing protocols for the Proteus project. He started to read the summary of the most recent testing of cellular energy conversion rates, which had been conducted by Larraby that morning.
But then he stopped. Once again he could not do it. He could not concentrate on the work. He was consumed by other thoughts, and he knew from past experience -the Proteus project being an example -that he must run out the clock on the thing that consumed him if he was to ever return to the work.
He shut down the computer and left the lab. Back up in his office he took his notebook out of his backpack and called the number he had for the private investigator, Philip Glass. As he expected for a Saturday afternoon, he got a machine and left a message.
'Mr. Glass, my name is Henry Pierce. I would like to talk to you as soon as possible about Lilly Quinlan. I got your name and number from her mother. I hope to talk to you soon. You can call me back at any time.'
He left both his apartment number and the direct line to his office and hung up. He realized that Glass might recognize the apartment number as having once belonged to Lilly Quinlan.
He drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk. He tried to figure out the next step. He decided he was going up the coast to see Cody Zeller. But first he called his apartment number and Monica answered in a gruff voice.
'What?'
'It's me, Henry. My stuff get there yet?'
'They just got here. Finally. They're bringing in the bed first. Look, you can't blame me if you don't like where I tell them to put stuff.'
'Tell me something. Are you having them put the bed in the bedroom?'
'Of course.'
'Then I'm sure I'll like it just fine. What are you so short about?'
'It's just this goddamn phone. Every fifteen minutes some creep calls for Lilly. I'll tell you one thing: wherever she is, she must be rich.'
Pierce had a growing feeling that wherever she was, money didn't matter. But he didn't say that.
'The calls are still coming in? They told me they'd get her page off the website by three o'clock.'
'Well, I got a call about five minutes ago. Before I could say I wasn't Lilly the guy asked if I'd do a prostate massage, whatever that is. I hung up on him. It's totally gross.'
Pierce smiled. He didn't know what it was, either. But he tried to keep the humor out of his voice.
'I'm sorry. Hopefully they won't take long getting it all up there and you can leave as soon as they are finished.'
'Thank God.'
'I need to go to Malibu, or else I'd come back now.'
