meeting between his boss and the most powerful man on earth.
Griff stifled a grin. No wonder he enjoyed being around his friend as much as he did.
“This is about the list of names,” Melvin said, ignoring Allaire completely. “I’ve been searching for death certificates, but I think that’s going about it the wrong way.”
“What death certificates?” the president demanded. “What are you talking about?”
“Melvin is working on Dr. Chen’s animal death reports,” Griff said, with theatrical exaggeration. “She gave each animal a certificate so we can easily reference them.”
It was hardly one of Forbush’s strengths, but Griff hoped his assistant would pick up on his expression and allow the lie to hold. Still, he turned his back to the camera so that his assistant alone could see him put his finger to his lips. After ten seconds of uncertainty, Forbush saw the light and nodded that he understood.
“Mr. President,” Griff said, “I’m not sure you’ve met Melvin Forbush before.”
Grinning broadly, Forbush bent low, put his face eight inches or so from the camera, and waved hello to the president with the fingers of one hand.
Allaire seemed to calm down a notch.
“Mr. Forbush,” he said, “I want to thank you personally for your dedication and service to the country.”
“It’s a job,” Forbush said. “I’m doing my best, and no matter how exhausted Dr. Rhodes is, he’s doing his best, too.”
“Good,” Allaire responded. “Now, both of you get back to it. Because the way things are right now, you both need to do better than your best.”
With that, the screen went dark.
“Well, that sure went swimmingly,” Griff said, sighing. “I guess I’d be a little tense, too, if someone told me I didn’t have much time left.”
“You didn’t say that.”
“It’s not what you say that counts, Melvin. It’s what people hear.”
An hour passed.
Griff spent most of it staring across the small room at nothing in particular. His exhaustion seemed overshadowed by the feelings of impotence at not being able to get more out of Sylvia Chen’s recipes—her notes on what appeared to be experiments performed on human subjects.
“Hey there,” Forbush said from the doorway. “Are you ready to get back to work?”
Griff sighed and stretched the tightness from his neck and shoulders.
“Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Good, because I told the president of the United States you were trying your best.”
“I’m suffering from brain lock, Melvin. That happens when I get real tired. It’s like I’m incapable of looking at a problem from more than one perspective.”
“That’s strange. My problem is that I always see problems from too many perspectives. Speaking of which —”
“Yes?”
“One of the perspectives I’ve been thinking about, that I almost forgot to mention, has to do with Sylvia’s list of names.”
“Did you connect with any of them?”
“No,” Forbush said. “But I’ve been wondering if maybe the names in Chen’s lab reports could be bogus.”
“Bogus?”
“A code within a code. Do you think the president knew anything about these tests?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Griff said.
Forbush pulled over a chair and sat down beside him.
“Well, something has been bugging me about the reports,” he said.
“Go on.”
“It’s the heading on each page. ‘The Certain Path.’ ”
“Why does that bug you? I assume it’s just Sylvia’s way of saying this is the certain path to making WRX3883 a workable agent, and keeping the lab in operation.”
“Maybe.… Have you ever seen the movie
“Steve Martin,” Griff quickly recalled. “I think I saw it, but maybe I’ve just seen clips. It came out a while ago.”
“In 1982 to be precise. Carl Reiner directed it and cowrote the script with Martin and George Gripe, who died a few years later from an allergic reaction to a bee sting.”
“We can probably do without the trivia right now, Melvin. In case you couldn’t tell, we’re sort of at a serious dead end.”
“Well, there’s a point here.”
“Okay. Sorry. Don’t let me take my grouchiness out on you. You don’t deserve it.”
“But the good thing is I can handle it,” Forbush said, “so you’re forgiven in advance. But listen, Griff. In the film, Martin’s character is investigating the disappearance of Rachel Ward’s father, a scientist named Dr. Forrest, played by George Gaynes.”
“This helps us how?” Griff asked.
Forbush held up a hand to urge patience.
“Hey, easy does it,” he said. “In the movie business, delivery is everything.”
“Sorry,” Griff said again.
“Before he disappeared, Dr. Forrest leaves lists of notes that Martin keeps on finding throughout the film. One list he titled ‘Friends of Carlotta,’ and the other he called ‘Enemies of Carlotta.’ ”
“Go on.”
“The big break in the case comes when Philip Marlowe, who’s played by footage of Humphrey Bogart from
Griff’s impatience gave way to intrigue.
“So…”
“So, what if ‘The Certain Path’ isn’t Chen’s way of suggesting that she was on the right track, but an actual place.”
Griff’s eyes narrowed. He pulled his laptop computer over, opened a Web browser to Google, and typed in quotes: “The Certain Path.” He clicked the first link in the resultant set, then leaned back in his chair to study the page. Moments later, a look of astonishment washed over his face.
“Well, I’ll be,” he said.
Griff turned the screen to Forbush, and used the computer mouse to highlight two lines of text. The highlighted words read:
The Certain Path Mission
Wichita, Kansas
CHAPTER 48
The Certain Path Mission Web site was a simple design, featuring a photograph of the building and some
