enable a cure for drug addiction.”
“You mean like methadone?” Anita asked.
“No, not a substitute, but something that would make an addict not need his drug any more. I’ve consulted an expert who tells me that the value of such a discovery could be astronomical.”
“An actual cure?” Anita asked. “You mean like if you’ve been using crack every day you could take this stuff and you could kick crack just like that? Why, that would be a Godsend to all of humanity! Henry, did you hear?”
Henry had just placed a tray on the table beside the bed. He handed Anita her cup, then offered a second to Hannibal. “Just that your father is a hero, Ms. Cooper. I expected no less.”
“There’s more,” Hannibal said, sipping his coffee. “I don’t know where Mantooth is, but I do know how to find him soon. He’ll be returning to the repair shop where he got the crazy car built in a few days. I’ll be there to greet him.”
Anita’s reaction was a curious combination of fear and elation. Her mouth formed the “O” of stunned surprise, but her eyes reflected a reluctance to even consider the possibility that Rod might be captured or hurt.
Standing to the side, Henry stayed silent, standing with a saucer in one hand and the handle of a cup in the other. Hannibal knew that he was fully engaged, but his face was as passive as a tax investigator at an audit. Hannibal considered recommending him to the Treasury Department for secret service work. He was very good at being present but somehow remaining invisible.
Anita’s eyes suddenly focused like a laser on Hannibal’s glasses, as if to center her mind on one thought and blot out all others. “My father did something no one else was able to do.”
“That appears to be the case,” Hannibal said. “Everyone I’ve interviewed has told me that he was a brilliant man.”
“He was a genius,” Anita said, her smile spreading to envelope her face again. “The best pharmaceutical biochemist in the world. Mr. Blair was right. His discovery will change the world. You will get it back, right?”
“I’m certainly going to do my best,” Hannibal said, not sharing her smile. “Meanwhile, I think I need to go brief Mr. Blair himself. After all, he’s paying the bills.”
Ben Blair’s home office was both smaller and simpler than Hannibal expected. The cherry wood desk appeared to take up most of the space, with three tiers of open shelves in place of a traditional hutch. The phrase 'organized disorder' came to Hannibal’s mind as he stepped in. Papers and computer discs covered the desk and all three shelves, even crowding the flat screen monitor, but Hannibal suspected that Blair knew what each was, and that every sheet of paper was exactly where it belonged. An acoustic guitar standing in the far corner struck him as the one incongruous note.
Hannibal stood quiet while Blair tapped at a keyboard with steady intensity, like a virtuoso charging through the end of a Dvorak sonata. When he reached the finale, he released a big breath and turned his easy, boyish smile on Hannibal. The straw thatch on his head was uncombed and one could hardly guess that seconds ago this man in a faded Planet Hollywood tee shirt and shorts was directing a billion dollar empire through his simple Dell computer.
“So, Mr. Jones, what do we know that we didn’t know forty-eight hours ago?”
“Well, as I just told Anita, I’ve caught a break in the search for Rod Mantooth. He left his car at a shop for repair and I’ll be alerted when he returns for it.”
Blair waved Hannibal to a chair. Not until he sat did he realize that Blair was burning incense in the room. He wasn’t sure, but he thought the scent was called chamomile. Hannibal got a mental picture of Blair, relaxing like a sixties hippie, strumming a tune in his incense fogged room, maybe getting high.
“That’s not catching a break,” Blair said, crossing his right ankle over his left knee. “That’s due diligence. I knew you were the right man for this job.”
“Thanks. I think it will do a lot for Anita’s self-esteem if this man is made to pay for hurting her.”
Blair nodded. “Unfortunately, it might be impossible to prove that he’s committed a crime. What about the property he stole? Do you think you’ll be able to recover it? Or is there any evidence that he’s already sold it?” Blair maintained his usual casual attitude, but the fingers of his left hand drummed a rhythm on the desk and his right foot, shook frantically in space.
“Interesting that you didn’t ask if I’ve learned what he took. But, you’ve known all along, haven’t you? Or at least suspected, right?”
Blair’s smile didn’t drop, but it hardened. “I’m not sure I get your meaning.”
“It never occurred to me that you knew anything about your cleaning woman’s father,” Hannibal said, “but Anita says you knew enough to tell her that he was a genius. I’m thinking you suspected from the beginning that the only thing he’d hide for her that could be of great value was some new pharmaceutical breakthrough. Then I remembered that among your holdings is an on-line pharmaceutical company.”
Blair lowered his foot to the floor and sat forward just a bit. “Whatever Cooper came up with has to be of great value, based on what he told her. Someone is going to make a great deal of money from his discovery. Now it’s out there where anybody might capitalize on it. I’m the only one who would make sure Ms Cooper gets her fair share of the wealth a new wonder drug will generate. But I can’t do that unless the formula is recovered.”
“How very altruistic of you,” Hannibal said, standing. “Well, you’re my client and I will do all I can to protect your interests. But you should know that Anita has retained an excellent business attorney who will make sure her interests are protected as well.”
Blair’s smile returned to its former lightness. “Ah, this would be Miss Santiago, right? She’s with Baylor, Truman and Ray I believe, one of the finest business firms in Washington. I’m quite sure that we will work quite smoothly with them on this matter, once you’ve recovered Ms Cooper’s prize.”
Any response Hannibal might have considered was pushed out of his head by the ring of his cell phone. Blair indicated that he should take the call, so he pulled his phone out and pushed the button. At first all he heard was distant sobbing.
“Hannibal? Sarge. I don’t know what to do.”
Hannibal didn’t think he had ever heard desperation in Sarge’s voice before.
“What’s going on, man? Where are you? Is that Marquita in the background? Is she all right?”
“I brought her down to Virginia Beach to relax a bit. Now she’s freaking out,” Sarge said, his voice pumping fear into the telephone. “I’ve just now calmed her down enough for her to tell me why. She saw him Hannibal. She spotted Rod Mantooth down here.”
14
Finding a parking space on the narrow streets of Georgetown late in the morning challenged even those who lived and worked in the area. Because Hannibal seldom frequented the northwestern quadrant of The District, the search became a major test of his ingenuity. The row houses in Georgetown didn’t seem significantly bigger than the ones in his own neighborhood or anywhere else, nor did they have any more space around or behind them. Yards seemed tiny, and to him a brick front was a brick front. The fact that these places sold for upwards of a million dollars made little sense to him. But he wasn’t there looking for a home. After failing to learn anything about Mantooth from public sources, he was looking for a man who might have access to less official but more valuable information.
It had taken Hannibal a few minutes to calm Sarge down. He had insisted that Sarge stay with Marquita and not go looking for Mantooth on the beach where she had spotted him. He had promised that he would join them that night. Then he headed for The District to find an old acquaintance. He was driving against the major flow of traffic on I-66 at this time of day and had no trouble holding a speed in the sixties. While he drove he contacted the one person he knew in Virginia Beach who might be able to help him.
“Huge Wilson, you are one hard man to talk to on the phone.”
“Well my posse has to protect me from the nut jobs, the local fans, and especially the would-be rappers and hip-hop singers who’ll do anything for an audition,” Wilson replied. His voice’s purity, reminiscent of Eddie Kendricks’ falsetto, always surprised Hannibal.
