Chapter 41
Dean barely glanced up when Tim and Bear entered. His office was surprisingly small and unpretentious, save the desk's almost wall-to-wall breadth and the expansive window framing his broad build. From the twenty-sixth- floor perspective, his shoulders ranged from the neat rows of granite marking the dead in the veteran's cemetery to the old Fox Village tower, long subsumed by Mann's of Chinese Theatre fame.
Gripping a beautiful guitar by the neck and looking stylishly disheveled in a baggy grosgrain-ribbon button-up, deck shoes, and linen khakis, Chase went to the trouble to meet them at the door. A stack of copies sat neatly centered on a side table. Dean gestured to Tim and Bear, indicating that they should sit, but they remained on their feet, picking through the offerings. The so-called file of disgruntleds. Beacon-Kagan's employment records for Ted Sands included the basic facts, nothing more. A pamphlet on Human Resources guidelines. A few pages on test- subject selection read as if they'd come out of the marketing department. The party guest list Tim knew, by its inclusion, to be as sanitized and inessential as the other documents. He flipped the final folder closed, unimpressed.
'I hope that's a help,' Chase said. 'Everything you asked for.'
'Not everything,' Bear said.
'I've got a very busy day.'
'Yeah'-Bear nodded to the unplugged Gibson acoustic-'you look pretty wrapped up here in high-level corporate affairs. We'll try not to inconvenience you too greatly.'
'On Friday we have our pre-IPO presentation to investors and management. Which means…' Chase's lips pressed thin. 'My staff at Vector and I have three days to prepare to receive a hundred of Wall Street's top money managers here in the auditorium on our first floor. Not to mention a raft of business reporters and various other members of the media. So as for inconveniencing us? You haven't. But Mr. Jameson has. And you seem a lot more interested in harassing our company than in apprehending him. Why is that?'
Dean continued alternating between the various lines feeding his headset and the countless stacks positioned at even intervals along the vast run of oak. He paused to offer his son a patient warning: 'Chase.'
Bear answered the question. 'Because you've turned over what looks to be an embarrassment of riches from your PR department, but not much that'll shed light on why Walker Jameson is out to wreck you. Until we can find some answers, we'll keep coming back to you with the same questions.' He shifted his attention to Dean. 'Where's Dolan?'
A raised report covered Dean's eyes. 'Any second.' An assistant entered with a question about where to house a hedge-fund group winging in for the presentation, and Dean said, 'Four Seasons. The whole team. But rooms-not suites.'
'Okay.' Chase sat on an arm of the leather couch, set his guitar across the cushions, and busied himself on his BlackBerry. 'I'll play along. What more do you need?'
Bear said, 'We need you to answer some questions.'
'Like.'
'Why did your former employee get killed in front of your house?'
'Haven't the foggiest.'
'Coincidence, maybe?'
'A lot of power forwards at that party. So. Maybe it had to do with one of them.'
'As we suggested-but your father's pretty sure the guest list is not the motive. And it was his flagstone that got stained.'
'Indeed it was.' Chase lowered his BlackBerry and offered an intentionally insincere smile.
'Listen,' Tim said, 'maybe we got off on the wrong foot. We know how valuable your time is, but you're giving the impression it's routine for brutal killings to happen on your doorstep. If that's the case, you can understand our deepening interest in you.'
Chase put down his BlackBerry and slid his guitar onto his lap. 'My company is about to launch its first product. It's not a video game or a hair conditioner. It's a viral-vectored genetic enhancement that will save the lives of a hundred thousand children in this country alone in the coming year. So as for the relative importance of Ted Sands, who seems to have been exactly the kind of sleazeball you think he was…?' He twanged the opening notes of 'Taps' on his guitar.
Dean removed his glasses and tossed them on his desktop. 'Knock it off, Chaisson.'
Chase stopped immediately. At Dean's glare he set down the guitar altogether.
Dolan came in, slightly winded, nervous energy twisting his hands around each other. 'Sorry I'm late.'
'Sit down,' Dean said from behind the report.
Dolan dutifully moved to the couch as Dean mumbled his displeasure at whatever he was reading, then turned his focus to Tim and Bear. 'What are you after? Tess Jameson, family connection with Sands's killer. What about her?'
Tim said, 'You were looking into why you dropped her son from the trial.'
'The specifics on that are proving harder to retrieve than we thought-there are so many applicant subjects,' Chase said. 'We're still digging. But my guess? Since there's nothing specific, it means he was disqualified for the same reason ninety-six percent were: didn't meet the criteria.'
'What were the criteria?'
'Well. There are a lot of medical variables when it comes to-'
'Because I took much of last night to read your corporate Web site-very impressive, by the way-and I found out that what's so great about Xedral is…' A considered pause as Tim patted his pockets, withdrew his notepad, licked a thumb, and found the page. 'Here we are. 'Xedral is unique in its broad applicability and effectiveness. Preliminary tests project an eighty-six percent success rate in treating anyone from infants to adults afflicted with ATT.''
Dolan seemed suddenly to realize that his father and brother were both waiting on him to speak, and he said, 'The inclusion criteria for the Phase I subjects are very strict. The issue isn't scientific, though. Medical records are confidential. Our preclinical analyses are part of the private data on these subjects, so discussing them with you would be illegal.'
Hurwitz, Gregg — Rackley 04
Last Shot (2006)
Tim picked up the stack of folders and fanned them. 'Some of your records seem to be more confidential than others.'
Dean rolled back his chair and pulled himself upright. For the first time since Tim and Bear had entered, they had his full attention. 'I don't like where this started, and I don't like where it's headed. We're doing our best to work with you, and we're even willing to put the operation of two companies on hold to do it. But everything about your approach-and the entire…worldview of your oversize friend here-would suggest that perhaps you should be dealing with our lawyers, since you have somehow converted this into a grudge match between yourself and Vector. Which it may be, for all I know. But if so, it's one in which you will not prevail. I will match my resources against those of the Justice Department anytime. And have. If you want cooperation, stop making ludicrous, poorly veiled accusations. We all know that the murder at my house last night is, in all likelihood, unrelated to me, my sons, or this corporation.'
Tim said, 'The victim was a former security employee of Beacon-Kagan. The perpetrator, the uncle of a kid discontinued in a Vector trial. Unrelated? Not even you can sell that, Mr. Kagan. Why else would you add a two-man security detail to the house as of this morning?'
'Caution, of course.'
'You sure you don't know something we don't?'
'I'm quite sure I know many things you don't, Deputy.' Dean's hand raised from the desktop, tilting toward the door. 'Now unless there's something else…?'
The door closed behind the deputies, leaving the three Kagan men in uneasy silence. Dolan started to say something, but Dean held up a hand, pausing him until the elevator doors dinged shut in the hall.
Dolan said, 'Walker Jameson blames us for his sister's death.'
'Come on,' Chase said.
