flowers in a vase on the coffee table, the sharp smell of furniture polish, the warm air flowing gently through the floor vents, all of it conspired to send a wave of regret through him.
Any sense of an opportunity missed was compounded as soon as he flopped down on the couch. He glanced over at the framed photographs on the mahogany sideboard. Lock was familiar with most of them, apart from one recent addition.
It must have been taken on a skiing trip. Carrie was standing with her arms wrapped around a man’s waist, both of them grinning for the camera like newlyweds. He was about Lock’s age with an expensively acquired natural tan and not so naturally acquired bleached teeth. Lock hated him on sight.
Carrie walked in from the bedroom, having changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. She saw Lock looking at the picture. ‘That’s Paul,’ she said. ‘He’s one of our producers. Divorced last year. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.’ She seemed keen to get past the awkwardness of the moment.
‘Hey, it’s a free country,’ Lock came back, a little too quick to be convincing.
‘He’s a really great guy. You’d like him.’
‘I doubt that somehow.’
In a show of support, Angel jumped up on to the couch, lay down next to Lock and began to lick her genitals.
‘Well, this is awkward,’ he said, averting his gaze from the dog.
‘Gal’s got to have a hobby, right?’
‘We still talking about Paul?’
Carrie laughed.
‘So, is it serious?’
‘Oh, Ryan. So if I said to you right now that I’ll ditch Paul and we can give it another try, what would you say?’
He knew where this was going. Like a trial lawyer, Carrie’s profession ensured that she rarely asked a question she didn’t know the answer to.
‘I’d say I have a little boy to find.’
‘And I love you for that, but it doesn’t get us anywhere, now does it?’
They lapsed into silence. Angel finished licking herself and made a move to snuffle Lock’s face. ‘It’s not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but you’re really not my type,’ Lock said to the dog, gently deflecting her head with one hand.
Carrie busied herself preparing some pasta and salad while Lock opened a bottle of red wine. She could, he thought, make even something as mundane as boiling water seem elegant. Everything she did was so precise, done with such attention to detail.
‘Oh, I almost forgot.’ She crossed to a stool, picked up her bag, pulled out a folder, handed it to Lock. ‘Everything you always wanted to know about Cody Parker but were afraid to ask.’
Carrie had accumulated not just the regular press clippings, she’d also gotten hold of arrest reports, court transcripts from Cody’s early transgressions of the law, and some classified profile and wire tap information from the JTTF.
‘How’d you get all this stuff?’
‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’
‘Long as I eat first,’ Lock said, settling down to speed-read through the mass of information.
Don must have been right about the influence of Cody’s mom on his beliefs because his criminal record started early. Fourteen in fact. But almost every offence was against property. He was prime suspect in the exhumation and dumping of Eleanor Van Straten, but even that, it could be argued, involved an inanimate object. The only thing that came even close was a bomb threat against a construction company building a new animal testing and research facility down by the former Brooklyn Naval Yard. The client was Meditech.
‘Who’d you get to do this piece of research?’ Lock slid the piece of paper across the marble towards Carrie.
‘That would have been me.’
‘Well, don’t go clearing any space for that Pulitzer on your shelves just yet.’
‘Oh, and why’s that?’
‘Because I know all of Meditech’s facilities. And I’ve never heard of one down at the naval yard.’
Carrie nibbled on a piece of radicchio. ‘I’ll double-check for you, if y’like.’
‘Probably someone else’s typo. Lot of these companies have similar names.’
‘So what do you say to Cody Parker taking Josh Hulme?’
Lock picked up the file. ‘Don’t see it from any of this. Y’know, he was dropping some hints that all roads lead back to Meditech.’
‘Of course they do. And 9/11 was organized by the CIA. And the Jewish-controlled media are in on the whole thing.’
‘He did say one thing that made me think though.’
Carrie crossed to the sink and began to rinse the rest of the radicchio under the cold tap. ‘And what was that?’
‘Did you hear about this contract that Meditech is going after with the Pentagon?’
Carrie shrugged, shaking the excess water off the lettuce and placing it in a bowl on the counter. ‘So what? The government’s been pumping billions into biotech companies ever since it realized the Department of Defense couldn’t keep up. You should know that. There’s been forty-four billion dollars handed out since 2001. Every pharma and biotech company’s fighting each other to get on the federal teat.’
‘Bio-terror is bullshit. Terrorists that are any good go low tech. Fertilizer. Boxcutters. Stuff that’s easy to acquire,’ Lock said, passing Carrie a glass of red.
‘What about someone slipping something into the water?’
‘It’s possible, I guess.’
He took a sip of wine.
‘Would you do some digging for me?’
‘Into this contract?’
‘And Richard Hulme. I still never got out of him why he resigned.’
Carrie grimaced. ‘Me either.’
Lock knew this was a rare admission. It wasn’t something that happened to her very often.
‘Can I give you some advice, Ryan?’
‘Sure.’
‘When I’m trying to break a story I always try to keep it simple. It’s easy to see things that aren’t there. Make connections that don’t exist.’
‘Like this contract with the Pentagon?’
‘Precisely. Think about it for a second. If anything, wouldn’t a contract like that make it less likely for Meditech to give up on animal testing, not more?’
‘That’s what Cody Parker said. But Meditech
‘No, they
Thirty-three
The Kensington Nanny and Au Pair occupied a small corner of the top floor of a five-storey walk-up within spitting distance of Alphabet City. Ty had tracked it down as the company Meditech had used to source childcare for its senior employees. ‘Had’ being the operative word. Several complaints that the people referred were wholly unsuitable to care for goldfish, never mind children, had led to it being dropped as an outside contractor.
On the fourth floor, Lock and Ty both had to stop to catch their breath.
‘Man, we are some unfit motherfuckers,’ Ty observed, gulping for air.
‘Hey, I just got out of hospital, what’s your excuse?’
‘Too much good living.’
