NH3

by Stanley Salmons

  “How did you come into contact with Vance?”

  “Yeah, Vance. I guess we’d been running for a couple of years by then. I was at a conference. As usual I was on the look-out for another investor. I met this big honcho, Warren Signett – CEO at Vance. I didn’t think he’d talk to me but we ended up having a coffee together. He struck me as the sort of guy who knew how to make decisions. When we finished he said he didn’t want to put money into the company but he might be interested in taking it over. You don’t know how happy I was to hear him say that. We were really stretched by then.”

  “So you struck a deal?”

  “Yeah. A cash payment for each of us, technically for the value of the company, even though it wasn’t worth zilch. They paid off our debts, too – that was the best part. It was a good deal for us, small change for an outfit that size.”

  “What was their interest – do you know?”

  “Seems they were expanding in the molecular genetics area. Zak had the right sort of qualifications to lead one of their teams so they took him onto their payroll too. We had a postdoc and a few research assistants but Vance wasn’t interested so we had to let them go.”

  “And did you stay in touch with Zak, I mean, Dr. Gould?”

  “No, I haven’t spoken to him since the company was broken up.”

  Milner raised his eyebrows.

  Hillman registered the look and added, “Zak was pissed off about the terms of the deal. He said I screwed him. I didn’t, of course. He ended up in a job and I didn’t, so I was entitled to a bigger pay-out. In any case I’d arranged all the financing, all the servicing of debts – it was a major headache, I can tell you. All he did was muck around in the lab, doing his thing.”

  “May I, Mr. Milner?”

  Milner looked round at Maggie and said, “Sure, go ahead,” but he looked wary.

  “I just wondered – did ‘doing his thing’ happen to include work on an ammonia producing organism?” she asked.

  She’d slipped the question in beautifully. Terry held his breath, waiting.

  Hillman frowned.

  “Oh, that. Yeah, it was one of his pet projects. Funnily enough Warren Signett was interested in it, too – in fact I’d say it swung the deal.”

  Somehow Maggie managed to maintain the casual tone.

  “Can you tell us anything about it?” she asked lightly.

  “Not much. It was a sideline of his; something about fertilizing the soil by fixing nitrogen from the air.”

  The answer dropped into the room like a grenade. For a moment or two no one spoke.

  Maggie’s eyes flicked to Terry. He understood. Nitrogen fixing. Of course.

  Maggie continued breathlessly, “you don’t know how he made it.”

  “Hell, no. I wouldn’t have understood even if he’d explained it to me. He hadn’t patented it or anything but Signett didn’t mind – he said they could always do that later. Say, why is everyone so interested in that project?”

  “No reason,” Maggie replied, with a small movement of her shoulders. “Just a personal thing.”

  Terry saw Milner give her an approving smile, which he extinguished before turning back to Hillman.

  “As far as you’re concerned, everything Vance did was above board?”

  “Oh, sure. They employ an army of lawyers. I couldn’t fault the paperwork.”

  “So you completed the deal, took the money and came to Boston?”

  “Yeah. I rent an office in town. I have contacts with a lot of high-tech companies around here and I do a bit of work for them. Free-lancing is okay but if the opportunity came along I wouldn’t mind starting up another company. I’ve got a lot more experience now. If I did it again I’d know what mistakes not to make.”

  “Well, I think that’s all we need right now,” Milner said, and placed his hands on the armrests of the chair as if he were about to get up. “Say, would you happen to have a current contact address or cell phone for Dr. Gould?”

  “I can give you the last contact details I had. I wouldn’t know if they’re current or not.”

  “That’d be just fine.”

  They waited. Hillman returned with a sheet of paper, on which he’d scribbled the address and number. Milner took it into his big hand. He gave it a glance and looked up.

  “Did Dr. Gould have any family?” he asked.

  Hillman shook his head. “Not that I know of. He never mentioned it.”

  “Friends?”

  “I doubt it. Zak was always too buried in his work to have a social life.”

  Milner nodded and smiled. “Well, thanks very much for your time, Mr. Hillman, you’ve been very helpful. We apologize again for the intrusion.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you out.”

  As they got to their feet Milner said, “by the way, there’s no need for this conversation to go any further than this room. We’re investigating unsubstantiated claims and Vance’s lawyers could get real sticky if they thought we were casting doubt on the company’s reputation. We wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

  “Hell no,” Hillman said.

  They filed out of the front door and again murmured their thanks. The cop gave Hillman a nod and followed them down the path.

  The sergeant shuffled himself behind the wheel and they set off on the return journey to police HQ. Milner, again sitting on the middle bench, turned round to Terry and Maggie.

  “That went well.” He drew out the sheet of paper that Hillman had given him, punched the number into his cell phone, listened for a moment, then clicked off. “Like I thought. No such number.”

  Terry leaned forward. “Are you saying Hillman pulled a fast one?”

  “Nah. It was four years ago. The guy has probably changed his phone provider and moved house a couple of times since then.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice so the two cops in the front couldn’t hear.

  “I’ll call Clive when we get back and tell him what went down with Hillman. I want him to move on Genon, that Vance production facility near Richmond. We need to know what happened there about two-and-a-half years ago. There should be an accident report. If there isn’t, I want to know why.”

  “We need to find this Zak Gould, too,” Terry said, also keeping his voice low.

  “That’s right,” Maggie added. “He’s the one who could tell us what went into that organism. That’s our top priority.”

  “Sure. We’ll track him down.”

  “But you said he’d probably moved.”

  “Yeah, I shouldn’t think he’s at the address Hillman gave us. The address we got from the Social Security database may not be up to date either. I figure the easiest route is to go straight to Vance Pharmaceuticals. We’ll take a cab there in the morning. No need to bother the local cops about it; they already know we’re operating in their territory.”

  “You don’t want to take one of them with, then?” Terry asked.

  “I could request it, but I won’t. These people are usually short-staffed – at least they say they are. It was handy to have them along for the Hillman interview but I’d sooner not have the uniforms around on this one. If we can set it up I want to get a look at this CEO.”

  “Warren Signett,” Terry supplied.

  “Yeah, Warren Signett.”

  CHAPTER 40

  The reception area at Vance Pharmaceuticals was plainly furnished and brightly lit. Apart from the reception desk itself there were two sofas, a modern painting and a couple of tall, potted plants, probably artificial. After registering their presence at the desk they went over to one of the sofas to wait. The floor was covered with some sort of plastic composite, and the acoustically tiled ceiling did little to deaden either the footsteps of people passing through or the voices of the security staff at the desk. Presently a frail looking woman in her forties appeared and came over to them.

  “Mr. Milner?” she said.

  Milner stood up.

  “I’m Rose Fitzgerald, Mr. Signett’s Personal Ass
istant,” she said. “Mr. Signett can see you now. I’ll take you up.”

  Seconds later they emerged from the elevator and followed the PA through a pair of swing doors into an open area. Terry glanced around. One wall was lined with filing cabinets. Opposite was a desk with a computer monitor and a small vase of flowers. Several chairs were lined up under the window. This evidently served as a waiting area as well as her office. The PA continued without a pause down a short corridor, knocked lightly on the first door, and showed them in.

  They entered a large, thickly carpeted office. A massive leather-topped desk and a well-stocked bookshelf were the sole indications that this was a place where business was conducted. Warren Signett stood in the middle of the room, his hands clasped casually in front of him. He was tall and slim, his lean features clean-shaven and unlined, his dark hair only beginning to be flecked with grey. He unclasped his hands to tug gently at a shirt cuff but there was no nervousness in the gesture. Rather he exuded the relaxed air of a man at the pinnacle of his career, a man of position and influence, a man in control of a vast business empire, who was prepared to set all that aside to grant a brief audience to unexpected callers.

  Milner shook hands and introduced Terry and Maggie as his associates. Signett inclined his head and gestured towards armchairs grouped around a low rosewood table.

  As Terry sat down his eyes were drawn to the adjacent picture window, which extended from floor to ceiling and afforded a panoramic, if not particularly scenic, sixth-floor view of the sprawling complex of buildings that was the headquarters of Vance Pharmaceuticals. He turned and saw both Maggie and Milner staring too, both as impressed as he was.

  Signett remained standing. He was clearly used to this reaction.

  “The company started on this site thirty years ago,” he said. “Research and Development, Production, Administration – everything was here. As business expanded, production was shifted elsewhere, mainly to our facilities overseas.”

  Terry thought he came close to making it sound unrehearsed, although he must have explained the vista below on countless occasions.

  “All of our research is still conducted here,” he continued. “The older buildings down there have been refurbished throughout to provide modern laboratory accommodation. There’s still a lot of pressure on space so we’ve added new research blocks. The ones you can see just below were completed last year. The administration has been gathered into this tower.”

  He took a seat and they returned their attention to the room. His PA was waiting expectantly.

  Signett said to the group, “Can I offer you anything? Coffee, tea...?”

  Milner said, “Nothing for me, thanks.” Terry and Maggie shook their heads.

  Signett said, “All right, thank you, Rose.”

  The PA nodded and withdrew. Signett gave his silk pocket handkerchief a light tweak and Terry noticed a thick gold ring on the little finger of his right hand. It was set with what looked like a jade stone, carved in some sort of design.

  “Now, gentlemen – sorry, lady and gentlemen – what can I do for you?”

  Milner responded.

  “First off, thanks for seeing us at short notice, Mr. Signett,” The drawl was back, and so was the bored expression. “We’re making a few inquiries about an employee of yours, a Dr. Zak Gould.”

  “Oh dear, has he done something wrong?”

  “We don’t exactly know until we talk to him.”

  “Ah. Well, Dr. Gould no longer works for us, Mr. Milner. Hasn’t done for a couple of years or so.”

  “I see. Was there some sort of problem?”

  “I barely recall. I seem to remember that we were very happy with his progress, then, without any warning, he failed to turn up for work. He didn’t offer his resignation.”

  “Would you happen to know where he is at this moment?”

  “No, but you could have a word with our Director of Human Resources, Cindy Westfield; she probably has the last address. I can have my PA take you down there. Anything else I can help you with?”

  “Dr. Gould came to you after the takeover of Biomolecular Technologies – is that right?”

  “Ah yes, that’s right. It was part of the arrangement we made with them. It was a good opportunity to strengthen our research team in that area.”

  “What about their product lines, did you take those on too?”

  “They had a couple of patents, which they transferred to us as part of the deal. But this was very much a blue skies outfit, Mr. Milner. You’ve clearly done your homework so you’ll know we didn’t pay much for them: just enough to clear their debts and give the principals a little pocket money. That was because there was so little immediate value in what they had. I must confess, though, that I was impressed with Dr. Gould. I thought that in our more enabling environment he would come up with some interesting lines. Unfortunately, as I’ve indicated, he turned out to be somewhat unreliable.”

  “That kind of leaves me wondering why you bothered to take over the company, sir. I mean, if you wanted a guy like Dr. Gould for your staff you could have headhunted him; you didn’t have to take all the company baggage as well. To someone like me it seems you didn’t get a whole lot for your money.”

  “Well at the time there was another line they had that did interest me. They hadn’t patented it yet. It had to do with nitrogen fixation. But after due consideration we decided not to pursue it. We couldn’t really justify the effort and it wasn’t a good fit with our existing range of products.”

  “I see. Could I ask you about Genon?”

  “Our facility in Virginia? Yes, what about it?”

  “Can you tell me what you make there?”

  “Certainly. It’s producing human insulin, by a genetic engineering route. That came out of our takeover of AB Genetics, a much more substantial acquisition, and a potentially very profitable one. The insulin it produces is not animal-derived and it can be taken by mouth instead of by injection. I think you can envisage the size of the potential market. We’re already breaking even on that one.”

  “Anything else being produced down there?”

  “No. We’re devoting the entire capacity to producing insulin.”

  “Okay. Well, thanks again, Mr. Signett. Perhaps we could talk to your Human Resources person now?”

  “Certainly. I’ll ask Rose to take you down there right away.”

  As they reached the door, Signett added:

  “Oh, Mr. Milner, if you should discover Dr. Gould’s whereabouts, we’d be grateful if you could let us know. There may have been some procedures that were never gone through when he left his employment. We like to do things by the book.”

  “You and me both, Mr. Signett. You and me both.”

  Cindy Westfield stood up behind her desk. She was a big woman with dyed blond hair. Her white shirt was heavily full, and the small indentation managed by the waistband of her navy trousers served mainly to emphasize the swell of her hips below it. Her broad, smooth features collected into an attentive expression as Milner told her who he was and what he wanted.

  “Dr. Gould? Oh, I remember that one all right – must have been two years ago, maybe a little more. He stopped coming in, just like that. We thought maybe he was ill so we tried to reach him but we couldn’t. He didn’t respond to email or snail mail and the number for his cell phone didn’t work. In the end he was in breach of contract so we had to take him off the payroll. I don’t know if he ever got another job; after the way he left, no one here would have given him a good reference.” She sniffed. “Pity, really – I gather he was a smart guy.”

  “I’d sure like to have some more background on him,” Milner persisted. “His CV, last address, that sort of thing.”

  “I can give you a copy of the details we kept on file – for what that’s worth.”

  “Thank you.”

  She pressed a buzzer. “Belinda, could you print out a copy of Dr. Zak Gould’s employment file and bring it in here for me? It’ll be un
der past employees. Yeah, you might as well print the lot, there won’t be much. Thanks.”

  As they waited, Milner said:

  “Can I ask you, ma’am, does it bother you that the paperwork on him is incomplete?”

  “Not really. It’s more his problem than ours.”

  “Did anyone think of notifying the police – you know, asking them to treat it as a missing person inquiry?”

  “Well, no. Goodness me, do you think something could have happened to him? Gee, I hope not.”

  “You didn’t contact the police, then, or send someone round to his home?”

  “Oh, no, nothing like that. You know, we have to draw a line when it comes to interfering in people’s private lives. He may have had some personal reason for leaving. We’d have tried to help, but only if he asked us. If he didn’t, we wouldn’t push it.”

  Terry bent forward and said quietly to Milner, “Sam, could I have a word?”

  “Sure. Please excuse us a moment, Ms. Westfield.”

  Maggie remained seated as Terry went over to the corner of the room with Milner. There was a rapid exchange, then they returned.

  “What we’re wondering, Ms. Westfield, is if you could let us have a list of staff who’ve left the company in the last four years.”

  Cindy Westfield pursed scarlet lips. “Four years is a long time, Mr. Milner. Our staff turnover’s probably less than the industry average, but this is a large organization. That could amount to a whole lot of people.”

  “I’m not talking about the shop floor; I’m talking about people of Dr. Gould’s status in the company and above.”

  “All right, that’s better. I can do a cut-off by salary. Do you just want a list, or do you want more than that?”

  The question was directed at Terry. He replied:

  “Just the minimum: name, contact details, position in the company, and date of departure.”

  A flicker of curiosity crossed her face, and Terry saw that she’d picked up on his English accent. For a moment he thought she was going to say something but instead she gave him a quick, nervous smile and started to tap at the keyboard on the desk. Soon they heard a whirring, and a series of sheets spewed from a printer on a side table.