It probably had a lot to do with his appearance. He was huge—close to six-feet-five and probably two hundred fifty pounds, none of it fat. He had thick black hair with just a touch of premature gray, and the cold blue eyes of a German sniper. His fists, when clenched, looked like bowling balls. When he glared at someone, they just about fell over themselves giving him whatever he wanted.
He was smart, too. Worse, he was tenacious—Dr. Jekell's personal pit bull. Once he got his teeth into something, he didn't let go until he was satisfied. Renee thought he was a snake, but she had never denied he had a kind of savage attraction.
It was ironic—she'd been reticent about hiring a convicted felon, and now she was the thief, while Peter was the employee of the month.
Knowing Jekell had set Peter on her was upsetting. Knowing Random and Eric were coordinating her capture was terrifying. It really couldn't—
Oh, now, what was this? Random and Eric were having a shoving match—right on Seventh Street! Probably arguing over how best to gift wrap her for Dr. Jekell. And there—yup, Eric threw the first punch, a nice roundhouse, one that probably made the air whistle.
She stared, mouth ajar, as the tussling match became a knockdown, drag-out fight, the kind she usually only saw in bars or at family reunions. The movies made fistfights seem normal, even glamorous. The reality was quite different—it was no joke when the fighters were two men in their prime. People got killed that way.
Shoppers were stopping to rubberneck, but no one was interfering. Wise, because in real life, the person trying to break up the fight usually went straight to the ER.
Random took the punch, staggered back, then recovered with frightening speed and followed up with a knee into Eric's groin.
Eric blocked the strike with his thigh and punched Random in the face again. In another moment, they were rolling all over the sidewalk, fists and feet flailing.
Renee wasn't sure if she should cheer or go down and break it up before somebody fractured his thick, stupid skull. On the one hand, she loved seeing Eric get smacked around. On the other hand, she hated seeing Eric get smacked around.
No. She'd made enough mistakes today to last a lifetime. Eric was on his own—and if he lost, she wouldn't shed a tear.
The time for gawking out the window had passed. Time to get back to it.
She took the stairs swiftly to the first floor, cornered the first librarian she spotted, and said, "I'm a junkie; I need my fix."
The librarian, a tall, balding man with wispy sand-colored hair, smiled down at her, and his eyes crinkled in a friendly way. "I have that problem myself," he said pleasantly. "Third floor, near the bank of windows on the east side of the building."
A few minutes later, she was logging onto one of the public computers and downloading her e-mail from home. She skipped past the spam—Refinance your home at zero percent!—and the porn—Jenna wants to suck you dry, big boy!—and slowed to read the ones from work. Maybe someone had some information, some clue, that she could—
Oh. Oh, no.
From: Anodyne IT Services ([email protected]) To: Renee "Loser" Jardin ([email protected])
Date: Wednesday, October 15, 2004
Re: Klepto bitch
Why don't you just give it back, you klepto bitch? It's not yours anyway.
From: Anonymous
To: Renee Jardin
Sent: Wednesday, October 15, 2004
Subject: Just die already
You've got a lot of nerve and if you ask me you should never even show your face around here again unless it's to apologize and beg forgiveness. You don't care about anyone but yourself.
From: Anonymous
To: Renee Jardin
Sent: Thursday, October 16, 2004
Subject: Thanks for nothing
Well, great, I was ready to cash in my options but I guess that won't happen now because YOU'RE A FUCKING THIEF AND I HOPE YOU DROP DEAD.
Renee chewed her lower lip and ignored the impulse to write back and explain to all her detractors. For one thing, there wasn't time. For another, how could she explain when she wasn't sure what had happened herself?
She skimmed past more distressing subject lines—Choke and die, You're a jerk, The entire IT department hates you, We called the IRS and hope you get audited forever—absently wondering which one of her so-helpful coworkers had given out her home e-mail address. Human Resources, probably. She'd never known a sneakier bunch… they were more rapacious than lionesses.
From: Jennifer Hildebrandt, FDA
To: Renee Jardin
Sent: Friday, October 17, 2004
Subject: Let us help
Ms. Jardin, you don't know me. I work for the Food and Drug Administration, and we know you're having a rough week. We would really, really like to meet with you whenever it's convenient. Our discretion will be complete, I assure you. Please call me at 612-302-9313, 24/7.
Sincerely,
Jennifer Hildebrandt, New Products
Renee stared at the screen. "Good heavens," she practically screamed, "it's the FDA!" As if the security team, Peter Random, the Jackal, and the NSA weren't bad enough!
She knew what that was about, oh yes. They didn't have PaceIC and would love to get it. The question was, what was she going to do about it?
* * *
Chapter Seven
« ^ »
The Minneapolis branch of the Food and Drug Administration was, perhaps ironically, located in what used to be a Dairy Queen Brazier just off Lake Street. As soon as she walked through the front door, Renee had to fight the urge to order a Peanut Buster Parfait.
"I'd like to talk to Jennifer Hildebrandt," she told the receptionist, who was sitting at a desk behind the red counter. "And a large chocolate-dipped cone."
The receptionist, who had the cheekbones of an Egyptian queen and looked about a minute past twenty, rolled her eyes. "Thanks. Because I never, ever hear that."
"Sorry. You have to admit, this is kind of a strange place to have an office."
"I admit nothing. Also, we're moving to our new digs next month. D'you have an appointment?"
"No, but she said she'd see me whenever I wanted."
"All right, then." She picked up her receiver, punched a button, and waited a moment Renee tensed, imagining a team of FDA goons bursting through the drive-thru window and tossing her to the floor. The only thing that happened was that the freezer turned itself off with an audible click.
"Jenn, there's a lady out here to see you." She looked up at Renee and mouthed, "Name?"
"Tell her I'm a lost lamb from Anodyne."
"She says she's a lost lamb from Anodyne… uh-huh… yeah… no, this isn't one of my stupid jokes. Well, that's what she said. Hello? Jenn?" She hung up and gave Renee a great big fake smile. "She'll be right out."
The way my week's been going, she'll be carrying handcuffs.
Renee wandered over to the empty freezer and tried to ignore her growling stomach. She hadn't eaten since—when? She had to think about it a moment Room service in Eric's hotel room. And before that, lunch in the restaurant with the treacherous bum.
Oh, but it hurt to think about that. It hurt more than she would have thought possible. She'd never dreamed a person in good health could be in so much pain.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself. You'll get through this. Eventually.
Yes. Good advice. Great advice, actually, and she meant to take it at once. Enough with the moping. Time to take charge of her life again! Time to—
"Excuse me? Miss?"
She flinched and looked around. "Sorry. You're going to have to speak up if you want to be heard over the voice in my head."
"Good to know," the woman said dryly. She extended a hand. "Jennifer Hildebrandt. And I'm hoping very much that you're Renee Jardin."
"I am. It's nice to meet you."
Hildebrandt was a surprise. Renee had expected a fussy bureaucrat dressed in beetle browns. Big clunky glasses, maybe, and lots of tweed. Hair skinned back i
n a bun. No makeup, of course.
Instead, Jennifer Hildebrandt looked like an escaped beauty queen. Her hair was long, past her shoulders, and flawlessly blond—the color of a daisy's center. Her skin was so fair it was nearly alabaster, and her coloring was so true to her hair that Renee knew at once that amazing shade of blond was real. Her eyes were large, expertly made up, and as blue as the sky on a cloudless summer day. Her lips were thin, but they were expertly lined and filled in with a true red that made her skin look paler, and her eyes bluer. She was dressed in blue jeans and a sweater the exact shade of her eyes. Sockless, her white sandals showed off a perfect pedicure.
Thank God I took a shower today, or I just couldn't face this woman. As it is, I feel like Frumpzilla.
"Shall we head back to my office?"
"Uh, sure." Renee couldn't help it; she snapped a look over her shoulder as they went.
"It's all right," Jennifer said, reading her mind. "I didn't tell anyone I wrote you. And since you didn't tell me you were coming…"
"People really are out to get me, you know. I'm not paranoid." Just hearing that thought aloud made her giggle. Who was it who said paranoia was perfect awareness? She'd have to look that one up.
Jennifer smiled. "No, you're not paranoid. You'd be surprised at the stories I've heard. And, frankly, I'm dying to hear yours."
"Yeah, it's a real weird tale, all right" She followed Jennifer to a windowless office in the back, and took the proffered seat. "But before I spill my guts—again—maybe you could start with how you knew to even write me."
Jennifer sat behind her desk. "Good enough. Are you familiar with the Food and Drug Administration Modernization Act?"
"Uh, no, I can't say that I am."
"Let's start with that, then."
Oh, goody. A lecture on federal legislation. Renee resisted the impulse to catch up on her sleep as Jennifer began to drone.
"A couple of years ago, Congress amended the original Act, which related to the regulation of food, drugs, bioproducts—things like that, because they knew we'd be facing a whole new ball-game in the twenty-first century. You've probably heard that ninety percent of all major innovations were thought up in the latter half of the twentieth century, right?"
Renee hadn't, but nodded anyway and fought a yawn to a standstill.
"Well, it's true."
"Super."
"If anything, that's understating it a bit."
"Of course."
"And this century is going to be even more amazing than the last, "Jennifer went on with scary enthusiasm. "Congress knew, and prepared us for it as best they could."
"That's just fascinating. Really. But, um, what does this have to do with Anodyne?"
Jennifer smiled a gorgeous if-I-become-Miss-America-I-will-fight-hunger smile. "Bear with me. Basically, the new act means the FDA can be a little more proactive. Rather than waiting for a company to come to us—"
"You can snoop."
"A little. Which brings us to you. And PaceIC."
"But how did you guys even find out about it?"
"By law, Anodyne is required to list PaceIC with us before they begin manufacturing. So we knew about it and, as you can imagine, we were very excited to begin the process of getting it regulated and into the marketplace. Can you imagine the possibilities?"
"Yeah, we all—I mean, everyone at Anodyne was pretty excited when Dr. Foster said she was just about finished."
"Right Just about finished. Then suddenly PaceIC disappeared. Nobody was talking about it, and the paperwork was formally withdrawn from our offices in Maryland. When I followed up, Dr. Jekell claimed they'd run into operational delays and it would be years before PaceIC was ready."
"But that's not—OK, well, I know that's bullshit, because I work there, but how did you know it was bullshit?"
The smile dropped off her face and she leaned forward. "I went to school with Thea Foster. She was the only fourteen-year-old in my college sophomore advanced chem class. I also knew about her folks. If she was working on it, I knew the problem wasn't one of design or manufacture. There's just no way. Which meant big trouble for somebody, but I didn't know who. Basically—"
"You smelled a rat."
"Exactly."
"OK, I get all that." Renee shifted her weight and crossed her legs. Damn chairs, they were about as comfortable as sitting in a plastic taco. "But look, I'm still playing catch-up, here. How did you know I had PaceIC? Shoot, I didn't even know right away."
"I'm sorry, that's confidential."
I went to school with Thea Foster.
I'm sorry, that's confidential.
Renee blinked slowly. "Right. Got it. OK. Now what?"
"Now," Eric said from the doorway, "we take this young lady's recommendation on where to bring PaceIC. And then we do it."
* * *
Chapter Eight
« ^ »
Thank God! Renee was there, and she was all right! She looked surprised as hell, with her big eyes all wide and pretty, and her big mouth hanging open, but that was all right, he'd explain about the misunderstanding, and she'd understand and forgive—
A walloping pain exploded in his nose and radiated up his face. The room faded away from him in slow, loopy waves as everything went dark. He knew the floor was tile, but hitting it was like falling back onto plush feather pillows.
When he came to, it was to find Renee crouching beside him, pressing a wad of tissues to his gushing nose.
"Wha?" he managed. His head pounded in perfect time with his heartbeat. "Wha?"
"She threw the General Enforcement Regulations manual at you," Hildebrandt said helpfully. She was holding a book the size of a bagel toaster.
There was a dark splotch on the binding. "I'm pretty sure she broke your nose. I'll have Tina call an ambulance."
"Doh! Do'd call dee amboolance. Redee, led be eggzzblain…"
"Shut up," she said tightly, pressing harder. "After I get the bleeding stopped, I'm going to kick the shit out of you."
She leaned back to grab fresh Kleenex, and he locked his hands around her wrists. Startled, she looked down at him. Her lips were pressed so tightly together, they were white.
"I'b dot worging with Beter Randob. I bean, I was, bud lader I was jusd drying do keeb hib off you."
"What?"
"'I'm not working with Peter Random,'" Hildebrandt translated. "'I mean, I was, but later I was just trying to keep him off you.'"
"Do you mind?" Renee snapped.
"It is my office," Hildebrandt replied mildly. "And this is pretty interesting. You think this sort of thing happens every day at the FDA?"
Eric shook her wrists to get her attention again. "Redee, I swear. I'd dever, dever hurt you lige thad. I'd gill byselve first."
Renee glanced helplessly at Hildebrandt, who said, " 'Renee, I swear. I'd never, never hurt you like that. I'd kill myself first.'" She cleared her throat. "Um. I think I'll steb—er, step—out a moment." She stepped over him and abruptly shut the door, giving them a modicum of privacy.
"You deserved that book to the schnozz." Renee wrenched her wrists free, grabbed more tissues, and pressed them against his nose and mouth. "You're lucky I didn't fracture your damned skull. The only reason I'm even taking care of you is because I don't want you to sue me for assault." Her mouth turned down bitterly. "Or turn me over to one of your cop buddies. Or Dr. Jekell."
"Never," he said. He felt his nose tentatively. The bleeding had stopped. He grabbed the sodden Kleenex and tossed them toward Hildebrandt's wastebasket. "Oh, never, Renee."
"Shut up. I've got to get your nosebleed stopped."
"It's stopped. Also, I'm in love with you."
Now her lips were trembling. Funny how it tweaked his heart to see her grim expression falter. Her great dark eyes brimmed with tears as she said, perfectly calmly, "What a liar you are."
"Not about this. I should have told you the truth, but I was afraid you'd run again."
"You didn't tell me, an
d I ran. Again." One lone tear spilled down her cheek, and then her gaze hardened. "And why are we having a conversation? I'm not speaking to you."
He grinned, even though it hurt a little. He could feel the tissues around his nose and mouth beginning to swell. "Could have fooled me." He reached up and thumbed her tear away. "Don't cry, babe. I can handle anything but that. Even the way you suck at not speaking to me."
Renee looked around for another book, but before she could get up, he pulled her down and kissed her. It hurt, but he didn't give a damn.
She wrenched away, but he saw with satisfaction that her eyes were bright and she was panting a little. "Quit that."
"I decline."
"There's plenty more bones I can break."
"Worth it."
"You crumb." She put a hand over her eyes for a moment and he heard her take a deep breath. "How could you do that?"
"I didn't do anything," he said patiently. "I had plenty of opportunities to turn you over to Random, and I didn't take them."
"Liar."
"No, and I can prove it" He slowly got to his feet. The room tilted to the left, tilted to the right, and then steadied. His stomach heaved, then settled. "Do you see Peter Random anywhere?"
She stared up at him. "Well… why didn't you? Turn me in, I mean."
"Partly because I felt sorry for you. But mostly because you're a helluva kisser. I unofficially resigned the moment you sexually assaulted me in the elevator. I just hadn't gotten around to telling Anodyne yet."
"Then that fight I saw…" His heart lifted as she giggled. "That was you and Peter fighting over—"
"Let's just say Random didn't accept my resignation." Remembering the street-side tussle, he grimaced. "Guy's got a punch like a bulldozer."
"Poor baby."
"And he fights dirty, too! Backed me right in the—never mind. Suffice it to say I nearly lost my lunch right there in the street in front of all those people."
"Awwwww."
"Look." He showed her his knuckles, which had been scraped raw. "Random kept hitting me over and over with his face."
MaryJanice Davidson - UC Anthology - Sweet Strangers Page 4