Lab Notes: a novel

by Nelson, Gerrie

  “Father.”

  Carlos flinched. He had not heard that word from Gabriel’s lips in decades. Gabriel saw the effect it had. He continued.

  “Your Carabina days were over years ago. I have inherited your accuracy and your speed with the pistol, you know that.”

  Carlos raised tormented eyes to his son. “It is too late. It has been done. If I do not honor the pledge I have made, they will kill us both. Another, then another will take up the sword until it is accomplished. If you are the victor, your only recourse will be to leave the country, find a place where you can hide from them—if such a place exists.”

  Gabriel shook his head slowly. “There will be no winner here.” He stood up to leave. “I need two days to put some matters in order.”

  μ CHAPTER FORTY TWO μ

  It rained off and on the next morning; the darkened sky shrouded the earth in a perpetual dusk. Between downpours, Diane donned her wind-breaker and walked Huck. She greeted the neighbors and inhaled the mingled scents of wet gumbo soil, brackish lake water and pine, triggering an unexpected feeling of impending loss.

  To Huck’s delight, she walked the entire lake road, avoiding the house and her “To Do” list for as long as possible. But no matter how far she roamed, she couldn’t dodge the awareness of Gabriel’s message locked in her computer’s memory. The unopened email pulsed unrelentingly in the back of her brain.

  Returning to the house, she picked up a phone message from Olimpia who was ecstatic that she was okay. She said all was well with her, and she’d call back later that day.

  Even with her profound relief that Olimpia was safe, Diane’s mood matched the gloom outside. It was hard to concentrate on the matters at hand—like arranging for the packers and the sale of the house and her car.

  But once the phone calls were made, she felt the weight of her possessions falling away, allowing her to focus forward. Tomorrow, she’d clean out her office at BRI. Then there would be only Huck and the Suburban, and the trip back to the Northeast.

  David showed up in late morning with a bag of warm kolaches, one of Diane’s addictions since moving south. She made coffee.

  They sat at the kitchen counter with the rain drumming on the back deck. Diane told David about an email she had opened from Tung Chen the night before. In doing a new search for Peruvase using the name TekTranz in the parameters, Tung’s people had found Vincent’s drug. It was bought by a Taiwanese pharmaceutical company with a large U.S. affiliate. The drug had been shelved. Tung was going to do a closer investigation.

  Diane moved on, telling him about her trip to the Caribbean.

  David listened with furrowed brow. Then she told him she was leaving Texas. He began to object. But then he thought better of it. “I’d just be whistlin’ past the graveyard if I said things would turn out alright here,” he said. Somberly, he offered to help expedite her departure.

  On his way out, David suggested that she call Sara Solomon. “There have been some developments,” he said.

  Diane saw David off, agreeing to meet him at BRI the next day, Sunday.

  She returned to the kitchen, unplugged her cell phone from its charger and tapped in Sara Solomon’s number.

  Sara answered on the first ring. “Hey, Diane. Good to have you back. How was your trip?

  Diane gave her the condensed version she had given David, again leaving out any mention of the Knights of New Granada, the Kogi and her dalliance in the storm with Gabriel.

  Sara was amazed by Diane’s assertion that Gabriel Carrera had been responsible for Vincent’s death. She said that she was at a loss to pinpoint a motive. She offered her condolences to Diane then moved on to the business at hand.

  “A lot’s been happening here. The authorities are holding Leonard Everly for questioning in connection with the murder of Dr. Harry Lee. We’ve been unable to find Everly’s passport, but we’ve checked with the immigration authorities and they confirmed that he entered Hong Kong the day that Harry Lee was killed and left the next morning.”

  Sara went on to report that the dog hairs found on Harry Lee’s jacket matched the ones from Diane’s lint brush.

  In the phone call Diane had made to Sara from Olimpia’s house in Aruba, she recounted her conversation with Maxine about Everly’s presence in Asia at the time Dr. Lee was killed. Also, she had told her about the lint brush in a plastic bag hidden inside the piano. The brush contained the hairs from Everly’s dog, Hunter. Remembering the newspaper report of dog hairs on Harry Lee’s body, she had carefully brushed them from her slacks after returning from his ranch.

  Now, she listened in numbed silence while the CIA agent went on.

  Sara related that she had come to the treehouse and taken the brush as per Diane’s suggestion, but also she had snapped some photos of the writing on the cupola wallpaper. “The code-breakers wanted to know the exact placement of the numbers in relationship to each other,” she said.

  It turned out that some of the numbers were GPS coordinates for offshore banks in Bermuda and Singapore. And two groupings were numbers for bank accounts belonging to Raymond Bellfort and Leonard Everly.

  The rest of them were telescope settings, mostly for star gazing. But some were compass headings; one of them pointed from the treehouse to Raymond Bellfort’s lakeside home. Harry Lee was spying on Raymond Bellfort.

  Sara said, “He had apparently hacked into BRI’s computers and/or Bellfort’s home computer to get the banking information.”

  She added, “He was one smart fella, and clever too. He knew the next occupant in the treehouse would be a scientist—someone who wouldn’t rest until he or she solved the puzzle of the handwriting on the wall.”

  Sara theorized that Harry Lee’s project at BRI was not quite finished when, through his spying, he discovered Bellfort was going to sell it out from under him. So he planned to move on and take his technology with him. But he wanted the next treehouse resident to find his evidence, build on it, then expose whatever Bellfort and Everly were up to.

  Sara went on: “We did a retrograde search to find out who had been wire transferring large amounts of cash into those accounts. Bellfort and Everly frequently received identical deposits on the same dates.”

  Diane knew she shouldn’t have been surprised when Sara informed her that the depositor was TekTranz out of Germany. But somehow that bit of information sent her into emotional overload. She sank onto a kitchen stool, leaned on the bar and propped her head in her hand.

  She was now certain that Vincent’s death was linked to all of it, even though there was still a disconnect between Harry Lee’s death, Everly and Bellfort embezzling from BRI and Gabriel murdering Vincent. She wouldn’t rest until the motives were clear and everyone responsible had been exposed.

  Diane forced her focus back to the telephone and Sara’s voice.

  “Leonard Everly denied ever meeting Dr. Harry Lee when he was in Asia. But then we hit him with proof of the matching dog hairs—we neglected to tell him that the hairs were tangled in the Velcro in Dr. Lee’s jacket, along with some sweater fibers.

  “In light of the evidence, of course Everly changed his story. He said that Harry Lee was peddling his technology in Hong Kong and had contacted him. He said that he and Dr. Harry Lee had never met before, but Harry had heard some good things about his marketing abilities at BRI. He told us that Dr. Lee was adamant that Raymond Bellfort was not to know of their meeting. Everly agreed to keep it confidential and flew over to Hong Kong to see him after completing his BRI business in Taipei.

  “Everly said he met Dr. Lee at a wine bar in the SOHO district of Hong Kong. He insisted that shaking Dr. Lee’s hand and sliding onto a barstool beside him explains the dog hairs on Harry Lee’s jacket.

  “He said that over a couple glasses of wine they discussed the possibility of finding a buyer for Harry’s technology and what his commission would be. But no deal had been struck yet.

  “According to Leonard Everly, at 7 p.m. Harry Lee said he had to leave
for a dinner engagement. He gave Everly his business card and they parted amicably outside the bar. That was the night Dr. Lee was killed.”

  “By the way,” Sara added, “Leonard Everly’s arrest has been kept under wraps while the various authorities investigate further. They’re trying to connect the dots between Everly’s probable embezzlement from BRI and Harry Lee’s murder.

  Sara added, “Considering the technology involved, we suspect this goes way beyond one man’s greed. So keep it to yourself. David Crowley’s group knows, of course. But the authorities want to question Bellfort before Everly’s arrest becomes common knowledge.

  “Speaking of your illustrious boss, he’s been gone quite awhile. It makes me wonder whether he’s vacationing or hiding out.”

  Outside the treehouse, the rain came down in torrents. A rental SUV cruised by, barely making a splash. The driver stopped near the boat ramp, backed into a parking space and cut the engine. Then he lit up a cigarette and watched.

  μ CHAPTER FORTY THREE μ

  “It all began along the Silk Road, which I’m sure you know was the ancient trade route between China and the Mediterranean. Travelers and merchants needed rest stops, so tea houses began springing up. Over several centuries, various snacks were added to teahouse fare, giving birth to the tradition of dim sum.”

  At that moment a waiter wheeled a cart of bamboo steamers up to the table, interrupting Mr. Lee’s discourse.

  While Hu Lee discussed the selections with the waiter, Diane sipped her green tea and scrutinized the man who had taken a one-hour flight from Dallas to see her. He had phoned last evening and they agreed to have brunch. Dim sum had been his preference.

  He landed at Hobby Airport at 10:30 in the rain. She picked him up and drove to the restaurant on Houston’s Southwest side.

  Hu Lee was a handsome man, probably in his middle fifties. He had grown up in Hong Kong, but was schooled in the U.K. His accent was a cultured blend of Chinese and British.

  His khaki slacks, boating shoes and rolled shirtsleeves signaled he was not always the buttoned down banker his voice suggested over the telephone. Also, there was that lock of black hair that dangled rakishly over his forehead; he obviously didn’t feel compelled to smooth it back.

  Finally, the waiter and his cart rattled toward the next table. Hu Lee picked up his chopsticks. “Allow me,” he said.

  He served an assortment of dumplings, steamed buns and deep-fried spring rolls from the lazy susan in the center of the table onto Diane’s plate.

  The restaurant was packed with parties of six or eight people around each table. The atmosphere was a potpourri of smells and sounds. Patrons shouted orders, trays clattered and dishes clinked in celebration of Sunday brunch.

  Diane and Mr. Lee had a round table for six to themselves. They sat in chairs next to each other in order to carry on a conversation. So far they had only discussed the weather, Tung Chen and his father and dim sum.

  Each time Diane turned his way to make a comment, she saw Hu Lee’s eyes assessing her. It was not the look of a man who was checking out a woman, appreciating her assets, noting her flaws. It was more of an intense animal watchfulness—almost as if he was gauging whether or not he could trust her with his life.

  Originally, she had asked Tung Chen and his father to intercede with Mr. Lee on her behalf, hoping that Harry Lee had given his uncle information about BRI that might inform her Peruvase search. But now it was obvious Hu Lee had his own agenda.

  She wanted to shout out: “What’s this about? Surely they have dim sum restaurants in Dallas—or for that matter, in Hong Kong. What are you doing here?” But she continued quietly wrestling with her chop sticks, biding her time.

  Finally he said: “Do you know anyone named Leo?”

  “No… Why?”

  Mr. Lee laid his chop sticks across his plate, placed his napkin on the table and turned to her. And under cover of the dim sum commotion, he told her the story he had been too frightened to tell the Hong Kong authorities or the CIA.

  Hu Lee’s nephew Harry, upon hearing rumors in the science community about technologies that came out of BRI and disappeared, began spying on Raymond Bellfort. He hacked into Bellfort’s computers and even watched his house through his telescope.

  Harry Lee was deaf as a child, but had corrective surgery in his teens. In the intervening years, he had developed an exceptional ability to read lips.

  While working at Bayside Research, he would spend entire evenings watching through his telescope when Bellfort entertained people on his patio. That’s where he saw the man that Bellfort called “Leo.”

  Leo and Bellfort were planning to sell off Harry’s technology before it was completed, then fire him. They talked about it sparking a lot of interest in the Middle East—the potential buyers did not want to see such a powerful biometric device used internationally.

  At that point in Hu Lee’s story, Diane interrupted. “I’m so sorry, but drinking all this tea… I have to run to the lady’s room.”

  Hu Lee was a gentleman. He jumped up and helped pull back her chair. “Of course, of course,” he said.

  After locking herself in a bathroom stall, Diane took deep breaths and ran her fingers through her hair. Why was Hu Lee sharing this information with her? She pondered what to do.

  Mr. Lee’s second mention of “Leo” had conjured up the image of wooden cross boards identifying Dr. Leo’s Serengeti Ranch. Leonard Everly was Leo.

  Everly, most likely under an assumed name, had connected with Harry Lee online, found a Middle Eastern buyer for his technology, then traveled to Hong Kong. He intended to bilk Raymond Bellfort and BRI out of their share in the technology that Bayside Research had funded—once a cheat, always a cheat.

  But Harry Lee had recognized Everly, and Everly knew it. Poor Harry. His lip-reading ability had cost him his life.

  However, Diane was not free to discuss Everly with Hu Lee. For the time being, she was sworn to secrecy with both the “Lab Rats” and the CIA.

  Back at the table, with a fresh pot of green tea and mango tarts in front of them, Hu Lee continued his narrative:

  Unbeknownst to Raymond Bellfort, Harry Lee, on his own time, had been developing an improved, slightly different biometric device, more compact, more user-friendly. But when he left BRI, he also took the old technology with him. He wanted to deny Bellfort the ability to profit from his life’s work by peddling it to terrorists who would destroy it.

  Harry looked for funding online. He drew some interest, and chose to work with a company out of California named “Ridge Laboratory.” Ridge differed from the rest in that they expressed an interest in Harry’s abilities, as well as his technology.

  Most of the preliminaries were done over the telephone or online. Then they sent a representative to Hong Kong to meet with Harry.

  After Harry’s murder, Hu Lee’s investigation uncovered the fact that the research company, “Ridge Laboratory,” was nonexistent.

  Hu Lee looked down at the table; his voice became husky. “Harry spent his last day with my wife and me. We drank tea and watched the sunset from the living room. Then, at eight o’clock, I drove him to The Peak to meet his killer.”

  He turned back to Diane and watched her closely as he spoke. “The technology that Harry took with him that day was the old device—the one he knew could not be completed without his input. He was giving it to them as a trial to test their trustworthiness.

  “I have the new technology in a safe place, waiting for the proper venue to build it. But there are evil people out there who won’t want to see it come to fruition. Its development will be a very dangerous undertaking.”

  μ CHAPTER FORTY FOUR μ

  Diane sat in her BRI office downloading files onto her computer from the server. She’d finish this last task, then end her relationship with Bayside Research Inc.

  Huck, acting as a foot warmer, lay curled under her desk. It seemed he needed physical contact with her almost constantly since her ret
urn from South America.

  She glanced at her watch; it was 7 p.m. Her monitor told her she had fourteen minutes until the download was complete. David should be there in another half hour to help carry her things to the car. Then he was taking her out to dinner.

  She tapped her pen impatiently on her desktop. Huck raised his head and growled. She reassured him: “It’s only me. See.” She tapped her pen again as proof. But Huck crawled out from under the desk and went on point, his nose aimed toward the door.

  She reached over and patted him. “That’s why the office door is closed. You’d be chasing every creak and groan this old building makes.” Huck sat down beside her, but kept a wary eye on the exit.

  Diane turned and looked out the window at the darkened bay. She watched the blinking light on the channel’s farewell buoy and felt saddened.

  Huck growled again. She felt for a velvety ear and scratched behind it. “We’ll be finished here soon.”

  Just then her computer beeped. She looked up and saw Access to Source Document Terminated written across the screen.

  “Rats!” It appeared the server was down—again. It was too late in the evening to call the IT service. Maybe it was something she could handle on her own. Once before, she had watched the IT technician simply press a reset button.

  She stood up to go to the electronics room. But Huck jumped ahead of her. Growling, he lunged at her office door. “What’s wrong with you, boy?”

  Reaching for the doorknob, Diane said firmly, “Stay.” She had to go through the lab to get to the electronics room, and neither area needed a sprinkling of dog hairs.

  Backing up, Huck whined his displeasure as Diane closed him in her office.

  Walking through the reception area and across the hall, she wondered why she should give a damn if Huck shed hairs all over BRI’s labs and their electronics; after tonight, she’d be outta there.

  Diane entered the main door of the lab into the bench area and found all the lights ablaze. She had been in the lab two hours earlier and distinctly remembered turning off the lights when she left. The cleaning people must have been there in the meantime; she had seen their van when she arrived.