“It was an easy mistake; his yacht was on the video. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Sara dumped the last of the pellets into the water, now roiling with fish, and turned to Diane.
“I can see all this coming together: Hu Lee has asked you to develop Harry’s new technology. Gabriel has placed you in charge of BRI, albeit temporarily. But I have a feeling he’ll extend your contract. And we would fund the project.
“BRI could be a kind of Janus in the biotech world. The face turned to the public would continue with its present programs. Let’s see.” She counted on her fingers: “There are the Wentzel and Sabbedra’s projects, and I’m sure you’ll want to finish Chimeron and dabble in ethnobotany in your spare time. And who knows, maybe you’ll be able to rescue Peruvase.
“But BRI’s other face, its secret face, would develop Dr. Harry Lee’s new technology—Maggie’s next generation.”
Diane was quick to object. “It doesn’t make sense to use BRI. I’m sure Hu Lee would trust your organization with the technology. Then, wouldn’t you be better off finding a big lab that has experience with this sort of thing?”
Sara shook her head. “No. The Agency and Homeland’s research arm, the Science and Technology Directorate, would like a small off-the-books research facility—a ‘Boutique Lab’ if you will.
“BRI is perfect. And so are you, Diane. We can get you all the help you need.
“This is an important biometric device. Terrorists and drug smugglers can use counterfeit passports, cover their irises, mess with their finger and handprints, but they can’t disguise their cell physiology or the mechanics of their motion.”
Diane lowered her head and fluffed some of the drizzle from her hair. She studied the boards on the walkway, then raised her eyes to Sara.
“I find all this confidence in me very flattering.” Her voice cracked. “But I stand here, still a bit shaky from having a serious threat on my life. I’ve experienced jeopardy before, but this encounter transcended bodily endangerment. And it has forever altered the smug sense I had of myself… So I ask you, why would anyone knowingly set up herself and her staff and families as targets of who-knows-what organization? Why would anyone expose herself and her employees, day in and day out, to something that, in Hu Lee’s words, ‘will be a very dangerous undertaking?’”
Sara cocked her head, studied Diane’s face for a moment and said, “I suppose that’s something we all have to determine for ourselves, Dr. Rose.”
μ CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN μ
Diane parked under the treehouse and stepped out of the SUV. Opening the front door, she realized it was the first time in weeks that she hadn’t looked over her shoulder.
Huck didn’t show up on the stairs to greet her, but she shrugged it off. He was probably out on the deck chasing a squirrel or chewing on a bone. She tossed her keys into a bowl on the entry table and turned to go into the kitchen. But something made her stop and look back toward the living room.
The sun had finally peeked out from behind the clouds. It slanted through the windows sending orange stripes along the living room wall behind the sofa where Carlos Carrera sat. The lower band of sunlight lit up his mane of white hair; he looked like he was on fire.
He stood and walked toward her. “I was afraid you would not invite me in, so I let myself in.”
Diane was paralyzed. The only thing that kept her from fainting with fright was the memory of Gabriel assuring her that Carlos and his “knights” would never hurt her.
Carlos stopped when he saw her terror. “It kills my soul to have you look at me with such fear. You are the daughter I never had. I would not harm a hair on your head.”
He motioned toward the living room. “Come. Sit with me. We must talk.” He returned to the sofa.
Diane walked haltingly into the living room and sat on the edge of a chair across from him. “Where’s my dog?”
Carlos smiled. “He is on the deck enjoying the soup bone I brought for him.”
His smile faded, and he leaned forward as if to say something important. But he paused, groping for words. He appeared distraught. Several silent seconds passed while he studied the rug, then he looked up at Diane and said, “Gabriel has died of a heart attack. He was cremated and his ashes were spread on the sea near Carrera Island.
Diane stifled a sob. It wasn’t possible that another man she loved had died… Loved?… Yes, she had loved him in a way.
She stared at Carlos in disbelief. The room went out of focus. Outside, a neighbor’s dog barked and Huck answered. Above, a pine branch scraped along the roof. That should be pruned, she thought. On the other side of the room, Carlos was saying something.
“My son was not a perfect man, but he was not a murderer. Gabriel called the shipyard in Corpus Christi where the Maria V has her annual maintenance. They keep records. The boat’s hull sustained damage we were not aware of. The receipts show that Raymond paid for the repairs with his own money—”
Diane held up her hand to silence Carlos. “I know Gabriel didn’t kill Vincent—they were friends” she said in a choked voice.
Carlos bent down and fumbled in a briefcase on the floor beside him. He pulled out some papers and sifted through them.
“Gabriel has left a will,” he said. “Eduardo, his son, will be the administrator of his investment fund. BRI is to receive a significant percentage of the fund’s yearly profits for research projects.”
He rifled through the papers again. “Here it says that you are to receive his stock in Bayside Research and his house on Carrera Island.”
He looked up and smiled. “We will be neighbors.”
μ CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT μ
David stood at the curbside in front of his condominium, punctual as usual. Diane pulled up in the Suburban, and he slid onto the passenger seat.
“I just got a call from Charlotte Bellfort,” he said. She wants to sell Raymond’s stock back to BRI. She said that with her husband gone, she sees no point in keeping a minority position in the company. She wants to spread the proceeds from the shares around to all her charities.” He shook his head. “If Raymond hadn’t been so busy playing the high roller—buying yachts and ranches and making big donations here and there—he could’ve bought back his stock from Gabriel; Charlotte would now own the whole caboodle.”
Diane smiled, but made no comment.
She pulled away from the curb, and said, “Olimpia emailed. She is so excited; her inheritance money enables her to set up an ethnobotany center in Bogota—her lifelong dream. She said Gabriel was very generous.”
David said, “I’m happy for her.” He looked over at Diane. “Are you sure you’re okay about tonight? I could stand in for you.”
“Sara said it might raise some questions if I didn’t show up. She said it needs to be ‘business as usual, hide in plain sight, fly under the radar,’ etcetera, etcetera—now that we’re a secret government facility.” Diane snickered. “Actually, I think we’re so secret, the government doesn’t even know we exist.”
She glanced over at David, then back at the road. “You look good in a tux.”
“You’re looking rather lovely yourself. Nice dress.”
“Thanks. It’s my only designer dress; it’s seen a lot of miles. I wore it to that Christmas…” Her voice cracked and she didn’t complete the sentence.
“I remember,” David said softly, almost in a whisper.
They rode in silence, immersed in their own thoughts. Then Diane realized David was watching her. She gave him a sidelong glance. “What?” she asked.
“You seem rested lately; what’s your secret?”
Diane nodded knowingly. “I’ve had at least eight hours of sleep almost every night for the past couple weeks… And it seems that I dream the entire night.”
“They’re obviously happy dreams.”
“It’s mostly one recurring dream. In it, throngs of whiterobed people stand in line to place garlands of thistles in my hands.”
“
Sounds mighty prickly.”
Diane kept her eyes on the road. But in her mind, she saw an ageless face in a village in the mighty Sierra Nevada de Santa Marta. She smiled and said, “Quite the contrary. It’s the finest bouquet a person could ever hold.”
The dinner and the speeches were finally over. The emcee returned to the microphone and announced that this was the moment everyone was waiting for—the naming of Houston Biopreneurs’ Person of the Year.
“This year, the award goes posthumously to Raymond Bellfort, former president of Bayside Research, for his philanthropy in the Houston science community. The award will be accepted by BRI’s new president, Dr. Diane Rose.”
Diane stood up amid the applause and stepped toward the stage to say a few kind words about Raymond Bellfort.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Gerrie Nelson is a retired registered nurse. She and her husband live in Houston, Texas and Penang, Malaysia (the locale of the sequel to Lab Notes entitled The Pearl).
Lab Notes: a novel Page 26