Maggie squirmed. He twisted her wrist and Maggie felt a snap. Not bone. She’d broken her tibia when she was eight and she knew what that felt like. This was something else. Soft tissue. Ligament, tendon, maybe.
Pain rocketed up her arm, kissed the pain already growing in her hurt shoulder. Her vision tunneled, started to turn black. She fought her way above the agony, the blackness.
“His biggest mistake was letting Dan do his dirty work. I thought Miles would be good at it, like it even. He was clearly a budding sociopath.” He rolled his shoulders. “He convinced me Dan was the better man for the job. But Dan failed. Dan let you get away.” He shook his head. “I guess listening to Miles was my biggest mistake.”
Maggie bit back the pain. Her eyes scanned the shallow stairs leading up to the FDA building, the sidewalks that skirted its perimeter. There were a few people out, a jogger, a dog walker, a newspaper boy on a bike. All were already wilted in the early morning humidity. All were too far away to summon. “You were behind everything,” she said more to herself than Montgomery. “Behind the trials. Behind the murders. Pulling the strings to make Dan dance.”
“Who else? It’s not like my son was good for anything.”
She had been so sure it was Miles. She knew the senior Montgomery had some involvement, had participated in the lies and cover-ups, but figured Miles had orchestrated—if not participated in—the violence. Yet another misjudgment.
“Yes, Dan was a disappointment. Couldn’t seem to make you go away.” He turned his eyes on Maggie. Appraising. Taking her measure. “Maybe he likes you too much. Maybe he warned you that you were next on the chopping block, told you to scamper off into the woods and hide, like the huntsman to Snow White. Strange, since by all accounts old Danno ended up enjoying his little side job as a hit man. But you know what they say. You want something done right…” He smiled.
“You’re not going to get away with this,” she said for the second time that day. “Too many people know.”
“Nobody important knows,” he hissed. He yanked Maggie’s arm, and she collided against him. Fresh pain surged through her and for a moment, the world fell away.
Tires squealed. Montgomery looked up, eyes squinting behind bifocals. Maggie followed his line of sight. A van sporting photographs of hair-helmeted news anchors and “WXYZ—Your News Source!” rounded the corner and screeched to a stop at the curb in front of them.
The van door sprung open and a woman leapt forth like Athena from the head of Zeus. She was on them in seconds. She fluffed her hair, glanced at the cameraman and rotated her finger, signaling him to roll. “You’re James Montgomery, aren’t you? The president of Rxcellance?”
She thrust a microphone in his face. Montgomery released Maggie’s arm as if it were made of lava and put on his politician’s smile. He turned up the charm to eleven. “Yes, I am,” he said loudly, pride tingeing each word.
The woman looked at Maggie, who was staring at her wide-eyed. “And you’re Maggie O’Malley.”
She put the microphone beneath Maggie’s nose. Maggie simply nodded.
The woman turned toward the camera. “I’m Candace Mullen from Channel 12 News, and I’m here because of a tip I received about Rxcellance.” Her voice was deep but melodious with an almost singsong variation in pitch and volume.
A small crowd had gathered in front of the FDA building, materializing as if from thin air. Where were they when Maggie needed help? Maggie took in their blue uniforms and printed signs. They weren’t the early morning exercisers she had seen earlier. They were protesters.
Attracted to news cameras like magpies to anything shiny, the group formed a semicircle behind the news crew, waiting to peck at sound bites as they fell from the mouths of interviewees, wondering what could have supplanted their exploits in a city they’d held hostage for a month.
Maggie’s eyes swept over the crowd. A man waved wildly. She squinted. It was Constantine. He gave a huge thumbs-up, then made a show of patting himself on the back. She tentatively waved back.
“A tip about Rxcellance?” Montgomery said indignantly. “There’s no story about Rxcellance. If you’re looking for news, here’s Maggie O’Malley.” He pointed at her accusingly. “She stole from our company’s charity and most likely killed one of our employees.”
A murmur surged through the crowd like the wave at a high school football game.
“He’s lying,” Maggie said. Her voice was steady. Confident. Belying the growing desperation she felt within. “He’s lying to cover up what he’s done, what he’s still doing.”
“And what is that?” Candace asked, pushing the microphone beneath Maggie’s nose.
Maggie took her battered arm and tucked it next to her body like a broken wing. “Rxcellance is using homeless people as guinea pigs to test a drug designed to cause pneumonia.”
Montgomery chortled good-naturedly. “Homeless guinea pigs? A drug designed to cause pneumonia?” He opened his arms wide in an appeal to the growing crowd. “Why would we do that?”
“Because Rxcellance holds the patent for the country’s leading pneumonia medication.”
Veins bulged in Montgomery’s neck. It looked like someone was making balloon animals beneath the surface of his skin. “That’s ludicrous. Yes, we’re developing a new flu vaccine, a universal vaccine that will work on all strains for years.” He flashed the politician’s smile to show what good news this was. “But it’s totally safe. It’s not designed to do anything but alleviate human suffering.” He paused, looking up to the sky in a show of male sensitivity. “We follow strict protocols in all of our studies and do everything we can to ensure the well-being of our participants—including getting informed consent and ensuring the drugs we’re testing are safe.”
Maggie flung her knapsack from her back and held it high with her good arm, making sure the Rx logo was visible. She dropped the bag to the ground and wrenched it open with one hand. The crowd gasped, fearful of what she’d pull from the depths of its black nylon folds.
Maggie’s fingers clasped a small vial. She jerked it free from the pack, dove back in for a hypodermic needle, then dropped the black bag to the ground. She held the vial, which also sported the Rx logo, and the needle high. “This,” she said loudly, “is a sample of the drug that Rxcellance has been giving to unsuspecting homeless people.”
Maggie snapped the cap off the syringe and drove the needle into the vial, which she had placed between her knees. The crowd flinched. She set down the vial and turned to Montgomery. “If your new vaccine is so safe, why don’t you give it a test drive? Right here. Right now.”
Montgomery leaned away from the needle, almost losing his balance. “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”
“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Are you scared?”
Montgomery regained his stance, leaned in, veins pulsing wildly at his neck and temple. It looked like the balloon animals were having an orgy under his skin. He fought for self-control. “I’m…not…scared,” he said between clenched teeth.
“How do you talk without moving your mouth like that?” Constantine called out from the crowd. “I love ventriloquism.”
The growing throng laughed. Montgomery glowered, forgetting his politician’s demeanor. He didn’t move.
“Is there a reason you’re reluctant to try your own vaccine, Mr. Montgomery?” Candace Mullen asked. The crowd leaned in.
“No,” he snapped. “I—” His voice faded away.
Everyone waited. A dog barked. Someone coughed. Candace folded her arms. Maggie could hear the growing hum of traffic in the distance. Rush hour ramping up.
“This is slander,” Montgomery growled. “These accusations are the product of a warped mind.”
“Who are you calling warped?” squawked a male voice from the crowd.
Commotion erupted behind the news crew. People stepped aside. A wiry
man with electrified hair pushed his way through the horde. The man grabbed a Barbie head from around his neck and stroked its hair between his fingers. “I wouldn’t let her inject me, either, pal,” Al said in a stage whisper to Montgomery. “That shit’ll kill you.”
Chapter 46
Constantine watched with slack-jawed amazement as Maggie attacked her four-egg omelet. “Near-death experiences don’t affect your appetite, do they?”
Maggie gulped her coffee and stuffed a corner of jam-slathered toast into her mouth. “Hey, a girl’s gotta eat. Besides, I’m pretty sure running from a homicidal maniac, holding an impromptu press conference and bringing down a billion-dollar corporation burned several thousand calories. Good job on the news conference, by the way.”
Constantine wiped his mouth and leaned back. “I figured Candace Mullen would want an exclusive on the Maggie O’Malley, murderess at large story. Plus having a shot at breaking the biggest scandal of the year. Little did I know I’d led you to the den of a wolf in pastel pants.”
Maggie shook her head. “It was so weird. It was like Dan was an entirely different person. Either he changed, or he had me fooled all along.”
“Greed does bad things to people.”
“Finding Al was a nice touch, too. How did you manage that?”
“Accidentally. Like all the awesome stuff I do.” Maggie raised her eyebrows, waiting for a real answer. “After I dropped you at Dan’s building, I headed to the news studio to tell Candace Mullen about Dolores Hidalgo, the drug trials on the homeless, the murders, everything. Trial by media, and all that. On the way back to the FDA, I spotted a doll necklace attached to a weird-looking dude. I pulled over. He was freaked out because I was in an Rx van, and he’d evidently just escaped from an Rx van, which is a whole different story. After he calmed down and stopped throwing headless Barbies at me, we had a nice chat. Then I got a message from my friend that the email address we sent the fake spam to was registered to Dan. I texted you, contacted the news crew, then headed back to the FDA with Al. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“You did good, Gus. Real good.”
Constantine bowed. “My only desire is to serve you. Well, that and eat more bacon. You can never have too much bacon.” He put two pieces of bacon into his mouth to demonstrate. “What’s next for Rx?” he asked, crunching loudly.
“Bankruptcy, I expect. There’s no way Rx can weather this kind of storm. There will be an investigation, a trial. I’ll be called to testify and they’ll probably give Ethan immunity to do the same.” She paused, remembering their last moments at the FDA building. “He’s lucky to be alive. Too bad he ruined his life. I’m seeing long prison sentences for the star players and a funeral no one will attend for Dan.” She pictured Dan’s wife taking the news of his death, crying into her Hermès hankie, running to check his life insurance policy.
“All to profit from pneumonia.”
“Despite what Dan said, I think it originally started as an unintended side effect. At first Rx tried to fix the problem. Then they realized its financial upside. So they decided to hone it, control it, amplify it, using those unable to give consent or defend themselves as test subjects. What better way to create demand than to develop a vaccine that causes a disease the company happens to have the corner on treating? The flu can develop into pneumonia, especially for the at-risk populations who’d get the vaccines. The pneumonia would look like a consequence of the illness rather than a side effect of the vaccine. Even if some people discovered the vaccine caused pneumonia, Rx figured the profits would outweigh the costs of the lawsuits.”
“Like the car manufacturers with faulty parts.”
Maggie nodded. “How’d the police show up so soon after the big showdown between James and Al? Did you call them?”
Constantine wiped his mouth on a napkin. “They finally triangulated the location of your phone. You were a person of interest, remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
Constantine summoned the waitress for the check. “So Montgomery was the head of the operation. I’d pegged Miles for playing the heavy. Sounded like he was blossoming into bad guyhood.”
Maggie poured coffee from the table’s carafe into her cup, sipped, added sugar and cream. “Miles played his part, advanced his father’s plan where he could, tormented me for fun when it suited him. But Montgomery senior was really pulling the strings. Dan was the perfect puppet—and henchman. Smart. Seemingly benign. Driven by avarice. Looking back, I wonder if the ethics class he taught helped inspire their awful plan.”
“Maybe he figured if big pharma had gotten away with unauthorized testing on the poor or mentally ill before, it could be done again.”
They looked at each other for a moment.
“Oh,” Constantine said. “I have something for you.” He reached into his pocket. “Or should I say ‘someone’?”
He opened his hand. Miss Vanilla wriggled her nose at Maggie.
“Miss Vanilla!” She extended her hand and Constantine plopped the rodent onto her palm. “I’m actually glad to see you.”
“Actually glad?” Constantine said.
“Shhh…We’re bonding.” Maggie stroked Miss Vanilla’s triangular head. The animal closed her eyes. “Look. She didn’t even pee on me. It must be true love.”
“Oh, it’s love all right,” Constantine said, his eyes on hers. “It always has been.”
Maggie felt herself grow hot, imagined the red tide of blush washing across her face.
“Miss Vanilla and I were wondering if you’d like to go to a movie tonight. And by ‘Miss Vanilla and I’ I mean ‘I’ and by ‘movie’ I mean ‘something terrible at the local multiplex that we can make fun of for years to come.’”
Maggie looked at Constantine, at the lips she’d kissed that were now caught between his teeth. She felt her strange self-consciousness fade away. “Constantine Papadopoulos, are you asking me out on a date?”
“No. Well, maybe a little. Like a small date. A date-ette, really.”
Maggie passed Miss Vanilla back to Constantine and grasped his free hand. “I’d like that,” she said softly. “I’d like that a lot. I just need to visit an urgent care on the way.” She indicated her injured arm. “Assess the damage.”
He brought her hand to his face and brushed her knuckles against his lips. “Absolutely. Then I’ll help nurse you back to health.”
The waitress placed the bill on the table. Constantine grabbed it, slurped the last of his coffee and rose. “I’ve got this. And it’s not because I’m being boyfriendy or anything. I want to see if they have any kids’ coloring menus at the register.” He made his way to the front of the restaurant.
Maggie slid out from the vinyl booth and raked her hair behind an ear with her fingers. The sound of a bicycle bell chimed from her pocket.
Not again.
Maggie fished out her phone, dread returning like muscle memory. She was no different than Pavlov’s dogs. The bell rang. Her stomach clenched.
Maggie gave the phone CPR with the swipe of an index finger, and it came to life, displaying the next meeting on the app’s appointment reminder.
James Montgomery’s face loomed from the phone’s tiny screen.
Evidently the puppeteer had a puppeteer. And another killer waiting in the wings.
She knew she should try to find out who was behind the text, try to stop whatever was next for Montgomery Senior and likely Montgomery Junior.
But she couldn’t muster the energy to care. The bell had tolled for Rxcellance and its conspirators. She imagined it would be the last time she heard its peal on her phone.
“Nice knowing you, Mr. Montgomery,” she whispered. Then she switched the phone off and stuffed it back into her pocket. She was going to take Travis’s advice and get a new phone. She was ready for a new beginning all around.
She stood and joined Cons
tantine at the cash register. He paid. They linked arms. Then the two walked out of the diner into a dawn washed clean by unexpected rain.
Author’s Note
Ghana necrosis is fictitious, but the neglected tropical diseases that inspired its cultivation are all too real. Ghana necrosis grew in the petri dish of my mind during the development of this book, presenting itself as both literary vehicle and illustrative example of the viral, parasitic and bacterial diseases that affect those already afflicted by poverty. Neglected tropical diseases live up to their name, persisting in the world’s most marginalized conflict-ridden communities, sickening more than one billion people worldwide. To learn more about NTDs and find out how you can help, visit end.org.
About the Author
When Kathleen Valenti isn’t writing page-turning mysteries that combine humor and suspense, she works as a nationally award-winning advertising copywriter. Protocol is her debut novel and the first of the Maggie O’Malley mystery series. Kathleen lives in Oregon with her family where she pretends to enjoy running.
The Maggie O’Malley Mystery Series
by Kathleen Valenti
PROTOCOL (#1)
Sign up for Henery Press updates
and we’ll deliver the latest on new books, sale books, and pre-order books, plus all the happenings in the Hen House!
CLICK TO SIGN UP
(Note: we won’t share your email address and you can unsubscribe any time.)
We’d love to hear what you thought about this book. No matter how brief or how long, reader reviews make a difference. Thank you!
Henery Press Mystery Books
And finally, before you go...
Here are a few other mysteries
you might enjoy:
TELL ME NO LIES
Protocol Page 30