Camden's Knife

by John Patrick Kavanagh

  This cog in the ever-growing wheel, however, would require patience. Hanson guessed it would take months more to complete these crepuscular arrangements.

  “Crep…what?”

  “Crepuscular. I had to look it up. It means done during twilight or hidden by shadows. Garrison’s got a vocabulary that could choke a horse. But he’s not showing off. He’s just being him. As I said, that man has got the goods, along with the most exclusive art gallery on Earth.” She paused.”What time is it?”

  He checked his watch.”Five of nine.”

  “Good. The shop is about to open.”

  She reached for her laptop and swiped it open. He watched as she typed thecombatartzone.com into Search, but didn’t activate it.

  “The site comes up on the hour but only stays hot for a couple minutes. Something to do with an estate sunshine law or whatever. Anybody can access it during that period but unless you have…have an identity code and know how to game it, it times out or freezes. My access is cleared. Most others are limited and by invitation only, so pretenders need not apply. You’ll like the home page.”

  When the laptop’s clock reached 9:00 pm, she touched a command and the home page surfaced. In the center was a photo of the Pandora’s Obsession painting he’d seen earlier. Below it was Selected Works from the Estate of James Lisle Davidson, followed by contact info including Julia Garcy’s phone number and an email address.

  She touched the Gallery button and a list of eight choices appeared. She chose Keyholes and the page opened, displaying eight images.

  She enlarged one of the works, then tapped the screen three times, then moved backward to another and tapped the screen twice. Finally she went forward again, stopped at another image and again tapped three times as if working a combination lock. The screen faded to black, then flashed back to life on a new page labeled Welcome. In the client window, she typed “Trisha,” then in the password window she entered an asterisk-hidden series.

  The screen again faded, replaced in a moment by yet another screen designated Current Offerings. Below the greeting were four thumbnails and she tapped the first.

  The screen’s surface filled with a new image. It was square and looked to have been painted on faded denim, the words COMBAT ART in pale white entered diagonally. Below the work was the notation Untitled, 30”x30”, Acrylic and Enamel on Canvas (#66). He skipped the lengthy description that followed, focusing on the asking price at the lower-right.

  $44,900,000.00.

  She stood and walked leisurely to her bedroom, returning in a moment with a Bradean-4 and a small vial, setting them on the coffee table.”How about some background music? A little more Mozart? Or do you want to call it a night?”

  “One more Bailey’s maybe?”

  “You go get it and I’ll handle the soundtrack after a stop at the ladies’ room.”

  After refilling their glasses, he stepped to the Lionne-Demilunes painting to get a closer look at the trio of snakes, then returned to his love seat, winding down along with the evening, Trisha returning and sitting beside him. He again wondered about the real reason for the invitation, puzzling over the mixed signals and contradictions. Just then the red phone rang.

  “Shit,” she moaned as she went to answer it.”It’s my damn birthday, for Christ’s sake.” Stopping halfway to the den, she turned.”I’m so sorry. I’ll try to keep it short so make yourself at home.”

  He lifted the laptop, then clicked back to the Gallery page and touched the Observations choice. The first image appearing was of the painting in her office titled Susanna and The Pharaoh. In Mélange, the 13th image was of the painting he’d just studied. In Phrases, the first image was the one in the bedroom, Combat Sex.

  She returned in a few minutes later, lifting her aperitif then downing a large gulp.”What a mess.”

  “Might I ask?”

  “Missing product.”

  Because of the high value of any Febrifuge product, SUE had established one of the tightest security protocols imaginable to insure against any form of misappropriation. Each bottle of 100 capsules was counted three times before being sealed, as was each case of 60 bottles. As soon as a case was cleared to leave the plant, it never left the sight of one or more members of the special Distribution Security Squad until it was transferred to the possession of the purchaser’s agent, typically one of the major public shipping companies or sometimes a private cartage operator. If headed for an airport, no more than ten cases would be placed in an armored, tricked out SUV manned by a pair of guards who were accompanied by another identical SUV to create a choice dilemma for criminals stupid enough to attempt a hijacking.

  The wholesale value of a single case containing 6000 capsules was $300,000, around $700,000 at retail and over two million on the street.

  “One of the employees lift some caps?”

  “The employee part is probably correct. Some caps would be putting it mildly.”

  “Not a whole case!”

  “No.” She moaned.”More like 80 of ’em.”

  His eyes widened. If sold on the black market, the theft could bring in north of $150, 000,000.

  “God! What now?”

  “Batillana and Hart are already in the air, should be there within the hour. Texas State Troopers, Houston Police and the Bureau are on the way. We’ll have a conference call tomorrow morning at 6:00.” She thought a moment, then seemed to relax.”But I told Russell no more calls tonight.”

  “Want to call it a night.”

  “Oh, no. Not a chance.” She smiled mischievously.”As long as I still have your attention.”

  “Me? You had my attention as soon as I walked in.” Ideas, concepts, scenarios. An island.

  “And you being here with me has been very, very enjoyable.” She leaned toward him and gently touched his cheek.”Thank you. Again.”

  “What do you need my attention for?”

  “It’s a work-related thing. We don’t have to discuss it now. It can wait.”

  “No. Go ahead if you want.”

  “Could we? I was the one who said we wouldn’t.”

  “Really.”

  “It’s a little involved. You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  She pulled her legs up onto the couch and shifted toward him, her necklace dangling slightly, running a finger slowly around the rim of her glass, head tilting a bit, her eyes locking onto his.

  “It involves an imposition on one of your friendships,” she began.”And that’s not something I’d ask for casually. I like to keep business and friendships separate and not get them depending or existing on or for each other. To do so is to ask for the loss of one or the other, or both.”

  “I agree.”

  “Sometimes though, there can be an advantage for everyone. If it’s not something you’d want to do, I’d understand completely.”

  He nodded.

  “Believe me, I would.”

  “I’ll certainly listen.”

  They both took sips.

  “Your friend McReynolds?”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you think maybe you could approach him regarding one of his sources, and without offending him ask he get in touch with that person?”

  “I could certainly ask. Robin’d listen anyway, but I don’t know if he’d agree. He’s funny about things like that.”

  “I can imagine. And I understand journalists and protection. I respect that.”

  “So what do you want me to ask him?”

  “During the course of his research, seems he had occasion to contact Dr. Camden. Would he have said anything to you to indicate that? Do you think he talked to him?”

  He took another sip and a shallow breath.”He did say that he talked to Camden, visited him in Georgia.”

  “Do you think he has a good relationship with him? Do you think Camden would trust him?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “The reason I’d like to know is that I want to communicate
with the doctor through a neutral third party, someone not connected to SUE who’d be credible to him. Someone he’d trust.”

  “Why?”

  “If a communication went to him from the company or from any of us, especially me,” she continued, “it would be immediately suspect. We all have our own paranoia’s, real and imagined, and I’m sure he’d be skeptical about anything I’d…we’d proposed to him directly.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “No. The matter I want to talk to him about has to be kept off the record, as they say. And I just can’t, for various reasons, contact him myself.”

  “I could try.”

  “No, that would be the same as me doing it. That’s why we need a third party, someone not involved with us. Not directly anyway.”

  She ran her fingertip around the rim of the glass again, her eyes not shifting from his.

  “What did you want to talk to Camden about? I’d have to tell him that.”

  “It’s a very sensitive matter, a very important one,” she said, setting her drink aside.”Before going any further, you’ll have to promise me, and I don’t think I need to even ask, that this will all be held in the strictest confidence. It cannot be discussed with anyone else at any time for any reason. You agree?”

  “Sure. What is it?”

  She stepped to the console, flicking off the Mozart, then tuning to an on demand feed. Airy jazz filled the room where a harpsichord had been. He stared at the skyline as she began to speak from behind him.

  “I have reason to believe that the CY6A4, the distillate supposedly destroyed the day of the fire in Research, was not in fact destroyed. At least not all of it.” She sat next to him, a troubled look on her face.

  “Oh?”

  “I’m not certain how or why or when, but I believe Dr. Camden took some of the reduction with him.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. His contractual obligations are terminating and I think the time has come to find out if it’s true.”

  “What would happen to him if it were true?”

  “As far as retaliatory measures?”

  “Along those lines.”

  “Absolutely nothing. I have no desire to pick another fight with him. We’ve seen our way through the past year with no problems and I don’t want any now. It goes without saying that we’ve caused enough distress for each other, intentional and otherwise, to last a lifetime. He’s now free to pursue his own ends. He abided by our agreement better than I thought he would and I’ll be the first to wish him luck in his future endeavors.”

  “Even if he stole it?”

  “That’s old news. I’m interested in the future, not the past. We all make mistakes. You have, I have, we all have. I just want to move on.”

  “Why do you want it if he’s got it?”

  “We need it.”

  This is perfect. Trisha was asking for the impossible and he could provide it effortlessly, establishing himself in her eyes as a trusted, talented colleague. He could get Robin an inside track on anything that came of the union and possibly get Camden the papers he so desperately needed. The big opportunity had arrived. Not the one he’d entertained at the beginning of the evening but one he was nonetheless anxious to seize.

  “I think I could set something up.

  “Could you?” she asked, sounding relieved and pleased.”You don’t know how much it would mean to me.”

  “But I’d have to know a little more.”

  “For instance?”

  “Well if Dr. Camden has the distillate, why would he suddenly want to give it to us?” He emphasized us.

  “That’s easy. Ever since he quit, we’ve been in possession of a body of research he left behind. We own it under his contract, but it’s of no use to us. These notebooks…they’re all indecipherable meanderings. It’s Greek to everyone. He has a peculiar style of writing that looks like Arabic and no one can make heads or tails of it. But I’m sure he can and I’m certain he’d like to have them back. He’s welcome to them…if we get something in return. We need it now. Yesterday.”

  “For new generations of Blue?”

  “In a way. But we need that raw product.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It cannot leave this room, David,” she cautioned.”No one…not McReynolds, not Camden finds out why we want it. We agree?”

  It was a question of honor; a matter of confidence.

  “Yes.”

  “Over the past six months a number of tests have been conducted on variations of the Febrifuge formula, some of them involving the actual use of CY6A4 in the compounds.”

  She stood and perched herself on the arm of the sofa, her eyes scanning the entire room then finally coming to rest on the coffee table.

  “During the course of this research,” she continued, “our entire supply of the distillate was exhausted including some we were able to obtain from another source. And we need more. There are presently no other ways to get it.”

  “For research?”

  “For production.”

  “Of what?”

  “Something new we have.”

  “Beyond 1100?”

  She nodded.”Twelve hundred is on the drawing boards but that’s about as far as…conceptually we’ve got it. Of course, with all the structuring and all of the crosschecks it’ll take a while.”

  He wondered why he wasn’t informed of this for the interview but realized secrets such as these made SUE the power it was in the marketplace.

  “I’m getting lost,” he said, genuinely confused.”What’re you leading up to?”

  She looked at him intently.”Nobody,” she said.”Not McReynolds, not Camden.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Dr. Hickey, a freelancer we hired, was working on a few theories and quite accidentally stumbled onto a very intriguing compound. He mistakenly transferred more CY6A4 into a batch than he meant to. After reducing it, he realized what he had done and then tinkered with ways to extract it. During the course of this procedure he accidently ingested some. He liked the result.”

  “Which was?”

  She moved from the arm back to the cushions and continued in a softer tone.”As you know...” she said, then stopped.”Well, you probably don’t know but Dr. Hickey, like you and I, is Class D. It’s funny. I think the scientist who first synthesized Teflon and the scientist who discovered lysergic acid diethylamide both did it accidentally, too. Maybe it’s all luck.” She paused.”The compound he created may prove to be of extraordinary benefit to us. To Class D carriers. Sixers.”

  He was baffled; she was starting to sound like McReynolds. She shifted herself away from him slightly but continued to look into his eyes.

  “Dr. Hickey may have run across something that could be, as I said, of extraordinary benefit to us. At least some of us.” She hesitated.”Do you recall the report I gave you on my impressions regarding reorganization of the three groups? The one I sent to Pierre?”

  He did. It was a massive document, highly detailed and exploring different possibilities for restructuring SUE’s eight units into a more rational and easily managed scheme.

  “How long do you think it would take you to put a report like that together from conception to final draft?”

  “Oh, man,” he said, considering the mass and scope of the memo.”I have no idea.”

  “How long would it take?”

  “With all the projections and everything? And writing it? Two or three weeks, maybe more.”

  “I thought of it, played with it one morning while being driven to work. After a few other things I sat down at 10:00 and started dictating. It was done at 5:30. You read the first draft, essentially.”

  “I don’t believe it.”

  “You should,” she said, “because it’s true. And,” she added, “that was 12 hours after I’d tried Dr. Hickey’s mistake.” She laughed and brushed back her hair.

  “Does it have a name?”

  “He calls it K, Y, A, G.
”

  “Does that stand for something?”

  She chuckled.”He said it was the radio station he was listening to at the time.”

  “If you did that report in one sitting and you think it has something to do with Hickey’s mistake, I’d sure like to try it. That’s incredible!”

  “So would the rest of the world,” she agreed.”At least 26% of it, but quantities are limited. Is it getting hot in here?”

  “I…”

  “You look a little warm. I am.”

  “Can’t complain.” He paused.”So there’s none of this left?”

  “With the stabilizing agents he added and a medium to hold it, he put together 34 capsules.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all. Twelve left. Ten of them are locked in a vault at the Plaza for reference purposes. The rest were used in testing.”

  “You said ten in the vault. Someone has the other two?”

  She pointed to the vial.”Perhaps tonight would be an appropriate time to, uh, conduct further fields?”

  He stared out the window.

  “Of course,” she continued, “when the two I have are gone, that’ll be it. If Camden has the distillate we could produce more; find out where it takes us.”

  He looked back to her, feeling anticipation rise from the floor.

  “Do you really want to?”

  “Do you still…are you comfortable with imposing on McReynolds to talk to the doctor?”

  “I’ll ask him,” he said, pausing to collect his thoughts.”But you knew I would, didn’t you?”

  “Of course I did, or at least I hoped you would,” she replied, lowering her hand to his thigh and gently brushing it with her fingernails.”Maybe some firsthand experience will turn you into a believer.”

  She picked up the vial then emptied the pair of black capsules beside the Bradean-4.

  “How many times have you…tried it?”

  “The Specials? Twice. But after the first time I knew it was spectacular. I told Doug about it, he being willing to do or try anything if he feels there’s an advantage for him. He in turn,” she continued, looking quite satisfied with herself, “told his meal ticket about it. Wexford was searching for something to unstick his mind and I think he found it.”