by Gary Coffin
“Maze tests are used to test learning ability and memory in the mice. In this case, a multiple T-maze was used. The mice are put at one end of a complex maze, and food is placed at the other end. We record how long it takes the mouse to find the food. Normally, a mouse will take longer to find the food the first time and progressively shorter on subsequent tries until the mouse learns and remembers the optimal route. By graphing the results over time, we can generate a learning curve for mice.
“After a set number of successful navigations, the maze would be reset, and the process starts again. Navigating the maze tests a mouse’s spatial learning abilities, and navigating correctly afterwards tests its memory. Capiche?”
“Capiche.”
“This report is saying that some of the mice in this colony would find the food in the expected amount of time the first time but were unable to navigate more efficiently in subsequent efforts as if they were navigating for the first time every time. In effect, these mice couldn’t remember how to navigate the maze even though they just did it.”
“Okay. I understand that. Whom does this report go to?”
“Our process is that the report is written and submitted to the product compliance group. The compliance group will process the report by entering it into the test plan as a failed test, which makes it official. The research director for that given product is also alerted verbally, or through an email, to give him or her a heads-up that a failed test has been detected and submitted.”
“Is it possible for the director to bury a test result? How do you ensure that the director does not circumvent the test process?“
“Not possible. The director doesn’t have access to the reporting process. The results for every test identified in the treatment test plan are audited by an independent auditing firm for accuracy and completeness. If any test results do not have adequate results attached to them, they are identified, and tests are re-run if necessary. The process is imposed by the governing body of whatever country the testing is occurring. In this case, it’s Health Canada. All AROs use this process.”
“We’re missing something. I thought that the Waller Building was torched to destroy evidence of this failed test, but that doesn’t make sense. You’re telling me that all tests have to be successfully tested, and the process cannot be fudged. If that is the case, then burning the Waller Building wouldn’t accomplish anything because the absence of successful test results will trigger a re-testing for these tests. What else does the report tell us?“
“I can’t answer that without some deeper analysis, Elliot. Why don’t you leave it with me?”
“Will you do that? I don’t think I can overestimate the importance for you to keep this to yourself.”
“I’ll do it this afternoon and text you when I’ve completed the analysis.“
“Thanks, Jen. Here, use this number,” he said as he showed Jennifer the number displayed on his burner phone.
Elliot knew that Rivka was mad at him. She should be. He had unilaterally made a decision to abandon the case. There was no discussion, no reasoning or dialogue to persuade her to do the same. From Rivka’s point of view, she no doubt saw a quitter who would let the killers of his own father escape rather than risk personal injury. The thought of his own weakness sickened him. He’d make this right, but first, he needed to talk to her. To tell her he’d been wrong and that the chase was back in play. Since she wasn’t answering her phone, a visit to her house was in order.
Elliot arrived from the back to find her car was parked on the street and the garage door open. That’s odd, he thought. Peering into the windows in the back revealed nothing, so he cautiously stole around the side of the house into the open garage. The door from the garage into the house was ajar; he pushed it open and entered. A sense of foreboding took hold of him, so he palmed his gun and advanced. The house was silent, and he debated if he should call out, not wanting to tip an intruder off. At the front entrance area, he found Rivka’s jacket on the chair and purse on the table.
The time for caution had passed. “Rivka!” he called out.
“Rivka, it’s Elliot. Where are you?”
The house replied in silence.
He made his way through the house checking for signs that would indicate where she might be. The bedrooms were undisturbed as were the main living areas. It was when he peeked into the sunroom that his worries were substantiated. On the floor beside the couch was Rivka’s Smith & Wesson, lying on the floor like a dead fish.
Elliot’s heart was pounding. He searched the house for any other indicators and, finding none, went to the exterior to look for points of ingress. The back patio door could have easily been jury rigged. The latch was old and worn, and with little effort, Elliot could open it from the outside. As he made his way around the back, he stopped at Rivka’s bedroom window and saw footmarks in the garden soil beneath. They were enormous; he estimated size 15 or more, and the shoe imprint was deeply pressed into the soil. The man who made these was large and heavy. His worst fear was founded; Ogrodnik had been here, and he’d taken Rivka. Elliot silently chastised himself for not acting sooner. He pulled out his phone and made his way to the car.
“Hello,” answered a rough voice on the other end.
“Rayce, Elliot here. We need to accelerate the plan for Eastern. Ogrodnik has taken my partner. I’ll be at your place in another hour.”
There was no confirmation, just the sound of Rayce closing the connection.
Ogrodnik pulled out his cell and dialed a number from memory.
“Bonjour, Etienne Lemaitre, s’il vous plait.”
Ogrodnik sat down as he waited.
“Lemaitre. C’est Ogrodnik,” said the big man as he listened to the response.
“Yes, a fine idea. Your English is better than my French.”
“I need to move my schedule ahead. Do you have a ship suitable for me tomorrow?”
“4:00 a.m. is perfect. Same numbers we discussed last week?”
Ogrodnik fidgeted with his pen while he listened to Lemaitre ramble.
“Lemaitre! I care not how expensive your wife’s tastes are.”
“Enough. I’ll pay, but a word of warning. It had better be everything as advertised or you will be getting a visitor.”
“Yes, I’ll be there at 3:00.”
Ogrodnik hung up and dialed another number.
“Souris?”
“It’s Ogrodnik. I have a business proposition.”
“There’s a chalet in St Adele that I need you to break into.”
“No, nothing like that. I don’t want you to steal anything; I want you to leave something behind.”
“Yes, that’s correct. It’s a small box.”
“Yes, it is unusual.”
“I’m willing to pay five thousand.”
“I thought that might persuade you.”
“I don’t have much time, so listen closely.”
“As you see, we are completely isolated. I’m going to pull the tape off your mouth. If you scream, I’ll put it back on and keep it on. Ms. Goldstein, there is nobody within a kilometer of us, and unfortunately for you, there is no one looking for you.”
Ogrodnik carefully peeled the tape from Rivka’s mouth with a sensitivity that opposed his ultimate intent. Rivka squirmed to relieve the pressure on her hands still bound behind her back.
“You bastard.”
“Please, please. Belay the hostilities. I’ve offered you an olive branch of sorts. I want to get to know the real Rivka Goldstein.”
“In your dreams. Let me go.”
“No, no. There will be no letting go today. Your fate is already sealed, my dear. I thought that before you meet your demise, we could spend some quality time together. I hadn’t planned on seizing you so soon, but your perseverance in finding me has forced me to accelerate my plans. After seeing you in the Hochelaga courtyard yesterday, I couldn’t take the chance that you wouldn’t return with support. I’ll stop your investigation now and take the cha
nce that you haven’t told anyone about me and Hochelaga. The situation dictates that I hold you for another day until the rest of my plan unfolds. In the interim, we will get to know each other.”
Rivka said nothing.
“Very well. I will do the talking. What do you think of my domicile? Humble, to be sure, but I try to make it comfortable.”
For the first time, Rivka looked around the room. It was wide and broad, with high ceilings like you might find in a small warehouse or storage room. The room was originally meant for industrial purposes, but the interior was anything but. Flowers and plants filled every corner in tiered cascades, and the walls were decked with shelves of plants, many of which overran their containment and flowed across the walls like you’d expect to see on an Ivy League university building. In the left center of the room was a magnificent desert arrangement replete with boulders and cacti, and in the center, a pair of palm trees that were easily a dozen feet in height.
The room was devoid of most normal, everyday technologies. There was no evidence of a television or any other visible electronic paraphernalia. She heard the whooshing sound of two ceiling fans overhead, and as she looked up at them, she became aware of background music coming from an unknown source. It was a subtle, classical piano piece that she’d heard before but did not know by name.
From what she could see, all the living was done in this room. There were two doors on the far side that were likely a bedroom and a bathroom. The couch faced across a coffee table to the huge armchair that Ogrodnik was sitting in, and past his chair was a table and chair used for meals. Beside the table was an old fridge with a Frigidaire logo written in chromed script that brought back memories from her childhood. The only other piece of furniture among the greenery was a tall bookcase storing an assortment of tattered hardcovers and paperbacks. She noticed a hardcover copy of the Iliad opened face down on the coffee table.
“Not what you’d expect? It serves my needs, and I find it quite comfortable here. I’ll be almost sorry to leave it behind.”
“You’re leaving?” Rivka bit. Now that she was regaining her wits, she realized that her best chance to get out of this was to get him talking and stall.
“I’ve secured transport that leaves early Monday morning. A few well-placed bribes get me passage where there will be no need to go through customs, which is paramount to my travel plans.”
“What do want from me?”
“Oh, I think you know, Ms. Goldstein,“ he said looking at her.
“No? Perhaps then I should explain myself. I don’t want you harboring any false hopes about your future. “
“I guess by now you know who I am, or at least strongly suspect. It is true; I am the monster they called the Stungun Killer. Or, as you articulated so well on national television, the “perversion of humanity” that I am. I can’t disagree with that statement. What I’ve done is reprehensible. I did it for my self-gratification, an indulgence, with no regard for those whose lives were affected. I know what I am, and I’m quite comfortable with it.”
Rivka had a look somewhere between loathing and revulsion, and Ogrodnik picked up on it. He paused before continuing sensing that Rivka had a question coming. He was right.
“Why did you kill Rhonda Carling?” Rivka asked, referring to Stungun’s first murder.
Ogrodnik looked at her quizzically, calculating the meaning behind her pointed question.
“Ahh. I am impressed, my little cyclamen. You’ve ascertained the motive behind the last eight victims. You are shrewder than I thought. Tell me, was it you who saw through my ruse or that modest excuse for a man you call a partner?”
“A bit of both, I guess. That’s what partners do.”
“Yes, I see. Tell me, where is your partner now?”
Rivka said nothing.
“Perhaps I can help you out with that question,” he offered. “My sources tell me he is shacked up in a countryside Auberge with some doe-eyed doxy. He has nothing more on his mind than when his next bout of titillation will occur. I’m afraid you are yesterday’s news to him, my dear.”
Rivka tried not to let her disappointment show. It was entirely possible that Elliot was doing exactly what Ogrodnik said, but up to that point, she still held out hope that he had reconsidered his recent decision and was back in pursuit.
“Whatever,” said Rivka feigning indifference. “So why’d you kill her? You screwed up, didn’t you?”
“I like to think I am cerebral enough to overcome the base impulses that rule the thoughts of men, but even I was not immune to the incessant caterwauling of that loathsome bitch,” Ogrodnik spoke, and Rivka could see that he was replaying that day in his mind.
“I was contracted to landscape the grounds at Eco-Sys, and she would sometimes come out while I was onsite to ask me to tend to their personal gardens. I was not interested in taking on residential work and told her so on every occasion, but she thought if she jiggled her implants enough I’d succumb to her wants. You see, my gift to the world is my gardening, and I’m rather well known in the exclusive world of horticulture for my way with flora and fauna. It would be considered a coup for anyone trying to impress to have Ogrodnik as their gardener,” he said with more than a little pride.
“The final straw came when she followed me here to confront me and threatened to have me fired if I did not attend to her gardens. I flippantly said, 'go ahead, fire me. Then I won’t have to put up with your embarrassing efforts to seduce me anymore.' Then she flew into one of her petulant hissy fits.
“So she rejected you?”
“No, no, you don’t understand. I have been rejected my entire life. I expect no less, especially by someone as vapid and daft as Rhonda Carling. No, it was the moment she overturned my greenhouse shelves that decided her fate. The sight of an entire season of orchids, roses, and crocuses lying on the floor pushed me up to the brink of self-control and ultimately, over the edge. I’ll not forget the look on her face when she realized she’d passed the tipping point with me. The same look of alarm and fright you might see on a child’s face when he understands he’s just pushed his father too far. I gave her a backhand across the mouth, bent her over the downed bench and demeaned her in the worst ways I was capable of. It was only after I had snapped her neck that I took the time to hatch my scheme. I used my Stungun after the act to help establish a pattern and then drove her out past the Olympic stadium and dumped the body. The rest of the victims, as you know, were subterfuge.”
Although Rivka already knew of his plan, hearing it from his own mouth without a shred of remorse sickened her.
“Are you curious how I found and killed my targets without getting caught? I’m sure you are. Have you noticed my pet dog, Inesco?” he said as he pointed toward the desert display.
Rivka had not noticed the dog lying on the floor behind the cacti arrangement. It was a furry little thing. She didn’t know the breed, but it looked like a Shih Tzu. She wondered why the dog had not made an effort to greet them when they came in.
“Inesco is not a real dog, of course, but a well-crafted and realistic looking plaything. Who cannot resist coming to the rescue of a puppy, lying on the ground in an alley, within sight of a passerby? That, accompanied by the timely playback of a recording of a whimpering pup, is enough to melt the heart of even the sternest passerby. The unsuspecting Samaritans don’t take notice of the old pickup truck that the pup is lying beside, nor do they pause to peer into a darkened corner of the building beside. As they bend down to attend to the faux pup, I come up behind them from a place of concealment and apply the Taser. Within thirty seconds the target is bound, gagged, and stuffed into the holding box on my pickup. Within a minute, I am on my way back here, where the act is consummated.”
“What made you stop?”
“Nothing made me stop. The thrill of the hunt and chase was no longer there for me. What I looked forward to were your weekly press huddles. That fool Amyot would parade you up in front of the cameras whenever there
was no good news to tell, which was always. And you, chaste and immaculate, an unsullied breath of fresh air trying in vain to satisfy the masses. I was starting to enjoy your press conferences Ms. Goldstein. It was you who made me continue. I planned on stopping after six. My plan had been executed and the intended results achieved. That’s when I started feeling for you. A pure blade of truth among your seamy peers, passionate, honest and dedicated. I continued with my work just so I could watch you in front of the cameras.”
“Bullshit! You sick bastard. Do not try to include me in your perverted fantasies. “
“It is true, Ms. Goldstein,” he said quietly.
“Tell me, Ms. Goldstein, why did you leave the force? What made you walk away from your career after the Stungun case?”
Rivka said nothing and just looked at him.
“I’ve heard rumors. Rumors about a disagreement you had with Amyot; about how he dressed you down in front of your peers. About how he belittled your capabilities, slurred your religion and your sexual orientation. That angered me, Ms. Goldstein, angered me mightily, but I did not act. I needed to disappear for a while. I could not afford to draw additional attention to myself when the entire city was already looking for me. The death of the leading detective would surely bring resources from across the globe to help in the case. No, I did nothing. I waited, and now that wait is over.”
“What are you planning?” Rivka asked.
“Alas, I’m afraid I’ve run out of time for answering questions. Not to worry, though. We have another day to socialize. I have some arrangements to make and tasks to complete. I’ve prepared a room for you while I’m otherwise occupied.” The big man then lifted Rivka up with a single arm around her waist and carried her to a door on the far side of the room. Opening the door revealed a 6 X 10 room that was likely a storage room at some point. Inside, Rivka saw a mattress, a bucket, and a low table with a pot of water with a straw sticking out.
“It’s not as cozy as I’d like to give you, but I need to curtail your movement while I’m busy, and this is the only place I have. “