Somewhere during the course of watching these low-life creatures pummel each other, he had come to an unconscious decision that now bubbled on the surface: I am getting out. No matter what, I am getting out.
And that means I will never have to test another batch of Loki. Even if Nadia succeeds in stabilizing the molecule, I am walking away.
Of course, he would much prefer to leave behind a stabilized molecule. That would allow him to sell his shares and retire in plain sight. The alternative—should Nadia come up empty—would force him to go into hiding.
But one way or another, stabilized Loki or not, by this time next month Luc Monnet would be in France.
He found himself whistling contentedly—when was the last time he had whistled?—as he waited impatiently for the last test subject to be paid and shoved out the door.
Luc wanted to get home. He had wine to pack.
3
"This can't be true," Nadia said, her mouth going dry.
"Take it or leave it," Jack said with a shrug.
Nadia stared at him in dismay. Jack had dropped into the diabetes clinic unannounced this morning and said he had a progress report. Nadia had brought him back to her office where they could have privacy. He'd sat down and begun telling her this surreal tale about Dr. Monnet sneaking off to some warehouse in Brooklyn where he oversaw a group of men who bashed walls and each other…
How could she accept such a bizarre tale from a near-stranger? It was too much. Insane.
Jack looked tired. She wondered if he might be into drugs, hallucinogens maybe. That would explain his story.
"I don't mean to doubt your word, but—"
"I think he was testing Berzerk," Jack said.
"What's that?"
"Street name for a new designer drug I've been hearing about."
"An illegal drug?" Nadia felt a surge of anger. She wanted to ask him if he'd been sampling some himself, but bit it back in time. "Oh, now you've gone too far!"
"I saw it in action the other night," Jack said. "During the preppy riot. The way Monnet's 'participants' acted last night reminded me of those homicidal preps I saw."
"But not Dr. Monnet!"
Jack shrugged again. "You wanted a connection between your doc and the Serb. There you go."
Feeling queasy, Nadia leaned back in her chair and squeezed her eyes shut. Milos Dragovic, reputedly dealing in anything illegal that turned a buck… Dr. Monnet, partner in a drug firm… a relationship between the two of them, hostile or not, what else could it be but drugs?
"All right," she said, opening her eyes. "If he is involved with this Berzerk stuff—and I'm not for an instant conceding that he is—it's because he has no choice."
"Whatever you say."
"You think he's a willing participant, don't you."
"I have no agenda here. I'm just telling you what I saw."
"And I saw Dragovic roughing up Dr. Monnet!"
"Could have been a disagreement over how to split the profits."
Nadia clenched her teeth to hold back a scream. "He is not in this willingly. Dragovic is holding something over him."
Jack leaned forward. "OK. I'll work on that end. But maybe you ought to be nosing into things at your end. If your guy is manufacturing something illegal like Berzerk, he's probably using company equipment to do it."
"All the production is done in… Brooklyn."
Jack was nodding. "Yeah. Right down the street from the punch 'em-up warehouse."
Nadia sighed. "It looks bad, doesn't it."
"It do. It do indeed."
"We have to help him." An idea began to take root. "What does this Berzerk do?"
"Not sure, but from what I've seen, it makes you act crazy violent."
"Really. Why on earth would someone want to take something like that?"
"A logical question. But logic doesn't enter much into the druggie world. If it feels good, do it—and screw the side effects."
"Can you get me some?"
Jack's eyes narrowed. "Why? You want to try it?"
"Not a chance. But I have a machine at work that can analyze anything. If I can identify this Berzerk, I can run a match for it in the company's database and see if there's any record of it."
"And if there is?"
She sighed. "Then we'll have one piece of the puzzle."
Jack pushed himself up. "I'll get on it. Call you when I find some."
A black mood settled over Nadia as she watched Jack go. Despite the warmth of her office she felt cold; she thrust her hands under her arms to warm them. Jack was supposed to help Dr. Monnet, yet he seemed to be gathering evidence against him. She had a bad feeling that this was not leading to a good place.
4
Doug couldn't help but laugh as he poured himself another shot of Old Pulteney fifteen year old. As a rule, eight o'clock in the morning was a tad early for scotch, but what did "early" mean if you'd been up all night?
He'd done it. It had taken him until dawn, but finally he'd tracked the GEM Basic R and D money to its final resting place.
"Ho-ho-ho!" he said, toasting himself. "You are a clever one!"
But what good is a triumph if you can't share it?
He called Nadj at the clinic. First thing every morning, rain or shine, weekday or weekend, that was where she could be found. But the nurse told him she'd already left. He tried her home but her mother said she was at the lab and expected to be there all day.
At the lab? On a Saturday? And then he remembered the million-dollar bonus offer. Yeah, he'd be working Saturdays and Sundays for something like that.
He called her extension at GEM but she didn't pick up, so he left her an enigmatic voice mail.
"Hi, honey, it's me. I did it. I found the answer to the question. I'll tell you the whole story at lunch. Meet me twelve-thirty at the Gramercy Tavern and we'll celebrate. Until then, think about hocking everything you own, begging, borrowing, and stealing every dime you can lay your hands on, and putting it all into GEM stock. Love ya. Bye."
He grinned as he hung up. That ought to pique her interest.
He yawned. Now for some shut-eye. God, he needed sleep.
Doug finished his scotch, turned off the computer, turned off his cell phone, disabled the ringer on the house phone, and headed for the bed.
No interruptions, just sleep, sleep, sleep.
5
"A dealer?" Abe said. "Plenty of dealers you know already. Why should you want to know another?"
He finished slathering margarine onto one of the kaiser rolls Jack had brought and took a huge bite.
"Not just any dealer," Jack said. "I need a guy who really knows his stuff. Somebody heavy into designer shit, who knows his chemistry and knows who's making what."
Jack had told Abe about his visit with Robert Butler and about the scene at the warehouse last night.
"A chemist, you say." Abe thought as he chewed.
"The best man I can think of is Tom Terrific."
Jack had heard the name but never met him. "I thought he was mostly crystal meth."
"That's his mainstay, but he dabbles in other things as well."
"Think he'd know about Berzerk?"
"If it's out there and people are buying it, Tom has probably figured how to make it."
"Sounds like my man. Where can I find him?"
"Always a good question with Tom. He tends to keep on the move." Abe pulled a little notebook from his shirt pocket and flipped through it. "Here it is."
"You keep his number?"
"He's a customer."
Jack could see why a speed merchant would want to keep some firepower handy.
"What did he buy?"
Abe did his baleful stare over the tops of his glasses. "A pizza, what else."