His smile was not returned.
"Yuck it up, Post," Dr. White said, flat of voice. "In the moment it takes you to chuckle, hundreds of human beings starve all around the world."
"If the alternative's getting mauled by one of your Boss cactus-whiteouts, maybe they're better off," Remo suggested.
Dr. White snorted. "That bookstore owner, right?" she said skeptically. "I'm sick of hearing that one, too. I don't know who killed that guy, but I can guarantee you it wasn't one of my BCWs. They literally would not harm a fly."
She was passionate about the animals, Remo could see. And that passion was possibly blinding her to the fact that the animals she had created might actually be killers. He chose to drop the subject. "Any idea who might have taken them?"
"I already told the Boston police who did it," Judith said crisply. "But in case you didn't know, the mayor in this town is about as dumb as a WB sitcom. He's barred the cops from looking where they should. All because of stupid political correctness. The world is going to starve because of PC politics."
"I'll bite," Remo said. "Where do you think they are?"
This time Judith White's smile was sincere. "HETA," she announced.
Remo frowned. "Where have I heard that before?"
"It's a wacko animal-rights group," she explained, sinking back in her chair. "Humans for the Egalitarian Treatment of Animals. They have an ad campaign on TV I'm sure you've seen. They sponsor all sorts of animal-adoption stuff, fight animal testing in labs, that kind of thing. Celebrity endorsers line up around the block for them."
"Oh, yeah." Remo nodded. "What makes you think they're the ones who stole your animals?"
"Someone in this lab has loose lips," Judith said. "Whoever it is must have bragged about my breakthrough. Since the birth of the first Bos camelus-whitus eight months ago, HETA has been stepping up activity against BostonBio."
"Maybe it's a coincidence," Remo suggested.
"No way, sugar," Dr. White insisted. "BostonBio has a good record with animal testing. There are much bigger, more well-known targets in the area for them to go after. The timing was just too perfect. No, if you want my advice, brown eyes, you'll go after HETA."
"They have a local office?"
Dr. White nodded. "In Cambridge," she said.
"Can I borrow your phone book?" Remo asked. Dr. White's eyes narrowed.
"What for?"
"My ability to channel addresses is on the fritz." Judith closed her eyes and leaned her head back, exposing her long, white neck. She lowered her head back down, slowly opening her eyes as she did so.
"I'll take you," she said with a heavy sigh. Pushing off her desk for support, she rose to her feet.
"That isn't necessary," Remo told her.
"Look, I've got nothing better to do. I'm facing suspension and possible criminal action for assaulting a ditzy reporter yesterday. The only thing that'll keep me here are those animals. I was planning to take a spin over to HETA myself. You can be my muscle."
Skirting her desk, she stepped from the office, stripping off her white lab coat as she walked. Her chest bounced purposefully.
"Do I have a choice?" Remo asked the empty room.
He was surprised to get an answer.
"No," replied the distant voice of Dr. Judith White.
Chapter 5
Sadie Mayer joined HETA because that nice lady from The Olden Girls told her to.
Not personally, of course. Sadie had never met a celebrity in her life. And if she did, good gosh, whatever would she say to them? No, Sadie had been encouraged to join the organization by a thirty-second commercial spot featuring The Olden Girls actress run by the animal-rights group during Wheel of Fortune.
Sadie wasn't an activist. She made this clear to anyone who said so. She always associated real activism with those dirty people from the sixties. Also, activism seemed to mean burning something. Either underwear for feminists or draft cards with hippies. Sadie didn't like to burn things.
No, her brand of activism was simple and flame free. It involved a big yearly check, occasionally stuffing and sorting envelopes and twice a month volunteering to man the phones at the local Cambridge headquarters of Humans for the Egalitarian Treatment of Animals.
Today was Sadie's Thursday to sit behind the HETA reception desk licking envelopes. Her hands and tongue were deeply involved in her work when she spied a vaguely familiar figure step through the front door of the building. The woman was in the company of a young man.
The woman seemed very businesslike in her smart blazer and tweed skirt. Very much like Hillary Clinton. He, on the other hand, looked like a typical bum. Sadie considered anyone who didn't dress like Lawrence Welk on Saturday night to be a bum. By her definition, all three of the sons she had raised were bums.
Sadie held her disdain in check as the pair strode across the small lobby to her plain schoolmarm's desk.
"Can I help you?" Sadie asked, drawing the flap of a business-size envelope across her dry-as-dust tongue. The sealing gum tasted vile. She put the envelope in a box with the other five dozen she had sealed. Thanks to her inability to produce saliva, they were all already coming unglued.
"We want to see-" Remo began, Department of Agriculture ID in hand.
"Where's that weed Tulle?" Judith interrupted. Remo shot Judith a withering look.
Sadie paused in midlick. "Mr. Tulle?" she asked scornfully. "Is that who you mean?" She drew the envelope the rest of the way across her tongue. It popped open as she placed it in the Out box.
"If he's the guy in charge," Remo supplied.
"Oh, he's in charge, brown eyes," Judith snarled to him. "He's the biggest cashew in this can of assorted nuts."
"Crazy woman make nice-nice now," Remo suggested through tightly clenched teeth.
Judith wheeled on him. "Well, I don't hear you saying anything," she snapped.
"That's because you haven't given me a chance," Remo replied sharply.
"Look, is he here?" Judith demanded, spinning back to Sadie.
She moved so quickly that it startled the old woman behind the desk. Sadie jumped in the middle of licking an envelope. The paper edge sliced at an angle across her parched and bumpy tongue, opening up a thin bloody crease.
"Look what you made me do!" Sadie complained.
Angry, the old woman stuck out her tongue, pressing her dentures at the center. She could feel the pain of the paper cut across the whole width of her tongue. Turning her eyes downward, she tried to see the small wound.
"Dith ith goin to hur fo daith," Sadie griped. As she sat examining her wound, Sadie was startled by a hand reaching for her. She looked up to see that the woman who had caused her to injure herself was actually reaching out a hand as if to touch Sadie's tongue.
Sadie jumped back.
"What the hell are you doing?" Remo asked Judith. He placed a firm hand on her forearm, arresting it in space.
Judith paused, as if startled. She looked at her own hand, suddenly thinking better of whatever she had intended to do. Quickly, she withdrew her arm.
"I'm sorry," she said curtly to Sadie. She glanced over her shoulder at Remo. "It's all right, you know. I am a doctor, after all."
That's when it hit Sadie.
"You're her!" the older woman cried sharply, forgetting her injured tongue. "The one from the TV. The lunatic from BostonBio who assaulted poor Sally Edmunds."
Judith rolled her eyes. "I give up. His name is Curt Tulle," she said to Remo. "You do better." Stepping back, she crossed her arms over her ample chest.
"Thank you." Remo nodded.
Without another word to Sadie, he sidestepped the old woman's desk and walked up the hallway that stretched away behind her seat. Surprised but obviously pleased at his decisiveness, Judith fell in behind him.
"I'm starting to like you, brown eyes," she said.