I wasn't sure how long the police could or would protect me, or even if their protection was a guarantee of safety against a really determined killer.
I was in the office early, by seven o'clock. No one usually showed up before about a quarter to eight. Daniel and Diane were usually first in; most of the others came in between eight and half past. But I wanted to be finished before anyone saw me.
So I went straight to Art's office. A wooden filing cabinet had five drawers marked 'BioOne'. It was locked. Damn!
I searched around for a key. Couldn't find one.
All of Art's other filing cabinets were unlocked, but there was nothing interesting in any of them.
I tried his desk. The drawers were locked too. That was odd. People didn't lock their desks at Revere. I jiggled and pulled, but nothing. It was a feeble little lock and if I'd had any expertise I would have been able to pick it. But I hadn't.
I had an idea. I quickly strode back to my own desk, checking my watch on the way. Twenty to eight. No one was in yet. I opened my own desk drawer. In one corner, next to my spare set of house-keys, were my own desk keys, which I never used. I hurried back to Art's office and tried them on his drawer.
None of them worked.
I sat in Art's chair looking at his desk. His son glowered back at me. Next to the photo frame was a box of paper-clips.
I unravelled a large one, and poked it into the keyhole. For two minutes I bent and twisted the metal, gently pushing and pulling, but still nothing.
I checked my watch. Quarter to eight. I shouldn't be here, I should be at my own desk by now. I checked that the office was exactly as I found it, and slipped out.
Just in time. I passed Art in the corridor. 'Morning!' I said, with too much jollity.
Art just grunted.
I sat at my desk, trying to work out what to do. I couldn't force my way into Art's files, that would be too obvious. But I wanted to know what was in there.
The only person with a key was Art. And there was no reason for him to give it to me.
Unless.
I checked my watch. Five to eight. I thought I had heard Diane come in, but no one else.
I made my way back to Art's office and knocked.
'Yes?' He was drinking a cup of coffee and scanning the Wall Street Journal.
'Can I borrow your key to the supplies closet?' The supplies closet was a large cupboard behind the reception area where some of the more valuable office supplies were kept: computer equipment and so on.
'Can't you get a key from Connie?'
'Not in yet.'
'Is it locked?'
'Yes,' I lied.
'But it's never locked.'
I shrugged.
Art grunted, and pulled out his keys. He fiddled with one of them, trying to detach it. Damn. I needed the whole lot.
'I'll bring them right back,' I said.
'All right.' Art threw me the whole bunch.
I caught them, nipped out and checked the supplies closet. It was indeed unlocked. Then I took the elevator down to the street, and hurried round the corner to a small hardware store. There were three keys on Art's ring that looked like they might open filing cabinets or desk drawers. I had all three of them copied.
It seemed to take the man for ever, but eventually I was back up in Revere's offices. I knocked on Art's door, and handed him his keys back. He was on the phone.
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. 'Where have you been? You said you'd bring them right back.'
'Gil wanted to speak to me,' I lied again. 'Sorry'
Art grunted and went back to his phone conversation.
I spent a lot of time in the corridor that morning. At about a quarter to ten I saw Art enter the elevator, jacket on. I waited five minutes, and then slipped into his office, closing the door behind me.
The first thing I did was check his diary, open on top of his desk. He had an appointment at eleven at Revere's offices. That meant he would be back within an hour. I would have to be quick. But I should have at least fifteen minutes. There was little that you could do outside the office that would take less than that.
I pulled out the keys I had had cut and tried them on the BioOne filing cabinet. The second one fitted. There were five large drawers. I started looking through them. There was so much information. The early papers on Revere's initial investment, a whole drawer full of documents related to the IPO, Annual Reports, monthly management accounts, forecasts, resumes, a thick file on the acquisition of Boston Peptides.
I leafed through these. It was taking too long, and I wasn't getting anywhere. If BioOne had secret misgivings about neuroxil-5, it wouldn't appear in these publicly available documents. Where would it be? Either in a copy of clinical trial results or in correspondence, and relatively recent correspondence at that.
I searched, but I couldn't find any clinical trial data. It wasn't surprising really. From what I knew of Enever he probably didn't let that information leave his office, let alone the building. But in the bottom drawer was the BioOne correspondence file.
I opened it. This was more interesting. Most of the correspondence was between Art and his old friend Jerry Peterson. As Daniel had suggested, it was mostly about numbers, in particular one number, the stock price. Art seemed to hold Jerry responsible for every swing in BioOne's stock price. His more recent letters had become quite upset about the downward lurch in the stock. Of course there was nothing Jerry Peterson could do about it, although Art urged him to make upbeat forecasts about the results of Phase Three trials for neuroxil-5. This, Jerry explained, BioOne could not do. The trials were supposed to be double blind, so that no one, not the doctors, nor the patients, nor BioOne, knew which patients were being given neuroxil-5 and which were being given a placebo. So it was impossible to make any comment until the code was broken at the end of the trial, and the data was analysed. That wouldn't be until March the following year. But Jerry did agree to giving analysts nods and winks that BioOne was optimistic about the results.
Nothing there to suggest that there were any concerns about neuroxil-5. I looked for any correspondence from Enever. There was very little, save for some cryptic notes to Jerry, which he had then copied to Art, and which were of little interest.
I put the file back, locked the cabinet and checked my watch. Ten o'clock. I should really leave now But it wouldn't take a moment to check Art's desk.
I tried the remaining two keys. One of them worked. I slid open the bottom drawer, and my nostrils were hit by the sharp sweet smell of whisky. Three bottles of Jack Daniel's: one empty, one half empty, and one full. Maybe that was why the drawers were locked. A pitiful attempt to hide a sad secret. I hadn't felt any guilt poring through Art's filing system; after all, the information in it belonged to Revere. But when confronted with this, I did feel bad. It was like rummaging through someone else's dirty linen; it made me feel dirty too.
I slammed that drawer shut and opened the next one up. I would have to be quick now. It contained stationery and old diaries.
I picked up the most recent diary and then froze. I could hear footsteps in the corridor outside. Daniel? Diane? No, these were heavy purposeful footsteps. Oh, shit.
Art swung open the door to his office, and stopped dead when he saw me. My mind darted through a thousand excuses, and instantly rejected them all. I had been caught. This wasn't the time to lie.
Eventually he spoke. 'What the fuck are you doing?'
I sat up straight in his chair. 'Looking for information on BioOne,' I replied.
His heavy face reddened in front of me. The short grey hair seemed to bristle. 'Well what are you doing looking for it in my office?'
'I asked you about it. You wouldn't tell me.'
'So you thought you'd poke around among my personal belongings to see what you could find? How did you get into my desk?'