“Could be,” Brian said doubtfully. “He did love his research. I always had the feeling that it really pissed him that he wasn’t allowed to experiment on people. I mean, the guy liked money, don’t get me wrong, but I think what he really got off on was playing around with this stuff. Made him feel god-like, I guess. It certainly wasn’t to help people.”
“Was he working on this ‘weird stuff’ with anyone else? Another doctor or a tech?”
“No. He basically worked on his own, except for the times when he really needed a tech. The way we had it arranged was, when he needed someone, he called me for a tech, and I’d come in. We used to take turns working for him, because no one wanted to be stuck with it all the time, but the last year or so everyone begged me to do it, because I could handle it. Over the years we had some good techs quit because of him, and I got tired of interviewing replacements and listening to complaints. I figured as head tech, I had to do it.”
“And did he ever talk about his work, to anyone?”
“Other than rant at techs when they weren’t quick enough, no. The guy didn’t like to explain things, even when he needed to. No patience, if you know what I mean.”
“Then how do you know about the weird stuff?” Chris asked.
Brian smiled outright this time. “A guy like that will be a little careless with leaving memopads around if the only one to see them is a tech. He’d just figure that we couldn’t understand. And mostly, a tech wouldn’t. It’s just that…”
“You’re going for a degree, and he’s not interested enough in the staff to know that,” Chris said, grinning. “And you made a point of being a little slow on occasion, just to aggravate him.”
Brian laughed. “Got me again. Hey, if you ever met the guy, you’d understand. I let him rant. I figured he might blow the lid off and do us all a favor.”
“In fact, I met Dr. Josephson decades ago, and I still remember it as an… unwholesome experience. What my partner would call ‘a seriously bad dude,’” Chris said.
“Whatever that means. Your partner, huh? Now that’s what I call lucky,” Brian said. “A rare prize, that one.”
“You’ve been very helpful. If you want to make an impression, you can give me, or if you prefer, Livvy, a call if you hear anything else, and most especially if you hear from Josephson,” Chris said.
Almost as though on cue, Livvy came into the small break room that Chris had appropriated for interviews and both men turned to her attentively.
“We’re late, McGregor,” she said, after granting Brian an apologetic glance. “It seems that someone with a key, maybe even Josephson’s key, came by and evaded security and removed all of the doctor’s research notes. Not a freak of a memopad left behind.
“The office manager told me that only the doctors have the keys and codes, and they all have a unique key and code for their own lab space. My Masterkey didn’t work. After I got the warrant I had to get an Enforcement locksmith to get in.
Client lists, appointments, and licensed protocols were all supposed to be made readily available to LLE upon request. The facility got their license under that understanding. Research notes were more problematic. If they were in a licensed facility then not even LLE had a right to confiscate them unless, as in the present case, there was reason to believe they could be connected to a crime. The connection here was slim. Technically, as an LLE detective, Livvy wouldn’t need a warrant in this situation, but it was a good idea, in case Josephson reappeared and started making an issue of it. Researchers doing proprietary work that might lead to a licensed enhancement protocol could get testy. To Josephson, getting testy would probably mean a drawn-out legal battle.
What was noteworthy here was that all of Josephson’s notes were missing.
Chris turned back to Brian. “True? No one else has the codes? How about cleaning staff? Security?”
“We don’t have security personnel, it all done with locks and codes, and all the cleaning is done during the day. We aren’t any more paranoid about security than anyone else, but that’s just the way it’s done. The doctors set their own hours, and if they need a tech, they arrange to have them come in. Like I said, we used to take turns putting up with Josephson’s tantrums until I took them all on me. The system is set up so that the doctors can change their codes daily, if they want.”
Chris stood up and turned to Livvy. “You’ve got the client list and appointments for the last two years?”
Livvy held up a D-card. “Five years. He was more of a researcher than a clinician so there aren’t that many.”
“Then let’s go,” he said, and turned to shake Brian’s hand. “Thanks. Like I said, you’ve been very helpful.”
Picking up on another cue, Livvy reached over and shook Brian’s hand as well, saying, “Yes, thanks.”
Before getting back into the car, Livvy said, “I promised not to mention it to any of her coworkers, but the receptionist who took the call from Josephson last Friday admitted that she made a mistake. She was supposed to have cancelled his appointments for this week as well, and had to admit it when his client threw her fit yesterday. The other receptionist knows about it, and said they’d gotten busy so it had slipped by. I think they’d admit it to the office manager, but they’re all a little afraid of him. Josephson. The mistake was fortuitous. Without it, we wouldn’t even know he’s missing.
“Do you think they’ll call if they hear from him?”
“Oh, I think so,” Chris said. “In fact, I’m sure of it.”
When they were both settled back in the car, Chris sat in silence for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision.
“It’s probably time for me to answer your questions from earlier today, but we need privacy and I might want to refer to some of my files if you have any additional questions. Do you mind coming to my place?”
“McGregor, I thought you’d never ask,” Livvy said, and had the pleasure of watching him do a double take before she added, “It’s after 5 and if we had any lunch it’s slipped my memory. Do you have anything on hand besides dog food?”
Chp. 8 Mission Goal (Wednesday Night)
“Sorry for the mess,” Chris said, lifting some notes from one of the chairs at the eating end of his table. When he finished that, he went to the scrubber and checked – not clean. There was one clean plate in the cupboard; use of that one was usually the signal to run the scrubber. He grabbed it and some flatwear to set before his guest and noticed that she was watching him with amusement. He went back to the kitchen area to wash and dry another plate and two glasses.
“Hey, don’t mind me,” Livvy said. “I’m still living in a hotel room, on room service.”
They had picked up a pizza and a case of beer.
“I don’t use a glass,” Livvy added.
Livvy opened the box and helped herself to a slice as Chris abandoned the glasses and headed back with his plate.
“Pepperoni. I always forget how good it tastes,” she said.
It was 7 pm and Chris’ Arlington efficiency was on the 11th floor, so the foot traffic was negligible and the street traffic undetectable. Louie, gnawing on a dental chewie over near the door, provided the only sound as Livvy and Chris ate for a while in near silence. After a few minutes Livvy couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Have you lived here long?” she asked between bites.
“Almost sixty years,” Chris said.
“It’s… “
“It’s a place to sleep and to work. A quick commute. And the rent is reasonable,” Chris said.
“I’m thinking of a place in Alexandria, near Old Town,” Livvy said.
“There’s a nice area south of King Street.”
“Thanks. Next week I’ll start there,” she said. “You play much?” She nodded towards the acoustic guitar in the corner.
“A little. Never for anyone else.”