“Wait a second,” Spencer said. “You’re not going to sit there and say you’ve proved these cells have Christ’s DNA.”
“Of course not.” Paul struggled to keep his composure. At times, discussing biomolecular science with Spencer was like talking with a five-year-old. “There’s no test for ‘Christness.’ What I’m trying to tell you is that they brought with them a culture of fibroblasts from the person with Parkinson’s disease whom they are planning on treating. Within these cells, they have swapped out the defective genes with genes they have been able to construct from DNA they’ve extracted from their sample of the Shroud of Turin. They’ve already done all this, and now they are on their way to make the actual treatment cells. It’s true. There’s absolutely no doubt in my mind this is what they are doing. I’m one hundred percent certain. Trust me!”
“All right, all right,” Spencer repeated. “Since you have been in the lab with them, I suppose I have to take your word they’re here for a legitimate therapeutic mission. But that accepted, it begs the issue of the patient’s identity, about which I also took your word. You said you were going to find out who the patient is. Here we are a little more than a week away from our visitors’ scheduled treatment D-day, and we’re still in the dark.”
“Well, that’s another problem.”
“Yeah, but it is associated. If we don’t have a name soon, we’re not going to have a financial windfall in this affair, that’s for damn sure. What’s the problem with finding out the identity? That’s not asking that much.”
Paul looked at Kurt. “Tell him!”
Kurt cleared his throat. “It’s been a more difficult assignment than I had anticipated. We had their apartment and place of business searched before they even got to Nassau. While they have been here, we’ve gotten ahold of their laptops and had our computer nerd check their hard drives: nothing. On the positive side, just today I got a bug in the woman’s cell phone. I’ve been trying to get ahold of it from day one, but she has been uncooperative. Never once did she let it out of her sight.”
“You planted the bug while she’s been in your custody?” Spencer asked. “Aren’t you worried she’d be suspicious?”
“No,” Kurt said. “The bug went in before I apprehended her. Today, for the first time, she left her cell phone in the lab when she went to the cafeteria. I’d just finished when she returned unexpectedly to break into the egg room. I was following her when she entered.”
“Then why didn’t you stop her before she got in?” Spencer asked.
“I wanted to catch her flagrante delicto,” Kurt said, as a lewd smile formed at the corners of his mouth.
“I suppose I wouldn’t mind catching her flagrante delicto myself,” Spencer said, with an equivalent smile.
“With the bug in the cell phone, we should be in good shape,” Paul said. “From the beginning, Kurt felt monitoring the cell phone was going to give us the patient’s identity.”
“Is that true?” Spencer asked.
“Yes,” Kurt said simply. “But we have another option. With her in our custody, we could demand she tell us the name as a condition of her release.”
The two Wingate Clinic principals eyed each other while they pondered Kurt’s suggestion. It was Spencer who responded first with a shake of his head: “I don’t like the idea.”
“Why?” Paul asked.
“Mainly because I don’t think they would tell us, and it would tip our hand about how much we want the name,” Spencer said. “Obviously, keeping the patient’s identity a secret is mighty important to them; otherwise, we’d know it already. At this point, with as much progress as you’ve said they’ve made in the lab, they could possibly pack up and go somewhere else for the final treatment. I don’t want to jeopardize their second twenty-two-and-a-half-K payment. It’s hardly a windfall, but it’s something. Besides, they’ll know we’re bluffing. We can’t keep her in jail unless we throw him in there as well, which we can’t do, and he’ll be yelling bloody murder as soon as he finds out where she is and how she’s been treated.”
“You’ve made good points,” Paul responded. “I agree with you, and I’d prefer the condition of her release simply to be centered on a promise of confidentiality, which is reasonable under the circumstances. She can have her own opinions, but she should keep them to herself. My sense is that Dr. Lowell will back us on this. I’ve felt he’s always trying to tone down her arrogance.”
Spencer looked up at Kurt. “So, you’re optimistic about finding out the patient’s identity with the bug in the phone?”
Kurt nodded.
“I think we should stick to that,” Spencer said. “And we’ll press the confidentiality issue.”
“Agreed,” Paul said. “And speaking of Dr. Lowell, where is he?”
“He’s in the cafeteria,” Kurt said. His eyes rose up to monitor twelve. “At least, he was a few minutes ago.”
“I think it is significant that Dr. D’Agostino was by herself when she went into the egg room,” Paul said.
“How so?” Spencer asked.
“My guess would be that Dr. Lowell had no idea what she was doing.”
“You might be right,” Spencer said.
“Dr. Lowell is on his way to the lab,” Kurt said. He pointed to the appropriate monitor, and all eyes went to it. Daniel was walking with a quick, determined gait from building three to building one, with a hand clasped against the collection of pens and pencils in his breast pocket. He reached building one and disappeared through the door.
“Where is the lab monitor?” Paul asked. Kurt pointed. They watched as Daniel appeared stage left. Spencer commented that he appeared to be searching for Stephanie. Kurt used the joystick to follow him. After checking the lab bench area that he and Stephanie used, Daniel looked into their assigned office. He even stuck his head into the ladies’ room. He then made a beeline toward Megan Finnigan’s office.
“I think he would have gone down to the egg room if he knew that’s where she went,” Paul said.
“A point well taken,” Spencer said. “I bet you’re right.”
Paul picked up the phone on the counter and punched in Megan’s extension. “I’ll tell the lab supervisor where Dr. Lowell can find his collaborator.”
“Or whatever the hell their relationship is,” Spencer said scornfully. “I can’t figure it out. By the way, Kurt, how was she able to get into the egg room?”
“She used her Wingate ID,” Kurt said. “Access has yet to be restricted, even though it was on the security punch list I presented to the administration a month ago.”
“That’s my fault,” Paul said, hanging up from his terse conversation with Megan Finnigan. “It slipped my mind getting the clinic up and running. Besides, we never planned on outsiders using the lab, and it didn’t cross my mind when doctors Lowell and D’Agostino got here.”
Spencer got up out of his chair. “Let’s go down and have a chat with the alluring Dr. D’Agostino before Dr. Lowell gets here. It might help smooth the negotiation. Kurt, I want you to stay away for the moment.”
The two doctors stepped out into the hall and started down toward the cell.
“This is a weird turn of events,” Spencer whispered. “But it is certainly a lot better than I feared when we were running over here.”
twenty
7:56 P.M., Monday, March 11, 2002
When push came to shove, Gaetano was a realist. As much as he was looking forward to arriving in Nassau on this second visit to complete what he’d started on his first, he was nervous. Mainly he was nervous about getting a gun, and it had to be a decent gun, because without a good gun, trouble was inevitable. There was no way he was going to club the guy to death or drown him in the bathtub or garrote him, like they occasionally did in the movies. Whacking a guy was not as easy as it was portrayed. It required planning. The method had to be decisive and fast, and the location moderately remote, to expedite a speedy getaway and for quickness, there was nothing better than a gun. A good, quiet gun.