Toms said in his deep magic voice, "Agent Savich, there have been production problems at Cartwright Labs because of a planned expansion that didn't take into account the full impact on the worldwide supply.
"Schiffer Hartwin is working to remedy the problem and get the supply of Culovort back up to demand levels. There has never been, nor will there ever be, any hint of wrongdoing on their part."
Bender's face was flushed again, his eyes behind his cool glasses hot and hard.
Savich waved him off, never even looked at him, something he imagined would enrage the man, and addressed Royal. "I find it interesting, Mr. Royal, that production of the drug in Spain has also ceased."
There was a frozen silence until Royal burst out, "I can't-"
Both lawyers were on their feet now. "You are skirting perilously close to libel, Agent Savich. Mr. Royal has nothing to say."
Through it all, Caskie Royal sat quietly, head down. His hands, however, were clasped tightly in front of him on the table, his knuckles white, his attempt at playing the lazy lizard long forgotten.
Savich continued, never looking away from Royal. "It's past time for you to let us help you. Do you actually believe your lawyers here-both of whom are paid by Schiffer Hartwin-have your best interests at heart? Surely you can't be that naïve, you know who pays their freight."
Bender shouted, "That is quite enough, Agent! We are leaving! This inquisition has gone on long enough!"
Bender put his arm on Royal's sleeve, spoke low in his ear, trying to pull him up, but Royal didn't rise.
Savich said, "Come on, Mr. Royal, tell us the truth before Schiffer Hartwin hangs you out to dry, or sends another Mr. Fix-It over here to deal with you. I fear for you, I fear for your family as well. This may be your last chance to let us help you."
Toms and Bender were on either side of Royal now, Bender's voice booming out, "There is absolutely no reason for you to fear for your safety!" They actually pulled Royal out of his chair.
"It's your life, Mr. Royal," Sherlock said. "Not theirs. You'd be wise not to forget that. Whoever killed Mr. Blauvelt knows who you are and what you know, and what danger you may pose to him. You do realize that, don't you?"
Caskie Royal looked ready to lay it all out. His face was dead white, his mouth working, like that humongous whale that swallowed Jonah.
Royal tried to jerk away from his lawyers, but they wouldn't let him go. "Look, I can't believe this is happening, and all because Blauvelt got himself murdered and that damned woman broke into my office! I didn't realize, I didn't know that-"
At that moment the conference room door creaked open and a veritable man-god strode into the room, followed by a short plump woman with a heart-shaped face and very pretty dark hair-Agent Dolores Cliff.
Objectively the man really was quite beautiful, Sherlock thought, if one happened to like perfectly chiseled features, razor-sharp cheekbones, thick brown hair, and eyes greener than just-mowed summer grass. He looked to be in his mid-thirties, with a rangy, fit body covered with a well-tailored light blue suit. Arrogance seemed to pump off him in palpable waves. Agent Cliff looked besotted. Evidently the ride from JFK hadn't been long enough for her to get her fill.
"Sorry, Agents," Dolores Cliff said. "Agent Kesselring insisted we come in, wouldn't take no for an answer." If Sherlock had had her SIG out, she might have shot him, Agent Cliff as well for not keeping him out. They had been so close, but Caskie Royal had laid eyes on Kesselring and slipped his neck back into his leash.
19
So this was Agent Andreas Kesselring of German foreign intelligence, the BND, Savich thought, looking at the man, wishing he could kick him through the window. If not for Kesselring breaking the moment, Caskie Royal would have cracked, laid it all out. His lawyers knew it too. Both of them were looking at Kesselring as if he were the sheriff who'd ridden into town and shot the bad guys.
Kesselring looked at each of them dispassionately, gave a slight bow, then said in perfect English, "Agent Cliff and I have been listening from the hallway. You are Special Agent Dillon Savich of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, are you not?"
Savich nodded. He wanted to take Kesselring down a notch for what he'd done, but Royal and his lawyers were still there.
Bender never loosened his grip on Royal's arm. "Agent Kesselring, we understand you are here to help solve Herr Blauvelt's murder. We have finished for today, and are leaving. Good day to you." Bender and Toms, Royal between them, hustled out the door in about two seconds.
Savich said, keeping his voice calm with effort, "You screwed things up already, Kesselring. Royal was very close to telling us the truth when you barged in."
Kesselring stared after the lawyers and Royal before turning back to say to Savich, "Yes, so it would appear. It seems I must apologize for my inopportune entrance. I had no idea things had reached a boiling point. I am Agent Andreas Kesselring of the German BND."
Bowie couldn't help himself, he had to add his two cents. "Kesselring, your timing sucked. Royal was this close"-Bowie snapped his fingers-"to laying his soul bare. Now his lawyers have got him back under control, and we may not have another chance."
Kesselring's face froze. He gave Bowie a stiff bow. "I have apologized, Agent Richards. I can do no more. You are Agent Bowie Richards, the Special Agent in Charge of the New Haven field office, are you not?"
"Yes, I am." Bowie saw that the usually hard-nosed Dolores was staring at the man like he was a Krispy Kreme. All right, so the guy was good-looking, no doubt about that, but Dolores was tough, curse her, he'd seen her bust badass drug dealers and yawn. Now she looked for the world like her hormones had taken over her brain. If Georgie ever looked at a man like that, Bowie would lock her in a closet until she was thirty. He'd have to think about assigning Dolores to cleaning the men's room for a week, see if that settled her hormones down.
Bowie waved to two chairs, but Agent Kesselring remained standing. He smiled at Agent Cliff and pulled out a chair for her, politely bowed her into it.
Savich said, "Kesselring, your coming in without even a knock-" Savich stopped himself, put away his mental whip. The man was standing stiff as a poker, his face expressionless, his hands fists at his sides. No need to belabor the point, Kesselring knew they were pissed. Savich doubted more haranguing would do any good since Bowie had laid it on with a trowel. He said, "Very well, Agent Kesselring. Apology accepted. Tell us what you know about the slowdown of production of the drug Culovort."