David Ellis - In the Company of Liars

He was smart, they told him. He was not physically strong, not big, but he was highly intelligent. He would be an undercover operative.

Ram Haroon peeks around the end of the aisle, toward the cafй in the corner of the grocery store. He sees her there, Allison Pagone, talking to Larry Evans, the man who has asked her for the opportunity to write an account of her murder trial.

He knows plenty about Allison Pagone. He knows she has told Larry Evans things that she hasn’t told anyone else. He knows that in Larry Evans’s apartment are stacks of notes and research on Allison Pagone and Flanagan-Maxx Pharmaceuticals and members of the Senate and the prescription drug Divalpro.

They are finishing up. Haroon pulls his baseball cap low on his face.

Larry Evans walks out of the grocery store to his car, a low-end import, and drives away. Haroon knows where he is going. He knows where Larry Evans lives, where he parks his car. He knows that the underground garage does not have a security camera.

He also knows a quicker route to Evans’s apartment than the one Evans is taking.

The apartment building is on the north side, four stories of brick. A key card is required to activate the small lot beneath, but there is a back entrance that requires only a key.

That won’t be a problem. Picking a lock was one of the first things they taught him.

Haroon parks his car on the street-illegally, out of necessity, but this won’t take long. He enters through the back and stands in the shadows by a parked truck. The garage is dingy and dark, holds about forty vehicles. This is rental property, not well kept. The garage smells like one, oil and gas and exhaust fumes. He hears the hydraulic door lift a moment later. Larry Evans’s car rolls down the ramp and toward Haroon, and he steps back into the shadows.

The car turns into the spot two down from the truck and the engine dies with a small gurgle. Haroon steps out from the shadows. There is a small window on the hydraulic door that, combined with a weak overhead light, provides faint illumination down here. But it’s still dark enough, and the lack of the cameras is reassuring, in any event.

Evans emerges from the car, slams the door shut, slings his backpack over his shoulder, and begins a casual walk until Haroon makes himself visible.

“Mr. Evans,” Haroon says.

“What-” Evans does a double-take, instinctively drops his backpack and gets his hands free.

Ram Haroon laughs.

Evans looks around him quickly. “What-what are you doing here?” He regards Haroon warily for a moment, then walks up to him, lowers his voice. “What the fuck?”

“I want to talk,” Haroon says.

Evans’s eyes move to the corners of the garage.

“There are no cameras down here,” Haroon says. “I suppose you already know that.”

Evans frowns, then lets out a nervous release. “In the car,” he says.

Haroon takes the passenger seat. Evans slams the door shut and looks at Haroon, impatient.

“Don’t do that again,” Evans warns. “You’re gonna give me a frickin’ heart attack.”

“She likes you,” Haroon says. “She trusts you. I can see that.”

“You were-” Evans leans into him. “You were at the grocery store?”

“I was. Not close enough to hear, of course, but I can see from her expression that she’s at ease around you. She believes you are the trusted journalist you claim to be.”

Evans shrugs, falling back in his seat. “The fuck did I tell you?”

“You are still confident that Allison Pagone knows nothing?”

“Yeah.” He looks at Haroon. “Yeah. This ‘ethical dilemma’ that Dillon had? At this point, she’s assuming it had something to do with that bribery thing. The prescription drug.”

“Divalpro,” Haroon says.

“Right. She figures that Dillon was on to this bribery thing but didn’t want to involve Allison in it. Probably because her ex-husband was in on it. That was his dilemma. He knew if he turned in Mat Pagone, he’d be hurting Allison.”

“So Dillonwasn’t talking about our operation.” Haroon trains a scolding look on Evans. “When he told Ms. Pagone he had an ‘ethical dilemma,’ he wasn’t talking about us.”

“Hard to say,” Evans says. “Likely, no. But how can we be sure?”

“So Sam Dillon was killed for nothing. Without my authorization, and for nothing.”

Larry Evans wets his lips. He does not like the topic.

“I never said I killed Sam Dillon,” he says. “I never said that.”

No, of course he didn’t. He’s too smart to reveal such things to Haroon. It’s part of his training, no doubt. Haroon’s training was no different. Admit nothing unless you have no choice. Co-conspirators can be caught and made to turn on each other. The less known, the better. Yes, there is a trust here, between Haroon and Evans, but it only goes so far. From Evans’s perspective, why admit he killed Sam Dillon? Dillon is dead. Whether he knew about their operation or not, he is dead, and now Allison Pagone may know something.

“When is this formula going to be ready?” Haroon asks.

“April, May,” Evans says. “We lost some time after Dillon died. The doctor flipped out. But he’s back in line now. He’s working on it. You understand, he can only develop it when no one’s looking. But he’s close, he said.”

“How hard can it be?” Haroon asks.

“The hard part is the detection. Anyone could taint children’s aspirin. The hard part is getting it past the regulators.”

“Fine. Well, I promised this formula in April or May. Am I going to be wrong about that?”

Evans raises a hand. “You know, as well as I, that the doctor is worried about Pagone. Her trial. He wants her situation resolved first.”

“Her ‘situation resolved.’ ” Haroon chuckles. “I like that.”

“She’s going to be convicted,” Evans continues. “She seems to want it. She’s protecting someone. Her ex-husband, I think, or maybe her daughter, or both. I don’t really get it. But she’s going to let them convict her, Mr. Haroon.”

“And she thinks you believe in her innocence.”

“Oh, yeah.” Evans lightens up. “She thinks I’m a crusader. I’m doing like we said. I’m piling fact upon fact against her ex-husband and her daughter. The more I push, the more she resists. By the time I’m done with her, she’ll bebegging them to convict her.”

“Fine.” Haroon thinks things over, clears his throat. “This other thing. About Mrs. Pagone’s ‘situation’ being ‘resolved.’ We are clear that I will handle that. Not you.”

“Crystal,” Evans says.

Haroon looks at him.

“We’re clear, Mr. Haroon.”

“All right. Good. It’s not time yet. It will be soon. With any luck, we can make the transfer before the trial. Then, by the time anything happens to Mrs. Pagone, you and the doctor will be on a beach somewhere.”

“Okay.” Evans looks like he has something more to say. Haroon raises his eyebrows.

“Mr. Haroon,” he says, “I really don’t think Allison Pagone knows anything. I really don’t think she needs to die. It’s too risky. She’s high-profile. And the doctor will have a coronary if someone else dies. He’s not in our business. We need him to keep working for us.”

Haroon waits out the impassioned plea, then immediately says, “It’s my decision. It’s my money and my decision.”

Evans raises his hands.

“You will let me know when things are looking darkest for her,” Haroon says. “That will be when we do it.”

Ikilled Sam.

You want to protect me, but you can’t.

Pointing at you is pointing at Jessica.

Mat parks his Mercedes in Allison’s driveway. It’s like old times, a tradition for them. The city is crawling with great weekend breakfast spots, and Allison needed the time out. The place where they went is well within the confines of her conditional bond. It’s a place they’ve been many times, in fact. Mat, true to his nature, stuck with his favorites, in this case an omelet with chorizo and goat cheese. She could make a short list of his favorite foods and would bet her mortgage that Mat would not stray from those few items, regardless of the restaurant. Veal piccata. New York strip, medium-rare with crumbled blue cheese. Cheese ravioli.Carne asada. Omelette with chorizo and goat cheese. Or a good old cheeseburger.