Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

Everly didn’t answer. His attention was fixed on the Suburban as the tires spun into drive in a hail of stones. Pensively, he tossed his keys a few inches into the air and caught them. Then he headed down the steps toward his truck.

The stones were probably chipping the paint all to hell, even tearing up the SUV’s undercarriage, but she had no intention of slowing down—that was, until she spotted the herd congregated up ahead. “Dammit!”

What attraction did the road hold for cattle? Did it arise from the same annoying urge that made people block laboratory doorways to have their conversations? Irritated, she rescinded her earlier vegan vow.

Closing in on the herd, she remembered Everly’s earlier warning to stay on the ranch road. Screw that! She slowed slightly, switched into four-wheel drive and veered off to the right.

The SUV took on the rough terrain like a tank as Diane steered a slalom course through the mesquite bushes. She cleared the last of the herd and bumped back onto the gravel road, renewing her resolve not to look in the rearview mirror until she reached civilization. What good would it do her now to know she was being pursued?

Diane spotted the ranch’s exit at the same time she heard the train whistle. “Please God, no.”

Maintaining her speed, she rumbled across the cattle guard and up over the railroad tracks with a half mile to spare between her and the oncoming engine.

Diane drove through the town of Blessing flying low, then headed up Route 35. The pastoral scenes she had found so relaxing on the drive down, now only provided a sense of foreboding. Where was everyone?

With no witnesses, Everly could easily run her off the road into a ditch. Or, he could just pull up and shoot her. She thought if she passed another empty farm or village, she’d scream. She needed people, crowds of people. But it seemed siesta time had invaded South Texas.

Finally, Diane passed a gas station and barbeque stand. Up ahead, she saw a traffic light. She was on the outskirts of Bay City.

She stopped at the red light and looked in the rearview mirror. A hay truck trundled up behind her. She took a spasmodic breath, then expelled it in a rush of relief. Had her hasty retreat been the result of an over-primed imagination? Her mind recapped the ranch scene and quickly came back with an unequivocal NO .

Diane pulled into the McDonalds in Bay City. She immediately spotted three gray pick-up trucks. But there were also red trucks and black trucks and people walking and children laughing.

She parked the SUV and headed for the restaurant door, her bladder screaming. She vowed she’d never leave the city again.

Diane set the cruise control for the last leg of her trip home. By now she assumed Leonard Everly was not in hot pursuit. He had most likely calmed himself, concluding that he had gotten jittery over a harmless woman who loved puppies and pretty jewelry.

Jittery? What an understatement. Everly’s reaction had been seismic. He had even tried to block her way when she stood up to leave. But when the ranch manager stepped to the foot of the stairs to say hello, Everly had to let her pass.

Leonard Everly was obviously a man with something to hide. But what? If he had some covert relationship with TekTranz, why carry that pendant around?

Perhaps he felt secure, even arrogant about TekTranz being hidden in plain sight—in the several diamond chips mounted at an angle to the others. To be sure, rare planetary forces had conspired to reveal them to her.

Maybe Vincent had a hand in the serendipitous discovery. She’d like to think so.

“…Chance favors the prepared mind.”

TekTranz had been first on Vincent’s list of the biotech brokers he referred to as “fences.” He had checked their websites. TekTranz was located in Germany, which probably explained Leonard Everly’s frequent flights to Düsseldorf.

The sudden meltdown of his gentlemanly façade strongly indicated she had blundered onto something more insidious than the name of a technology transfer company.

However, even if Leonard Everly had been responsible for the sale of Peruvase or any other intellectual property—and despite Vincent’s assertions to the contrary—there was still no evidence of wrongdoing there.

But absence of proof was not proof of absence.

She hoped her friendship with Tung Chen could withstand another huge favor. She’d send an email tonight asking him to redo his Peruvase search—this time using the name “TekTranz.”

Diane sat at a long red light, slowly sipping a coke, picking dog hairs off her slacks. But her mind raced on, mixing and matching information: BRI paid for Leonard Everly’s trips to Düsseldorf and Bellfort readily admitted he used brokers in some of his sales transactions. So Bellfort knew about TekTranz. And even though she felt he lied about not knowing who the customers were, she had to admit there was nothing underhanded about using a broker.

But what did Bellfort mean on the night of the party when he muttered that the brokered deals needed “closer scrutiny?” Was he suspicious that Everly was double dealing?

The traffic light turned green, but Diane’s foot remained on the brake. A hypothesis had begun forming in the dark regions of her brain. She grabbed her cell phone and punched in Maxine’s number.

As the phone rang on the other end, the specter of a grim discovery crawled under her skin. She shuddered.

Diane backed into a parking space at the corner of 23 rdand Mechanics Streets. She dug a small pair of binoculars out of her purse, placed them on the center console, then hunkered down in her seat.

An Astros cap hid her reddish ringlets. Oversized sunglasses camouflaged most of her face. Denim Capri pants and a Galveston T-shirt declared her an official tourist. Except for the tightness in her throat and an intensifying case of heartburn, she was all set for her stakeout.

In her past life, “investigations” usually involved a chromatography set-up, a spectrophotometer and a computer. But things had taken a dark turn. Now, all she required were binoculars and a fast getaway car. But mostly, she needed chutzpah.

She picked up the binoculars and focused them about a quarter block down the street where a wedding party posed for photos aboard four horse drawn carriages, then dismounted and followed a path through the onlookers to the entrance of The Tremont House hotel. She dared not blink for fear that David Crowley would slip through the crowd unobserved.

She was almost certain David was up to something. The BRI administrative call schedules had revealed he never took call on the first or third Sundays of the month. And if scheduled to do so, he changed with someone else. Not a big deal; but two weeks ago he had lied about his reasons for switching. And considering the negative report she had received from Jane Galvin at Texas A&M, plus Vincent’s suspicions about him… Granted, at this point, it only added up to an iron-clad inkling. But her intuition rarely failed her; David Crowley was somehow connected to the hidden forces orbiting BRI.

Similar things happen under similar circumstances, so there was a good chance David would show up there this afternoon. If he did, she’d play it by ear. She needed some answers.

Diane tapped her fingers on the steering wheel; this Mata Hari stuff was unnerving. She looked forward to her escape to the Caribbean next week for the conference and jungle trek with Olimpia, though she suspected it was going to be awkward seeing Gabriel Carrera while she was down there. Raymond Bellfort had told his cousin of her travel plans, and Gabriel emailed her inviting her to dinner.