Gerrie Nelson - Lab Notes

Just then someone knocked on the window beside her. Diane jumped and looked out. A very tall man wearing a plaid sport coat stood beside her car. He probably belonged to the sports car she had squeezed in on the other side of her. She lowered her window, tilted her baseball cap back and looked up—at David Crowley. Why is it I always get caught?

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” he chortled as he opened her car door and offered her his hand.

Diane flushed. If David were in the midst of something nefarious, why would he march right up to her car and announce his presence? Her voice came out in a squeak. “Hello David. What brings you here?”

“A meeting. Care to join me?”

He didn’t look a bit uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed amused. She weighed the situation. It was the middle of the day in a very public place. What could possibly happen if she went with him?

David hadn’t moved. “You’ve come this far,” he said.

She shrugged, stepped from the car and walked with him to the hotel. Neither of them spoke.

David led the way up the stairs through the sunlit atrium lobby. Two people entered the elevator with them, diluting the strain of their silence.

Then, David said, “I saw you here two weeks ago. I figured you’d come back.”

Diane stared straight ahead in silence. And at long last, the doors opened.

David led her down a corridor to a door labeled “Abstracts.” He knocked. A man answered. David entered first.

Several men and women sat around a conference table in the large room. They looked up at David and smiled. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I’d like you to meet Dr. Diane Rose.” He turned and gestured for Diane to come forward.

The group stood up and moved toward her. The first man to reach her was dressed as she was—in denims, a baseball cap and T-shirt. He held out his hand. Diane froze. “You,” she said accusingly.

He was the man from the library—the one Vincent had caught stealing his research.

At a luxury hotel, fifty miles to the north of Galveston, The Houston Society of Biopreneurs ’ selection committee passed a box around a mahogany conference table, then returned it to the chairwoman. She unfolded the ballots, counted the votes and announced to the group that they had chosen Raymond Bellfort of Bayside Research as their “Person of the Year.” He would be the first non-scientist in Houston’s biotechnology community to have this honor conferred upon him. The award would be presented at the society’s annual banquet in December.

“In 1991, the Office of Scientific Integrity (OSI) was formed by the National Institutes of Health to halt the rampant fraud discovered in research labs in the 1980’s. But OSI overreached themselves, using McCarthy-like tactics and bringing scandal and near-ruin to scores of ethical scientists while quite often the perpetrators of fraud went unnoticed.

“Embittered, a group of reputable research scientists, victims of the overzealous purge, formed a secret society they called the Lab Rats to monitor their peers and expose unethical practices when appropriate.

“Over the past two decades, our numbers have grown. And now our invitation-only membership includes working scientists and other well-placed individuals in the community who have agreed to assist in our investigations. But invitations are still rare. And they’re only extended after exhaustive vetting of credentials and character.”

David Crowley swept his arm over the heads of those now seated around the large, oval table, and turned to Diane. “Dr. Rose, I give you the Houston-Galveston branch of the Lab Rats .”

Diane had listened to David’s presentation with her mouth agape. Now she groped for words, but the only ones that came to mind were: Does everyone at BRI belong to some sort of secret society?

David came to her rescue. “You probably wonder why I invited you here.”

Diane managed a nod.

“Let me start at the beginning.” David stuffed his hands in his pockets and began pacing on the opposite side of the table.

“More than a year ago, it came to the attention of the Lab Rats that a disgruntled former BRI scientist, by then working on the West Coast, accused Raymond Bellfort of selling his intellectual property prematurely to an undisclosed buyer. It was an inhalant to cure nicotine addiction.

“The scientist had assigned his rights to BRI and was paid handsomely upon the sale. Then he was fired. And the product vanished.

“The researcher believed it had been buried, possibly bought off the market by someone who would suffer great financial loss by its introduction into the marketplace.

“At that same time, BRI was advertising for a staff veterinarian. I applied for the job to get a close look at the BRI organization. Bellfort is the only non-scientist our group has ever investigated.

“Figuring he was a mere business man, I arrived on the scene thinking I’d finesse the inhalant information out of him and be on my way. Then Harry Lee and his technology disappeared.

“I couldn’t help but wonder if Dr. Lee’s technology had traveled the same path to obscurity as the inhalant. Then Peruvase was gone.” His voice softened. “Then Vincent… I wish I had gotten to know him better.” He shook his head in disbelief.

After a moment’s silence, David went on. “Even a blind hog finds an acorn now and then. But I haven’t uncovered much. Bellfort’s as secretive as the CIA.” David smirked at a woman two seats away from Diane

Then his expression sobered, and he turned to Diane. We were planning to invite you to our next meeting, but here you are. And we’d like to ask for your help.”

Diane studied David for a moment. He was the person who had been there for her through the worst of her grief. And the one she was so quick to doubt. Now she smiled warmly. “You’ve got it. Whatever you need, David.”

In a semi-trance, Diane relived the previous weeks as she detailed excerpts from Vincent’s notes and the stolen video to the transfixed Lab Rats . She told them about her search for Peruvase and her discussion with Bellfort regarding his confidentiality policy. Then, certain that information unnecessary for their investigation would not leave that room, she recounted her pact with Maxine (omitting Maxine’s activism). That led to her trip to Leonard Everly’s ranch and her serendipitous discovery of TekTranz.

Somewhere mid-story, she glanced at the faces around the table and took heart. These were her colleagues—scientists with inquiring minds. She was no longer alone in her quest.

The meeting had adjourned. David thanked Diane for sharing her story. Although, he admitted, he was taken back to learn she had watched the video before it was stolen.

She gave him a wry smile. “You’re not the only one who keeps secrets.”

David stayed behind for a private talk with another member.

Alone in the elevator, Diane assessed her first secret assignment as a Lab Rat : She had to exploit her pact with Maxine in order to persuade her to go into Raymond Bellfort’s computer and check for any evidence of BRI’s past clients. Did that make her a double agent?

As Diane walked through the lobby, a short woman in her mid forties caught up with her. She had been in the meeting.

She looked up at Diane with searching hazel eyes. “Dr. Rose, can we have lunch this week?”

“It’s going to be a frantic week. I’m leaving town next Sunday. I’m sorry; tell me your name again.”

“Sara,” the woman said. She reached in her briefcase and handed Diane her business card.

Diane stared at the card in disbelief, then blinked and looked at it again.