Читать книгу Morgan O'Brien Mysteries 2-Book Bundle - Alex Brett - Страница 10

I was ten minutes late for my meeting with Elaine. The café was up the main boulevard in a little strip mall. I pushed open the door and was hit by the yeasty aroma of warm croissants and steaming bowls of café au lait, the essence of Vancouver. Elaine was sitting at a corner table facing the door, absorbed in what looked like a reprint from some lofty biology journal. I moved forward a step and let the door swing shut behind me.

Her hair had changed since I’d last seen her. It had always been long and thick, held back in a simple braid. Now it was cut short in a fashionable straight-edged bob that fell like a curtain across her profile. I had expected an upgrade in clothing with her new position in the academic rat race, but she was dressed no differently from the way she had dressed on the field trips of our youth: a hand-knit Icelandic sweater, button-down cotton shirt, jeans, and sensible shoes. In fact, her clothes were almost the same as mine, but I was simulating a visiting post-doctoral fellow. She was now Dr. Okada, Assistant Professor.

I shook my head, halfway between amusement and disgust. Elaine willfully chose the hardest possible route to get from point A to B, as if even a touch of compromise might sully those pure ideals that drove her in her work. Well, I had bad news from the other side; those pure ideals — like the pursuit of truth, objective and free of ego — were as dead in science as they were in government. It’s a career like any other, and if you want the career you better play by the rules.

I felt the door open behind me, forcing me forward, so I crossed to the table and slid into the chair facing her. She looked up from her paper as if being drawn back from another world. A smile spread across her face, and she leaned over, cupped my chin in both her hands, and looked into my eyes. I reached up, closed my eyes, and pressed her hands to my face. I felt a surge of energy flow through them that coursed through my body like a living current.

Ten years ago we both would have been uncomfortable with such strong emotion, but somewhere along the line we seemed to have come to terms with a relationship that ebbed and flowed with the power of the tide. One moment I could be overwhelmed with love for her, and the next totally enraged by her pig-headed, simplistic view of the world. We had actually talked at one time of having an affair, just to see if all this emotion was really about sex. In the end we’d decided not to. It would probably have ended in a death by shotgun at close range, the only question being who would be at which end of the gun.

The waiter approached the table uncertainly. I gently placed Elaine’s hands back on the table and turned to him. I loved Elaine, but I needed coffee and food. When he had disappeared, I turned back to examine her closely. She had fine lines around her eyes and tension in the muscles around her mouth. She looked tired and depressed, not what I expected from a woman entering the second year of her dream job.

“What’s up?”

“End of field season exhaustion.” She smiled slightly. “Remember that?”

I did, only too well. Which is one of the reasons I left. But Elaine had lived through field seasons before.

“There’s something else.”

She frowned. “I left before Cindy got back last night. When I got in this morning the fish weren’t there, and Cindy had left me an e-mail to say that her moth-er’s in the hospital and she’s gone home to New Zealand … indefinitely.” Then she looked up and glared at me as if I were in some way responsible. “What the hell does that mean, indefinitely! It’s two weeks before the end of the sockeye run, for Christ’s sake!”

Like all new professors, Elaine was on a short-term contract, and job competition was brutal. If you didn’t cut it, and cut it fast, you were out. For someone in her position, losing a graduate student — and a source of publications for the lab — could mean no contract renewal and no prospects of another job. Still, I didn’t want to get dragged into her hysteria.

I shrugged. “Maybe she’ll be back by the end of the week.”

Her voice was fierce. “When we were students, we would have let our mothers die alone rather than lose a field season.”

I looked down at the table, giving her time to absorb her own words, then said quietly, “Unfortunately, I didn’t have that choice to make.” She cringed. Good. “And where the hell did all that devotion get you? Your first real job at the age of thirty-four.”

She didn’t bother to reply; just skewered me with her eyes and picked up her coffee. Fortunately the waiter arrived with my order, giving us both a break. I’d only been with her for five minutes and she’d already ticked me off. It was an old argument that always came down to the same thing: Elaine’s limited and simplistic view of life. It went like this: if you were brilliant (which she was), worked hard (which she did), and relentlessly pushed back the frontiers of knowledge (which she also did), then you would rise to the top. That meant you would get tenure, become a full professor, and be a respected and sought-after member of the research establishment. The notion that her progress might be hindered by some of life’s little isms — in this case to do with sex and race — was heresy against the party line that defines science as objective, impartial, and bias-free. While Elaine might be silly enough to still believe that crap, I was no longer so naive.

I took a sip of coffee and debated launching into a tirade on science and corruption, then caught myself. I needed Elaine’s cooperation — both her insider information and her astute assessment of people — to get to the bottom of this case as quickly as possible. And Elaine is as stubborn as they come. If I got her in a snit it could take days to effect a thaw. I decided I’d better be helpful.

“Can someone else run the experiments?”

“I’m tied up in classes and committee meetings for the next three days. There’s Dinah, my technician, but I’m not sure how much she knows.”

“I could help out for a day or so.” She gave me a curt nod, still annoyed. “Come on, Elaine, I haven’t lost my touch.”

That got a slight smile. Not exactly a vote of confidence, I thought wryly, but there was at least a shade of relief on her face.

“I appreciate that.” She saw my skeptical look and warmed a bit. “No, I do, really. It just seems like the worst possible timing. I’m so damn close to writing up.”

I figured this was a good time to work my way over to my own agenda. “I gather you’re not still working on toads.”

She shook her head. “Salmon. The ultimate in olfaction.”

I kept my voice low and conversational. I didn’t want to tip her off to anything until I was ready. “That’s a big change.”

Her eyes lit up. “Not really. I’m still doing basically the same thing, trying to understand how the olfactory system works, but because it’s salmon, and the olfactory system plays a role in their homing migration… well, let’s just say funding isn’t a problem.”

She picked up her coffee and sipped it, looking almost smug.

“So,” I said, “you must know Madden Riesler.”

I was watching her reaction, but carefully so she wouldn’t notice. At the sound of the name she literally beamed. She opened her mouth to say something then caught me observing. Damn. She pulled back like a startled snake. I tried to divert.

“I hear he’s brilliant.”

Now she was observing me and her defences were up. She continued warily. “He’s why I’m here.”

Before I could catch myself I blurted out, “But you’re not involved in the Network.”

At that she sat bolt upright, all her senses attuned. I could almost see her swaying back and forth, trying to determine the nature of the threat. She knew something was up, she just didn’t know what.

She spoke carefully. “I met Madden at my last post-doc in California. He was doing a sabbatical there. I liked him, he liked my work. When this position came up he recommended me, and that’s what got me the interview. End of story.”

Damn. That complicated Elaine’s impartiality, not that she’d ever admit it. Since I was already in so deep, I figured I might as well continue.

“So I guess you know Jonathan Edwards as well?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I know Jonathan.”

“I thought he was in your department?”

She paused before answering, keeping her eyes locked on mine. “He moved.” Then she picked up her coffee bowl and took a sip, but didn’t release her gaze.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to sound nonchalant. “Was there a problem?”

“The problem was — “ then she paused, and struck. “You’re a shit.” She banged her coffee down on the table. The bowl arrived several seconds before the contents and splash-down was not a success. Most of the liquid ended up on the table or on her reprint, but Elaine didn’t seem to care. “You’re investigating Madden, aren’t you?”

“I’m investigating the Network, not Riesler or Edwards per se.”

“Because of Jonathan, that leech.” I didn’t answer. Her voice was deadly and low. “Did you plan to tell me? Or were you just going to pump me for information?”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Of course I was going to tell you.”

“Just not yet.”

I sort of shrugged and nodded. Let’s face it. I’d been caught in the act. It was definitely a tactical error not coming clean with Elaine right off the bat, so I let a few seconds pass. “Okay, I’m sorry. But I wanted your untainted opinion first.”

“You know my opinion. The government has no business interfering with research.”

“You can have the research. I’m interested in the money.”

A look of disgust crossed her face. “Money? That’s all you people care about is money.”

“You’d care too if someone was spending your research grant on vacations in Hawaii.”

“Madden wouldn’t do that.”

“Which is why I’m investigating the Network: all of it. Anyone who might have access to the funds. And the more you help me, the faster I’m out of here.”

I sipped my coffee and let her work that one out. I could see the neurons firing. Finally she said, “If you’re interested in Network money, then you better talk to JJ.”

“JJ? Is that Jacobson?”

She nodded. “Madden’s lab manager. He oversees the research program. That includes all the Network finances.” Then she grimaced. “He’s a jerk, but apparently he does a good job.”

“Isn’t it always the way,” I said, shaking my head. Finally, thank God, she loosened up a bit and smiled. I do hate arguing with Elaine, so I reached out and put my hand on hers. “Truce? I’ll pay for breakfast.”

I could see her soften. “Oh yeah, sure. On your expense account.”

The humour was dry, but at this point any humour was a positive sign. Elaine looked at her watch. “Christ. I’ve got a nine-thirty to prepare for.” She grabbed her coat. “Four hundred hormone-pumped first-year biology students packed like sardines into a tiny lecture hall. Imagine. Actually, don’t even try.”

I left money on the table and hurried out behind her. It was just after nine o’clock, and the day was typical Vancouver. Moist and overcast. Gentle and warm. A world of intense green foliage against layers of soft blues and grey. I looked at the sky. By mid-morning the mist would be burned off by a brilliant autumn sun.

I had to trot to keep up with Elaine. “You know your missing graduate student?”

“Cindy?”

I nodded. “Could I use her office while she’s gone? I need a base of operations, preferably in the department.”

Elaine gave a dramatic sigh. “Will it get you out of here sooner?”

I nodded again. “And by the way, I’m Dr. Morgan O’Brien now, a visiting post-doc from Ottawa.” I held out my hand. “How do you do.”

She didn’t take it, just threw me a withering look. Impersonating a Ph.D. was really over the edge.

Elaine, like me, takes all stairs two at a time. On the second floor she pushed through the fire doors. I was right behind her. She stopped in front of an unmarked door and pulled out a set of keys. I could hear her fumbling through them. I leaned against the wall and waited. I heard the door unlatch, and I pushed myself off the wall. Elaine started forward, then stopped abruptly. She was standing absolutely still.

My voice was conversational.

“Aren’t you going in?” I’m not even sure she heard me. When she finally turned around her face was clouded and uneasy. Then she seemed to focus, see me, and like a blind being snapped shut, the expression returned to normal.

“Sorry. I’ll get you those keys.”

Then she turned and walked into her office.

The same office that I had seen the early-morning intruder leave less than two hours ago.