Chapter Thirteen
At one time Lucky answered to nobody and kept his own secrets. Now he could barely look Bo in the eyes for fear he’d drag his lover into his own personal hell.
Best to keep the distance and shield him as much as possible. Bo didn’t fully believe his suspicions about Johnson, and he wouldn’t believe Lucky and Keith were kinda, sorta collaborating.
For Walter. Only for Walter.
“Why don’t you take the boys out and hunt floofballs or something?” Lucky asked around noon on Sunday.
Bo raised a brow, but in the end herded Todd and Ty out the door, phones in hand, to pursue their favorite non-couch potato video game. Although Lucky didn’t understand the rules, at least the pursuit of pokey-whatevers got the three of them out of the house.
The more he thought over his last case, the more things didn’t make sense.
He’d love to have someone with him, but better to keep Bo out of things, and doubts remained about Johnson. The missing cup and file. The case. Somehow the two were related.
He made the call on his own and set up an appointment.
***
Lucky checked behind him but couldn’t see a tail. Didn’t mean there wasn’t one, just that they’d gotten better at their job.
He drove to the outskirts of Atlanta, to a nice neighborhood, but hardly the plush place he’d expected.
Chastain opened the door of a modest home—modest for the owner of a successful pharmaceutical company.
“Mr. Harrison?” Chastain held out his hand, though he didn’t smile. “Come in, please.”
Lucky shook the guy’s hand and went inside. This visit might be considered a conflict of interest, since he wasn’t here in an official capacity. What O’Donoghue didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or, rather, it might. Real soon, if Lucky had his way.
“Thanks for meeting with me.” The house smelled nice, some kind of floral scent. Lucky followed Chastain into the living room.
“Can I get you something? Soft drink? Beer?”
Lucky shook his head and sank down onto a black couch a couple of cows had given their lives for—there he went thinking like vegetarian Bo—and leaned back to appear casual, like he’d seen Walter do many times to put people at ease and not on their guard.
The better to extract information.
Chastain sat across from him on a chair, wearing a pair of shorts and a polo shirt. “I don’t know what else I can tell you that I haven’t already told the DEA. My attorney advised against seeing you, but you were there. You know we followed the code of federal regulations to a T.”
He’d checked with his lawyer before seeing Lucky? Proved he had sense. Even against the advice of legal counsel he agreed to the meeting. Which meant he had nothing to hide, in Lucky’s experience. “Do you remember the name of the DEA agent who came to see you?”
“Umm…” Chastain rolled his eyes upward and rested a fingertip on his chin. “Not at the moment. I’m afraid all my notes are at the office.”
“That’s fine, but I’m curious to know the name.”
“If I think of it, I’ll tell you.”
“Right before they came, did you hire any new employees who had access to the shipments or paperwork?” Lucky clutched at straws, but even a blind squirrel found an acorn every now and again.
A muscle twitched in the man’s jaw. “We’ve been expanding the business, so new faces are normal. There’s probably three or four in the office with access who’ve been there less than a year. But we perform thorough background checks.”
Uh-huh. Lucky offered living proof of background checks being altered. If the man researched him he’d find a squeaky-clean record, with no mention of a ten-year sentence for conspiracy in connection with drug trafficking. “Anybody suspicious?”
“I’ve been shut down for something I didn’t do.” Chastain grimaced and let out a harsh exhale. “Only a handful of my employees aren’t under suspicion.”
Lucky had approved the supply chain security himself. Someone deliberately planned to sabotage Chastain’s operation. “Do you mind if I ask if you were working on something important? Something a competitor might like to ensure never saw the light of day?”
All expression dropped from the man’s face. After a moment he closed his eyes and sighed. “We tried to keep it a secret until we received FDA approval, but we’ve developed a new oral insulin. Works like the long acting insulins, but no injections and half the blood sugar monitoring. It’ll revolutionize diabetes treatment.”
Holy shit! Lucky didn’t have Bo’s pharmaceutical knowledge, but even a narcotics agent specializing in diversion prevention recognized the importance of such a breakthrough.
“FDA assigned the prototype breakthrough drug status to speed up the approval process, which is why we asked you in to ensure we’d meet requirements. If all went well, it’d be on the market in less than a year.”
Lucky whistled. “You’ll make a fortune.”
Chastain gave a rueful laugh and opened his eyes, meeting Lucky’s gaze. “Maybe. But my father is diabetic. I’ve seen him jab himself every day, sometimes three or four times. The pain, the bruising, the nausea... I’m doing this for him.”
He wasn’t simply chasing the money? “Can you think of anyone who’d want to stand in your way?”
Chastain snorted. “Any manufacturer currently making diabetic drugs or supplies. This product will take a lot of dollars out of competitors’ pockets. Or add to them, if they could get their hands on it.”
“Who?”
“Let me show you.” Chastain picked up a tablet computer off the coffee table, punched a few buttons, and turned the screen toward Lucky.
Lucky let out a low whistle. Daaaaaaaamn! Billion-dollar corporations likely shook in their collective boots because of a family-run organization without the aid of outside stockholders. They were right to be afraid.
Two in particular caught his eye: a big fish, and a really big fish, or rather, a shark.
Chastain returned the computer to the table, propped his elbows on his knees, and laced his fingers in front of his face. “While I want this mostly for my father, the company sank so much into developing this drug, we’re in serious trouble if we can’t finish what we started.”
“How far are you in development?” If only he’d brought Bo. Bo would know far more what the new drug meant for Chastain—and the competitors.
“We’re doing human testing.”
Wow! “That close?”
Chastain let out a bitter laugh. “Close, but not close enough.”
Pieces started falling into place. “Let me ask you something. Have any large pharmaceutical companies tried to buy your company?”
“We’ve been fighting off hostile takeover attempts for years, one of the reasons we’ve steered clear of becoming a publicly traded company. We’re a family-run business. Some of our employees are second and third generation. We want to stay a place where sons and daughters work the same jobs as their parents and make a decent living.”
Built-in loyalty. A noble goal, but not very practical. “Thank you. You’ve given me a lot to work with.”
“Are you going to get our doors open again?” Had anyone ever spoken to Lucky before with such hope?
Lucky couldn’t promise anything at this point. “I wish I could. For the moment I’d settle for proving you were set up. Any number of folks have a lot to gain by putting you out of business.”
Chastain nodded, rubbing a hand over his chin stubble. “I appreciate your helping me, but why? Are you trying to save face since the DEA pretty much said you didn’t know what you were talking about when you cleared us?”
Ouch! Direct hit! “Mr. Chastain. I’m not altruistic, never have been, never will be.” Was that the right word? “But I know right from wrong.” Walter wouldn’t stand for this man and his company suffering. Without a doubt, even though he’d downplayed the incident, Walter must have been asking questions. He had quite a long reach.
While Lucky saw part of the folder’s contents, he hadn’t seen it all. Someone had wanted to keep him from it badly enough to steal, and take Walter out of the picture—maybe permanently.
Walter must’ve asked all the right questions to all the wrong people. If Lucky had read the rest of the report instead of just the beginning would he now be lying in a hospital bed too? Or worse?
“I’ll let you know if I find anything out. Right now, there’s something I need to do.”
***
Lucky had only driven two miles before he picked up a tail. He hoped they didn’t mind boredom. The hospital parking lot was quite full when he got there, Sunday being a high visitation day.
Heart pounding in his chest, he made his way to Walter’s room.
Mrs. Smith beamed at him. “Lucky, what perfect timing! Look!” She stepped aside.
Walter Smith stood by the side of the bed, gripping the bed rails with both hands.
Hallelujah!
“Boss?”
Walter raised rheumy eyes. Not a bit of recognition shone in their depths.
***
Walter lay in bed, lightly snoring. Standing must’ve worn him out.
His body still worked, but maybe not his mind.
“Mrs. Smith, did Walter happen to mention any cases he might have been involved with, particularly with the DEA?” No matter how close they were, he still couldn’t bring himself to call her “Lucy” or “Lucille.” She’d always be “Mrs. Smith” to him, the way he’d been raised to address his elders.
“No. He’s spoken about retiring lately, but he never made a habit of talking about work to me.”
Lucky’d been afraid of that. He needed answers, and Walter wasn’t in any shape to give them.
***
Lucky used his personal computer at home, unwilling to risk who might have access to his work searches. At one time he’d have been untraceable, but with new technology coming along every day, he’d gotten out of touch.
He read the trade magazines, searched the FDA and DEA websites, and logged on to his favorite pharmaceutical newsletter.
Fuck.
An unexplained fire took out Chastain’s big fish competitor.
Which left the shark.
Forsyth Pharmaceuticals.