Extreme Liquidation: Caitlin Diggs Series #2 Read online

  Celeste continued to produce a low moaning sound, reminiscent to a monk’s chant.

  Diggs smiled at Celeste and opened the door.

  A hand concealed in black leather grabbed a fistful of her terrycloth robe.

  Fighting to gain purchase on the doorjamb, Diggs found herself face to face with a black clad intruder, intent on pulling her out of her home.

  Using both hands to propel herself off the floor, she swung her legs hard into her attacker’s stomach. But the force of the kick broke her grip upon the doorjamb, flinging her and her attacker out the door. She fell atop the hulky man, whose face was concealed by a ski mask. Her pulse accelerated not only from fear, but recognition. This had to be the man in her vision. Her heart beat so loudly she did not hear the closing of the door or Celeste’s cries of despair .

  Caitlin reacted, shoving the palm of her right hand toward the man’s nose, but he had already read her move before she could make contact. Pushing both arms upward, he thwarted Diggs in one fluid motion. Whoever this man was, he had also been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Realizing the man significantly outweighed her , Diggs knew she had to change strategy. She would surely lose this battle without assistance. She opened her mouth to scream, and when she did, the man shoved two gloved fingers inside her mouth. She clamped down and bit them. The man did not flinch. He locked his legs around Diggs’s lower body and propelled himself sideways.

  Diggs and her attacker rolled in unison, painting an absurd but unsettling sight in the so-called secure apartment hallway. Her robe had completely opened, exposing her bra and panties to the burly man. It worked to her advantage as the attacker reacted to his lust for a second too long. Instead of falling on top of Diggs to pin her down, he allowed his eyes to roam.

  As he leered, Diggs threw her right fist into his temple and bounded to her feet. Nonplussed, the attacker shook off the assault, somersaulting to his feet with the ease of a gymnast. He stood less than a yard away , mocking the agent with his cloak of blackness as if his apparel alone could strike fear in her heart. Unbeknownst to him, it nearly did, but Diggs would not give him the satisfaction.

  Ignoring his attempt to play head games , the agent immediately sent the hulk reeling with a roundhouse kick to the chest. He sprawled backward upon the floor. Diggs stood over him, arms and fists readied for battle. The man laid motionless possibly unconscious or feigning it.

  Diggs found herself reacting to the click of a doorknob from behind her. Hoping a neighbor had come to her rescue, she turned her head to speak. The attacker capitalized on this moment to bolt upright and slap Diggs in the face.

  The assault, coupled with the lingering effects of her contact with the vial, produced vertigo. Diggs’s head swam. As the hallway spun in circles, the man retrieved a damp cloth from his pocket. He pressed it firmly over Diggs’s trembling lips. The hallway spun one more time before fading to black.

  As the man hustled Diggs toward a staircase, the soft clack of a door closing resonated throughout the hallway. Neither the witness nor any other human in the building would dare chance a call for help. Fortunately for Diggs, a small feline didn’t harbor fear of retribution. Her small paw rapped furiously upon the faceplate of Diggs’s cordless phone, hoping it could engage any one of its preset numbers.

  Chapter 10

  No resistance whatsoever...

  Expecting a small modicum of opposition from Genesis Biopharmaceuticals CEO Corey Spears, Agent Rivers had braced herself for combat. As she had told Diggs a few hours earlier, the FBI had no substantial evidence to link Genesis Biopharmaceuticals to any part of their criminal investigation. What they had—if anything—would be highly circumstantial. Rivers envisioned a jury debating whether one could classify a vision as circumstantial. Diggs had seen the company’s name in a dream, nothing more. Consequently, Rivers’s request for an interview probably conjured up more suspicion at Genesis Biopharmaceuticals than if she had outright accused them of collusion in the deaths of Alyssa Morgan and Greg Salinger. Only a confession at this point would incriminate the pharmaceutical giant.

  Deducing Corey Spears probably already knew this, Rivers forced herself to employ a non-accusatory line of questioning, hoping she wouldn’t end up with a door slammed in her face. At the moment, comfortably seated in a leather chair across from the CEO at his majestic mahogany desk, Rivers sipped a cup of herbal tea.

  Deondra fought a battle with morality as she drank, believing the acceptance of such comfort surely bordered upon lunacy. What if Spears really was part of a drug conspiracy? How could she sit down to tea with a suspect? This assumption continued to gnaw away at her as she slowly gave more and more merit to Diggs’s wild supposition. She could be ingesting tea laced with a chemical right now and not even know it.

  The odds that Spears would resort to such a drastic measure were slim. Spears and his company were not actually being threatened with anything other than a chance to voluntarily clear their name via a surreptitious suggestion. Rivers had said Spears’s ability to provide insight into a criminal investigation would be very much appreciated. What Rivers actually meant sounded more like: it would be wise for you to chat with me for a few minutes so I can eliminate you as a suspect.

  Despite her trepidations, Rivers found it hard to label Spears as a suspect. Gracious, well-spoken and distinguished looking, the CEO easily garnered her respect within seconds. This man had not become Genesis Biopharmaceuticals’s CEO and owner by lavishing phony flattery upon people. Instead, Spears began the interview by offering Rivers a warm smile. He voluntarily launched into an explanation of the company’s mission, often employing hand gestures for emphasis. He conveyed his feelings without too much corporate speak, telling Rivers his motivations were genuine. When speaking of the company’s multibillion dollar assets, he asserted the corporation’s responsibility to give something back to America, to stop at nothing short of finding a cure for such diseases as leukemia and multiple sclerosis. Rivers admired his tact, possibly equating it with her father. She knew this characterization of Spears was far from logical; but so was her reason for today’s visit. She had come here because of a dream, and for her, dreams were no more valid than hunches.

  Rivers’s uncharacteristic actions were not clear to her at the moment. She had chosen to ignore logic at the promise of enlightenment, unable to curb a strong motivation to ascertain how one might create a biopharmaceutical capable of influencing a man to murder and then take his own life. But more importantly, she let herself be drawn closer to Spears’s flame, as if she were a moth and his light represented knowledge. Today, she would risk breaking a few personal protocols if she could learn what had affected her behavior on the ledge that day. And how it intoxicated her from a single touch.

  When Rivers inquired if one could bind a drug to double stranded RNA, she struck a nerve. Spears’s body language changed; bringing his hands off his desk and up toward his chin, he began tapping his thumbs against one another. The CEO appeared genuinely appalled at what Rivers implied. Had someone used this technology to hurt someone? Spears’s face was aghast. His look alone gave Rivers her answer.

  “Yes, one could bind a drug to RNA, but the motivation to do such a thing without government regulation would surely smack of desperation. We attempt to create virus-based gene-transferring vectors to cure diseases, adhering to all governmental protocols.” The CEO’s mind raced. He concluded that the creation of such a vector might come into play if one were trying to countermeasure biochemical warfare. He looked as if he wanted to jump off his seat. Rivers knew she had hit pay dirt.

  “Excuse me, Agent Rivers. Am I correct to assume we are again under terrorist attack?”

  “Sir?”

  “You may not be able to confirm this for security reasons—and I do understand the need for protocols—but did you come here to ask me for help? Do we need to counteract an RNA virus or human pathogen intentionally unleashed upon the public? If so, you can count on my firm’s assistance in this endeavor
. We certainly won’t be able to complete our mission if bands of deranged individuals believe they can infect the populace with biochemical warfare.”

  Rivers waved her hand as if she were trying to fan a flame.

  “No, Mr. Spears. We are not in that dire position.” At least for today... “But I do appreciate your cooperation.” Rivers paused a moment to reflect upon Spears’s knee jerk reaction. Either he had bluffed his way out of suspicion or he truly was appalled to discover biopharmaceuticals might actually become weapons themselves.

  Spears picked up his mug, swishing its contents around.

  “I think I am following you now, Ms. Rivers. You suspect conspiracy in the death of Greg Salinger. You can tell me if I’m right or not. I would not tell a soul. My company has a vested interest in maintaining an exclusive operation in the United States. We do not believe in sharing our new discoveries with other parts of the world yet, even if it means a smaller profit margin. We feel a number of countries are still ethically challenged when it comes to policy making. They may resort to desperate circumstances in response to desperate times. Therefore, I am very protective of our biopharmaceutical advances. I would never do anything to jeopardize the safety of our citizens.”

  Putting thoughts of her investigation aside for a moment, Rivers heard what she had feared most about the state of the world. Biochemical weapons, once dubbed as science fiction, were now very real and effective threats, maybe more so than any nuclear arsenal or dirty bomb put together.

  “Yes, Mr. Spears. We do suspect conspiracy in the death of Greg Salinger. I cannot explain further.”

  “You don’t have to, agent. I feared what you came here to ask me about days ago. My conscience would not let it rise to the surface, I suppose. Yes, maybe someone could engineer a drug that could affect behavior. Are you familiar with the locus cereleus?”

  “It’s an area of the brain stem.”

  “Yes, Agent Rivers. You have a medical background I presume.”

  “That is correct. I studied biochemistry for the purpose of profiling serial killers.”

  “A wise decision, I must say.”

  Rivers felt as if Spears were offering parental approval. A sparkle of pride seemed to gleam in his eyes.

  “Norepinephrine is a neurotransmitter naturally released by the body in response to physiological changes such as stress. Neurons that are activated by norepinephrine send signals from the brain stem to the cerebral cortex. One could theoretically manipulate the locus cereleus to produce the neurotransmitter with the aid of a drug that can bind to RNA. In many ways, it would behave like a virus. But firms like Genesis Biopharmaceuticals would only consider it to be ethically correct to use such a procedure to regulate gene expression for the express purpose of curing diseases, not advancing them.”

  “In the spirit of cooperation and desire to apprehend a criminal, may I ask to see all records of drug trials conducted in the last two years?”

  “I could provide documentation of any experimental drug the company may have abandoned prior to my tenure at Genesis.”

  Rivers’s eyes searched Spears for an explanation.

  “I came aboard Genesis five months ago when I bought the company from Drake Sutter. He left records concerning the disposal of several drugs he deemed to be in the late stages of chemical trials. I have no knowledge of these experimental drugs. In fact, I am contractually prohibited from accessing information concerning drug trials the company conducted under Sutter as part of a special acquisitions clause. Manifests identifying the involved drugs exist. But the drugs are only identified with encrypted code words for confidentiality reasons. You are welcome to peruse our manifests.”

  “Why were the manifests created?”

  “That was necessitated when Sutter shipped the chemicals to a medical waste facility for disposal. I assume he followed all necessary protocols imposed by the Federal Drug Administration and Environmental Protection Agency.”

  Rivers heard how Spears emphasized assume loud and clear. It certainly gave credibility to Diggs’s vision. Sutter could have unloaded the company fearing legal recrimination.

  “And have you abandoned any research during your tenure?”

  “The answer is no. If we ever abandon chemical research in the future, we would adhere to the same protocols. We would transport it to a medical waste facility.”

  “So that I can substantiate this information with my superior, I would like to see those documents.”

  “We share the same mission, agent. You don’t have to explain your motivations. I want these perpetrators to be apprehended as much as you do. I will provide you access.”

  “So you conclude that someone has indeed manufactured a virus-like drug?”

  “I believe you already knew the answer to that question before you stepped through my door.” Spears broke into a grin.

  Rivers resisted the urge to smile back. She had another pressing question.

  “Do you know where I can find Mr. Sutter?”

  “Oh, probably on a beach. Maybe in Cancun or perhaps on one of the islands in the Caribbean.”

  Deondra clenched her right fist. Today was the day to break tradition. She let her gut instinct decide Sutter had fled the country out of guilt. She thanked Spears for his time, deducing by his body language that the man had been telling her the truth.

  Flustered by three unsuccessful attempts to contact Diggs via phone, Rivers pressed on. She would not waste time leaving a fourth voicemail message.

  Her next interview would take her to North Carolina, to meet with Alexander Sokovic, president of Puritan Health Systems.

  According to the manifests provided by Spears, the medical waste facility had been contracted by Genesis to incinerate all of its medical waste. Before Sokovic even consulted his database to confirm this with Rivers, he told her this could not be possible. Rivers requested to wait while he gathered physical receipts of deliveries made to him for the last two years. Sokovic grew impatient, returning with a stack of papers and a red face. “Are you satisfied now, agent?” he asked.

  Rivers perused all of them before answering. Not one of them ever listed Genesis Biopharmaceuticals as a client during Sutter’s tenure at Genesis.

  Furthermore, not one of Genesis’s manifests contained a valid delivery signature. Sokovic maintained no one by the name of “Tom Wolvington” ever worked for Puritan Health Systems. Now feeling as angry as Sokovic, she apologized for taking his time.

  Rivers continued to stew in her juices all the way to DC, assuming Sutter had forged the documents. Bursting to tell Caitlin the news, Deondra’s frustration only heightened when repeated calls to Diggs’s cell and home phones still failed to elicit responses.

  Chapter 11

  She finally had the object of her desire right where she wanted him: in bed, barely underneath the covers, and engaged in a sensuous kiss. He unfastened her robe and began exploring her breasts and stomach. She invited him on top of her with a slight touch of her fingertips upon his back, broadcasting her need for intimacy. She had surrendered to lust without a fight, trading logic for passion. Together, Ross Fisher and Caitlin Diggs were answering a primal calling. Magnetism continued to draw them closer and closer, until penetration merged them into one. She let forth a piercing scream, cursing the circumstances that had denied her this type of joy in recent months. Grief had mandated celibacy since the death of Geoffrey McAllister.

  Now, the emotional barriers she had used to ward off physical desire disappeared in the vapors of carnal entanglement. All it took was a single moment of weakness to unlock the door, which had been created solely from beliefs and morals. With all taboos eviscerated from her subconscious, Diggs greedily devoured equal portions of emotional and physical ecstasy without a trace of guilt. She behaved as if only one portion of her brain now functioned properly. She responded to Fisher’s body as if she were totally uninhibited, safe and secure from all the eyes of the world, sheltered from all storms life could throw at her. She be
lieved herself to be in her apartment. Sometimes beliefs and facts don’t balance in the ledger of life.

  When Diggs suddenly found herself seated at a corner table at a restaurant she swore she had never visited, rationality emerged. It sent an iceberg of discontent into the warm confines of her sea of love, interrupting the tranquility of a union she perceived as real moments earlier. When did she leave her bed? Had she ever been in it? The discussion between her and Ross quickly became heated, leaving little time to make perceptive assessments or peruse the pricey menu that now graced her lap.

  Fully dressed in a mint colored evening gown, Diggs peered out a window immediately to her right. She squinted into the sunshine, hoping the harsh light would spark a memory. She glanced back at Fisher, the investigative television reporter.

  If this were the present, she and Fisher should be somewhere in DC, perhaps Virginia. Maybe they came here to celebrate Ross’s promotion from Oklahoma to the big time. But why were they arguing if this were a celebration? Fisher crumpled a maroon napkin in his hand. He turned his eyes opposite the window, willing a waitress over to the table, believing the interruption might ease the moment of tension between them. Diggs still had no clue as to what the argument was about, so she asked a question that was both leading and rhetorical. Yin and yang. The balance. Pleasure had somehow segued into business.

  “Why must we always argue?”

  Fisher turned his eyes downward to an untouched plate of appetizers before him. The allure of mozzarella sticks and onion rings nearly overpowered her. The aroma of the food had begun to initiate a hunger tantamount to the gratuitous sex she believed she had enjoyed. Reaching into the plate, she grabbed a stick of deep-fried cheese. It prompted Fisher to respond with haste.

  “We don’t have to argue. You can simply agree with me. If I’m going to survive in this business, I need to break stories, Caitlin. So why can’t you share the details of the Salinger investigation with me? Publicity may even help produce a new lead. I’m only requesting that you don’t shut me out or treat me like I’m a criminal.”