Authors: Robin Cook
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Mystery & Detective, #Suspense, #Thrillers, #Suspense Fiction, #Fiction - Espionage, #Thriller, #Detective and mystery stories, #Espionage, #Onbekend, #Medical, #Medical novels, #New York (N.Y.), #Forensic pathologists, #Equatorial Guinea, #Forensic pathologists - Fiction, #Robin - Prose & Criticism, #Equatorial Guinea - Fiction, #Cook, #New York (N.Y.) - Fiction
Chromosome 6 (33 page)
"I think a drive-by sounds smart," Franco said.
When they reached Manhattan, Franco continued west on Fifty-ninth Street. He rounded the southern end of Central Park and headed north on Central Park West. Angelo thought back to the fateful day on the pier of the American Fresh Fruit Company when Laurie caused the explosion. Angelo had had skin problems from chicken pox and acne, but it had been the burns he suffered because of Laurie Montgomery that had turned him into what he called a "freak." Franco posed a question, but Angelo hadn't heard him because of his angry musings. He had to ask him to repeat it.
"I bet you'd like to stick it to that Laurie Montgomery," Franco said. "If it had been me, I sure would." Angelo let out a sarcastic laugh. Unconsciously, he moved his left arm so that he could feel the reassuring mass of his Walther TPH auto pistol snuggled into its shoulder holster. Franco turned left onto One Hundred-sixth Street. They passed a playground on the right that was in full use, particularly the basketball court. There were lots of people standing on the sidelines. "It must be on the left," Franco said.
Angelo consulted the piece of paper he was holding with Jack's address. "It's coming up," he said. "It's the building with the fancy top."
Franco slowed and then stopped to double-park a few buildings short of Jack's on the opposite side of the street. A car behind beeped. Franco lowered his window and motioned for the car to pass. There was cursing as the car did so. Franco shook his head. "You hear that guy? Nobody in this city has any manners."
"Why would a doctor live there?" Angelo said. He was eyeing Jack's building through the front windshield.
Franco shook his head. "Doesn't make any sense to me. The building looks like a dump." "Amendola said he was a little strange," Angelo said. "Apparently, he rides a bike from here all the way down to the morgue at First Avenue and Thirtieth Street every day." "No way!" Franco commented.
"That's what Amendola said," Angelo said. Franco's eyes scanned the area. "The whole neighborhood is a dump. Maybe he's into drugs." Angelo opened the car door and got out. "Where are you going?" Franco asked.
"I want to check to make sure he lives here," Angelo said. "Amendola said his apartment is the fourth floor rear. I'll be right back."
When they reached Manhattan, Franco continued west on Fifty-ninth Street. He rounded the southern end of Central Park and headed north on Central Park West. Angelo thought back to the fateful day on the pier of the American Fresh Fruit Company when Laurie caused the explosion. Angelo had had skin problems from chicken pox and acne, but it had been the burns he suffered because of Laurie Montgomery that had turned him into what he called a "freak." Franco posed a question, but Angelo hadn't heard him because of his angry musings. He had to ask him to repeat it.
"I bet you'd like to stick it to that Laurie Montgomery," Franco said. "If it had been me, I sure would." Angelo let out a sarcastic laugh. Unconsciously, he moved his left arm so that he could feel the reassuring mass of his Walther TPH auto pistol snuggled into its shoulder holster. Franco turned left onto One Hundred-sixth Street. They passed a playground on the right that was in full use, particularly the basketball court. There were lots of people standing on the sidelines. "It must be on the left," Franco said.
Angelo consulted the piece of paper he was holding with Jack's address. "It's coming up," he said. "It's the building with the fancy top."
Franco slowed and then stopped to double-park a few buildings short of Jack's on the opposite side of the street. A car behind beeped. Franco lowered his window and motioned for the car to pass. There was cursing as the car did so. Franco shook his head. "You hear that guy? Nobody in this city has any manners."
"Why would a doctor live there?" Angelo said. He was eyeing Jack's building through the front windshield.
Franco shook his head. "Doesn't make any sense to me. The building looks like a dump." "Amendola said he was a little strange," Angelo said. "Apparently, he rides a bike from here all the way down to the morgue at First Avenue and Thirtieth Street every day." "No way!" Franco commented.
"That's what Amendola said," Angelo said. Franco's eyes scanned the area. "The whole neighborhood is a dump. Maybe he's into drugs." Angelo opened the car door and got out. "Where are you going?" Franco asked.
"I want to check to make sure he lives here," Angelo said. "Amendola said his apartment is the fourth floor rear. I'll be right back."
Angelo rounded the car and waited for a break in the traffic. He crossed the street and climbed to the
stoop in front of Jack's building. Calmly, he pushed open the outer door and glanced at the mailboxes. Many were broken. None had locks that worked. Quickly, Angelo sorted through the mail. As soon as he came across a catalogue addressed to Jack Stapleton, he put it all back. Next, he tried the inner door. It opened with ease. Stepping into the front hall, Angelo took a breath. There was an unpleasant musty odor. He eyed the trash on the stairs, the peeling paint, and the broken light bulbs in the once-elegant chandelier. Up on the second floor, he could hear the sounds of a domestic fight with muffled screaming. Angelo smiled. Dealing with Jack Stapleton was going to be easy. The tenement looked like a crack house. Returning to the front of the house, Angelo took a step away to determine which underground passageway belonged to Jack's building. Each house had a sunken corridor reached by a half dozen steps. These corridors led to the backyards. After deciding which was the appropriate one, Angelo gingerly walked its length. There were puddles and refuse which threatened his Bruno Magli shoes. The backyard was a tumult of decaying and collapsed fencing, rotting mattresses, abandoned tires, and other trash. After carefully picking his way a few feet from the building, Angelo turned to look at the fire escape. On the fourth floor two windows had access. The windows were dark. The doctor wasn't at home.
Angelo returned and climbed back into the car. "Well?" Franco asked.
"He lives there all right," Angelo said. "The building is worse on the inside if you can believe it. It's not locked. I could hear a couple fighting on the second floor and someone else's TV on full blast. The place is not pretty but for our purposes it's perfect. It'll be easy. "That's what I like to hear," Franco said. "Should we still do the woman first?" Angelo smiled as best he could. "Why deny myself?" Franco put the car in gear. They headed south on Columbus Avenue to Broadway then cut across town to Second Avenue. Soon they were on Nineteenth Street. Angelo didn't need the address. He pointed out Laurie's building without difficulty. Franco found a convenient no-parking zone and parked. "So, you think we should go up the back way?" Franco said, while eyeing the building. "For several reasons," Angelo said. "She's on the fifth floor, but her windows face the back. To tell if she's there, we have to go back there anyway. Also she's got a nosy neighbor who lives in the front, and you can see her lights are on. This woman opened her door to gawk at me the two times I was up at Montgomery's front door. Besides, Montgomery's apartment has access to the back stairs, and the back stairs dump directly into the backyard. I know because we chased her out that way." "I'm convinced," Franco said. "Let's do it."
stoop in front of Jack's building. Calmly, he pushed open the outer door and glanced at the mailboxes. Many were broken. None had locks that worked. Quickly, Angelo sorted through the mail. As soon as he came across a catalogue addressed to Jack Stapleton, he put it all back. Next, he tried the inner door. It opened with ease. Stepping into the front hall, Angelo took a breath. There was an unpleasant musty odor. He eyed the trash on the stairs, the peeling paint, and the broken light bulbs in the once-elegant chandelier. Up on the second floor, he could hear the sounds of a domestic fight with muffled screaming. Angelo smiled. Dealing with Jack Stapleton was going to be easy. The tenement looked like a crack house. Returning to the front of the house, Angelo took a step away to determine which underground passageway belonged to Jack's building. Each house had a sunken corridor reached by a half dozen steps. These corridors led to the backyards. After deciding which was the appropriate one, Angelo gingerly walked its length. There were puddles and refuse which threatened his Bruno Magli shoes. The backyard was a tumult of decaying and collapsed fencing, rotting mattresses, abandoned tires, and other trash. After carefully picking his way a few feet from the building, Angelo turned to look at the fire escape. On the fourth floor two windows had access. The windows were dark. The doctor wasn't at home.
Angelo returned and climbed back into the car. "Well?" Franco asked.
"He lives there all right," Angelo said. "The building is worse on the inside if you can believe it. It's not locked. I could hear a couple fighting on the second floor and someone else's TV on full blast. The place is not pretty but for our purposes it's perfect. It'll be easy. "That's what I like to hear," Franco said. "Should we still do the woman first?" Angelo smiled as best he could. "Why deny myself?" Franco put the car in gear. They headed south on Columbus Avenue to Broadway then cut across town to Second Avenue. Soon they were on Nineteenth Street. Angelo didn't need the address. He pointed out Laurie's building without difficulty. Franco found a convenient no-parking zone and parked. "So, you think we should go up the back way?" Franco said, while eyeing the building. "For several reasons," Angelo said. "She's on the fifth floor, but her windows face the back. To tell if she's there, we have to go back there anyway. Also she's got a nosy neighbor who lives in the front, and you can see her lights are on. This woman opened her door to gawk at me the two times I was up at Montgomery's front door. Besides, Montgomery's apartment has access to the back stairs, and the back stairs dump directly into the backyard. I know because we chased her out that way." "I'm convinced," Franco said. "Let's do it."
Franco and Angelo got out of the car. Angelo opened up the backseat and lifted out his bag of
lock-picking tools along with a Halligan bar, a tool firefighters use to get through doors in cases of emergency.
The two men headed for the passageway to the backyard. "I heard she got away from you and Tony Ruggerio," Franco said. "At least for a while. She must be quite a number."
"Don't remind me," Angelo said. "Of course, working with Tony was like carrying around a bucket of sand."
Emerging into the backyard, which was a dark warren of neglected gardens, Franco and Angelo carefully moved away from the building far enough to see up to the fifth floor. The windows were all dark.
"Looks like we have time to prepare a nice homecoming," Franco said. Angelo didn't answer. Instead, he took his lock-picking tools over to the metal fire door that led to the back stairs. He slipped on a tight-fitting pair of leather gloves, while Franco readied the flashlight. At first Angelo's hands shook from sheer anticipatory excitement of coming face-to-face with Laurie Montgomery after five years of smoldering resentment. When the lock resisted Angelo's efforts, he made a point to control himself and concentrate. The lock responded, and the door opened. Five floors up, Angelo didn't bother with the lock-picking tools. He knew that Laurie had several dead bolts. He used the Halligan bar. With a quiet splintering sound, it made short work of the door. Within twenty seconds, they were inside.
For a few minutes, the two men stood motionless in the darkness of Laurie's pantry so that they could listen. They wanted to be certain there were no sounds suggestive that their forced entry had been noticed by any of the other tenants.
"Jesus Christ!" Franco forcibly whispered. "Something just touched my leg!" "What is it?" Angelo demanded. He'd not expected such an outburst, and it caused his heart to flutter. "Oh, it's only a goddamn cat!" Franco said with relief. All at once, both men could hear the animal purring in the darkness.
"Aren't we lucky," Angelo said. "That will be a nice touch. Bring it along." Slowly, the men made their way from the pantry through the dark kitchen and into the living room. There they could see significantly better with the city night light coming through the windows. "So far so good," Angelo said.
"Now we just have to wait," Franco said. "Maybe I'll see if there's any beer or wine in the refrigerator. Are you interested?"
"A beer would be nice," Angelo said.
lock-picking tools along with a Halligan bar, a tool firefighters use to get through doors in cases of emergency.
The two men headed for the passageway to the backyard. "I heard she got away from you and Tony Ruggerio," Franco said. "At least for a while. She must be quite a number."
"Don't remind me," Angelo said. "Of course, working with Tony was like carrying around a bucket of sand."
Emerging into the backyard, which was a dark warren of neglected gardens, Franco and Angelo carefully moved away from the building far enough to see up to the fifth floor. The windows were all dark.
"Looks like we have time to prepare a nice homecoming," Franco said. Angelo didn't answer. Instead, he took his lock-picking tools over to the metal fire door that led to the back stairs. He slipped on a tight-fitting pair of leather gloves, while Franco readied the flashlight. At first Angelo's hands shook from sheer anticipatory excitement of coming face-to-face with Laurie Montgomery after five years of smoldering resentment. When the lock resisted Angelo's efforts, he made a point to control himself and concentrate. The lock responded, and the door opened. Five floors up, Angelo didn't bother with the lock-picking tools. He knew that Laurie had several dead bolts. He used the Halligan bar. With a quiet splintering sound, it made short work of the door. Within twenty seconds, they were inside.
For a few minutes, the two men stood motionless in the darkness of Laurie's pantry so that they could listen. They wanted to be certain there were no sounds suggestive that their forced entry had been noticed by any of the other tenants.
"Jesus Christ!" Franco forcibly whispered. "Something just touched my leg!" "What is it?" Angelo demanded. He'd not expected such an outburst, and it caused his heart to flutter. "Oh, it's only a goddamn cat!" Franco said with relief. All at once, both men could hear the animal purring in the darkness.
"Aren't we lucky," Angelo said. "That will be a nice touch. Bring it along." Slowly, the men made their way from the pantry through the dark kitchen and into the living room. There they could see significantly better with the city night light coming through the windows. "So far so good," Angelo said.
"Now we just have to wait," Franco said. "Maybe I'll see if there's any beer or wine in the refrigerator. Are you interested?"
"A beer would be nice," Angelo said.
At police headquarters, Laurie and Jack had to get ID badges and go through a metal detector before
they were allowed to go up to Lou's floor. Lou was at the elevator to welcome them. The first thing he did was take Laurie by the shoulders, look her in the eye, and ask what had happened. "She's okay," Jack said, patting Lou reassuringly on the back. "She's back to her old, rational, calm self." "Really?" Lou questioned, still giving Laurie a close inspection. Laurie couldn't help but smile under Lou's intense scrutiny. "Jack's right," she said. "I'm fine. In fact, I'm embarrassed I made us rush down here."
Lou breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm happy to see both of you. Come on back to my palace." He led the way to his office.
"I can offer you coffee, but I strongly advise against it," Lou said. "At this time of day the janitorial staff considers it strong enough to clean out sink drains." "We're fine," Laurie said. She took a chair. Jack did likewise. He glanced around the spartan quarters with an unpleasant shiver. The last time he'd been there about a year ago, it had been after he'd narrowly escaped an attempt on his life. "I think I figured out how Franconi's body was taken from the morgue," Laurie began. "You teased me about suspecting the Spoletto Funeral Home, but now I think you're going to have to take that back. In fact, I think it's time that you took over." Laurie then outlined what she thought had happened. She told Lou that she suspected that someone from the medical examiner's office had given the Spoletto people the accession number of a relatively recent, unidentified body as well as the location of Franconi's remains. "Often when two drivers come to pick up a body for a funeral home, one of them goes in the walk-in cooler while the other handles the paperwork with the mortuary tech," Laurie explained. "In these instances, the mortuary tech prepares the body for pickup by covering it with a sheet and positioning its gurney in a convenient location just inside the cooler door. In the Franconi situation, I believe the driver took the body whose accession number he had, removed its tag, stashed the body in one of the many unoccupied refrigerator compartments, replaced Franconi's tag with that one, and then calmly appeared outside the mortuary office with Franconi's remains. All the tech did at that point was check the accession number."
"That's quite a scenario," Lou said. "Can I ask if you have any proof of this or is it all conjecture?" "I found the body whose accession number Spoletto called in," Laurie said. "It was in a compartment which was supposed to be vacant. The name Frank Gleason was bogus." "Ahhhh!" Lou said, becoming much more interested. He leaned forward on his desk. "I'm beginning to like this very much, especially considering the matrimonial association between the Spoletto and the Lucia people. This could be something important. It kind'a reminds me of getting Al Capone on tax evasion. I mean, it would be fantastic if we could get some of the Lucia people on body theft!"
they were allowed to go up to Lou's floor. Lou was at the elevator to welcome them. The first thing he did was take Laurie by the shoulders, look her in the eye, and ask what had happened. "She's okay," Jack said, patting Lou reassuringly on the back. "She's back to her old, rational, calm self." "Really?" Lou questioned, still giving Laurie a close inspection. Laurie couldn't help but smile under Lou's intense scrutiny. "Jack's right," she said. "I'm fine. In fact, I'm embarrassed I made us rush down here."
Lou breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, I'm happy to see both of you. Come on back to my palace." He led the way to his office.
"I can offer you coffee, but I strongly advise against it," Lou said. "At this time of day the janitorial staff considers it strong enough to clean out sink drains." "We're fine," Laurie said. She took a chair. Jack did likewise. He glanced around the spartan quarters with an unpleasant shiver. The last time he'd been there about a year ago, it had been after he'd narrowly escaped an attempt on his life. "I think I figured out how Franconi's body was taken from the morgue," Laurie began. "You teased me about suspecting the Spoletto Funeral Home, but now I think you're going to have to take that back. In fact, I think it's time that you took over." Laurie then outlined what she thought had happened. She told Lou that she suspected that someone from the medical examiner's office had given the Spoletto people the accession number of a relatively recent, unidentified body as well as the location of Franconi's remains. "Often when two drivers come to pick up a body for a funeral home, one of them goes in the walk-in cooler while the other handles the paperwork with the mortuary tech," Laurie explained. "In these instances, the mortuary tech prepares the body for pickup by covering it with a sheet and positioning its gurney in a convenient location just inside the cooler door. In the Franconi situation, I believe the driver took the body whose accession number he had, removed its tag, stashed the body in one of the many unoccupied refrigerator compartments, replaced Franconi's tag with that one, and then calmly appeared outside the mortuary office with Franconi's remains. All the tech did at that point was check the accession number."
"That's quite a scenario," Lou said. "Can I ask if you have any proof of this or is it all conjecture?" "I found the body whose accession number Spoletto called in," Laurie said. "It was in a compartment which was supposed to be vacant. The name Frank Gleason was bogus." "Ahhhh!" Lou said, becoming much more interested. He leaned forward on his desk. "I'm beginning to like this very much, especially considering the matrimonial association between the Spoletto and the Lucia people. This could be something important. It kind'a reminds me of getting Al Capone on tax evasion. I mean, it would be fantastic if we could get some of the Lucia people on body theft!"
"Of course, it also raises the specter of an organized crime connection to illicit liver transplantation," Jack
said. "This could be a frightening association." "Dangerous as well," Lou said. "So I must insist on no more amateur sleuthing on your part. We take over from here. Do I have your word on that?" "I'm happy to let you take over," Laurie said. "But there is also the issue of a mole in the medical examiner's office."
"I think it's best I deal with that, too," Lou said. "With the involvement of organized crime, I'd expect some element of extortion or criminal coercion. But I'll deal directly with Bingham. I shouldn't have to warn you that these people are dangerous." "I learned that lesson all too well," Laurie said. "I'm too preoccupied with my end of the mystery to interfere," Jack said. "What did you learn for me?" "Plenty," Lou said. He reached over to the corner of his desk and hefted a large book the size of a coffee-table art book. With a grunt, he handed it to Jack. With a look of confusion, Jack cracked the book. "What the hell!" he commented. "What's an atlas for?" "Because you're going to need it," Lou said. "I can't tell you how long it took me to scrounge one up here at police headquarters."
"I don't get it," Jack said.
"My contact at the FAA was able to call someone who knew someone who works in a European organization that doles out landing and takeoff times all over Europe," Lou explained. "They also get the flight plans and store them for over sixty days. Franconi's G4 came to France from Equatorial Guinea." "Where?" Jack questioned as his eyebrows collided in an expression of total confusion. "I never even heard of Equatorial Guinea. Is it a country?" "Check out page one hundred fifty-two!" Lou said. "What's this about a Franconi and a G4?" Laurie asked. "A G4 is a private jet," Lou explained. "I was able to find out for Jack that Franconi had been out of the country. We thought he'd been in France until I got this new information." Jack got to page 152 in the atlas. It was a map labeled "the Western Congo Basin," covering a huge portion of western Africa.
"All right, give me a hint," Jack said. Lou pointed over Jack's shoulder. "It's this little tiny country between Cameroon and Gabon. The city that the plane flew out of is Bata, on the coast." He pointed to the appropriate dot. The atlas depicted the country as mostly uninterrupted green.
Laurie got up from her chair and looked over Jack's other shoulder. "I think I remember hearing about
said. "This could be a frightening association." "Dangerous as well," Lou said. "So I must insist on no more amateur sleuthing on your part. We take over from here. Do I have your word on that?" "I'm happy to let you take over," Laurie said. "But there is also the issue of a mole in the medical examiner's office."
"I think it's best I deal with that, too," Lou said. "With the involvement of organized crime, I'd expect some element of extortion or criminal coercion. But I'll deal directly with Bingham. I shouldn't have to warn you that these people are dangerous." "I learned that lesson all too well," Laurie said. "I'm too preoccupied with my end of the mystery to interfere," Jack said. "What did you learn for me?" "Plenty," Lou said. He reached over to the corner of his desk and hefted a large book the size of a coffee-table art book. With a grunt, he handed it to Jack. With a look of confusion, Jack cracked the book. "What the hell!" he commented. "What's an atlas for?" "Because you're going to need it," Lou said. "I can't tell you how long it took me to scrounge one up here at police headquarters."
"I don't get it," Jack said.
"My contact at the FAA was able to call someone who knew someone who works in a European organization that doles out landing and takeoff times all over Europe," Lou explained. "They also get the flight plans and store them for over sixty days. Franconi's G4 came to France from Equatorial Guinea." "Where?" Jack questioned as his eyebrows collided in an expression of total confusion. "I never even heard of Equatorial Guinea. Is it a country?" "Check out page one hundred fifty-two!" Lou said. "What's this about a Franconi and a G4?" Laurie asked. "A G4 is a private jet," Lou explained. "I was able to find out for Jack that Franconi had been out of the country. We thought he'd been in France until I got this new information." Jack got to page 152 in the atlas. It was a map labeled "the Western Congo Basin," covering a huge portion of western Africa.
"All right, give me a hint," Jack said. Lou pointed over Jack's shoulder. "It's this little tiny country between Cameroon and Gabon. The city that the plane flew out of is Bata, on the coast." He pointed to the appropriate dot. The atlas depicted the country as mostly uninterrupted green.
Laurie got up from her chair and looked over Jack's other shoulder. "I think I remember hearing about
that country one time. I think that's where the writer Frederick Forsyth went to write Dogs of War."
Lou slapped the top of his head in utter amazement. "How do you remember stuff like that? I can't remember where I had lunch last Tuesday." Laurie shrugged. "I read a lot of novels," she said. "Writers interest me." "This doesn't make any sense whatsoever," Jack complained. "This is an undeveloped part of Africa. This country must be covered with nothing but jungle. In fact, this whole part of Africa is nothing but jungle. Franconi couldn't have gotten a liver transplant there." "That was my reaction, too," Lou said. "But the other information makes a little more sense. I tracked Alpha Aviation through its Nevada management corporation to its real owner. It's GenSys Corp in Cambridge, Massachusetts."
"I've heard of GenSys," Laurie said. "It's a biotech firm that's big in vaccines and lymphokines. I remember because a girlfriend of mine who's a broker in Chicago recommended the stock. She's forever giving me tips, thinking I've got tons of money to invest." "A biotech company!" Jack mused. "Hmmm. That's a new twist. It must be significant, although I don't quite know how. Nor do I know what a biotech firm would be doing in Equatorial Guinea." "What's the meaning of this indirect corporate trail in Nevada?" Laurie asked. "Is GenSys trying to hide the fact that they own an aircraft?"
"I doubt it," Lou said. "I was able to learn the connection too easily. If GenSys was trying to conceal ownership, the lawyers in Nevada would have continued to be the directors and officers of record for Alpha Aviation. Instead, at the first board meeting the chief financial officer of GenSys assumed the duties of president and secretary."
"Then why Nevada for an airplane owned by a Massachusetts-based company?" Laurie asked. "I'm no lawyer," Lou admitted. "But I'm sure it has something to do with taxes and limitation of liability. Massachusetts is a terrible state to get sued in. I imagine GenSys leases its plane out for the percentage of the time it doesn't use it, and insurance for a Nevada-based company would be a lot less." "How well do you know this broker friend of yours?" Jack asked Laurie. "Really well," Laurie said. "We went to Wesleyan University together." "How about giving her a call and asking her if she knows of any connection between GenSys and Equatorial Guinea," Jack said. "If she recommended the stock, she'd probably thoroughly researched the company."
"Without a doubt," Laurie said. "Jean Corwin was one of the most compulsive students I knew. She made us premeds seem casual by comparison." "Is it all right if Laurie uses your phone?" Jack asked Lou. "No problem," Lou said.
Lou slapped the top of his head in utter amazement. "How do you remember stuff like that? I can't remember where I had lunch last Tuesday." Laurie shrugged. "I read a lot of novels," she said. "Writers interest me." "This doesn't make any sense whatsoever," Jack complained. "This is an undeveloped part of Africa. This country must be covered with nothing but jungle. In fact, this whole part of Africa is nothing but jungle. Franconi couldn't have gotten a liver transplant there." "That was my reaction, too," Lou said. "But the other information makes a little more sense. I tracked Alpha Aviation through its Nevada management corporation to its real owner. It's GenSys Corp in Cambridge, Massachusetts."
"I've heard of GenSys," Laurie said. "It's a biotech firm that's big in vaccines and lymphokines. I remember because a girlfriend of mine who's a broker in Chicago recommended the stock. She's forever giving me tips, thinking I've got tons of money to invest." "A biotech company!" Jack mused. "Hmmm. That's a new twist. It must be significant, although I don't quite know how. Nor do I know what a biotech firm would be doing in Equatorial Guinea." "What's the meaning of this indirect corporate trail in Nevada?" Laurie asked. "Is GenSys trying to hide the fact that they own an aircraft?"
"I doubt it," Lou said. "I was able to learn the connection too easily. If GenSys was trying to conceal ownership, the lawyers in Nevada would have continued to be the directors and officers of record for Alpha Aviation. Instead, at the first board meeting the chief financial officer of GenSys assumed the duties of president and secretary."
"Then why Nevada for an airplane owned by a Massachusetts-based company?" Laurie asked. "I'm no lawyer," Lou admitted. "But I'm sure it has something to do with taxes and limitation of liability. Massachusetts is a terrible state to get sued in. I imagine GenSys leases its plane out for the percentage of the time it doesn't use it, and insurance for a Nevada-based company would be a lot less." "How well do you know this broker friend of yours?" Jack asked Laurie. "Really well," Laurie said. "We went to Wesleyan University together." "How about giving her a call and asking her if she knows of any connection between GenSys and Equatorial Guinea," Jack said. "If she recommended the stock, she'd probably thoroughly researched the company."
"Without a doubt," Laurie said. "Jean Corwin was one of the most compulsive students I knew. She made us premeds seem casual by comparison." "Is it all right if Laurie uses your phone?" Jack asked Lou. "No problem," Lou said.
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