Terminal 9 (34 page)

“So we could be looking for someone in the military too?” Dana asked.

“Not necessarily, but we are looking for a lab that's well financed or for an expert who would know how to mill the refined product in his own garage. This wasn't your home-brew Internet-instructed poison. This is high quality stuff.”

“Any ideas on where we should start?” Mac removed the outer handle with a tug then placed it on top of the car.

“I have a list of three labs right here in the Northwest,” Allison said. “They are independent of the United States military and have permits to possess and administer the ricin. One is here in Portland, a place called the Avalon Research Institute. A second one is in Seattle and the other in Boise. All three are experimental cancer research centers. On the military note, I can't help you there. The CDC tech was pretty reluctant to talk about those centers.”

“At least we have a place to start,” Dana said. “Do you have that in report form?”

“I would if you didn't keep calling me out.” Allison's smile softened the retort. “You should have it this afternoon. I dictated it right after I left you the message this morning.”

“You want to give these door handles a once-over?” Mac wiped the sweat off his brow with his shirt-sleeve.

“You bet I do.” Allison moved in to examine the items. “You want me to tell you if I don't find anything after all that work?”

“No, lie to me, please.” Mac walked to the driver's side and pulled the trunk release lever. “I want to take a look in that trunk while you're messing around with those.”

“And I'll go through the jockey box and take a look under the seats,” Dana offered. “Although it looks like it's pretty well cleaned out.”

Mac lifted up the trunk lid after borrowing Dana's camera. He snapped a couple of photos before rooting around in the trunk. The trunk itself was fairly clean and empty except for a roadside hazard kit and an umbrella. Mac pulled out the umbrella, depressing the button on the wood handle to release it. Finding nothing in it, he set it aside.

Next Mac grabbed the small black nylon bag and unzipped the upper compartment, removing a set of jumper cables that appeared to be unused and a clean pair of white cotton gloves. The cables had their original plastic twist tie that secured the instructions for their use. Mac flipped the commercially packed emergency bag over to the other side and opened the bottom compartment. Inside he found a new flashlight, still wrapped in the black cloth loop that secured the light, and a row of three waxy red flares.

Whoa. What do we have here?
There was an empty slot where the fourth roadside flare should have been. He grabbed the packing slip to the kit, reading the contents to himself, confirming the kit was originally equipped with four roadside flares.

Removing the kit, Mac placed the items on the floor of the shop and photographed the contents. He then removed the mini mag flashlight from his belt holder and more closely scrutinized the trunk's interior.

“Well, I'll be,” Mac said aloud as he reached for a small plastic cap.

“What is it?” Allison asked, looking up from her work.

Dana came around to the back of the car to look at the object in Mac's hand. “That's the striker cap off a road flare.” Like any patrol officer, she had handled hundreds of them at crash scenes and road closures.

“Exactly.” Mac beamed. “And one of the four flares from the roadside hazard kit is missing. I bet this is the cap to the flare Shaw lit to torch Clay's house. This is great circumstantial evidence to corroborate Cohen's story. Shaw's going to have to explain this one away; he can't just sit by and have this evidence presented before a jury.”

Dana handed Mac a small plastic evidence bag for the item. He placed the cap in the bag after photographing it, then sealed the bag and initialed the closure.

“Well, don't get your hopes up,” Allison said, “but I got lucky on the door handle.”

“What's that?” Mac asked, coming to stand beside the forensics specialist.

“I lifted two latents on the outer handle and a partial on the inner plastic handle. It'll take me about an hour, but I'll have this inside processed also. I'll go ahead and fume the inside unless you have any objections.”

“Go for it. Would you mind wrapping up while Dana and I do a little legwork?”

“Not at all. I think I know where you're heading. Avalon, right?”

“Yep.” Mac saluted. “I want to talk to someone at the research center, then pay a visit to Clay's daughter. I'd like to see how she handles Shaw's arrest and question her about her involvement in her father's and brother's deaths.”

Dana hurried to catch up, not quite matching Mac's long strides. “I want to see Kelly's face when we ask her how the ricin got into her father's insulin. Especially since she brings him his medications.”

“Right.” Mac slowed a bit. “I could be wrong, but I think we're getting real close.”

“Just one question, Mac. Where would she get the ricin?”

“Well, we know her husband is a doctor. She'd have access to all kinds of medical books. And ricin has been in the news.” Mac shrugged. “Maybe Dr. Cassidy was in on it too.”

THIRTY

M
AC AND DANA ARRIVED at the Portland laboratories of Avalon Research Institute at 3:45 p.m.

“Looks like a pretty slick outfit,” Mac commented as he approached the front security door and picked up the stainless steel phone receiver. He noticed the security camera inside the foyer that was aimed at him while the automated phone rang the attendant.

“ARI,” the male voice answered. “What can I do for you?”

“Detectives McAllister and Bennett with the State Police.” Mac held up his credentials to the camera. “We are on a follow-up and have a few questions we'd like to run by a lab supervisor.”

After a brief hesitation he answered back. “Someone will be down to greet you momentarily.”

“Thanks.” Mac set the phone back on the hook. “They're sending someone down to meet us.”

“Good, then I guess we won't have to break down the door.” She grinned at his raised eyebrow.

“Getting an itchy trigger finger?”

“Not really.” She folded her arms and rocked back and forth on her sturdy shoes. “I just don't like waiting.”

Moments later a short, heavy-set man in a white lab coat came to the door and held up a security card to a sensor to release the door lock. “You are with the police?” Wariness was evident in his dark eyes. With his dark skin and slight accent, Mac guessed him to be of Indian or Arab decent.

Mac nodded, once again displaying his badge and photo identification. “The Oregon State Police. I'm Detective McAllister, and this is my partner, Detective Bennett.”

The man eyed Mac's credentials as they shook hands. “I'm Dr. Kennerman, a research specialist here at Avalon. What can I do for you?” Dr. Kennerman, who appeared to be in his mid-forties, remained in the doorway showing no intent of inviting them in.

“My partner and I are assigned to a homicide investigation in Columbia County,” Mac said. “We were hoping someone from your facility could assist us with some specialized information.”

“I'm not sure I can help you. Any inquiries involving our personnel must go through our—”

“It involves ricin,” Mac interrupted. “And we don't have any reason to believe any of your employees are culpable in this investigation.”
Not yet anyway.
Mac stepped forward, hoping the doctor would invite him in.

“I see.” Kennerman's Adam's apple slipped up and down as he swallowed. “Let me see if I understand you correctly. You came to this facility because our research involves the experimental use of ricin?”

“Bingo.” Mac was getting annoyed with the game.

“May I also assume that you have a ricin victim as part of your investigation?”

“I'd rather have a conversation than share assumptions, Doctor. Do you have somewhere we could talk about this in private?”

Reluctantly, he stepped aside. “Come with me.” Dr. Kennerman led Mac and Dana to an office near the front reception area. His name and title were engraved on a plaque on the wall at eye level.

The office was a cluttered mess, stacks of documents and miscellaneous data sheets covering the large metal desk. He motioned to two chairs that leaned against the wall nearest the door. “Please, have a seat.” Kennerman moved a stack of papers from one of the chairs to his already overburdened desk.

“Thanks.” Dana took the farther seat near the window and prepared her notepad.

“Would you two like some coffee or a soft drink?”

They both declined. Mac glanced at the degrees on the wall behind the doctor's chair and was impressed with Kennerman's education.

“So then, how can I be of assistance to you?” The doctor sat up straight and leaned over his desk.

“I'll be frank with you, Dr. Kennerman,” Mac began. “As I've already indicated, my partner and I are working a death in Columbia County. An elderly man was hit and killed by a train at the Terminal 9 facility near St. Helens.”

He frowned. “Oh, yes. I heard about that on the news. Poor man was in a wheelchair or something, wasn't he?”

Mac nodded. “We believe the man was trying to get help when he was struck by the train. We initially thought the incident was an accident but have subsequently learned the victim had ricin in his system. We believe the ricin was placed in the victim's insulin bottle and that he unknowingly administered the poison to himself.”

Kennerman gasped. “My word. And you are sure it was ricin? The signs and symptoms support this assertion?”

“Quite certain. The medical examiner was able to supply the tissue from the injection sites to accompany blood samples to the OSP crime lab. The presence of ricin was confirmed with the assistance of the CDC. We also have the actual vial of the toxin secured for testing. Again a positive.”

“I can't believe it.” He leaned back in his chair. “This must be the first incident on the West Coast involving ricin. To my knowledge, anyway.”

“That's what brings us to your door. We haven't had much experience with ricin. Truth be told, this is the first real experience any of us have had with it. The CDC advised us of several legitimate labs here in the Northwest, independent of the military, that have the lawful authority to process and evaluate the medical uses of ricin. We were told Avalon, your center, was the only lab in the Portland-Metro area, so naturally we started with you. We were hoping you might have some leads for us. Of course, we'll also have to investigate the possibility that our killer may have an association with your center.”

The doctor rubbed at the wrinkles on his wide forehead. “I can assure you that none of our researchers would have a connection to your investigation. What kind of quality are we talking about here? Do you know the grade of the ricin?”

“We were told it's a pure grade.”

“I see. Well, I can assure you that the ricin didn't come from our facility.” Kennerman sounded a little condescending. “We have quality-control tests daily, and you can see what type of security our building has. Our facility researches several progressive cancer treatments, ricin being only one of the experimental substances we have on site. We are currently studying the viability of ricin as it relates to uses in bone marrow transplants and the assault of cancer cells in a clinical setting. We are finding the ricin has substantial medicinal value, exceeding the poison's potential as a lethal mechanism.”

“Could you supply me a list of your employees, anyone who would have access to the ricin?” Mac asked. “You understand that we'll have to draw our own conclusions as to who may or may not have anything to do with our investigation.”

Dr. Kennerman sighed. “I don't see a problem with that, but I'll have to get an opinion from our legal counsel before I supply a list. There are only a handful of employees allowed access into the secure areas of our facility.”

“That's reasonable. You mentioned daily checks. Can we assume you document these daily quality checks and you would know if some of your ricin was missing?”

“Even the smallest quantity would not go unnoticed. We have the strictest of quality controls in place. I'll speak with legal about your request and supply all the records I can. You must understand, however, that this research center is under extremely high security, not only to protect the substances we store, but to secure the release of information and trade secrets we develop from within these walls.”

“I totally understand, Doctor,” Mac said. “I think that about covers it for now. Do you have anything, Dana?”

“Just one thing. Do the names Clay Mullins, Jacob Mullins, or Addison Shaw ring a bell to you?”

“No, they don't sound familiar and I'm sure we have no one working here with those names. Though you'd have to check with personnel.” He smiled. “I don't know everyone on our payroll. Why are you asking?”

“Two of them are dead, and one is in custody for murder.” Dana frowned. “How about the last names Mason or Cassidy? Do you recognize either of those names?”

He frowned. “Nothing rings a bell.”

“How many employees do you have at Avalon?”

“Several hundred with private contractors included. I'm afraid my position in administration limits my access to outside contractors, or those employees who deal with funding and personnel issues. Like I said, the ricin experimental operations are only a small fraction of our mission at this campus, which includes seven buildings above ground.”

“Those were some names of people we've encountered during our investigation. Just checking to see if they sounded familiar to you.”

“Sorry. I'll do my best to get you a complete employee list. We receive a substantial amount of grant funds from the state, so I would like it to go on the record that we cooperated with your investigation as much as we are legally able.”