The Target (21 page)

“Jonas Brickman?”

“Yes. Who are you?”

“Detective Cortez, SDPD. I need to ask some questions.”

“About what?”

Cortez straightened his spine and pulled his shoulders back to give himself more height. Brickman made him feel like a kid. “The death of James Avery.”

A pause. “You mean the actor?”

“Yes. Let’s go inside.”

“I don’t know why you could possibly want to talk to me.” Brickman slid his ID card into the security slot. “But come in and let’s get this over with. I’m a busy man.”

“When do you start running for the mayor’s race?” Cortez followed him into the cool building, as the receptionist’s voice buzzed behind them.

“In the fall, but I’m gearing up now.”

“What happens with your company while you’re campaigning?”

“We have many capable people here, and I plan to win and give up my leadership role.”

They crossed a lobby encased in shiny silver-and-white tiles and boarded the elevator. Cortez wondered about Brickman’s net worth. He’d founded the company, so he owned much of the stock, in addition to drawing a nice salary.

Another man in a suit scurried on the elevator with them, so Cortez held his questions. If necessary, he would interrogate everyone who was in the building the day Avery was killed. So far, no one credible had come forward to say they’d seen James Avery after he entered ProLabs. Whatever happened to him that day had started here on this medical-research campus.

Inside Brickman’s office, the sweat on Cortez’s body cooled so quickly it made him uncomfortable. What did the heavy man have the AC set to? Brickman closed the blinds, blocking out the daylight, then took a seat behind his massive desk. Cortez set out his recorder and asked his main question. “When was the last time you saw James Avery?”

“At a fundraiser for the animal shelter three years ago. That was the only time I’ve seen him in person.”

“Was he ever in this building?”

“Not that I know of. Why would he be?”

“The last place he was seen alive was the ProLabs clinic around the corner. The video surveillance doesn’t show him leaving the building, yet five hours later, he was drugged, beaten, and murdered. Tell me what you know about it.”

Brickman’s eyes flashed with anger and his jaw tightened. “I have no idea, and I resent the implication. Even the suggestion that I’m under investigation could ruin my campaign.”

That wasn’t his concern.
“I believe Avery came through the walkway that connects the two buildings. Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. This is so bizarre.”

“Where is the access?”

“In the R&D facility.”

“Do you have video surveillance in that area?”

Exasperation seeped into Brickman’s voice. “Why would there be? The walkway is only for employees, and no one uses it.”

“Did you know James Avery was an investor in BioMed Holdings?”

“No. When I sold ProtoCell to BioMed last year, I stepped back from the financial management. I’m transitioning into politics.”

“But you understand why I’m here?”

“Yes, but I’m baffled and don’t know how to help you.”

“I need you and your employees to cooperate with my investigation.”

“Of course.”

“I want the surveillance footage from both buildings for Tuesday, July eighth, everything from four o’clock until ten.” He would have to get help to view the files, but Cortez was confident he’d find something.

“I’ll talk to security and have them assist you.”

“Where were you Tuesday evening between eight and ten?”

Brickman’s mouth dropped open. “You suspect me?”

Cortez thought the reaction seemed a little put on. “We suspect everyone until we have solid evidence. Where were you?”

“Let me check my calendar.” Brickman reached for his computer mouse.

Cortez glanced at his list of questions while he waited. He still needed more financial information.

“I didn’t have any engagements that evening,” the CEO finally said. “So I must have been home with my wife.”

“What’s her name and phone number?”

Brickman sighed. “Do you really have to bring her into this?”

“I have to check your alibi. And question everyone who was in the building on that day. So I need a list of those employees as well.”

“I’ll get that to you later today.”

“I need it now while I’m here. And your wife’s phone number.”

Brickman rattled it off, his voice tight. “There has to be some rational explanation for all this. Maybe Avery had a sexual encounter with one of the women at ProLabs. Maybe her husband caught them and killed him. Then he doctored the video to cover it up. I can’t image why James Avery would access this building.”

The suggestion filled him with more doubt. An affair, followed by a jealousy killing, made much more sense. Cortez made a note to follow up. But it didn’t explain the financial connection. “As an investor, what would Avery be worried about?”

“I don’t know.”

“I want access to your financial records for the last three months.”

Brickman let out a snort. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Then I’ll get a warrant.”

“Good luck.”

“Is ProtoCell making a profit?”

“Of course. It has been for years.”

“Why did you sell to BioMed?”

“I wanted more time to pursue my political ambitions.”

“Any financial concerns?”

“We’re in great shape. In fact, we’re launching a product this week that will make our stockholders rich.”

“What is it?”

“A weight-loss implant called SlimPro.”

Cortez tried to hide his surprise. Why was Brickman still overweight if he had developed an effective diet product? More important, was there any possible connection between a blockbuster product and the murder? “As an investor, did Avery know about SlimPro?”

Brickman shrugged. “He probably saw it in the report we filed for BioMed.
If
he read the report. I don’t see how it’s relevant.”

Cortez decided to move on. “Will you show me where the walkway connects?”

“My assistant can do that. I’m expecting an important call.”

Cortez felt as if he’d been dismissed. “While you wait for it, don’t forget to create the list of employees who were in the building last Tuesday.” He stood and leaned over the desk. “I hope you’ll reconsider giving me access to your books. Cooperation is how innocent people handle investigations.”

Brickman stood, his mouth twisted in a smirk. “Our competitors are out for blood. We can’t release sensitive information without a court order.”

“Out for blood? What do you mean?”

The CEO grimaced with regret. “It’s just an expression. They would use our sales projections and pipeline information against us if they got their hands on it. We have to be careful, that’s all.”

“Who are your competitors?”

“Other medical device companies, such as TecLife. But there are dozens of startups hoping for a break.”

As he walked out, Cortez had an odd thought. Had Avery been looking for proprietary information?

Jonas pushed the detective out of his mind. He had more important concerns. After promising the wealthy campaign donor he’d lose five pounds a week, he’d learned that Cheryl—‌who’d become a backstabbing bitch—‌had probably sent someone to steal SlimPros. Then yesterday afternoon, HR informed him that his lead scientist had committed suicide. His work on their next product, a peptide-based diabetes treatment, was critical, and Michael Pence would be impossible to replace.

The timing was devastating. And suspicious. Could Cheryl have been involved? Arson and theft, yes. But driving a man to suicide? Jonas couldn’t rule it out. She seemed ruthless in her campaign to take him and his company down. Or maybe it was all about grabbing her share of the sixty-six-billion-dollar weight-loss market. He couldn’t blame her for that. It’s what they all wanted.

The SlimPro theft was more puzzling. Why now? They were so close to launching it was too late for TecLife to beat them to market with a similar product. What was Cheryl up to? The possibilities unnerved him. Even though she’d been extremely cautious and secretive, he knew she was testing her own appetite-suppressant device in a Phase Three study. It was her life’s work and Cheryl never gave up. His operative had managed to copy some files from Max Grissom’s computer at TecLife, but it was all clinical trial data. Still, from reading the results, Jonas had been able to determine that Cheryl was working with digestive-friendly microbiota and having great success. But the mechanism of action eluded him. Maybe he needed to send the freelancer to Costa Rica to bribe the clinical trial doctors for information.

What if Cheryl’s product rolled out six months from now and obliterated the SlimPro? He’d been worrying about that scenario for years and had finally sold the company to detach himself. Cheryl was an amazing and determined scientist, and he’d never doubted her ability. But she’d been humorless and sexually repressed. When he’d finally broken off their affair, she’d become too difficult to work with and he’d had no choice but to force her out. But he had paid for it dearly. Having her for an enemy had become far worse than having her as a bitter and uncooperative research partner.

Would she stop punishing him now that he was getting out of medical devices and into politics—‌or would it only get worse?

Jonas shelved his worry and spun away from the window. He had to stay focused on launching SlimPro earlier than planned and getting his media initiative set up. He called his executive assistant and his PR director, and they showed up minutes later. Keyed up, he stayed on his feet, pacing in a short circle.

“I’ve decided to be the first person to get the SlimPro implant,” he announced.
Except for the hundreds in clinical trials,
he mentally corrected. “The first post-approval customer, I mean. And I want it done immediately.” He turned to his assistant, a loyal woman in her late twenties. “Book me into the Pacific Family clinic, and let them know we’ll be filming.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “I’m running for mayor, and I plan to put their clinic on the news. They’ll make room in their schedule. The sooner the better.”

His next missive was for his public relations director. “We’ll film the entire procedure and use it for marketing. Line up a crew, probably from the Taylor Agency, as soon as we have the appointment time. The idea is to show the world how easy and painless the procedure is. Doing it live with a real person will be so much more effective than the commercials we had planned.”

“I love it.” Rashad pointed at him, a youthful gesture of admiration. “Not just a real person, but the CEO of the company that makes the product. What better testimony to our faith in the medicine?”

Nobody in the pharmaceutical or device industries used the word
drug
. They produced remedies, treatments, medicines, biologicals, and devices. Never drugs. “Let the media know about the event, including print journalists and magazine editors. We’ll hold a press conference and get some news coverage too.”

Rashad’s leg vibrated, filling the room with nervous tension. “I’ll tweet the event live and upload the video to You Tube when we have the edited version. This is brilliant.”

Jonas was on a roll. “Let’s get a copywriter started on the script and find a narrator. We have to be ready by tomorrow, in case the clinic can accommodate us that quickly.”

His assistant jumped up. “I’ll call now.”

“I’d like to get started too,” Rashad said, “unless you have something else for me.”

“I’m sure I will, but let’s get everything rolling, then meet again tomorrow with updates.” Jonas gestured for him to go.

When he was alone again, dread set in. Making a public commitment to lose weight terrified him. He’d tried and failed many times, but at least those failures were private. He’d never talked about his diets to anyone but his wife and his brother. But now if he failed, everyone would know, and his blockbuster product would look bad. Yet, more than anything, he wanted to be mayor and beat Cheryl to market. This was the only way.

He picked up the phone to call his factory manager and ask if they’d been successful in producing a full product run. He wanted SlimPros in clinics around the country by the time his procedure went on the air. Customers would start making appointments immediately. Everyone wanted to lose weight.

Tuesday, July 15, 2:35 p.m.

Dallas worked diligently on the task she’d been assigned, knowing Decker wanted to send the file to the FDA by the end of the day. This was part of the undercover assignment—‌doing the administrative job well enough to stay employed until she gathered enough intel. But holy crap she was bored. How did people do this kind of tedious work day after day?

She thought about the FBI analysts in the San Diego bureau who were currently listening to the audio being transmitted from Decker’s office. An even more boring job. Dallas felt grateful for her career and would never take it for granted. The data she was sorting, copying, and pasting, was intriguing in its own way. Decker’s weight-loss product might be weird, but it was also effective. Some of the subjects had lost fifteen percent of their body weight in six months. Others had lost less, but still ended up with healthier indexes. Decker might turn out to be a criminal, even a killer, but she was clearly a brilliant medical researcher.

Dallas finished the project by three and uploaded the files. Should she snoop in Decker’s messages again while she had the chance? Why not? She backtracked into the main email program and keyed in
AmDeck9
. An error message popped up, indicating Decker had her software open. Dallas backed out, intending to try again in a few minutes.

Impulsively, she pushed to her feet. Time to get out of the boxy little office for a minute. Maybe even step outside, if it wasn’t too hot. Or at least stand in the atrium for a few minutes where she could see the sky.

Decker stepped through their adjoining door, locking hers behind her. “Thanks for finishing the project so quickly. I’ll look over your work in a few minutes.” The boss kept moving out into the hall.