Splicer (A Thriller) Read online

  "Who's Kim Soo?" she asked.

  Rusty blanked. Ludd's wife? He'd witnessed this scene in a dozen movies and television shows. The grieving widow confronting the suspected murderer, banging on his chest with her hands through a fountain of tears. But Avril looked so calm. In fact, she actually looked quite beautiful. He could see no violence, no hate in her simple expression of confusion. But what she had asked was incomprehensible to him. He could feel the blood rushing to his head.

  "Who is Kim Soo?" she asked again, plainly.

  Rusty looked around, hoping the entourage of court clerks and lawyers filtering back from downtown restaurants and cafeterias would show up and rescue him from his dilemma.

  "You bastard," she growled under her breath. "Tell me who the hell Kim Soo is?"

  "Avril … why should I know who she is?"

  "Because you do. I know you do."

  Rusty groaned and reddened. "I don't think you do." He took a deep breath. He stared at her and those sharp unwavering eyes. "And I didn't do it. What happened to your husband?” Avril set her mouth hard. The muscles in her jaw tightened. Rusty realized there was more anger there than sorrow. Why?

  "If I tell you I don't think you had anything to do with it, will you tell me about Kim Soo?"

  Rusty searched her eyes for some clue to her madness. "Tell the police, not me."

  "Do you think it will do any good? Do you? What you need is the real murderer."

  Rusty's mouth had become as dry as pumice. "Who's that?"

  "How about Kim Soo?"

  Rusty moved his head slowly from side to side. "Avril, I'm sorry. This isn't making any sense to me. How do you know about this Kim Soo?"

  "I found a letter. A memo of all things, on her - what she likes …"

  God thought Redfield. Sexual preferences?

  "Perfume. Clothes. Christ, Rusty - who was she?"

  Despite his initial shock, Rusty felt the patience draining out of him. He was tired of questions. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Ludd."

  "You're a lousy liar too!" From the distance the doors to the elevators slid open and Jayne, Dimbrowsky and others entered the hallway. Avril hesitated, turned suddenly and was gone. He was relieved, but an irritating memory had floated up to the surface.

  :

  Several years before, when Rusty was still working for GeneFab, Ludd - over a few to many drinks at a company holiday party - had hinted at an affair he had while in Las Vegas on business. From what Rusty remembered, and the details weren’t that clear, Ludd had met a blackjack dealer. Or maybe she was a crew leader. Ludd had whispered to the males present at the table, with some slurred sense of pride, that she used to work the Playboy Club in Hong Kong. She was Japanese. Or Korean. He wasn’t sure. Rusty remembered his description of her. Tall for her size. Lithe (which he said with some difficulty). And she had a PhD. In what? they asked. Blowing your brains out Ludd had answered.

  Rusty remembered more than anything else that night, the look on Grieves' face when he heard Ludd’s confession - like he had found a hundred dollar bill on the floor. Rusty had never seen that look of pure satisfaction on the programmers face before. And he didn’t like it at all.

  CHAPTER 28

  Jayne had never felt endangered by her work. She felt more threatened returning to the office parking garage at night than sitting in an interview room with a suspected serial killer. There was a certain professional immunity that criminal lawyers felt sheltered by. And in many cases, the defendants had little to gain by intimidating council. Besides, most crimes, even the most horrific, were small c. Abused kids who grow up to be sociopathic monsters aren't evil. They've just been screwed over by life. The key was to stay out of their way.

  But this case, the Redfield homicide, had her rattled. The police should have recognized right away the kind of fallout that materializes following the murder of the president of one of the world's most controversial biotechnology companies. This was political. And that's why the warning she was getting from her peers kept reverberating around in her legal mind space like a scream from a half-forgotten nightmare.

  Her first suspect would have been the competition. Then she would have gone after the shifty-eyed partner. Her feeling now was that it was neither. Whoever had killed Ludd fully intended to frame Rusty - the pattern of conveniently discovered evidence was unfolding like a pat little murder mystery.

  She was concerned for her own safety now. And she was almost certain that Redfield was a target. She called him at his apartment. For the first time, he sounded drained, listless. She suggested they meet. She would pick him up in an hour in front of the apartment. When she hung up the phone a shiver ran through her frame. Was the phone tapped?

  She drove to his apartment in the rain and called him from her cell phone. She waited, her eyes on the empty street. He tumbled into the front seat in faded jeans and a sweatshirt wiping the rain off his forehead.

  "These must be Criminal lawyers hours." When he saw her face he added. "And you look just like you sounded on the phone!"

  She stared at him, the rain on the windshield casting shadows like tears across her face. "I don't believe in intuition, Rusty, but I'm getting this crazy feeling that we're missing something. I need you to be honest with me."

  "Jayne, I've never lied to you. Anything you don't know about this case that I do is only because you haven't asked the question. Or I didn't think it was relevant."

  "Shit. Everything is relevant." Her eyes darted to the street again, followed a passing car.

  "What's going on here?" he asked. The rain was growing in intensity - a roar on the roof of the car. He leaned closer to her.

  She kept her eyes on the street. "Look. I don't know how to start. How many movies have you seen with this scene in it - I'm trying to tell you something I've just seen - and you’re not going to believe me.”

  "Cary Grant in 'Bringing Up Baby'? Richard Dreyfuss in "Close Encounters?" asked Rusty.

  Jayne shook her head. "Two of my favorite movies. How do you do that?"

  "I read your bio."

  She studied his face. "You've got this empathy thing where you can figure people out so fast. I could never do that."

  "Probably not a professional asset in your business. Sometimes there are things about your clients you'd probably rather not know. I can tell you, the last thing I wanted to be when I was in jail was empathetic."

  "Well, if you're so smart, how come you never figured out GeneFab then?"

  "Not paranoid enough, I guess. Not my strong suit."

  "Becoming mine," she mused. "Want to go for a drive?"

  "In your Audi R8? My pleasure."

  After they had driven for several blocks at a fair clip, Rusty noticed Jayne's interest in her rear view mirror. "Are we being followed?"

  "I wish I knew."

  "Want to make sure?" he asked.

  She looked at him again, wondering why she liked his goofy innocence. "You do this often?"

  "It's a game. Two blocks up there's a one-way street. Drive like you're going to pass. Then turn right and go up the street the wrong way."

  "You're crazy."

  "It works. Believe me, if we're being followed, they only have one choice."

  She sped up, slowed slightly at the intersection, then turned sharply into the nearly deserted street. One car veered, its horn shrieking.

  "He was pissed off," said Rusty. He looked behind them. "No tail. You're safe."

  "You're positive?"

  "If they really wanted to trail you they could be using a helicopter, satellite surveillance, a hidden bug in the car …". Her eyes widened. She pulled off on a side street and stopped.

  "How come you didn't know about GeneFab?" she asked.

  "You mean the military deals?"

  "That and the government grants."

  "Everyone knew about the grants."

  "How much was involved?"

  "I wasn't paying that much attention at the time."

  "Hundreds of millions?"
>
  "You think so?" he asked, incredulous.

  "That's the word."

  "What the hell did they do with it?"

  "You tell me." Her look was hard.

  "Hold on a minute. Your expression says You know what's going on and you're not telling. I get that a lot. Believe me, for some reason everyone thinks I know more than I do. I must have that all-knowing look. I wish I could have it removed surgically."

  "Fine. You don't know about the grants. How about the U.S. Military?"

  He slid down in the seat, attempting to find a more comfortable position in the cramped confines of the sports car. "We spoke to buyers. I was in on one of the meetings. They wanted the Splicer. Jeff liked the military because they were willing to pay ten times more than private industry."

  "And when you and Grieves left, didn't you think the military would be concerned?"

  "Is that who's following us? The U.S. Army?" Rusty began to smile and then the joke lodged in his throat. "You think they were involved with Ludd? They're mad at me? Like spurned lovers?"

  "If they were, you've got a bigger problem than we originally thought." He exhaled sharply. "Think about it, Rusty. This isn't just the courts. We're playing tug-of-war with them. And they figure you're going to be found guilty. And I've been threatened."

  "What do you mean, threatened?"

  "It's hard to explain. These things aren't always written in bold script. I have been told to be careful. But the person who said it, the way it was said …"

  "And does this change anything?"

  "Does this change anything? Listen to you, Rusty. Of course it changes things. It changes everything."

  Rusty sat up. "Like what? Like the idea of getting a fair trial? Like the idea of believing that innocent people don't get sent to jail?"

  "These people don't care. And they have the keys to the boardrooms."

  "Don't beat me up with clichés. You're giving up on me."

  "I am not giving up on you. It changes our strategy, that's all."

  "Lawyer-speak. You plea bargain me now, right?"

  "If all they want is a quick trial, they should be willing to listen to us."

  "Screw you."

  "What?" barked Jayne, looking indignant.

  "Don't play your lawyer games on me. No deal. I didn't do it -period. There is no way I'm going to lie and say I did or even give those bastards the satisfaction of thinking that I'm frightened by their nonsense. So this little joy ride was designed to soften me up for the big pitch?"

  "No. When I called you I was concerned."

  "For who?"

  She laid her head back against the headrest. "For the both of us."

  "Somebody sure put the fear of God into you."

  "I wish it was the fear of God. This is a different kind of fear."

  "Sorry. I'm not crumbling. Get me a new lawyer."

  "What if I said getting you another lawyer might endanger your life?"

  "I'd say you've read too many murder mystery novels. What makes you so special? Besides the obvious. "

  Jayne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "They expect me to do the right thing. A different lawyer would alert them. They might decide the hell with it, and just take care of you the way they did Ludd." They both listened to the rain drum on the car top.

  "What's obvious?" she asked.

  "Pardon?"

  "You said besides the obvious."

  "You never let me get away with anything, do you?" He thought for a moment. "You're different."

  "Different as compared to what?"

  "Just different. You're unique. And I have a maternal interest in you."

  "Right."

  "Cynic," said Rusty.

  "I think Grieves had something to do with Ludd's death."

  "What have I been saying for the last two weeks?"

  "Why would he be hiding? The police aren't after him."

  Rusty pondered that for a moment. "Let's say that for whatever reason Grieves' has gone off the deep end. Grieves was different - always a little different. I don't know if he deserved that jail sentence." He stopped. They both watched the rain pool on the black pavement.

  "Bringing Up Baby. That’s another movie. You know you have a certain Kate Hepburn about you. She played a lot of lawyers in the movies." Jayne offered no reply so Rusty continued. "So Grieves is here. But he's gone into hiding?"

  "What if he did it? What if he killed Ludd, left your card at the scene - and all the while, the police were sure he was out of the jurisdiction."

  "Then why wouldn't he take off – disappear?"

  "Because he's not done yet. What does Grieves know that might be of serious interest to these military types? What do you know?"

  "I told you I wouldn't lie to you. Now you're asking questions that make me uncomfortable. The answers have nothing to do with this murder trial, Jayne."

  "But they have to do with this Splicer business. And if that's the case, then there may be something to all this innuendo about you being targeted. And me as well." Rusty didn't respond. He simply swallowed hard and waited. She pulled back into the street and accelerated, as if making her escape from reality.

  "I think we should let Kozak know about this. I think we should try and track down Grieves. And I think you should lay low," she finally said, picking up speed as they hit the freeway.

  "That sounds expensive."

  "It might be. But without Grieves to use as bait, your chances don't look that good."

  "Before we go any further - there's more."

  "There always is," she said, gloomily.

  "Avril Ludd. She came up to me at the pre-trial yesterday, just before the afternoon break ended. "

  "That's interesting."

  "She started screaming at me about a Kim Soo?"

  "Rewind that one for me."

  "I think Ludd was having an affair with her. I'm not sure what it has to do with anything, but it goes towards your theory about how screwed up this has become."

  "Where did this come from, Rusty?"

  "You know, Jayne - do all lawyers drive like this? Are you trying out some new tires or something?"

  "Are you worried? You didn't answer my question about Avril."

  "Bar room talk, that's all. A little bragging about sexual prowess from Ludd."

  "Stay away from Avril. The prosecution could use it."

  "So we're still fighting the good fight?"

  She smiled for the first time that evening. She felt good behind the wheel of the racing German two-door coupe, like she could outrace the villains anytime she wanted. "We're still the good guys, as far as I can tell."

  "Can I ask a personal question?"

  "Hey, I bill by the hour no matter what you ask me! If I'm still your lawyer, that is."

  "You're a successful lawyer, attractive in that decadent Hollywood sort of way. Good sense of humor most of the time - although that's probably a liability in your line of work. And you drive too fast. But, no significant other as far as I can tell."

  "That wasn't a question - yet."

  "It was buried in my soliloquy. You just didn't catch it. My point is, it was love at first sight for me so I can only guess that the same must be true of others you meet."

  "What do you mean by that?" she asked, surprised.

  "It means how come you don't have to beat all those men off with sticks?"

  She tossed her head as if to clear her thoughts. "I do a little beating now and then. It's just that most of them are lawyers. I don't happen to like lawyers."

  "I'm not a lawyer."

  She pushed the accelerator down further and beamed. "I know. That's why I keep you around." She flicked her eyes to her rearview mirror and made a quick lane change, failing to notice a black Tundra pacing her from behind.

  CHAPTER 29

  Daddy called it the ten-percentage strategy for keeping your balls out of the Mixmaster, Grieves reminisced sourly. His father used to expound on this theory regularly. Take everything you know about
the other guy. And then assume that he has ten times the goods on you. You really only have ten percent. Work with it. Never take the competition for granted. The way he used to say competition made the word feel malevolent and mean-spirited. Overconfidence, son he used to say has killed more mortals than the automobile, dynamite and the longbow combined.

  Grieves stared at the screen of his portable computer. There it was. The bank transfer had finally been made. Rosenblatt had paid the fare. His first impulse was to rejoice, but his father’s words came sliding down the old neural pathways again and they impacted right into his ample solar plexus. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.

  The competition. What did they know? Obviously, more than he expected. He was sitting here in the old warehouse his father bought a decade ago, feeling protected and hidden. You're a fool, Grieves. They've probably got you pinned down right now. Was that possible? Had he left a clue behind?

  Of course he had. Phone calls could be traced. In the blink of an eye today. But so what? Rosenblatt would never give him away with what Grieves knew about his duplicity. And the calls to GeneFab had been re-routed and scrambled through a dozen computer exchanges. It was something else. Then he saw it. A disjointed flash of white thigh when the wind whipped up her dress, for a moment on the street. Redfield's ex. She had made him. True, it wasn't much. She saw some ragged derelict on the street who she thought might have been Malcolm Grieves. And so she might tell Redfield. Hey! Guess who I saw? Would they believe her? Would it matter to Redfield?

  It would make sense that Redfield would be more than happy to share the media limelight with his ex-buddy and partner. According to the papers, he needed all the help he could get. But from what Grieves knew of the cops, once they had their prime suspect, they would be extremely reluctant to put much more in the way of police effort against the case. Overworked as they were. Grieves was more worried about the other guys.