Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 330(@300wpm)
Laurel knew all of this. “Side effects?”
“We’re still in early phases. Animal testing and very controlled human trials under IRB.”
Walter cleared his throat. “And none of those trials led to lesions on the brain?”
Bertra’s expression didn’t change. “Not as far as our internal data indicates.”
Laurel didn’t respond. She turned instead to the nearest workstation, scanning the terminal. “Log us in. I want access to batch records and compound storage logs.”
Bertra stepped forward and entered her credentials. “You’ll find all entries are time-stamped and validated.”
“I expect to,” Laurel said.
Walter moved toward the refrigeration units. “Any reason your inventory logs are two weeks behind?”
Bertra blinked. “They shouldn’t be.”
Laurel walked to the storage drawers along the back wall—custom stainless steel, magnet-sealed, temperature-controlled. She opened one to find vials labeled with both batch codes and shorthand compound names. Most were standard. One wasn’t. “‘RZ-3’ isn’t in the compound index,” she said.
Bertra moved beside her. “It’s a placeholder code from one of our early yew variants.”
“Who had access?” Laurel asked.
Bertra hesitated, then said, “Myself. Dr. Liu. Dr. Sandoval before he was murdered.”
Laurel didn’t push further. Not yet. Instead, she followed Bertra into the next lab.
This one was darker with shades drawn over the windows. It was a more clinical environment involving less chemistry and more neurology. A digital whiteboard on the far wall displayed a time lapse of brain scans, highlighting plaque reduction over successive intervals. The MRI comparisons were impressive. But Laurel noticed something else. The earliest scans—the baseline—belonged to someone identified only as Subject 4C.
“Pull the file on 4C,” she said.
Bertra didn’t argue. She moved to a computer, typed for a moment, and within seconds, a redacted file appeared on the nearest screen.
“Where’s the full name?” Walter asked.
“The trial’s double-blind.” Bertra squinted and studied the board. “This is of a monkey, as I’m sure you know. A very old one.” She turned just slightly toward Walter as she added, “But you’re probably used to decoding messy scans. Or maybe you just clean up the messes?”
Walter blinked, clearly not expecting the question. “Uh—I mostly do paperwork these days. Less mess.”
Bertra gave him a small smile. “I find that hard to believe.”
Was she flirting with Walter? Was that why he was blushing? A door across the lab opened, and a slender teen walked in, balancing a tray of pipettes. She wore an oversized white coat, sleeves rolled up at the wrists, with her hair twisted into a quick, no-nonsense bun. Laurel recognized her immediately. Viv Vuittron. Laurel had expressly told her to stay away from the lab.
Viv paused when she saw Laurel, her tray tilting just a hair before she recovered. She gave the smallest shake of her head, showing no expression, no fear. Just a quiet warning.
Bertra turned. “Oh, this is one of our after-school interns. The local high school runs a STEM pipeline program, and she’s helping to catalog historical compound data.”
Laurel tilted her head. “How long has that program been running?”
“A few months. We’re selective. She’s one of four. Mostly observational work,” Bertra quickly. “This is Viv, who is working all day today because there’s a teacher workday at school. She’s a straight A student.”
Laurel kept her gaze on Viv. The girl had no idea how dangerous this might be. “Who supervises them?”
“I do,” Bertra said. “Our compliance officer signs off on all their hours.”
Laurel nodded slowly, careful not to glance too long at Viv. “Four interns?”
“Yes.”
“What kind of clearance do they have?”
“No clearance,” Bertra said. “They can’t access anything proprietary and provide mostly archival assistance and basic lab prep.”
Viv didn’t look at her again. She kept her head down and moved to a supply shelf, sorting tubes into racks. Efficient. Quiet. She was pretending not to listen, but Laurel had no doubt she was catching every word.
Bertra pointed at the door. “I’ll show you one of our clean rooms now.”
Viv looked up and gave a small smile. Laurel shot her one final look. They would certainly talk about this. Soon.
They moved to the clean room next to find positive air pressure and sealed cabinets. Two techs inside were suited up, moving vials into insulated trays. Laurel watched them for a full minute before turning to Bertra. “I want a list of every compound those two are handling, and I want the current batch numbers cross-referenced with export logs, and I expect the evidence team to secure samples.”
“Your warrant doesn’t include samples, and our attorneys will fight you under trade secret law,” Bertra said.
Most likely. “Show us the rest of the area, and then let’s retire to a conference room. I’d like to interview you,” Laurel said.
They continued the walk lab to lab, finding each one more specialized. Clean rooms. Observation bays. Testing suites with treadmills and biometric scanners.
Laurel continued walking. “When did your last internal audit take place?”
“Two months ago.”
Laurel couldn’t read the woman. “Results?”