Fatal Dose (20 page)

“She was very sweet. I considered her a close friend. She always dressed low key. She was very frugal when we went out for lunch. I’ve been to her apartment a few times. There was nothing there to indicate that she was living above her means. She didn’t travel, spent her vacations at home and drove a six-year old compact car. It just doesn’t fit the profile.”

“Sometimes people on the take are very careful not to tip anyone off. She had a sizeable bank account according to Bagnold.”

“He didn’t say anything about it being sizeable,” she retorted defensively. “Anyway, it could have been money she inherited, or her lifetime savings. There are a lot of reasons people have big bank accounts. That’s no reason to suspect them of treason.”

Wendy was getting argumentative, so Mark decided to back out of the conversation as gracefully as he could. “You’re right. He just said the money was somehow linked to Marco Vennuti. Probably it would be best to wait until all the facts are in before making any judgments.”

Wendy looked penitent. “I guess you are right. I’m sorry I snapped, Mark. When you talk to Bagnold, though, see if you can get him to clarify her alleged connection to Vennuti.”

“I’ll do the best I can. I’ll call you tonight if I find out anything.”

“Talk to you later, Mark.”

Inspector Bagnold caught up with Mark at the door. “Let’s go back to the Major Case Room.”

They walked in silence. As soon as he closed the door of the MCR he said, “I guess that was quite a bombshell for most of you.”

“It sure caught me off guard,” Mark replied. “I think that everyone was genuinely surprised when Dennis told us.”

“It’s a good thing I’ve got thick skin, Mark. My job is akin to Internal Affairs at the police department level and often the only information I can gather is
what I drag out of p
eople. I never could understand why career public servants at any level of government take part in a cover-up of the most heinous crimes, including treason, out of a thin blue line of loyalty.”

“It’s a very individual thing. As for me I have no sympathy for anyone who betrays the oath they took when they joined the Bureau. Now, how can I be of help to you?”

“Dennis tells me you have some special programs that might help me link Joan Paschal to Marco Vennuti or to Atronen Pharmaceutical.”

“He told you right. I’ll give you some discs that you can use to trace payments into Agent Paschal’s accounts. You can also use them to link those payments to activities in Vennuti’s or Atronen’s bank records. One of the programs will speed up your tracing of phone records. I’ll also give you the name and number of a good friend at Quantico who will be able to shave days off your searches of the harder to find phone records.”

“I certainly appreciate your help, Mark.”

“I can do one more thing for you, unless Dennis has already taken care of it and that is to introduce you to Marcia Maxon. She’s very familiar with the programs I’m giving you and can also save you more hours. She’s been an enormous help to me.”

“That would be great. Dennis mentioned her name a few times. I look forward to working with her. Thanks again, Mark.”

“I’m glad to help in any way I can, Milt.”

They went back to Mark’s cubicle. He gave Milt a stack of discs and an intro to Marcia.

* * *

In another part of town, Marco Vennuti was pacing the floor of his office. He had just gotten a call from a confederate informing him about the death of his primary FBI spy, Joan Paschal.
How the hell could that be? Who the fuck blew up that place?
He wondered to himself.
Now how am I going to know what’s going on? I guess that Marcia is just going to have to play a bigger role, whether she is willing to or not.

He picked up the phone and called a private detective to set up surveillance of Marcia. He needed to eliminate any excuses she may have about stepping up her involvement with him. With the right leverage, he would bend her to his will as he had previously done with Joan Paschal.

* * *

In still another part of town, a call was placed to Clifford Melbourne’s secret number by his informer at the FBI.

“I just heard that the PDS met today. The SAC introduced an inspector from Washington who’s here to look into leaks in the office. He reported that two agents died in the explosion at the Lucky Food Mart today. It turns out that one of the agents, Joan Paschal, was a spy for Vennuti. He also divulged that they’re doing a sting on someone at Atronen and they expect him to give them information about the special shipments.”

“That’s interesting. Thanks for the update. Oh, by the way, thanks also for the heads-up on the Lucky Food Mart sting. That worked out perfectly for us. Keep me informed.”

“I will. Have a good day, sir.”

Melbourne sat back in his chair and ran this latest information over in his mind.
Things couldn’t be better. So Vennuti was holding out on me by having a Special Agent on his payroll. He must really be sweating the situation. I’ll keep holding his feet to the fire as we approach the big shipment day. Then it’s bye bye Marco Vennuti. The authorities will step in the minute we move the merchandise. John Pierce will be history and I will pick up the pieces. Machiavelli couldn’t have planned this any better.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Dennis, Wendy and Mark arrived at the storefront office of Paradigm, Inc. an hour before their scheduled meeting with Paul Snyder. Wendy immediately went to work setting up a laptop, hooking up a telephone, an intercom and placing correspondence in the in/out letter boxes

Dennis and Mark went into the office and arranged the chairs so that Mark would be sitting between Snyder and the door. The plan was for Dennis to play the role of the prospective employer and sit behind the desk. Paul had been excited when Mark called him about the meeting so they expected him to arrive at least ten to fifteen minutes early. There would be a little play acting to start, but the minute the door to the office was closed and he was seated they planned to “drop the bomb” on him.

A cell phone chimed. Mark’s was on “vibe” so he gestured to Dennis.

Dennis reached in his pocket, retrieved his cell phone and pressed the talk button. “Peterson!” He listened for about a minute before he spoke. “Thanks for calling, Milt. I’ll see you at two.”

He turned to Mark and said, “That was Inspector Bagnold. He just received a report from the ME that Joan Paschal had numerous lash marks on her buttocks. They weren’t visible because the epidermal layer was severely damaged by the explosion. At first the ME was unsure of their origin, but now she is positive that they were there before the explosion. Milt used one of your programs to trace a call on Joan’s cell to the All Sports Club in Cleveland Heights. They’ve been in trouble a lot with the police department over the years for allowing betting and unauthorized fights and other questionable activities to go on at their facility. It’s suspected that their private rooms may be used for sadomasochistic activities. That’s perfectly legal as long as it’s consensual. From the looks of things, it appears that Agent Paschal may have had a dark side that may explain her connection with Vennuti.”

“Are you saying that she was involved in some sort of a bondage thing?”

“Milt thinks that may be the case.” Dennis hesitated for a minute, and added, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone about our suspicions, especially to Wendy. It’s only speculation right now and she’s so sensitive about the situation.”

“I understand. My lips are sealed.”

They used the balance of the time they had to arrange the documents that they would present to Snyder. All were certified legal documents so there would be no way he could deny that they were authentic. Their only concern was that he would either lawyer-up or call their bluff and decide to take his chances with exposure; either decision would throw a monkey wrench into their plans. They just didn’t know enough about his character to predict how he would react.

At ten minutes to eight a dapper Paul Snyder opened the door to Paradigm, Inc. He was dressed in a custom-made blue silk suit, soft-pink shirt and red and blue silk tie. A pale-pink pocket handkerchief peeked out of the breast pocket. The cuff-less trousers were sharply creased down to his Prada loafers.

“Good morning, I’m Paul Snyder. I have an eight o’clock meeting with Mister Samuelson,” he announced to Wendy.

“Good morning, Mister Snyder. Mister Samuelson will be right with you. Please have a seat.”

Wendy pressed the intercom button. “Mister Snyder is here for your eight o’clock.”

Mark replied, “Thank you, Ms. Farrell. I’ll be right out.” It was a voice that Snyder recognized as that of Peter Samuelson.

A minute later, Mark opened the office door, walked over to where Paul was sitting and extended his hand. “I’m so glad you could make it, Paul. Please come in.”

They walked into the office and Mark closed the door behind him. “Please have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chair by the far wall. Mark sat down in the chair next to the door.

While this was going on, Dennis was skimming through a stack of papers. A moment later he got up as if to shake hands, but instead, he held out his ID and shield so Paul could see them. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Dennis Peterson, Special Agent in Charge of the FBI Cleveland Bureau. This is Special Agent Mark Matthews,” he said, gesturing towards Mark.

Paul jumped to his feet. “What’s going on here?”

“What is going on here is a friendly meeting between a couple of FBI agents and a bigamist. I advise you to sit back down and listen to what I have to say. If you insist on leaving, Special Agent Farrell, whom you met as our attractive receptionist, will place you under arrest on civil rights violation charges. I strongly advise you not to go that route. Do I make myself clear?”

As the words sunk in, Paul’s face turned from bright red to ashen white. He practically tripped over the chair as he sat down.

Dennis took advantage of the momentum. “We can spend time going over the documents we’ve collected, if you wish; documents that clearly show that you are currently married to two different women; documents that can find their way to your employer, to both your spouses, to Civil Courts, even to local newspapers in Fairview, Pennsylvania, and Hudson, Ohio. Or we can cut to the chase and discuss how you can help us with an ongoing investigation of your employer, Atronen Pharmaceuticals. Which will it be, Paul?”

Paul’s eyes glanced at the documents that were on the desk. His voice quivered as he replied, “What do you want to know? I’ll cooperate in any way I can. Just promise me that you won’t release that information.” All the hopes and dreams of a new job and a better life, which he had formed in the past few days, faded from his mind as fear rushed in to replace them.

“You’ve got our word, Paul. This file will stay in my office as long as you cooperate fully with our investigation.”

Paul looked at Mark to see if he was in agreement with what Dennis had just said. Mark nodded in agreement.

Dennis continued, “We have evidence that special production runs take place at Atronen Pharmaceuticals usually on Fridays, after normal hours. The packaging section and shipping docks are involved in what we believe to be repackaging of name-brand or generic drugs using counterfeit pills in whole or in part. The repackaged products are then delivered to either legitimate distributors, to people who peddle them on the street or to illicit drug outlets to make a quick buck. We’ve lost three agents and close to a dozen innocent civilians during the last few months due to the violence that surrounds these activities. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of innocent people have died or have deteriorating health as a result of receiving some of these counterfeit drugs that have little or no medicinal value.”

Dennis observed the confused look on Paul’s face.
Poor sap thought he was going to get a big job offer. He’s going to be lucky to keep his ass out of jail
“Tell me what you know about these special Friday runs. After all, you’re responsible for Atronen’s manufacturing operations. You must know what is going on.”

“I swear that I have no idea that they are doing all that stuff. None of that ever happens on my watch.” Sweat started to appear on Paul’s forehead. “When the company changed hands a number of years back I was told that excess production time was being sold to an affiliate of a major drug manufacturer. They said it was a franchise of some sort. When the Friday afternoon shift is over at five, a new production manager and crew take over. Expenses for the operation are separate from my budget. I’ve had no reason to suspect that this arrangement resulted in anything illegal.”

“Do you expect us to believe that you’ve watched this going on for years without asking any questions?” Mark asked.

“Oh, I asked questions alright. About three weeks into the new arrangement, I got a bad feeling about some of their machine operators. I went to the VP of Security and expressed my concerns. He told me he would check into it. The next day I was called to Mister Turner’s office. He’s the president of the company. He told me that the special franchise operation was important to the bottom line of the company and that if I expected to continue to work for Atronen, I should just do my job and leave the monitoring of the Friday production runs to the franchise company, Accounting and the Security Department. I’ve looked the other way since then.”

“Was the VP you spoke to Marco Vennuti?”

“One and the same. I’ve run into him a few times since then and he always seems to have a smirk on his face.”

Dennis asked, “What can you tell us about the shipments that go out of there during the franchise runs?”