The Prague Plot: The Cold War Meets the Jihad (Jeannine Ryan Series Book 3) (3 page)

He paused and looked at Aileen.

“She looked like you, actually.”

He turned back to Jeannine.

“Simek claimed that Pokorny had offered her grades for sex. He denied it, but Hus-Kinetika pressured the university to fire him. Rather than be fired, my mentor resigned in disgrace.”

“Did you believe the Simek woman?”

“I don't know. My mentor had a reputation among women. Simek was American. After testifying she quit her studies in medicine and went back to the States. She studies philosophy in Chicago. All I really know is that her testimony was damned convenient for Hus-Kinetika. Maybe the rats paid her.”

Jeannine fell silent. Aileen took over.

“You don’t have any evidence that they did, do you? And why did you come to the U. S, and why pick Chicago?”

“I wanted to do clinical research in neurology. I applied for several positions at home, but Hus-Kinetika is powerful there. I did not survive the interviews. I had a friend in Chicago’s Czech community. He told me about the Mental Health clinic that needed a neurologist. It was my only offer.”

“So you come here and after a year you find problems with Hus-Kinetika’s premium drug, Xolak. You know that many people, including me, might think you are biased against them.”

“What can I say? Anaphylactic shock is serious.”

Aileen grew silent. Once again Jeannine stepped in.

“All right, why don’t you tell us about the patients at your clinic, and what raised your first concerns about Xolak.”

Peter Zeleny was troubled. His English lost its fluidity and his accent became more pronounced. He searched for words as he described a patient’s seizure and how he had tried to help her.

Aileen softened.

“Peter, with the EEG you describe, you did the right thing. Any competent neurologist would have read that the same way.”

He flashed her a look of thanks. The remaining conversation revealed little that Jeannine and Aileen did not already know.

After a muted exchange of goodbyes, Dr. Zeleny left.

In Corolla, North Carolina, Jim Harrigan drove slowly back to Duck. His thoughts were of a jacket with a bullet hole, and a bloodstained van. Soon, he would have nothing to do with the abandoned van, or the jacket. The Duck Police Department had no jurisdiction. The Currituck County Sheriff’s Office served Corolla.

He parked his F250 next to the door. Just inside, the secretary, Terri, intercepted him.

“Jim, what’s going on, you’re not supposed to be on duty today.”

“I’m not. I’m moonlighting, security work in Corolla, but I found this abandoned van with blood stains and that jacket. It’s got a bullet hole front and back.”

He put the bloodstained jacket into a plastic bag and handed it to her.

“Log this and put it in the evidence room. And there’s a minivan being towed here. Call Johnson in the Currituck Sheriff’s office to arrange to pick it up. They have a secure lot on the mainland, and it’s their case, not ours. They’ll need that jacket too.”

At the sight of the jacket, the secretary’s eyes opened wide. Jim did not notice. He continued.

“Terri, do you know a realtor named Mila Patekova? She handles the rental for the house near where I found the van.”

“Of course. She’s a good friend of the family and she’s a sharp realtor. She handles the rentals for my mother’s beach house. She’s from the Czech Republic. I like her. She has a neat accent.”

“Anything else?”

“She’s single if that’s what you mean, and she’s darn good looking for over thirty. But you talked to her, so you know that. Why do you ask? Are you interested?”

“Come on Terri. It’s only a case. I have a hunch that she knows a lot more about that van than what she told me. I don’t trust her. She knows something.”

Terri shrugged.
Big deal, you cops never trust anybody
!

She turned back to her work.

After the policeman from Duck left, Mila retrieved the weapon from the sand under the walkway. She handled it with a paper towel, mounted the stairs to the top level, and stuffed the weapon under a cushion. Mila knew nothing of guns, and this handgun was heavy and felt unwieldy. Its mere presence distressed her.

She. left the great room and went to the deck outside Anne’s bedroom. There she sat with her head down.

The sun disappeared below the horizon to leave a blazing red sky interlaced with streaks of gray clouds. She scarcely noticed.

Her thoughts raced. Whatever had gone wrong, she was to blame. She never should have arranged the meeting with Vaclav. And she should have told Anne who it was that wanted to see her. If she had, then perhaps Anne would have refused to meet him, and no one would have been hurt.

Mila shuddered.
Anne, have you been stupid? Did you shoot Vaclav? And where did you get that gun? I don’t think Vaclav had one.

She stood up and looked out over the marsh, towards the sound. After a moment she decided. She would sleep here tonight. She stepped back into the bedroom. Clearly, Anne had been in the bed. The coverlet was off and the sheets rumpled.

She returned to the great room. Anne had left her laptop open on the table. The screen was dark.

At the base of the sliding panels were the towels and cloths that Anne had pushed against the sill to absorb the storm water. Ever the realtor, Mila collected the soggy clumps and took them to the dryer below. She returned upstairs and wiped the remaining moisture off the floor.

Mila lay on the couch, eyes wide open.
Should I call the police? Not yet.
She shuddered.
Damn it Anne, where are you? What did you do to Vaclav? Damn it, call me. I’ll help you.

Finally, her eyes closed.

At Ryan Associates in Bethesda, Jeannine sat at her desk. Aileen came over.

“Jeannine, what are you doing? What are you staring at?”

“It’s this Xolak graph that I don’t like.”

Aileen looked.

“It says that the points are ‘Three-point Moving Averages.’ What does that mean?”

“It’s not a problem. The numbers are smoothed to show the general trend. Each year is the average of three consecutive years. The number of reactions for 1996, say, is the average of those for 1995, 1996 and 1997. Here’s the equation.”

She turned to Aileen.

“The numbers for the graph are in Table A in the Appendix. Here it is.”

Together Jeannine and Aileen studied the Table. There was no increase in cases after 2004.

“But Jeannine, Peter saw an increase in allergic reactions in his clinic in 2004.”

“That’s what he says, but the numbers in the report don’t agree with him.”

“That’s why Peter doesn’t believe the report. He observed an increase so these numbers must be wrong. They must be faked. Can you show that?”

“I don’t see how. The numbers in Table A are only summary data.”

“What do you mean?”

“They’re summarized. Without the original records we can’t do much.”

“Damn it, Jeannine, that’s not fair. Peter deserves a hearing. Get the FDA to make Hus-Kinetika give us the original data?”

“The FDA tried that. Hus-Kinetika said that they had trouble with one of their servers and the original data files were lost. Since the summary data show no trend, the FDA wants to accept the report as is.”

“Make Hus-Kinetika re-enter the numbers from the original data sheets.”

“Because of privacy issues, the original written records were purposely destroyed after the data were coded and in the computer. The data in Table A are all that are available. Do you have any ideas?”

“No, but you’re the one troubled by this graph.”

“That’s true, but we’re stuck. This report exonerates Hus-Kinetika and we’ve got no way to show that it’s wrong. Besides, maybe there’s no problem with Xolak. Maybe Peter’s clinic is at fault. Maybe their protocols and dosages are bad. Hus-Kinetika can’t be blamed for their incompetence.”

Aileen slammed her fist on the desk.

“No they can’t, but I believe Peter.”

“I thought you didn’t like him.”

“He’s a sexist, but maybe not a complete jerk.”

“I don’t think he’s a sexist. He’s from a different culture. In spite of everything, I think you like Dr. Zeleny.”

Aileen frowned.

Worse, for the first time, he doubted his own arguments.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not objective?
He went over his clinic’s regimens for Xolak.

What am I missing? No! Our procedures are fine! And damn it, Mrs. Morgan’s anaphylactic shock nearly killed her! I can’t be that wrong!

But Peter’s confusion was not simply because of Xolak.

Aileen Harris had left him dazed. Peter was no stranger to women. Generally, they sought him, but Aileen was different. He wanted her to like him.

Get hold of yourself.

Damn it! Why was I rude on that phone?
Despite his “democratic” life in Chicago, he had treated Aileen as an underling. “Old world” class distinctions had reasserted themselves at the worst moment. His boorish behavior had been inexcusable.

Oddly, Aileen bore a strong resemblance to Anne Simek, the instrument Hus-Kinetika had wielded to cause Dr. Pokorny’s downfall. He had seen Anne at the Motol Hospital, but had paid little attention to her. He had been too busy launching his career.

He lay on the bed, arms folded under his head, eyes open wide, and stared at the ceiling.
What’s the matter with me?

Thoughts of Hus-Kinetika faded as a pleasing image appeared in his mind, that intriguing blond, Aileen Harris. Then unexpectedly, the image morphed into one from years past, another blond, that troublemaker student, Anne Simek.

She was smiling.

Where?

He tried to remember. The storm, the cold wind pushing sheets of rain into his eyes, his nose. A fall. The raging waters on the beach.

His thoughts cleared enough to know that he was in a bed. He tried to turn, but his muscles shrieked and froze in pain.

The gun!

Through half-open lids he saw a face, a woman frowning.

He fell back unconscious.

At the office of Ryan Associates, Jeannine continued to study the Xolak report. She reached for her coffee cup, but the report fell on the floor. The pages flipped and exposed Table A.

She stared a moment and cried out.

“Aileen, It’s the decimals! They’re wrong!”

“What do you mean?”

“Hang on.”

Jeannine clicked rapidly and brought up Table A but with only the decimal endings.

“Aileen, look. From 2003 on the decimals are wrong. See the decimal for 2003 is 0.11, and for 2004 it’s 0.89. That can’t happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because when you divide a whole number by 3, to get the moving average, the remainder must be 0, 1
,
or
2, so that the decimal must be 0.00, 0.33 or 0.67. It can’t be 0.11 or 0.89.”