“I’m going to cut to the chase here,” Nick says, opening the conversation, “and the news isn’t good. I’ve talked to my buddy at the Feds and they are indeed investigating a performance-enhancing drug called ‘Sub-Zero’ on the streets.”
“How do we know that connects the dots to my company?” I ask.
“It’s being investigated as the cause of death of a professional athlete,” he says, confirming what Eric’s patient had claimed. “Toxicology, however, was negative but as you told Seth, that would be expected. And that’s part of the buzz on the streets. Not only is it rumored to produce the same physical benefits of a steroid with an added boost of mental clarity, but it remains invisible.”
“What about hair follicle testing?” I ask.
“Negative,” Nick says. “There’s a hypothesis the drug somehow mimics something naturally created in the body, but there’s absolutely no supporting evidence. Aside from chatter on the streets, the FBI is flying blind on this one.”
“And that chatter is going to lead them to me,” I say, “like it did the doctor who came to me today.”
“Does any of this chatter include the Martina cartel?” Seth asks.
“Negative again,” Nick says. “At this point, they’ve been focusing on high-end sports clinics, college sports complexes, and doctors.” His gaze cuts to me. “If you go to them—”
“Not no,” I say, “but hell no.”
“Think about this, Shane,” Seth argues. “Protection. Immunity. And the chance to take down one of the largest, most dangerous cartels on the planet.”
“That would infer I intend to get in bed with Martina, and I don’t, nor will the Feds drag me, and people close to me, into said bed. It’s a death wish in every possible sense of that saying. And don’t tell me they’ll offer protection that won’t be needed if the two of you do your damn job, and get them the hell out of my business.”
“At the risk of pissing off the man responsible for my generous payroll,” Nick interjects, “I need to insert a warning here. If the Feds come to you before you go to them, they won’t be your friends.”
My jaw sets hard and I give him a steely look. “Are you working for me or them? Because you sound like you’re pushing their agenda.”
“Their agenda is to take down a cartel,” he argues.
My lips thin with my growing agitation. “With acceptable losses along the way. Me, my company, and the people around me, will not be those losses. So I repeat. Who do you work for? Me or them?”
“You,” he says, his voice low, tight.
“Then use that energy to get me out of this,” I say. “Not six feet under.” I glance between them. “At this point, I have nothing but an angry, soon-to-be ex-wife connecting BP to Sub-Zero. If it’s in my building, I should have known before she did. How are we going to fix that?”
“You need an informant inside BP,” Nick suggests.
I give a negative shake of my head. “I’m not risking the exposure that could represent unless I have no other options. If Sub-Zero is inside the BP facility, we need to hone in on who helped Derek get it there.”
“William Nichols,” Seth says, and I assume for Nick’s benefit, he adds, “The head of research and development at BP. My gut says he’s a problem and his behavior on the security film I watched has been suspicious, but far from conclusive.”
“Does he have the control and resources to breach the facility with illegal drugs?” Nick asks.
“He does,” I say, “and he’s weak, which makes him a soft target for Derek, who is far too often short-sighted, considering that it also makes him a soft target for everyone else as well.”
“Define ‘soft target,’” Nick urges.
“Under the right pressure,” I reply. “He’ll buckle under the right pressure, be it from us, or someone else.”
“We need to make sure it’s to us,” Seth concludes.
“Exactly,” I say. “And the best way to shake down a soft target, is to scare the shit out of said target, and see where they lead you. If we execute this correctly, we’ll quickly know if we’re looking in the right place with William.”
“So we play Go Fish,” Nick says. “What’s our bait?”
We spend the next fifteen minutes debating exactly how Go Fish will play out, before Nick departs, while Seth lingers with me, on the other side of the island. “Emily,” he says flatly, no lead-up, warning, or further explanation.
“I’m listening,” I say cautiously, a muscle beginning to tick in my jaw.
“You’re sleeping with her.”
“That wasn’t a question. Where are you going with this?”
He pushes off the counter and folds his arms in front of him. “How do you know she’s not working for Derek?”
“I know,” I say firmly. “And this conversation is irrelevant at this point. She’s leaving the company and will be off everyone’s radar. Watch her to protect her, but otherwise, leave her there.”
His eyes narrow, harden with the set of his jaw. “Understood,” he says, and without another word, he turns away to head for the door, but I know Seth, and Emily is no more off his radar than she is off mine. But better ours than Derek’s or the Martina cartel’s.