Lethal Dose by Jeff Buick Read Free Book Online Page B

billion-dollar drug. Not by a long shot. That is going elsewhere, courtesy of your stupidity.”
    His face took on color. “Are you threatening me?”
    â€œYou can take the truth as you wish, Sheldon. I know where I want to go with my research. You don’t. No one else does. For the past few months I’ve been biding my time, waiting to see whether Marcon would back a new approach to fighting Alzheimer’s. Now I know. Looks like keeping my trump card close to my chest was a good idea.”
    â€œMaybe if you’d brought it out,” he said, “we would have seen things differently. Maybe the funding would have gone your way.”
    â€œI doubt it,” she said. “I don’t think you understand. Marcon doesn’t think like it did when Vagelos was at the helm.” She turned to the door and opened it. A gust of cool spring air rushed in. “Have HR send my final check to my house. And don’t forget the vacation pay. You can keep whatever personal stuff is on my desk.”
    She jumped into the Taurus and jammed it into gear. What a disaster. But in the back of her mind, she had suspected Zachery might hedge on her funding. Her group’s approach to the Alzheimer’s quandary was not novel, but more of the same, targeting the beta amyloid protein that was known to force healthy tissue aside and invade key spaces in the brain. But what Zachery and the other Marcon brass didn’t know was that she had isolated a new chemical in the sequence, one unknown and unnoticed in the hundreds of thousands of previous screened molecules by all the big pharmaceutical companies.
    She had the key. She just had to prove it in clinical trials. And that knowledge was going with her when she left Marcon.

8
    Evan Ziegler deplaned in Richmond, cursing the rain. It was the last day of April, but there was no warmth to the heavy mist. Just a gray day that chilled the bones and made driving ugly. He navigated the rental car through the sodden streets, past a group of school kids on their way home from classes, splashing in puddles and laughing when one of them slipped and fell, soaking his pants. Evan cracked a smile as a memory of Ben, drenched from a sudden downpour, came to mind. The smile faded as quickly as it had materialized.
    He found the Commonwealth Park Suites Hotel easily enough and collected the package from the front-desk clerk. He sat in one of the wingback chairs in the oblong lobby and slowly opened the sealed flap. He tilted the envelope and the contents spilled onto his lap. There were three pages and a small plastic envelope with three tiny bags inside. He slipped the plastic envelope into his pocket and perused the written material. The cover page had a picture of his target and a brief bio. Albert Rousseau. Ziegler had pictured him as a geek, and he wasn’t far off. The man’s skin was pockmarked and fresh acne was scarring the few remaining smooth patches. Under the unruly mess of hair was a pasty complexion and bad teeth. Albert was never going to make the cover of GQ.
    The address was on Cooley Avenue, in Carytown, a trendy section of Richmond just off the Fan District, and Evan found a Starbucks on the way. He picked up a latte and set the car’s radio to a classic rock station as he sipped on the drink. It was a few minutes after four o’clock when he pulled up in front of Rousseau’s town house. He found a parking spot halfway down the block and walked around to the rear of the dwelling. Each of the units had a small yard with a wood deck and a gas light. He counted the units from the corner and let himself into Rousseau’s yard. A neighbor three doors down glanced over, but Evan knew the look: Nothing was registering. He wouldn’t even remember that someone had entered the yard, let alone what that person looked like.
    The back door had two locks, one on the handset and the other a deadbolt. Evan picked the lower one and tried the