Rook continued, “You might even say that I understand everything, Carey. All
of it.” Maggs’s eyes darted to the papers the writer had brought with him. “See,
one of the perks of being an investigative journalist is I have this cool list of
high-level sources. It’s an interesting relationship. Sometimes I owe them payback
for favors, sometimes they owe me. I have a high-level guy at the Securities and
Exchange Commission, and, hoo-rah, it was his turn to put out.
“There’s an old Watergate catchphrase. ‘Follow the money.’ It was sort of the ‘
What’s in your wallet?’ of its day.” Rook winked. “Now, with my SEC friend’s
help, it only took me a couple of hours to follow yours and gather your investment
portfolio. I know the entire distribution of your wealth. Well, at least the part
you don’t stuff in your shoes when you fly to the Caymans.”
Maggs strained to read the pages upside down as Rook arranged them in the order he
wanted before he continued. “Mercator Watch. Your foundation that monitors
international child labor abuse. Actually more a fund. Let’s set that aside and
look at your investments. All profitable, congratulations.” He turned a page.
“Pranco Corporation, European government contracts to build low-cost housing in
Third World villages decimated by war. Nevwar Enterprises, multimillion-dollar,
multinational manufacturing company employing ex-prisoners of conscience from
totalitarian regimes.” He looked up from the page. “It goes on and on like this,
Carey. One company after another turning a solid profit on radical ideals and
causes.”
“None of that makes me a fucking terrorist, does it?”
“On the contrary, it’s like Brewery Boz being founded on the Charles Dickens
principle of exposing social injustice.”
“And corporate greed,” said Maggs in a blurt of anger. “My portfolio is all
ethical capitalism, beating the fucking one-percenters at their own game. There’s
no crime in that.” It was the first time Heat had seen him worked up.
Rook nodded agnostically and turned to the last page. “All fine. But this one here.
This stands out as, I dare say…” He turned to Heat.
“An odd sock?” she asked.
“Let’s see. You are the principal shareholder in a BeniPharm Corporation.” They
watched Carey Maggs’s blink rate double. “Now, the odd-sock part is that BeniPharm
’s the only investment in your jacket that is not in the radical scheme.” Rook
returned to the SEC data. “It says here the company was formed in 1998 with your
cash and a token buy-in by minor partner, Ari Weiss, MD… now deceased. The company
rolled along and along, operating solely on paper, for all intents, until two years
ago when it branded itself with a signature product. Do you want to say what it is,
or shall I?”
Maggs cleared his throat and said in a tattered voice, “Smallpox medicine.”
“Interesting,” said Heat.
“BeniPharm’s prospectus says it’s uniquely positioned itself as the world’s
leading source for the smallpox antiviral remedy. I didn’t realize it until
Detective Heat got hers, but if you get this medicine within five days of exposure,
you won’t get smallpox.”
“That’s right,” said Maggs.
Heat asked, “Why throw all that effort into a medicine for an extinct disease?”
“Paranoia,” said Rook. “We live in an era where nuts can unleash bioterror. In
fact, according to this, BeniPharm has a contract from the United States government
for half a billion dollars’ worth of your company’s smallpox medicine.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I… we… perform a public service.”
Heat said, “And what would happen to your profits if there were a smallpox
outbreak?”
“You’re reaching—”
“Or if smallpox were weaponized and released in a terror event? In a major metro
area?”
“This is a frame.”
“What would it do?” Nikki asked. “Would your profits double? Triple? Would other
countries buy in? Tell me, what would you gain? Ten times the profit?” Heat rose,
shouting, slapping a palm on the table. “Is that worth killing thousands of
innocent people? Was that the cost of my mother’s life, you son of a bitch?”
Spent, Heat stood there panting. The room grew still.
At last, calmer, she spoke. “Do one right thing, Maggs. Tell me when and where.”
He rocked his head. “I’ll tell you this.” And when he had their attention, he
said, “You’re all still guessing.”