Chapter 39
The next morning, Portia’s first stop wasn’t her office. Instead of going up to the executive levels, she went down to the holding cells. The closer she got to them, the harder it was to breathe. The very thought of returning to them filled her with dread. She hadn’t been back since the day Leopold, her father’s assistant, shot her.
Her steps slowed as she got off the elevator. She rubbed her left hand over her right shoulder. There was barely a scar thanks to Tremaine Corporation technology, but down here near the cells, her shoulder throbbed with phantom pain.
Memories assaulted her and Portia paused, overwhelmed. She’d been sure she was going to die down here with the madman who had killed her husband. Instead, Dizzie had rescued her when she could have used the time to escape.
Portia still found that hard to believe. Wracked with grief, Portia had been perfectly willing to end Dizzie’s life in revenge for Tommy’s. With a strength of character Portia admired, Dizzie had taken down their tormentor and dragged Portia to safety.
She owed Dizzie her life. That was a damn hard pill to swallow. But holding a grudge was wearing her down. With the clarity of time, Portia was beginning to see that maybe, just maybe, they could forge a relationship of a sort.
That was a matter for later. Right now, Portia still needed to kill the Vyne program, deal with her father, and get the Solveigs out of her city.
Her shoulders drooped for a moment. It was too much for one person to deal with. So, she would deal with it in chunks. The Vyne scientists and the drug cookers were the first chunk.
She passed a number of empty cells. Everyone in the company had heard whispers and rumors about this floor, but most of them, including Portia, didn’t know how often it was used. Honestly, she didn’t want to know what had been done down here in the past. She was only using the holding cells now because she didn’t know what else to do with the scientists. They were a flight risk and she couldn’t risk them setting up shop in a different city. No one deserved the scourge that was Vyne.
She kept her gaze forward and her steps quick as she passed the cell that had held Dizzie. In such close proximity, it was too easy to relive the terror of those moments. Did her blood still stain the floor? She didn’t want to know.
Breathing easier once she was past that cell, she approached the guards she’d stationed outside the two cells. One held the two scientists. The other held the two cookers that Ash and the Jack had rounded up yesterday. They’d offered to keep them, but Portia had asked that they be transferred here. They were all part of the same problem. One she had yet to uncover a solution to.
“Have they said anything?” Portia asked. The guards had been here overnight because she hadn’t wanted to risk a shift change. The fewer people who knew what was happening, the better. But she was treading a very fine line. The longer she held the scientists down here, the more shift changes she would need and the more chances that people would find out what was going on.
“Nah. Not really, ma’am. Those two,” one of the guards said, pointing to the scientists, “kept begging to be let out. The other two spent the night making threats.”
Portia raised a brow. The scientists’ behavior didn’t surprise her. Neither of the men looked like they’d ever faced true hardship. The threats from the cookers were interesting, though. “What kind of threats?”
“‘Do we know who they are. We’re gonna pay. We can’t keep them here.’”
“Oh, those kinds.” She was relieved that there was no indication of a higher leadership level to the external Vyne business.
Portia studied the cell holding the scientists. Like most of the cells, this one had a cot and a chair. Throwing them in a single cell had been a calculated risk. She wanted them tired and afraid.
One was seated on the chair, the other on the cot. Both stared out the glass walls of the cell. The men looked wrinkled and disheveled. One still wore his lab coat, while the other was down to shirt sleeves. Neither looked like they’d had a good night’s sleep. Good.
“I’m going to have a little chat with the scientists,” she told the guards. “I’d like you to wait outside the door in case there’s trouble.” She didn’t expect any, but after the last time, she didn’t want to take unnecessary chances.
The guard frowned. “I think one of us should be in there with you, Ms. Tremaine.”
Portia wanted to agree, but she recognized the need to project an image of strength, especially with the street cookers looking on. “I’ll be fine.” She patted his arm reassuringly.
With a nod, the guard opened the cell.
She took a deep breath and walked into the room alone. The moment the glass door closed behind her, her heart rate picked up and her hands started sweating. Propping her hands on her hips, she used the movement to wipe her sweaty palms on her slacks.
Both men awkwardly rose to their feet. “Ms. Tremaine,” one started, but she cut him off with a glare.
“Sit.” She pointed to the cot.
They looked at each other and then sat at opposite ends of the cot. The scientists wore electronic bracelets that would snap their wrists together if either made a sudden move. As long as they behaved, they had free movement. The moment they didn’t... Well, life would become much more difficult for them.
She dragged the now empty chair towards her and turned it to face the men. Slipping into her Ice Queen armor, she carefully sat, crossing one leg over the other. She tamped down her dislike of being in this enclosed space and channeled icy calm.
“You both know why you’re here, yes?”
She held Vance’s gaze, before moving to Johnson.
Vance opened his mouth and she was sure he was going to argue. “We created an anti-rejection drug as we were directed to do by management.”
So that’s how they wanted to play it. She could work with that.
“I believe what you meant to say was you created an anti-rejection drug that proved to be ineffective and was shut down. You kept making it anyway.”
“That’s what we were told to do,” Vance insisted.
Her pulse thrummed. Finally, she was getting somewhere. “Really? I don’t recall seeing that order in the project files,” she drawled. “Who ordered you to keep making it?” She’d spent the previous evening reviewing every document Ash had provided. As far as the official files were concerned, the project had been shut down as demanded and the scientists assigned to new ones.
The men paused and shared a look. Would they spill or clam up?
“The head of the R&D department,” Johnson finally said.
Dammit. That wasn’t as high level as she’d wanted. “What were your instructions, exactly?”
“To take the drugs to a club and sell them. Then see what happened. Will I get immunity?” Johnson looked at her.
Did they think they were in court? This was an internal company matter. Portia didn’t know what would happen to them yet, but she wasn’t feeling very inclined to give them immunity.
“I’ll need to hear the whole story before I make that decision.” It was as uncommitted a statement as she could make.
Apparently, that was enough for them. Johnson and Vance practically tripped over each other to speak. According to them, they were told to keep an eye on the people who took Vyne and see if they became repeat users. They each were given a burner phone for communication. The initial supply sold out in a matter of weeks and nearly all of the buyers came back for another hit.
Through it all, Portia kept an uninterested expression on her face. It was a struggle—their story made her sick to her stomach.
“And the money?”
They got quiet then. Squirrely. At ease in the silence, she merely watched them. The longer the silence lasted, the more she let the Ice Queen seep into her gaze. Finally, Johnson broke.
“We each got a 10 percent cut of whatever we sold.”
“And the rest?”
“We used the burner phones to transfer it into an unregistered account.”
Portia bit back a curse. Unregistered accounts weren’t impossible to trace, but they were hard enough that it usually wasn’t worth the effort. “Where are these burner phones now?”
“Mine is in my desk,” Johnson admitted. Vance said that it had been in his pocket when they’d been rounded up. She made a note to retrieve both after she completed the interview.
“That was your cut for the initial experiment, right? What’s your current cut?” Ice coated her voice.
“F–forty,” Johnson stammered.
That was a lot of money. “Where did you get the supplies?” Ash’s research had uncovered that the company had paid for them, but she wanted to see what they said.
“We ordered them through the lab.”
Portia closed her eyes. When she opened them, only the Ice Queen remained.
She was merciless as she continued to question them. She pressed them for another thirty minutes, getting more details on the process and how the external lab was related. As far as they knew, the formula hadn’t been sold and distribution was—probably—only through Seattle.
Portia knew deep in her soul that her father was behind the Vyne scheme. The unregistered bank account likely belonged to him. Unfortunately, the only other person the scientists had named was the head of R&D, a Phillip Tremaine loyalist who’d committed suicide after she’d let him go. Now she had to wonder, had his death really been self-inflicted?
“Thank you... doctors.” It sickened her to use the title that they’d abused, but she needed to keep their cooperation.
“What about immunity?” Vance asked.
Portia stood. “I’ll get back to you on that. I still need to question them as well.” She pointed to the other holding cell where the street cookers were staring at her.
With that she turned on her heel and exited the cell. Conscious of the clear walls, she paused to catch her breath before she stepped into the second cell.