CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“So, what’s it like living with Faith Bold?”
Like you would know.
“Could be worse,” he replied, winking at Jackie, his veterinary nurse.
The young agent frowned. Then his eyes widened. “Oh… No, I didn’t mean… Like that. I just…”
“Like what?” David asked innocently.
The kid flamed bright red, and David decided to show him some mercy. “You ever meet someone exceptional and then for some reason they not only tolerate your presence but actually like being around you?”
The kid nodded, although his confused face told David he wasn’t quite sure what David meant.
“Well, it’s like that. Faith’s a genius. She’s the kind of genius who isn’t even aware of how much of a genius she is. And I get to share a home with her. In short, it’s freaking awesome.”
The kid’s grin returned. “I can’t wait to learn from her. I heard she’s so good with Turk that she can just look at him, and he’ll know exactly what she needs him to do. It’s like he can read her mind.”
David’s smile stiffened. He hoped to God the young agent didn’t notice. “You’ll learn a lot.”
He got to his feet. “Rocket’s in good shape.
Just a tad overweight, but nothing to be concerned about.
Lay off the bacon bits and feed him high quality organic fortified food.
It’s better if you purchase that food for yourself and give him some, but if you go with dog food, make sure you get something that’s one hundred percent meat and free of artificial preservatives.
If you can’t find fortified food, then he needs to be on a daily dose of vitamins.
Calcium’s…” His voice trailed off as he noticed the kid’s eyes glaze over.
“You know what, I’ll have Jackie print out a couple of sheets for you.
In the meantime, if you talk to the kennel manager, tell him David says hi and buy good food for the dogs already. ”
The kid blinked in shock. No doubt the idea of telling a superior agent anything other than yes sir or ma’am or no sir or ma’am had never occurred to him.
Jackie led the bright-eyed youth and his beautiful pup from the examination room, and David headed to his office to make notes in his patient file.
He was one of the newest class of handlers Faith was supposed to be teaching, but since she was off on yet another case, her subordinate instructors were handling the beginning of the cycle.
David couldn’t really judge her for that considering his own extracurricular activities, but he felt a bit of general irritation at the fact that their lives hadn’t changed materially since moving to D.C.
Leaving Philly was supposed to be their chance to put everything behind.
Now Faith was off snooping for killers, with the ageless Turk still at her side and David was getting himself in trouble with the freaking CIA.
He chuckled ruefully. Wisdom was in short supply for the two of them.
Don’t bring her into this. You’re the one trying to trace drug buys to prove the CIA is trying to create telepathic dogs.
“Yeah, fair enough,” he said out loud.
He stepped into his office where Rogers tried unsuccessfully to not take up the entire space with his massive frame.
Explaining his presence turned out to be difficult, and when Rogers helpfully said that Faith had received anonymous hate mail and was worried about him, it did little to soften the worries of his staff.
But Faith wanted him watched, so here he was in an office two sizes too small for his faithful bodyguard. “I thought Hammerton was supposed to relieve you after lunch.”
“His niece got into a fight at school.”
“Oh. Damn. I’m sorry.”
Rogers shrugged. “Kid’s been bullied all through sixth grade.
Finally stood up for herself, and the principal wants to have a hissy fit.
Jeff’s going because he’s the kind of person people don’t try to intimidate.
He’s going to back up his sister when she says that her kid’s going to hit back every time someone hits her. ”
“Good for him,” David said. “And her.”
“Yeah, he’ll be back tonight, though.”
“It’s fine if he needs the evening off,” David said, sliding behind his desk.
Rogers chuckled. “Not happenin’, doc.”
David lifted his hands. “Just saying.”
“So have you made any progress?” Rogers asked.
David opened his desktop and waited the extra few seconds for the firewall Michael had installed to boot up. “Some,” he replied vaguely.
“That’s good. I’m sure you can’t wait until this is over.”
“You’re not wrong,” David said, opening up the file and reviewing what he had learned so far.
Maldonado, as far as he could tell, was completely unaware of anyone using her research in any capacity, good or bad.
The records David had obtained never showed her prescribing serotonin agonists to dogs.
She had applied for a research grant several times and been denied each time, but it seemed she had accepted the judgment of the powers that be and abandoned her research.
Of course, she had been killed shortly after, so that probably put a damper on her continued work.
She was a dead end, but her research wasn’t.
With help from some resources Michael had sent him, David had determined that large batches of serotonin agonists were ordered on nine separate occasions over the past four years, the first one being ordered two weeks after Maldonado’s death.
These large orders were obtained from different pharmaceutical manufacturers, but the purchaser was always the same: Green Glen Health Collective.
Serotonin agonists were ordered by many legitimate medical professionals, but only Green Glen placed bulk orders of this size.
Each order contained enough drugs to dose fifty dogs according to Maldonado’s suggested schedule for a period of twelve weeks or thirteen dogs for a period of forty-five weeks.
The frequency of the orders suggested a larger number of dogs for a shorter period of time.
Or a much higher dose than Maldonado suggested.
David looked up Green Glen Health Collective and got eight different results. Five of them were marijuana dispensaries, three of which were located in the city of San Francisco alone. They sure did love their weed in California.
Two Green Glens were health retreats, one of them a semi-legitimate sanitarium for sufferers of chronic illness and one a complete pseudoscientific “karmic wellness commune” in Colorado whose leader wore a tunic and a hip-length beard and called himself Guru Pasha Mahavanya despite clearly being a Caucasian American.
The final remaining Green Glen had no information at all.
No website, no mission statement, no staff directory, nothing.
Just a phone number and an address. David didn’t want to risk testing the phone number, so he plugged the address into Google Maps and received a location in an industrial park in Mesquite, Texas.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. Mesquite was quite a distance from Quantico. If the drugs were being sent here, then how did the 93rd end up here?
Then again, they had only arrived recently. What had happened to drive them away from Texas?
He wished he could talk to the person sending him emails.
He had followed the drugs and discovered Green Glen Healthcare, but now where did he go?
Did he keep following the drugs? Did he try to figure out why the CIA moved their operation here?
Did he look at the names of the other doctors on the first list?
He would talk to Michael and Faith when they were all together again, but in the meantime, he didn’t want to spend the entire week just waiting.
He couldn’t fly to Texas, and phone calls were dangerous for him.
He’d tried using burner phones, and the 93rd had still figured out it was him.
That left him nothing to do but follow up on the other names on the list. Maybe he’d get lucky and find some more answers that way.
His door opened, and Jackie poked her head in. “Your patient is ready, Dr. Friedman.”
“Be right there.”
“Okey dokey.” She smiled at Rogers, then pranced down the hall.
“She’s cute,” Rogers said appreciatively.
“Taken,” David said, saving his research and closing his computer. “Sorry.”
“All the best ones are,” Rogers replied genially.
“There’s a Mrs. Rogers out there for you,” David assured him, getting to his feet. “Women like enormous, freakishly strong gentle giants.”
Rogers chuckled. “Maybe one day. I just haven’t met the right one yet.”
“You will. Can I convince you to run to the coffee bar and grab me a latte?”
“Sure, but if I come back and find you did anything other than see to that dog, I’m not gonna be a gentle giant.”
“Sure, you will,” David said with a grin. “You act tough, but you’re secretly a big softie.”
“You got me there,” Rogers replied amiably. “Decaf, right?”
“Screw you.”
Rogers laughed and clapped a massive hand on David’s shoulder. “Back in a minute.”
David winced and rubbed his shoulder. For her sake, he hoped the one for Rogers was a powerlifter.
He headed to the exam room to see his next patient, and to his surprise, he was able to put the 93rd Testing Brigade from his mind.
He was on the scent now. There was no need to rush. Slow and steady would win this race. The noose was tightening around the 93rd, and when it cinched closed, David would be the one holding the leash.