CHAPTER

10

Later that afternoon Nate Cousins left his public relations agency and drove to Renewal Pharmaceuticals in Bethesda where he met with the firm’s president and CEO, Walter Milkin. He’d sensed urgency in Milkin’s tone when the CEO called to request the meeting, and wondered what was on the man’s mind. He found out soon after settling in Milkin’s office.

“Glad you could make it,” Milkin said as he poured himself two ounces of single-malt scotch from a small bar he maintained in one of the closets. Cousins declined a drink.

“It sounded important,” Cousins said.

“I don’t know whether it is or not,” Milkin said, “but it could be. What I need to know is whether it will be.”

“Another government intrusion?” Cousins asked.

“No, nothing like that. You know Jayla King?”

“Sure I know her,” Cousins said, adding, “As a matter of fact we had dinner together last night.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Cousins laughed. “Word gets around fast, doesn’t it?”

Milkin joined in the laughter. “If we had a water cooler I’d say that’s where the rumors take life, Nate. Pleasant evening?”

“Very. She’s charming as well as beautiful.”

“And damn smart. Did you and she talk about her father and his work?”

“A little.”

“I met with her this morning. I asked about her father’s work. She seems—well, she seems reluctant to discuss it.”

“Understandable considering how recently he died.”

“Yes, of course, but I’d like to know more about the work he was doing using natural ingredients.”

“I got the feeling in talking with her that she wasn’t especially involved in his work.”

“But that doesn’t make sense, does it?”

“In what way?”

Milkin shrugged. “Well, here she is a PhD working in medical research. It seems to me that father and daughter would have a lot to discuss. At least she’d be aware of what he’d discovered.”

Cousins wasn’t eager to further the debate and simply said, “You’re probably right.”

Milkin picked up a piece of paper on which he’d written “Eugene Waksit” and handed it to Cousins. “She ever mention this name?”

“Waksit? No, I don’t think so. I think I’d remember a name like that. Who is he?”

“According to Jayla he worked as her father’s lab assistant.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells for me.”

“I’d like to know more about this Waksit fellow,” Milkin said.

“Shouldn’t be hard to trace.”

“I thought maybe that you could do it for me.”

“I can certainly try but—”

“Now that you’re seeing Jayla socially it might make the task easier, you know, find out from her about him, make a few casual inquiries while you’re enjoying dinner and a glass of wine together.” He was about to add “pillow talk” but thought better of it.

“All right,” Cousins said, not sure he was comfortable with the request.

“I think that ‘casual’ is the operative word here, Nate. I wouldn’t want Jayla to know that I’m going around her. Understood?”

“I believe so,” Cousins said.

“And while you’re using your sizable charm to find out from the talented Dr. King what you can, you might also use your considerable network of friends to add to your knowledge of this Eugene Waksit. Waksit! Shouldn’t be too many people in the world with that name. I’ll see what I can scout up, too. By the way, Nate, the PR work you’re doing for Renewal is splendid, much appreciated.”

“Thank you, Walt. Is there anything else?”

“Not at the moment. You have my private and home numbers. Stay in touch.”

Cousins took a detour on his way out of the building to stop by the lab in which Jayla and her two colleagues were at work. She spotted him through the door’s window and joined him in the hallway.

“Here for a meeting?” she asked.

“Just wrapped up,” he said. “I just wanted to say how much I enjoyed last night.”

“I did, too. Thank you.”

“We have to do it again soon.”

“I’d like that.”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Tonight? I—”

“I’m in the mood for steak,” he said. “I have a house account at Morton’s and especially like the one in Georgetown. Game?”

“A rain check? I need a night alone with a good book.”

“Sure.” He looked at his watch. “Almost quitting time. How about a quick drink after work? I promise to get you home for that good book in an hour.”

She smiled. “All right,” she said. “But just an hour.”

“It’s a deal. It’s a little after four. How about I pick you up at five?”

“I have my car.”

“Okay, then meet me at five thirty at the 1905 roof bar. It’s on top of 1905 Bistro & Bar, on Ninth Street, in the Shaw District between U and Florida Avenue. Not as noisy as most after-hours watering holes. If you change your mind about dinner we can pop downstairs to the restaurant.”

“I’ll meet you there,” Jayla said, her emotions mixed.

Cousins was at the bar when she arrived. He’d commandeered two stools. A perfect Manhattan sat in front of him, along with a platter of truffled deviled eggs.

“Hope you like deviled eggs,” he said. “I could live on them.”

“I like them, too,” she said. She looked out over the city at the Washington Monument in the distance. “Lovely view,” she said.

“That’s what’s nice about height restrictions on buildings here in D.C.,” he said. “Roof bars are a thriving industry.”

Her white wine arrived and Cousins touched the rim of his glass to hers. “Here’s to you,” he said, then laughed and added, “I sound like Bogart in Casablanca. Here’s to you, kid.”

“Are you a movie buff?” she asked.

“Love the oldies. What about you, Jayla? What’s your taste in movies and books?”

They spent the next fifteen minutes in easy conversation about their preferences in literature and films. As they talked Jayla realized how impressed she was with the handsome man seated next to her. There was a gentleness to him that was appealing, and his focus never left her and what she was saying.

The conversation shifted when he asked, “What about your father, Jayla? Did he work alone or with a team?”

“He worked pretty much alone. Actually his work in the lab was limited because of the clinic. He was in the lab mostly at night and on Sundays.”

“Did you ever work with him?”

“No. Oh, sometimes, but never to the extent that I was involved in any experiments. As much as he loved me I think he preferred to work by himself.”

“What was growing up in Papua New Guinea like? I’m sure it’s nothing like Oakland where I was born and raised.”

“Different in some ways, of course, but with the same sort of problems as most places I suppose. I was raised in the capital, Port Moresby, more urban than most of the country. My father was white.”

“A mixed marriage. My parents were a mixed race couple, too. It posed problems for me every once in a while.”

“Someone told me that you used to be a professional baseball player.”

His laugh was self-effacing. “I had a minor league contract and played a couple of years. Good field, no hit. That was me. He grunted and shook his head. “I was just thinking,” he said, “about your father and his work. If he worked alone as you say, whatever advances he’d made in his research died with him. What a shame.”

She started to respond but held herself in check.

“I really should be going,” she said.

“Another wine?”

“Thank you, no.”

“How about dinner downstairs?” he asked. “The food is good and they have live jazz on Thursdays, only this isn’t Thursday. Bad timing.”

“I’d like that, Nate, but I really need to get home.”

“I understand, and I promised I’d see that you got there.”

He paid the check and walked her to her car.

“I enjoyed it,” she said. “It’s a nice place.”

“Being with you was what was nice about it,” he said.

She smiled demurely. He placed fingertips on her cheek and brushed his lips against hers. To his surprise she intensified the pressure.

“We’ll do this again soon, right?” he said.

“Yes, we will,” she said, pleased that he hadn’t pressed to extend the evening.

“Enjoy your book,” he said, “and careful driving home.”