‘Thank you so much for agreeing to talk to me,’ Paul said to Rosie.
‘That’s OK. It was a shock to hear Mangold’s name again – I hadn’t thought about Medi-Lab in an awful long time.’
Paul had met her back outside the diner at eleven, having first returned to his hotel room for a shower and a shave. It was still warm despite the late hour and he put on a polo shirt and a clean pair of jeans, wanting to look respectable and trustworthy. He was wide awake now, his body clock so out of kilter it didn’t know what time zone it was in. He still hadn’t heard anything from Kate, so while he waited he’d emailed her, cryptically, saying he was safe but couldn’t tell her where he was, and asking her to reply and let him know she was OK.
He checked the news while he was online: the first cases of Indian flu had been reported beyond LA, in parts of Los Angeles County. A woman had died in Pasadena, another in Malibu. Twitter was full of LA residents tweeting about how they felt sick, and scared.
Back at the diner, he had been starting to worry Rosie had changed her mind and sneaked out the back door, but she came out at 11.30 and suggested they head to a nearby bar. She had changed out of her waitress’s uniform into a white blouse and denim skirt. The bar was quiet, but airless and sweaty. As he sat down opposite her at a table in the back, it struck him again how attractive she was. Attractive but haunted, the fine lines of her face mapping a history of adversity. Like Kate.
‘So what do you know about Medi-Lab?’ he asked, after they had exchanged a little small talk.
‘My father used to work there. Not in the lab or anything like that. He was a salesman – selling Medi-Lab’s drugs to doctors and whatnot. He wasn’t at home much when I was a teenager, on account of him always being out on the road. He’d come home, what, once a month? He called home a lot, though – every night before I went to bed.’ She rested her chin on her palm, her eyes misting. ‘Every night without fail.’
‘Do you know what kind of drugs he was selling?’
‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure. Antibiotics, mostly, I think.’
‘Not antivirals? Antibiotics treat bacteria. I thought Medi-Lab predominantly worked on virus research?’
‘Hmm … well, like I said, I’m not totally sure. Drugs. That was all the detail I knew. Daddy helped doctors cure sick people. Some months, he’d help a lot of doctors and I’d get presents and my mom would get a lot of new clothes and everyone would be smiling. But most months, things would be tight, the refrigerator would be half-empty and my mom would sit around looking sick with worry …’
Paul waited for her to continue.
‘Then, when the big scandal happened with the virus and the company went bust, my father lost his job. After that, the refrigerator was pretty much always half-empty.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Listen to me. What a drama queen. Talking like some character from a Charles Dickens novel. But it was shitty – excuse my French – back then. Daddy was always raging about Mangold, about how it was all his fault the company had gone under, and how he’d gotten away with it, was still living in his big old house with plenty of money.’
‘Do you think I could talk to your father?’
Her voice was quiet. ‘He died.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry. How, er … what happened?’
‘He died of pneumonia. It was a long time ago now – a couple of years after he lost his job. He was only forty-three. But he got sick a lot in that couple of years, I think because he was so depressed, drinking a lot.’
‘That’s really sad. I’m sorry to dredge all this up. It must have been hard for you.’ He knew these were platitudes, but he didn’t know what else to say. And while the sympathy he felt for Rosie and her late father was genuine, he couldn’t help wondering how useful this information might be in locating Mangold.
‘How much do you know about the big health scare that led to Medi-Lab being closed down?’
‘Only what Daddy told me and what was on TV at the time. They were working on a cure for some nasty African virus when there was a breakout. It was contained, but a couple of people died.’
‘Was it the Watoto virus?’
‘I don’t know … The name kind of sounds familiar.’
From living with Kate, Paul had a good knowledge of nasty viruses. ‘Or could it have been Ebola, or Marburg?’
Rosie shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe the second one you mentioned. Anyway, whatever it was, a couple of the scientists who worked in the lab there caught it and died. I remember there were journalists all over the place. Daddy said the place was crawling with secret agents.’
‘FBI? I thought the Department of Health were responsible for closing it down?’
‘Hmm. He definitely said secret agents. But maybe he was mistaken.’
‘And do you know what happened to Mangold? Apart from continuing to live in his big house?’
‘No, not really. Except Daddy … I just realised I keep calling him Daddy. Huh. How about that? My father used to cuss him so much I started to hate him myself. I know he lived out of town. Still does, for all I know.’
Paul took his iPhone out of his pocket, ready to type in a note. ‘Do you know where?’
Disappointingly, she said she didn’t. ‘Are you trying to find him?’
‘Yes, I want to try to interview him.’ He hated being disingenuous, especially when Rosie was being so open.
‘Can’t you just look him up on the internet or something?’
‘I’ve tried – believe me, I’ve really tried. He seems to be completely off the radar. Any idea how I can find out where he lives? I need to know.’
He had raised his voice and her body language changed in an instant. Where previously she had been leaning forward, now she sat upright in her chair, shoulders back, her eyes narrowing. ‘OK – what’s really going on here?’ she demanded.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you seem pretty worked up about finding Mangold. Beyond the call of journalistic duty, I’d say. Are you really writing a book about him?’
Paul exhaled. What was the point in lying? ‘Actually – no … Sorry. It’s a long story.’
‘I think I’d better go.’ She stood, briskly gathering up her purse.
‘No, please!’
Paul didn’t know how much Rosie could really help him, but he didn’t want her to leave. He was enjoying her company, more than he’d enjoyed anyone’s company for a long time. With the exception of Kate and Jack, of course. The thought of her running out alarmed him, and he fleetingly regretted telling the truth.
‘Please,’ he said. ‘Sit down and I’ll tell you everything.’
She hesitated, then sat back in her seat, tracing with her fingertip the edges of a stain on the table in front of her. ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ came on the jukebox, and Paul noticed her finger tapping in time to the intro. He was surprised that she’d stayed. She didn’t know him, had no idea if she could trust him. But there was something about her that made him think she was lonely, that maybe she didn’t have anyone to talk to apart from her grown-up daughter and her customers. And that maybe she was enjoying his company too.
‘Thank you. OK …’ He paused, aware that the story he was about to tell would sound far-fetched, even though it was true. He had to be careful how he told it. ‘A couple of years ago my twin brother, Stephen, was killed by a virus – a man-made virus.’
‘Man-made? Do things like that really exist?’
Paul nodded. ‘I used to be sceptical about that kind of thing too. But it does happen. And Mangold was involved. He was funding the guy who made this virus. Because of that, he was partly responsible for my brother’s death, so I need to find him.’
‘This is crazy,’ Rosie said.
‘I knew you’d think it sounded crazy.’
‘No, I meant, a few hours ago, this was just a normal, boring day. Then this Englishman walks into my diner and cracks open the past, then starts telling tales about searching for the man who helped kill his brother with a deadly virus.’
‘Yeah. It’s insane. But believe me, I’ve seen crazier things.’
‘I bet you have.’
The air between them was thick with tension. Rosie was looking straight into his eyes, trying, it seemed, to read him.
‘Excuse me,’ she said, standing up again, once more hooking her bag strap over her shoulder.
‘Are you leaving?’
‘Don’t look so worried. I’m only going to the bathroom.’
He sat and waited for a few minutes, convinced she had left the bar and that, unless he went back to the diner and begged her to reconsider, he would never see her again.
But then her reflection appeared in the mirror on the wall, holding two more bottles of beer.
‘Mangold,’ she said, sitting down and pushing one of the bottles across to him, ‘ruined my father’s life. You know, I met him a couple of times, when I was a kid. They used to hold an open day for all the staff and their families every summer.’ She sipped her beer. ‘I gotta admit, I’d sure like to find Charles Mangold too. There are a few things I’d be keen to say to him.’
Paul nodded. There was a fire in her eyes now. It made her even more beautiful, especially when she leaned towards him across the table and he could see the swell of her breasts, her skin aglow with perspiration, a pink flush around her collarbone. He couldn’t help it: he was aroused. He made himself think about Kate, feeling horribly guilty, but telling himself at the same time that it was OK to find another woman attractive, so long as you didn’t do anything about it.
She looked right into his eyes, holding his gaze for a few seconds longer than necessary. ‘I think I know just the person who could help.’