Chapter Sixteen

“You sure you want to go in there alone?” Luke asked.

They’d come to a halt in the corridor, outside Merrick’s suite of offices.

“I think I have to,” she said. “If I give him my father’s letter and he knows I’ve already shown it to someone else, he’s not going to trust me.”

Luke pushed open the door. “I’ll wait for you out here. And I’ll be listening. You don’t like anything he says or does, then just speak my name and I’ll be in there.”

She nodded. He’d already fitted her with an earpiece and microphone so he could listen in on the conversation. She’d felt a little silly at the time, but now she was glad.

The door led into a reception room, which was empty. Beyond that was a second door, which presumably led to the professor’s office. Luke had arranged the meeting, telling the secretary that she represented a security company with a government contract to carry out research into possible biological threats and Merrick had been recommended as a specialist. The incentive of a large fee had ensured the meeting.

She tapped lightly on the door and pushed it open without waiting for a reply. The office was huge, with a large oak desk across one corner and windows overlooking a courtyard below.

The professor rose to his feet as she crossed the room. A short man, probably around her father’s age, somewhere in his mid-fifties, with faded blond hair and pale gray eyes that didn’t reflect the professional smile pasted on his thin lips. He held out a hand as she came to a halt in front of the desk. Jenna stared but forced herself to take it, though she made the contact as brief as possible. Something about him repelled her.

She sat and wondered briefly where to begin.

Merrick started to fidget. “Would you like coffee? Tea?”

“No.”

He picked up a pen from the desk then put it down. “I believe you’re exploring research possibilities for potential biological warfare products?”

Jenna ignored the question. “Professor, I think you knew my father, Dr. Jonathon Young?”

The man pursed his lips as he thought. “No, I’m afraid I know no one of that name.”

“He suggested I come to see you and said I was to mention the word ‘Descartes.’”

The result was instantaneous. His jaw dropped open, his eyes widened, and he made a small choking sound. The damage was done, although he pulled himself together quickly and cleared his throat. “Descartes? I have no clue to what you’re referring.”

Jenna pulled the letter out of her bag and laid it on the desk in front of her. “Professor Merrick, my father died recently. He left me this.”

His brow furrowed. To Jenna, he appeared genuinely confused. “I don’t know any Jonathon Young. I’ve never heard the name before. Could I read the letter?”

She nodded and Merrick unfolded the paper she slid across the desk. As he read the words, his frown deepened. “I’m sorry. I have no idea what this is about.” He glanced up at Jenna. “Your father mentions you’re ill. Could I ask the nature of your illness?”

“It’s a genetic condition, related to Huntington’s disease.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how I could be of help. I’ve never worked in that field.”

Jenna slumped in her seat and stared at her hands clenched in her lap. She’d expected so many answers from this meeting, and defeat left a sour taste in her mouth. He had to know something. She raised her head and held his gaze. “And you don’t know anything about Descartes?”

He appeared to think for a few moments. “You know, it might ring a vague bell. I think I was involved in a project by that name over twenty-five years ago. But I can’t remember the details.”

“Please…think. It’s important.”

Something flickered in his eyes as he studied her. Jenna couldn’t define the emotion; curiosity, disbelief, a dawning dismay? Finally, he shook his head as though to dismiss whatever unpleasant thought had crossed his mind. Frustration welled up inside her, and she wanted to scream at him to tell her what he knew, how he had known her father, but she clamped her lips closed to keep the words in.

“Please, professor. Anything you can tell me…”

Merrick licked his lips. “I may have some old files at home. If you leave a contact number, I’ll see if I can find some information.”

As she took out a business card and placed it on the desk in front of him, the professor regained some of his composure. “Now, I don’t know why you saw fit to lie your way into this interview, but I really must ask you to leave.”

Forcing down her frustration, Jenna picked up the letter from the desk, shoved it back in her bag, and rose to her feet. “I’m aware you know more than you’re telling me.”

“I assure you—”

A wave of her hand cut him off. “I’m ill. I’ve lived with the knowledge all my life. But without my medication, I’ll die. I don’t understand any of this, why my father sent me to you rather than a doctor, but he must have had his reasons. Until I find out what they are, I can’t move on.”

At the door, she glanced back. The man appeared in shock, his face gray.

“Please,” she said. “Just call me if you remember anything, anything at all.”

His head shook in denial. “You don’t understand—I can’t help you.”