Death Benefit

24.

GREENWICH, CONNECTICUT MARCH 4, 2011, 3:23 P.M.

It was thirty miles, give or take, from Columbus Circle in Manhattan to Edmund Mathews’s house in Greenwich and by some miracle, Jerry’s driver, a former New York State highway patrolman, made the trip in just over fifty minutes. After leaving Harry Hooper in the hotel bar, Jerry had found Max Higgins waiting in the limo in front of his building. He got in and called Edmund Mathews immediately, pretty much ordering him and Russell to leave their Greenwich office and meet at Edmund’s house within the hour. Jerry had told Max nothing. Max thought Jerry looked terrible-red-rimmed eyes, unshaven cheeks, hair in disarray, and wearing a strange and rumpled shirt-and-khakis combination under an old leather jacket such as a biker might wear. And he could smell the alcohol on his breath. Max would have to wait for an explanation because as soon as he’d spoken with Edmund, Jerry stretched out in the limo’s generous backseat and fell into a noisy and fitful sleep.

In the hours since their lunch with Jerry and Max the day before, Edmund and Russell had done nothing significant in terms of solving their problems. Russell had busied himself overseeing the implementation of some of Edmund’s ideas about buying different types of life insurance policies and legal staffers had started combing through existing diabetics’ policies looking for what Russell had called “anomalies.” Anyone who’d used a middle initial on one document and not on another, they were to see if that was grounds for termination of the policy. Any agreements in progress were halted pending investigation. But these were stopgaps. If there was to be a macro solution, Edmund and Russell hoped it would come from Jerry.

When Edmund received Jerry’s summons, he was optimistic that salvation was at hand. Jerry had sounded hoarse, and he was even more abrupt than usual. But no matter. Russell had been positively giddy as the two men waited for Jerry, Edmund more reserved. From experience Edmund knew that if Jerry had thought of something, it wouldn’t be pain-free. There’d be a price to pay somewhere down the line.

Jerry’s limo pulled up to Edmund’s front door. As Edmund watched from a second-floor window, the driver hopped out and held the door open for Jerry, who slowly stepped into the chilly winter air. Even from this range, Jerry didn’t look so hot. As Edmund made his way downstairs, his wife, Alice, ever the good hostess, opened the front door.

“Alice!” Jerry said jovially. “I was hoping I’d see you. You look as lovely as ever.” And she did, her blond bob tucked back behind her ears, her light green eyes set off by a mint-green sweater, her gym-toned legs setting off a sharp, knee-length skirt.

“Hello, Jerry, how are you?” Alice grabbed Jerry’s elbow and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Jerry had tried to tame his hair and had quickly polished off half a roll of breath mints, but he hadn’t completely overcome his dishevelment. Nor had he done anything about a subtle ripeness that hovered around him like an invisible cloud. Alice recoiled a little.

“I was just saying to Max,” Jerry continued as Edmund joined them, “what a wonderful couple Alice and Edmund are. And little Darius makes three. Beautiful wife, a healthy heir, this stunning house. Edmund, you are a lucky SOB. The man who has everything. Wasn’t I just saying that, Max?”

“Absolutely, Jerry, and who could disagree?” Max had no idea what Jerry was talking about, but he played along. Two minutes earlier Jerry had been all but dead to the world.

Jerry had his arm around Alice’s shoulder as the group filed into the house. Edmund wondered what on earth was going on. Jerry had never shown the slightest interest in Alice, nor Edmund in Charlotte Trotter. They didn’t have that kind of relationship-it was all business.

“Russell here? Ah yes, there you are,” Jerry said, spying Russell emerging from the library.

“Can I get you gentlemen anything?” Alice asked, extricating herself from Jerry’s grip. Jerry moved to lean against a wall. From Edmund’s perspective it appeared as if Jerry was having trouble standing up.

“I’d love a coffee, thanks, Alice. You have one of those fancy machines, right? As strong as it comes, and in a large mug if you wouldn’t mind. Didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Alice moved toward the kitchen and the four men stood in Edmund’s expansive entryway.

“We don’t have all the paperwork from Statistical Solutions corroborating the concerns we have about the bell curves,” Edmund said, eager to get the ball rolling.

“I don’t care about that,” Jerry said. “It’s as bad as you thought. Actually, it’s probably worse than you feared. We have to preserve the capital we’ve invested, and the only way to do so is to act quickly and decisively. Like now.”

“Well, shall we go into the library and sit down and talk about it?” Edmund asked. “Or the living room?”

“No, Edmund,” Jerry said, suddenly sounding more focused. “You and I are going for a little walk outside.”

“A walk? It’s freezing out there! It’s going to snow later.”

“Don’t worry, Edmund, you’re not going to freeze to death. Go grab a coat.”

As Russell and Max moved into Edmund’s library, Edmund and Jerry stepped outside, Edmund fortified by a woolen overcoat, Jerry by the coffee Alice had made. It was five shots of espresso staining the inside of a Syracuse University mug.

“They’ve set up a company to control the patents for the organogenesis techniques,” Jerry said. “Rothman and Yamamoto. These are the guys, no doubt about it. They’re the problem.”

“I’m glad you’re taking the issue to heart,” Edmund said. They walked along an ornamental path in the front of the house, past rosebushes that had been severely pruned back for the winter. Patches of snow lay on the lawn in the shadow of the hedges. This was as barren as Edmund’s garden ever looked.

“We have to act at once. Those bell curves move at all to the right, it’s a disaster.”

“I’m pleased you see the same problem we do.”

Jerry stopped walking just short of the lawn.

“Unfortunately, we don’t see a simple financial solution, like selling ourselves short through an intermediary or securitizing our policy holdings immediately. With Gloria Croft shorting big-time, we probably couldn’t find any institutional buyer.”

“I agree,” Edmund said. “But the life settlement concept is still sound. It’s maybe the best business opportunity I’ve ever come across. It would be a shame to have to give up at this early stage.”

“I agree,” Jerry said. And more than you know, he thought, more than even Max knew. “Which is why I’ve come up with another plan.”

There was a silence, then Jerry went on.

“It’s a little unorthodox, but it’s the best plan that serves all of our interests. Believe me, I’ve thought about nothing else over the last twenty-four hours. But it’s not for us to do-it’s for you to do. It was your idea, this whole thing. Your mess to get out of. Just you and I will speak of it, nothing will be in writing.”

Edmund nodded. He didn’t expect anything different. Not from Jerry.

“There’s only one solution, and it’s the way it has to be because this guy Rothman has got himself out there so far ahead of the pack.”

Another silence ensued.

“I think Rothman’s momentum has to be stopped. If it is, I think we’ll have a good five years before the rest of the research community catches up to where Rothman is today.”

Neither man said anything. Jerry’s words hung heavily between them as if they were written in the air. Finally Edmund broke the excruciating silence.

“How do we stop Rothman’s momentum, Jerry?”

“Easy,” said Jerry. “You kill him.”

Edmund turned and walked away from Jerry, back toward the house. He took a path on the side of the building and Jerry set his empty coffee cup down and followed him to the rear garden, where Edmund sat on a bench with a view of Long Island Sound. Jerry sat down next to him.

“Murder, Jerry? Like having him shot?” Edmund was appalled. At the same time he didn’t think he had the luxury of dismissing any idea out of hand no matter how preposterous it sounded.

“No, not at all. The two of them should die in a way that doesn’t invite suspicion of homicide. It must look like an accident. There shouldn’t even be an investigation, although I suppose that would be inevitable. But there can be nothing that makes this look deliberate. Because it wouldn’t be beyond the realm of possibility that any semi-competent murder investigation would lead right to LifeDeals. You sat there yourself at Statistical Solutions and talked about what this could do to the company’s bottom line.”

“Do you have any specific suggestions, Jerry?” Although the proposal was outlandish and terrifying, Edmund wanted to find out what Jerry was proposing. It wasn’t as if Edmund had any plan B waiting in the wings.

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

Edmund continued to stare out at the water.

“I’ll tell you,” said Jerry, “most of the medical people will know that Rothman’s first interest in research, before he became involved in regenerative medicine, was salmonella, which is the number-one cause of food-borne illness in general and typhoid fever in particular. He’s investigating the virulence of the bacteria-what causes it to be a tremendously deadly bacteria on the one hand, and a bothersome but nondeadly cause of gastrointestinal distress on the other. Why does one type give you the runs but another kills you? We did a little research. He’s found that growing salmonella in outer space produces a very lethal strain. He should be fed some of this particular strain.

“A lot of people don’t care for the man-they’re jealous of his Nobel Prize, and they think he’s got an attitude. If he dies from the bacteria he’s studying, a lot of people are going to say, ‘Oh, that’s terrible,’ and then smile at the irony of it later.”

Jerry made it sound so easy.

“I suppose that would be clever,” Edmund said. He felt he had to say something.

“That’s not the half of it. The typhoid fever he’d immediately develop might or might not kill him. There has to be something else that will kill him quickly and definitively, but it’s got to be something you can’t easily detect. There’s a substance called polonium-210-very radioactive and deadly if you ingest it but not harmful otherwise. We’d use it because it produces many of the same symptoms as typhoid and would be masked by it. It’s what killed Alexander Litvinenko in London a few years ago.”

“I remember that. That was just a theory, surely, the polonium.”

“I think it was more than that,” Jerry said.

“Why do we need it?”

“To make sure the guy dies. It’s very potent. The challenge is that Rothman and his sidekick work in one of the premier medical centers in the world. The salmonella, no matter how virulent it might be, cannot be counted on by itself. One or both of them could be saved. That’s a chance that cannot be taken. We need to be sure. One-hundred-percent sure, ergo the polonium, and a massive dose of it to boot.”

“So where the hell do you get this stuff? Who’s going to buy it? Russell?”

“You hire the right people. Professionals.”

“You’ve been watching too many movies,” Edmund said. “So tell me, Jerry, who is going to procure this deadly radioactive poison for us?”

“Albanians.”

“Albanians?” Edmund’s voice betrayed his skepticism.

“There’s an Albanian Mafia that’s grown big in New York in the last twenty years. Very violent, very ruthless. But also very reliable, if you do business with them. Their word is their bond and all that. The FBI put a crimp in their operations in the nineties, but they’ve grown back and they’re looking to make names for themselves again. You’re going to ask, how do I know? I got this from a man who spent years of his life trying to put these guys in jail. He gave me a name.”

Jerry held out a piece of paper, folded in half, for Edmund. Edmund thrust his hands in his coat pockets and looked at Jerry.

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

Jerry let Edmund stew for a couple of minutes. Edmund had moved down to the edge of his property and was standing, looking out at the gray water of the Sound. Jerry could imagine Edmund’s state of mind-part of him horrified to even consider such a thing, another part telling him he had no option but to consider doing it. Which side was winning? Jerry decided to play his trump card. He didn’t want to have to do this either, but again, there was no choice. He walked down to join Edmund and stood about four feet to his right, looking ahead.

“I know about you and Gloria Croft.”

“What about me and Gloria Croft? You mean personally?” Edmund waited a beat, then turned to look at Jerry, who was stony-faced and staring straight ahead.

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“So you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yes, yes. Gloria and I had a . . . a thing when we were working together.”

“When you were her boss.”

“Yes, Jerry, Jesus, what does that have to do with anything?”

“You got married young, I believe.”

“I was married at the time. I admit it, I was a bad boy. I got carried away, and I wasn’t the only one who’s ever done that. You tell me you never did. But I learned my lesson. I steer very clear of bitches like her.”

“So no harm, no foul is what you’re saying, right, Edmund?”

“Jerry, I swear I have no idea what the relevance of this is. You just asked me to kill two people, for Christ’s sake.” Edmund turned his head as he said it, checking that no one had joined them. “Are you trying to put pressure on me with this?”

“There’s something I don’t think you’re aware of. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to bring this up, but it seems like you leave me no option.” Jerry looked at Edmund. He had crossed one bridge with Edmund a few minutes ago. Now he was going to burn it down.

“When you were sleeping with Gloria Croft, she got pregnant-”

“Oh, bullshit, Jerry-”

“She got pregnant, Edmund, and she had a termination, and it didn’t go well. She used a good clinic, I can give you the name, but the procedure had some serious complications. I can give you details, if you need them. She survived, but it left her sterile, so she can’t have children. And I would imagine it also left her with a lot of resentment for the man involved.”

“Why should I believe this?” Edmund’s face was dark with fury, his hands bunched into fists still thrust deep into his coat pockets, his left hand throbbing from punching the elevator door. He leaned toward Jerry, almost goading him.

“You’re trying to blackmail me? I can’t believe you.”

“The information came up quite by chance,” Jerry said. He was surprised how remarkably calm he felt. “We were looking for dirt on Gloria when we heard about this. I know someone who has contacts in the records department at certain hospitals, and he found the relevant file. The timing’s right, we checked, and there’s even a note in there saying that she only had one sexual partner. They were ruling out some STDs, so they asked. My guess is that partner was you.”

“Bullshit.”

“You use a condom every time, Edmund? She miss a bit of work around the time you stopped seeing each other? You might not remember, but I doubt you liked your analysts taking a lot of time off. And perhaps she left the company soon after that, am I right?”

Edmund sighed. He felt deflated, almost literally, as if the air had been sucked out of his lungs. He stared back out at the water again.

“So what will you do with this information? And I’m not saying it’s true.”

“I said just now what a lovely wife you have, what a beautiful home. It’s true, of course. I’m just pointing out to you what’s at stake here, Edmund. You might not see things as clearly as I do. We’ve all worked so hard to get what we have, and there are so many people who are jealous of us, who say we don’t deserve all this, but we both know the truth. We earned everything we have. Without us, this country would be starved of innovation. Nothing new would be created. Okay, so someone’s going to grow organs outside of the body, but not now, not when they’ll destroy this wonderful product of yours. It’s a fantastic idea that you had. And you have to protect it.”

Jerry paused.

“Now you say what I just told you is bullshit. It’s not all bullshit, is it? It can’t be. And what’s Alice going to say if she gets a note that says her husband slept with his analyst, and she got pregnant? I doubt she’s going to be placated that easily, just by telling her it’s all bullshit.”

Edmund said nothing.

“I’m telling you, these Albanian guys can make all of this go away. I assure you they have done more difficult things than this. It turns out that it’s true what they say: money really can buy you anything. Just look around you, Edmund, you just have too much to lose.”

“What about Gloria Croft?”

“Don’t worry about her,” Jerry said. “She’ll get hers when LifeDeals share price skyrockets.”

Jerry held out the piece of paper again. This time, Edmund wearily put out his hand and took the scrap, unfolded it and read it. Jerry touched him once on the shoulder with his left hand and turned and walked back toward the house. Edmund stood where he was, staring at the name written on the paper, a name that meant nothing to him, and everything.