We'll Meet Again

78

At ten o’clock on Saturday morning, Calvin Whitehall set his plan in action. He had summoned Lou Knox to his study so that Lou could make the call to Fran Simmons in his presence. “If she isn’t in, you’ll try every half hour,” he said. “I want to get her to West Redding today, or at the latest, tomorrow. I can’t keep our friend Dr. Logue under control much longer.”

Lou knew he was not expected to comment or respond in any way. At this stage of an action, Cal tended to think out loud.

“You have the cell phone?”

“Yes, sir.” The cell phone would be used for this call because not only would it show up as ANONYMOUS CALL if Fran had Caller I.D., but as a fail-safe, the number was billed to a phony name at a mail drop in Westchester County in New York.

“Go ahead and try her. And make sure you do a good job of convincing her. Here’s the number. I’m happy to say it was listed.” If it had been unlisted, Cal thought, it would have been simple enough to ask Jenna to get it from Molly, claiming that I wanted to set up the appointment Simmons had been requesting. But he was glad that step had not been necessary. It would have violated his cardinal rule: In any plan, the fewer people involved, the better.

Lou took the scrap of paper and began to press the numbers on the cell phone. There were two rings, and then he heard the receiver being lifted. He nodded to Cal, who watched him intently.

“Hello,” Fran said.

“Ms. Simmons?” Lou asked, employing his late father’s slight German accent.

“Yes, who is this, please?”

“I can’t tell you on the phone, but I overheard you yesterday at the hospital coffee shop, talking to Ms. Branagan.” He paused for effect. “Ms. Simmons, I work at the hospital, and you’re right. Something terrible is going on there.”

In her living room, still in her pajamas, the portable phone in her hand, Fran frantically looked for her pen, spotted it on the hassock, and grabbed the message pad from the table. “I know there is,” she said calmly, “but unfortunately I can’t prove it.”

“Can I trust you, Ms. Simmons?”

“What do you mean?”

“There’s an old man who has been creating drugs that they use in experiments on patients at Lasch. He’s afraid that Dr. Black wants to kill him, and he wants to tell the story of his research before they are able to stop him. He knows it will get him in trouble, but he doesn’t care.”

He has to be talking about Dr. Adrian Lowe, the doctor in those articles, Fran thought. “Has he spoken to anyone else about this?” she asked.

“I know for a fact he hasn’t. I deliver packages from him to the hospital. I’ve been doing this for some time, but I didn’t know what they were until yesterday. He confided in me about the experiments. He was practically bursting with excitement. He wants the world to know what he did to make the Colbert girl come out of the coma before she died.” He paused and lowered his voice to a harsh whisper. “Ms. Simmons, he even has it on tape. I know; I saw it.”

“I’d like to talk to him,” Fran said, trying to keep her voice calm.

“Ms. Simmons, he’s an old man and practically a hermit. He may say that he wants people to know about him, but he’s still scared. If you bring a bunch of people with you, he’ll clam up, and you’ll get nothing.”

“If he wants me to come alone, I’ll come alone,” she said. “Actually I prefer that.”

“Would tonight at seven be okay?”

“Of course. Where should I go?”

Lou circled his index finger and thumb in a victory symbol to Cal. “Do you know where West Redding, Connecticut, is, Ms. Simmons?” he asked.