Fatal Dose (18 page)

“And your point is?” he asked with a big grin on his face. He handed her a jar, opened his own and began gently rubbing the balm over her breasts and rib cage, stopping occasionally to fondle and kiss her erect nipples. She rubbed the balm from her jar on his chest and over his bulging testicles.

They started to feel the warmth immediately; then the pheromones kicked in. They spent the next hour having sex every way they could think of, including creative uses for mirrors and dildos. Finally, Marco raised his hand and said, “Enough, I can’t go on another minute. My whole body is aching.” He got off the bed, turned to her and said, “I’m going to shower. Go get us a bottle and some glasses.”

He gave her a stern look and added, “I’m going to lock the door so don’t come looking for more. I’m beginning to think that maybe you shouldn’t stay the night, after all.”

“Screw you, Marco. I didn’t come over here to turn around and go home to sleep alone in my own bed, especially after what we just did. Wow! That stuff is wild.”

“Sarah, you’re just too damned horny. Hell, I thought I was the one that had to have it all the time, but that stuff turned you into a freakin’ Amazonian. If what we did wasn’t consensual, I could have you arrested for rape.”

Ignoring his remarks, Sarah continued, “You said we would spend the night together and we’re going to. I promise not to start anything, Marco. I just want to go to sleep in your arms tonight. I promise to be good.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll go shower and then we’ll have some snacks and scotch.”

He got up and headed for the bathroom. As the hot water cascaded over his body, Marco thought,
I gotta remember that just because those pills let me go on for hours that doesn’t mean it’s good for me. Maybe I’m doing harm to myself with all this sex. God, I hope not. It feels so fuckin’ good.
He made a mental note to check with his doctor about that.

After he showered, he came back to the bedroom. Sarah was lying naked on the bed, exhausted. Marco looked at her, smiled, but didn’t seem fazed. She watched him as he crossed the room to retrieve his terry robe. She noted that, for the first time since she’s seen him naked, Marco Vennuti was as limp as a wet noodle and apparently was going to stay that way. She smiled with the realization that she tapped out the “stud” She knew that she would have no problem keeping her “hands off” promise.

Sarah left the bedroom to take her shower. As she was toweling off, she opened one of the vanity drawers and was startled to find a fully loaded gun nestled in a canvas holster. When she joined him in the kitchen she asked him about it. “What’s with the gun in the bathroom?”

“Oh, that,” he replied. “That’s just one of them. There’s one here in the kitchen, one in the bedroom and two in the living room. They’re all loaded and ready to use if necessary. Certainly you didn’t expect the head of security not to be protected in his own home?”

Within thirty minutes they were asleep in each other’s arms totally satisfied and thoroughly exhausted.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

After breakfast with Wendy, Mark went back to the house and went to work immediately. The FBI owned the three bedroom, two bath house and sometimes used it as a stopover place for people going into witness protection. He hadn’t had any company so far and he was happy about that, but it did cramp his style knowing that at a moment’s notice the FBI could move an individual or a whole family into the house for temporary protection. He didn’t know if Wendy had thought about it at all, but they probably wouldn’t be having any overnighters at the house.

It was time for Mark to formulate his plan to snare Paul Snyder. He gathered his personal notes, the search report, marriage records, other documents and the employment application that Snyder filled out and spread them out on the kitchen table. He knew that his plan would have to be approved by Dennis and Washington, so it needed to be foolproof. He spent three hours rechecking all the facts. It all came down to how much Paul needed to protect his little secret; how much he felt he would lose if word of his bigamy got out. There was no way to know for sure how this would play out until they confronted him.

Mark had been in situations like this before. The individual’s first reaction was usually denial of the facts being presented and an attempt to leave. When that option was removed, the accused usually tried to pretend that they didn’t care if you divulged their secret. Calling their bluff usually resulted in a complete breakdown of any resistance and an offer like, “What do you want me to do?”

Mark’s plan was to present Paul with the documents, remind him of the seriousness of bigamy and stop talking. The deafening silence should prompt him into the denial and bluff stages, followed by his cooperation. Mark believed that even though the plan was simple, it would result in obtaining Paul’s full participation.

Now he needed to determine the areas where they needed Paul’s help. The FBI was certain that Atronen was allowing their facilities to be used for thinning and repackaging. During the daytime operations, it was difficult to substitute pharmaceuticals without employees at many levels, being aware of what was happening. It was probably done after hours. During his time at Atronen, Brice observed that at least once per week, usually on Fridays, that there was a short shift that was supposed to be a make-up run for scheduled operations that had experienced mechanical difficulties or a raw material supply problem. The crew, however, was entirely replaced, from machine operators to supervisors during these runs. From what little Brice could find out, none of the dozen or more operators worked for Atronen. Two of the supervisors were on the payroll but did not work during normal production hours. All the packages were moved immediately to the shipping dock and loaded into unmarked vans or trailers dropped at their docks for pickup the next morning.

Mark anticipated that Paul would provide them with information about which drugs were being repackaged. The FBI would also require product names, production dates, quantities, serial numbers, their destinations and the names of the workers involved. In return for this information, they might be able to guarantee Paul immunity from prosecution, but that was still up in the air.

Mark stacked the files in the right hand corner of the table. He opened his laptop and logged in. He sent a short email to Bruce confirming his trip to Centerville on Wednesday and erased the three dozen spam messages that somehow got past his filters. Most of them were offers to enhance his sex life by enlarging his penis by at least three inches. He didn’t feel that he needed any help in that department. He started to key in a search when the phone rang. It was Dennis, wanting to discuss the Snyder case right away. “I’m on my way over there. I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

Mark spent those ten minutes straightening up.

Dennis arrived around two o’clock. He was wearing jeans and a plaid lumber shirt. The weather was warmer than usual for the season, so he was coatless.

“How about a beer?” Mark asked.

“I’ll pass,” he replied with a wave of his hand. He cut right to the chase. “I’ve got a busy week coming up. I want to do this meeting with Snyder Wednesday morning, before you take off for Centerville. Can you set it up that soon?”

“I think so. Paul is very hungry to better himself. Where do you want the meeting to be?”

“We’ve got a storefront office in the Langfield Mall. It’s got a reception area and a large office. It will be perfect for this operation. The company name on the building is Paradigm, Inc.”

“Great! I’ll call him at home right now.”

Mark called Paul and told him that the client was so impressed with his credentials that he was flying into Cleveland on Wednesday with the hope that he could meet with him. Paul took the bait and agreed to meet with him and the client’s representative at eight o’clock Wednesday morning at Paradigm.

“It’s all set,” Mark reported to Dennis.

“Fantastic! By the way, I’m going to ask Agent Farrell to join us. I want her to monitor the operation while you’re out of town. She can act as the receptionist at the office.”

Mark looked surprised, but Dennis continued before he could say anything. “Tell me, Mark, do you have something going on with Agent Farrell?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Well, last night before I left I stopped by your cubicle to see if you wanted to go over to O’Sheas. Now, mind you, I wasn’t snooping, but I happened to see a note on your calendar, ‘seven at Wendy’s’. Unless you know another Wendy, I would venture to say you that you had a date with Agent Farrell at seven last night at her place.”

“Guilty as charged. Yes sir, we are seeing each other. In fact, it is getting serious. Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all. Look, you’re keeping my little secret. You can certainly count on me to keep yours. It means that my decision to team you two up on this case makes a lot of sense. Have you discussed Paul Snyder with her at all?”

“Yes, in fact, I updated her this morning during breakfast. She is quite anxious to find out about the distribution of the special Friday night runs.”

“Excellent, I’ll call her later and set things up.”Now, show me what you have so we can set up our game plan.”

They spent an hour planning the steps for the sting. Dennis told Mark that Justice agreed to grant immunity to Snyder in return for his full cooperation. Neither felt that witness protection would be necessary since Snyder would not be needed to testify. As far as could be seen, Paul was not a part of the actual processing process. The FBI would only use his information to document Atronen’s illegal drug activities for the subpoenas to search the manufacturing facilities.

Dennis left at five o’clock. Mark waited until seven before calling Wendy.

“I guess by now Dennis has talked to you.”

“Yes he did. I’m excited about working with you in the field. I spend much too much time at my desk analyzing data. It will be good for me to get out for a while.”

“By the way, he knows about us. He figured it out by himself. Do you see that as a problem?”

“Not if he doesn’t. He would have found out eventually, anyway.” There was a silence for a few seconds, followed by, “I wish you weren’t busy tomorrow. I miss you already.”

“I know. I miss you too. Last night was wonderful, but I promised a friend that I would help her move and I can’t back out.”

“Her? Do I have any reason to be jealous?”

“You don’t have to worry any. She’s married. Her husband broke his leg and he can’t help much with the move.”

“Why don’t I go with you? I can help with some of the light stuff. That way you will finish sooner and we can spend some time together. You’re going to be away for a few days next week, you know. I’m going to really miss you.”

“I remember. You know, Wendy, you’re beginning to sound like a lovesick teenager. The gal I’m helping is one of us and I don’t want to have to concoct some story as to why you’re with me. It’s one thing for Dennis to know, but I don’t think you want everyone to know; at least not just yet. I’ll call you tomorrow night and I’ll see you at the office on Monday.”

“Of course you’re right. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound jealous. I just miss you so much. Goodnight Mark, I love you.”

“You have a good night, Wendy. I love you too.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

The Lucky Food Mart opened at nine o’clock. Among the early shoppers were two women pushing carts slowly up and down the long isles of produce and canned goods. Several other shoppers were lined up at the meat counter.

Two men, dressed in suits, made their way toward the back of the store. One pulled a small hand truck loaded with three boxes. To the casual observer the two looked like part of the army of pharmaceutical reps that cover the landscape of doctor’s offices and pharmacies on a daily basis. They stopped at the Pharmacy and spoke to George Simpson, the registered pharmacist, who greeted them as they approached his counter.

“It’s good to see you again,” one of the men said. “I brought the new stuff I told you about last week.” He removed the three boxes and placed them on the counter. I’ll need an extra two hundred dollars and don’t worry; this stuff is the real McCoy.”

George looked at the carton labels, nodded his head, added the extra money to the envelope and handed it to the man. Again, to the casual observer, nothing would seem to be out of the ordinary.

The man smiled and said, “I’m glad you came around to our way of thinking, George. Thanks for the sale, we’ll see you next week,” he said as they headed back to the front door.

That’s what you think
, George thought to himself.

Two plainclothes Cleveland Police officers approached the men as they exited the store. They showed their badges and placed the two men under arrest. Two shoppers, both women, left their carts and hastened to join the officers. They flashed their FBI ID’s as they approached the group.

As the pair was being handcuffed and Mirandized, a thunderous explosion went off inside the store. The bomb, which had been placed in one of the packages that the men just delivered, caused massive lateral propulsion that weakened the supporting walls and beams, causing the roof to collapse. The sidewalk and street in front of the store became instantly strewn with concrete chunks, cinder blocks, plasterboard, cans of food and an assortment of meat and produce. The money from the envelope, which one of the police officers recovered from the men, was caught up in the wind and was blowing down the street. Among the bodies under the rubble were those of four peace officers and the two thugs.

A block away, a man sat in his car observing the chaos. In his hand was the transmitter he used just moments before. He smiled as he put his car into gear and drove slowly away from the scene.