Part 16 (2/2)
”It's better to go straight to the source, and Misty Kanan a.s.sures me you're it. I can talk to H.R. later.”
Calder paused, seemingly baffled that she hadn't shooed Jo off. She cleared her throat. ”Right.” To the receptionist, she said, ”She's with me, Jenny. Sign her in. No calls.”
The receptionist eyed Calder sharply. Jo clipped a visitor's badge to her blue blouse and followed Calder down the hallway to a conference room. Calder closed the door and gestured for Jo to take a seat at the conference table.
”Ian Kanan isn't employed by Chira-Sayf,” she said.
”Excuse me?”
Calder sat across from Jo and laid her hands flat on the mahogany tabletop. ”He's an independent contractor. Chira-Sayf uses his services on a per-diem basis. Technically, he's self-employed.”
The zipping noise in her head, Jo thought, was the sound of Calder pulling on a fireproof suit. One that would cover her a.s.s.
”Ms. Calder, I'm not here to interrogate you. Ian Kanan is missing and critically ill. I'm trying to find him.”
”You're working for the police. I presume you're gathering information to use if you testify in court.”
Against the company, she meant. She was skittish about liability, bad publicity, or something worse.
”And even if he were an employee, privacy laws forbid me from releasing personnel records without a subpoena,” Calder said.
”I don't need his personnel records. I need to talk to people who know him and find out where he may have gone.”
”The police warned us that Kanan might be violent. We're having to inst.i.tute new security protocols, bring in protection for the office and senior executives.” Her eyes were narrow in her square face. She wouldn't quite look at Jo. ”We don't know what Kanan might do. People are afraid.”
”I understand. But I'm on your side. I'm trying to get Kanan off the street.”
Calder pressed her hands against the tabletop and stared at the air around Jo's head as if seeing a halo or fluttering wings. ”I don't think anyone's going to talk to you.”
”No? Then let's talk about the company.” Jo opened the corporate brochure. ”What kind of nanotechnology work does Chira-Sayf do?”
”I don't see how that's relevant.”
”Chip design? Medical applications?”
She flipped through the brochure. There were photos of techs in clean-suits working in sterile manufacturing conditions. Scientists in white coats. The CEO, Alec Shepard, posing on the corner of his desk. He was an expansively sized man in his late forties, with a penetrating gaze, a red beard going gray, and a master-of-the-universe smile.
The next page showed a laboratory someplace-red dirt, hot climate. Lions. Jo frowned.
Calder said, ”I'm sorry, I can't reveal proprietary information.”
Jo looked up casually. ”Ian may have been poisoned. I need to know if he could have been contaminated in the course of his work for Chira-Sayf.”
”Contaminated? He couldn't-that's not possible. Not because of work. He hasn't been in the office for almost two weeks.”
”I know. He's been on a business trip to the Middle East and Africa. And I'm trying to retrace his steps to find out where and how he came in contact with a poisonous substance.”
”But that could be anywhere. The world is dangerous. People want to steal our intellectual property. They want to steal the very materials we work with. One of our labs, people broke in and ripped the copper wiring out of the walls. Just hacked away at the drywall with crowbars and tore out the phone lines.”
”Was that the lab in South Africa-this one?” She turned the brochure. ”Have there been other thefts?”
Calder stared wide-eyed at the brochure. Jo kept a pleasant expression on her face, wondering what had set Calder clicking like a Geiger counter.
”It's irrelevant. That brochure's out of date.” Calder held out her hand. ”Here, I'll take it and get you some more current information.”
”That's all right.” Jo put it in her satchel. ”Is Ian happy here at Chira-Sayf? Has he had any problems?”
Calder looked at the satchel like Gollum eyeing the Precious. ”I'm sorry. I just can't tell you anything. Ian's unexceptional. I don't see him that often.”
”I thought you were his supervisor.”
Calder frowned as though she'd just tripped over a crack in the pavement. ”Not his direct supervisor. As I explained, he's an independent contractor. He doesn't fit into our corporate structure.”
”He's a lone wolf.”
Her cheek twitched. ”Kind of.”
”Who did he work for before he came to Chira-Sayf?”
”I'd have to look that up.”
Jo felt her blood pressure rising. ”Ms. Calder. Did Ian's trip to South Africa last week put him in any dangerous situations?”
”I can't tell you anything about that. I don't supervise his trips overseas.”
”Who does? Who should I speak to? The travel department? Engineering?”
”I'm sorry. I can't help you.”
Jo lay her hands flat on the table and counted to ten, slowly. ”In that case, I'd like to speak to Alec Shepard.”
Calder stood up like she'd been goosed. ”That's not possible. He's out of the office.”
”Then I'll wait for him to get in.”
”Dr. Beckett, you're wasting your time. You need to talk to Ian's friends and family to figure out what's... made him unbalanced. There's nothing more I can help you with.” She walked to the door and opened it. ”I'm sorry.”
”Me too.”
Calder escorted Jo out. When she got in the truck, Jo looked back at the building. Behind the blue gla.s.s Calder stood gripping her hands tightly in front of her, like a funeral director.
Jo found her phone and punched a number.
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