“Guys, I just found a news release from several months ago by Al-Nadir Nexus,” Gray said. “They announced they’ve signed cooperation agreements in biotech with thirteen foreign countries. It says those countries will be providing access to their biotech in exchange for oil at below-market rates. Included on that list are nice guys like North Korea, China, India, and Russia. According to the news release, Al-Nadir claims that they’re on the cusp of making biotech the second main pillar of the Saudi economy besides oil. And their long-term goal is to be the biotech leader of the world.”
“That would certainly jump-start that effort,” I surmised.
Gray gave her a sharp look. “Still, why would the Saudis funnel money into this weird kind of animal research?”
“My best guess is they’ve already marketed the capability to fit a country’s special need or request,” I offered.
Silence rippled through the room.
“So, whatever they’re planning,” Basia said quietly, “Ginger is part of it.”
“I agree,” I said. “And based on what we saw in the little time we had her, I bet she’s one of the most successful prototypes they’ve ever produced.”
Basia pressed a hand to her chest. “Which means…they’re not letting her go.”
“No,” I agreed, my throat tightening. “They’re not. In fact, it means they’re likely going to demonstrate her potential to a prospective client or clients.”
“So, how does all this tie into this Al-Rashid person?” Gwen asked.
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But he’s a key player somehow. He may be the one overseeing the research or writing the checks. We need a plan to find out.”
Barbie leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I have one. I break into the lab and get the dogs out.”
“Whoa,” Gray said in surprise, holding up a hand. “Hold on. Breaking and entering is a big jump for a reporter.”
“My dog—my baby—is in there.” Barbie’s eyes hardened. “Lexi said she already got into the security system. She can just unlock the door for me, and I go in and get the dogs out.”
“Unfortunately, it’s not that simple,” I said. “First, I need blueprints to know where they’re most likely holding the dogs. Then, I need to do more research on the security system. While I’m familiar with it, I need to get a better feel for how the lab is using it. We have no idea if they have an internal security guard sitting somewhere scanning badges as staff comes in. And that’s just the first of a list of potential problems with that kind of plan.”
“Well, whatever is happening is going down tomorrow morning,” Barbie said. “We don’t have the luxury of time to save my Tootsie or your Ginger.”
“She’s got a point,” Basia said.
A headache was brewing behind my eyes. “Okay, let’s take this back to the casino penthouse. We can discuss things further there.” I closed my laptop and took a sip of my coffee. I winced. “Yuck. My coffee is already cold.”
We started collecting our things when a woman wearing a white lab coat walked in. She looked tired, mid-thirties, hair pulled back in a loose knot, and shoulders slumped. She ordered quietly at the counter, paid, then, when her food arrived, carried her tray to a table a few rows over from us. She shrugged out of her lab coat and draped it over the back of her chair.
That’s when I saw it. Clipped neatly to the front pocket was an ID badge. White plastic. Blue logo.
Tango Bio Research Solutions.
The woman pulled a paperback from her bag and began to read between bites of her hamburger. At that moment, my gaze met Basia’s. She’d also seen it, and her expression was calm, focused.
I felt a skitter of alarm.
Before I could say anything, Basia stood, holding her drink, and walked away from the table. A visibly pregnant woman navigating a McDonald’s with careful steps and impeccable timing.
No one else in our group noticed, as they were busy gathering their stuff, but I held my breath. I had no idea what she was going to do.
Basia reached the woman’s table, paused, and shifted her weight. Her soda tipped. Not dramatically, just enough to look like a legitimate stumble.
The drink sloshed across the table, splattering the woman’s book with liquid and splashing onto the edge of her lap.
“Oh!” the woman yelped, pushing her chair back.
Basia gasped, hand flying to her chest. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m such a klutz. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, grabbing a napkin and blotting her lap. “It’s just cold.”
