“I hardly think that’s the case.” Loren crossed the room and opened her suitcase. “There was no shortage of movers and shakers in the lobby. Even the Spanish prime minister is here. Evanna McKee must have quite the network.”
“Be sure and find out what she’s selling.”
Loren shook off the comment and pulled out a wrinkled dress. “Customs really went through our luggage.”
Pitt opened his bag and found similar evidence of turmoil.
“How long will you be gone?” Loren asked, moving to the bathroom to brush her hair and reapply makeup.
“My meeting is in town, it shouldn’t last long. Sounds like they may not let me back in for a bit. I may be forced to while away the time at a local pub.”
Loren stepped back into the room and embraced him. “Don’t be gone long. And if they lock the front door, I’ll dangle a bedsheet out the window.”
Pitt escorted her back to the rotunda, which was beginning to clear out as the guests moved to the dining hall. Pitt kissed Loren good-bye, then exited the manor. He hopped into the Mini and retraced his route back to Inverness.
Just before reaching the city, he spotted a park near the river and pulled in. At the riverside he retrieved a glass vial from his pocket and filled it with water from the River Ness. Ten minutes later, he drove into the parking lot of a nondescript building at the opposite end of town. The structure had dark-tinted windows facing the street and a fenced warehouse yard in back. The only identification was a small sign by the door marked INVERNESS RESEARCH/BIOREM GLOBAL LTD.
Inside, Pitt found an empty waiting area and a middle-aged receptionist seated at an enclosed desk.
“May I help you?” she said in a brusque voice. Black bangs hung over a pair of dark eyes that regarded Pitt with the enthusiasm normally reserved for an encounter with the undertaker.
Pitt introduced himself and cited his appointment with Perkins.
“Dr. Perkins is expecting you,” she said. “Would you please sign in while I call him?” She handed him a sign-in sheet and a clip-on visitor badge, then picked up the phone. “He’ll be right out,” she said.
A heavyset bald man about forty emerged from the corridor, wearing a white shirt and tie and an ill-fitting sport coat. He was younger than Pitt expected and strode with the forceful gait of a rugby player.
“Mr. Pitt?” He extended a hand that was as hard as granite.
“A pleasure to meet you.” Pitt shook hands with an equally firm grip. “Thank you for seeing me on short notice.”
“It’s not every day I get a visitor from America. Come join me in my office.”
He led Pitt into the first open office down the hall. It was a bare-bones affair, with a plain wooden desk and a pair of guest chairs. A bookshelf behind the desk housed a handful of scientific journals and texts, while the desk held only a phone and a family portrait.
“Please, take a seat.” Perkins parked his wide frame behind the desk. “Did you just arrive in Scotland?”
“This morning. My wife is attending a conference at McKee Manor.”
“Ah, the Women’s Governance League,” he stated. “So, what can I do for you?”
Pitt reached into his coat pocket, retrieved the small vial, and set in on the desk. Perkins locked eyes on it, then reached over and grasped it.
“It’s a water sample taken in El Salvador,” Pitt said. “El Cerrón Reservoir, to be precise.”
He looked for a reaction. Perkins had none.
“Why El Salvador?” he asked.
“It was one of four water samples given to Dr. Stephen Nakamura at the University of Maryland to analyze. Unfortunately, the other three were lost with Dr. Nakamura’s passing.”
“I heard about the fire in his lab,” Perkins said. “A tragic loss.”
“Did you know him well?”
“We met at a seminar a few years ago. It was a professional relationship. He gave you this sample?”
“It was from the same source as the others in his possession. I understand he was sending you one to analyze.”