Free Lab Notes: a novel by Gerrie Nelson Page B

said. Then he looked up at his wife. “My turn for a question.”
    She raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”
    “Do you know when Harry Lee left BRI?”
    “I never really thought about it.” She smirked.
    “He was here until mid-October. Something is rotten..”
    “Who gave you that date?”
    “Crowley.”
    The set of Diane’s jaw told Vincent she had connected the dots: Bellfort’s pursuit of them had begun in September. He told them he had an empty lab and offices on the 4 th floor. But Harry Lee was still at BRI at that time.
    Diane’s voice took on an impatient tone. “No need to get paranoid about it. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation.” She refocused her attention on her computer screen. “I really need to get this done.”
    Vincent shrugged and stood up. “Then going for an afternoon sail is out of the question, I guess?” He didn’t wait for an answer.
    Vincent wiped down the cockpit, started Woodwind’s engine and set about removing sail covers. He was becoming efficient at solo sailing. He looked up at Diane’s corner office windows and wondered if she ever enjoyed the view.
    He was concerned about her. Since their move to BRI she seemed driven to make these trips to Central and South America. In the past, at the university, she had set out on her semi-annual plant collecting expeditions as if compelled by some biological imperative. But here in Texas, it went beyond even that. She now anticipated her trips with the fervor of one going on a religious pilgrimage.
    He heard a voice behind him. “Permission to come aboard Captain?”
    Vincent turned and grinned at his wife who stood on the finger pier. She had changed into the jogging shorts and tee shirt she kept in her locker.
    “Permission granted.” He gestured toward the cockpit.
    Diane stepped onto the boat and looked up at him. “Would you mind if I took her out this time, Captain?”
    “She’s all yours. I’ll get the lines.” Vincent walked forward to the bowline, his spirits buoyed.
    Diane backed the sailboat out of the slip and negotiated the turn into the bay with ease. Vincent went to work raising the sails.
    They cleared the far end of the BRI compound and waved at some of Vincent’s racing friends from the sailing club. It seemed everyone was starting the weekend early. And why not? It was one of those perfect days on the bay: low humidity, twelve-knot breeze, Texas bluebonnet sky.
    Diane stood at the helm watching her husband tweak the sail trim, and her heart went out to him. She knew that Vincent loved sailing, but she sensed that he found his leisure overload tedious. She knew that the temporary ban on practicing his alchemy had placed a severe strain on Vincent’s patience. And it was weighing on him, demonstrated in part by his growing animosity toward Bellfort.
    The erosion of his attitude was also evident in his less-than-burning interest in her achievements. Returning from successful business trips, she had to curb her enthusiasm to avoid the appearance that she was showing off.
    So far she had signed agreements with each of the Central and South American countries she visited with Raymond Bellfort and his cousin Gabriel Carrera who had arranged the meetings. Gabriel pointed out that even pharmaceutical giants did not have her 100 percent success rate. He said that representatives of large American companies usually showed up looking impressive in their hand tailored suits and Rolex watches. But their “taco Spanish” was almost an insult, and the use of an interpreter stiffened discussions.
    Gabriel attributed Diane’s success to her deft handling of the cultures and her amazing facility with the Spanish language. She communicated like a local wherever she went.
    “And, of course, your looks do not hurt,” he had said.
    There was a time when Diane would have found that comment offensive, allowing it to diminish her sense of accomplishment. Despite advanced degrees in biology and pharmacology, she always