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.”
“Yes, he had emailed me about it. Thank you for bringing it.” The tension in Perkins’s voice indicated annoyance rather than gratitude. “Can you tell me the sample’s significance?”
“A U.S. agricultural aid team believes there may be a connection between the water and some mysterious deaths in villages along the reservoir.”
“I see. Well, we can certainly take a look at it.”
“Perhaps you can answer a question,” Pitt said. “Why would Dr. Nakamura send a water sample to you here in Scotland?”
“Our firm is at the forefront of bioremediation research,” Perkins said. “We have the resources to analyze and identify biological impurities that other facilities may lack. Plus, Dr. Nakamura was a friend of our company’s late founder, Frasier McKee.”
As Perkins held the vial to the light and swirled it around, Pitt glanced at the family photo on the desk. It showed Perkins outside a soccer field with his wife and two small boys. Several older cars were parked next to the field. Pitt noticed that Perkins was wearing the same clothes now as in the photo.
“Did Dr. Nakamura indicate,” Pitt asked, “what he thought the water sample might contain?”
“No. But I will be happy to share our analysis with you. It should only take a day or two.”
As if on cue, the desk phone rang. Perkins listened briefly, then hung up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pitt, I’m needed in the lab. It was very nice meeting you.” He rose from behind the desk.
“Thank you for your time.” As Pitt rose, he pointed at the photo. “You have an attractive family. What are your boys’ names?”
Perkins glanced at the photo. The hesitation in his voice was minuscule, but unmistakable. “Finn and Liam.”
With no further comment, he escorted Pitt to the lobby. “Enjoy your stay in Scotland,” he said. He shook Pitt’s hand and vanished down the corridor.
Pitt drove a few blocks into the city, then turned around. He circled back to the building, approached from a side street, and parked a block away.
While the Mini was concealed from the road, he had a clear view of the front of BioRem. Keeping one eye on the building, he pulled out his phone and called Hiram Yaeger at NUMA headquarters.
“Calling to get my order of Scotch whisky?” Yaeger asked.