The Green Trap by Ben Bova Page B

refreshments; this facility has been closed for some time now. I intend to reopen it, perhaps as early as next year.”
    Sandoval went to one of the heavy oak chairs and sat in it. From her rigid posture, though, Cochrane could see she was far from comfortable. He sat next to her.
    â€œWhat’s this all about?” he asked.
    Gould pulled a florid handkerchief from his back pocket and mopped his face. “Desert heat. Can’t say I like it.”
    â€œWhat’s this all about?” Cochrane repeated, a trifle louder. “Why have you kidnapped us and brought—”
    â€œKidnapped?” Gould looked genuinely alarmed. “Heavens, no. I merely told Mr. Kensington that I wanted to talk with you. In person. In private. You’re free to leave whenever you wish.”
    â€œHe killed Mitsuo Arashi,” Sandoval said flatly.
    â€œIn self-defense, I’m sure.”
    â€œAnd he killed my brother, too, didn’t he?”
    â€œThat he did
not
do,” Gould replied sternly. “I assure you. As I said, your brother was about to enter into a partnership with me. Many millions of dollars were involved.”
    â€œI don’t understand any of this,” Cochrane said. “What was Mike doing with you? What was worth millions of dollars?”
    Gould’s brows squeezed together. He stared at Cochrane, hard, as if trying to penetrate to his soul.
    â€œAre you telling me that you don’t know what your brother was working on?”
    â€œAll I know is that a helluva lot of people seem to be interested in it, whatever it was.”
    â€œI don’t like the sound of that,” Gould muttered.
    â€œIt’s something to do with BMAA, I’m pretty sure,” said Cochrane. Sandoval glared at him.
    Gould considered this for a moment. “What on earth is BMAA?”
    â€œA nerve toxin. Certain species of cyanobacteria produce it.”
    â€œCyanobacteria,” Gould mused. Cochrane realized that the man had heard the term before; it wasn’t new to him.
    â€œMike was doing research on cyanobacteria,” Cochrane said.
    â€œWhat was the basis of your partnership deal?” Sandoval asked.
    Gould smiled coldly at her. “If you don’t know, why should I tell you? I brought you here because I need to know what you know. Not vice versa.”
    Cochrane looked at Sandoval, who had frozen her face into an impassive mask. Then he turned to Gould, who was frowning.
    â€œWe appear to be at an impasse,” Gould said. “Which is not good.”
    â€œWho murdered my brother?” Cochrane demanded.
    â€œHow should I know?”
    â€œWhat was he doing that was worth millions to you?”
    Gould shook his head. “No, it doesn’t work that way, Dr. Cochrane. I’m perfectly willing to exchange information with you, but you seem to have nothing to exchange with me.”
    â€œLook,” Cochrane said, feeling exasperated, “all I’m interested in is finding Mike’s murderer. I don’t give a damn about whatever it was that he was researching.”
    â€œI’m afraid you don’t make much of a detective, then,” said Gould. “If you can uncover the details of his latest work, you will undoubtedly find his murderer. The two are inextricably linked, I’m convinced of that.”
    Sandoval said softly, “So we get back to the question of why you were willing to offer Michael Cochrane millions of dollars for a partnership deal.”
    Gould leaned back in his desk chair and thought about that for a few moments. “Yes, that’s exactly where we get to.”
    â€œWas it about BMAA?” Cochrane asked. “Was Mike working on some new biological weapon?”
    â€œHardly that,” Gould replied. “Although, I must admit, if one of the spin-offs from this research is a useful bioweapon, that in itself could be of considerable value.”
    â€œSuppose,” Sandoval said