something I can do for you?"
Nathan Boone reached inside his parka and pulled out a white envelope. "This is a copy of your contract. I was told to direct your attention to clause 18-C. Are you familiar with this section, Doctor?"
Richardson remembered the clause, of course. It was something unique to the Evergreen Foundation, placed in their grant contracts to guard against waste and fraud.
Boone took the contract out of the envelope and began to read: "Number 18-C. The grant recipient—I guess that's you, Doctor-agrees to meet with a representative of the Foundation at anytime to give a description of the ongoing research and a statement concerning the allocation of grant funds. The meeting time will be determined by the Foundation. Transportation will be provided. Refusal to honor this request will cause the grant to be rendered null and void. The grant recipient must return all previously allocated funds to the Foundation."
Boone thumbed through the rest of the contract and reached the final page. "And you signed this, Dr. Richardson? Correct? Is this your notarized signature?"
"Of course. But why do they want to talk to me right now?"
"I'm sure it's just a small problem that needs to be cleared up. Pack some socks and a toothbrush. I'll take you down to our research center in Purchase, New York. They want you to review some data tonight so you can meet with the staff tomorrow morning."
"That's out of the question," Richardson said. "I have to teach my graduate students. I can't leave New Haven."
Boone reached out and grabbed Richardson's right arm. He squeezed slightly so the doctor wouldn't run away. Boone hadn't drawn a gun or made threats, but there was something about his personality that was very intimidating. Unlike most people, he didn't show any doubt or hesitation.
"I know your schedule, Dr. Richardson. I checked it before I drove up here. You don't have any classes tomorrow."
"Let go of me. Please."
Boone released Richardson's arm. "I'm not going to force you to get into the car and come down to New York. I'm not going to force you at all. But if you decide to be irrational, then you should prepare for negative consequences. In this case, I'd always feel regretful that such a brilliant man made the wrong choice."
Like a soldier who had just delivered a message, Boone turned quickly and marched back to his SUV. Dr. Richardson felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. What was this man talking about? Negative consequences.
"Just a minute, Mr. Boone. Please ..."
Boone stopped at the curb. It was too dark to see his face.
"If I go down to the research center, where am I supposed to stay?"
"We have some very comfortable living quarters for our staff." "And I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon?"
Boone's voice changed slightly. It sounded as if he was smiling. "You can count on it."
Chapter 10
Dr. Richardson packed an overnight bag while Nathan Boone waited for him in the downstairs hallway. They left immediately and drove south to New York. When they entered WestchesterCounty, near the town of Purchase, Boone turned onto a two-lane country road. The SUV rolled past expensive suburban homes built of brick and stone. White oak and maple trees dotted the front lawns and the grass was covered with autumn leaves.
It was a few minutes after eight o'clock when Boone turned onto a gravel driveway and reached the entrance of a walled-in compound. A discreet sign announced that they had arrived at a research facility operated by the Evergreen Foundation. The guard in the booth recognized Boone and opened the gate.
They parked in a small lot surrounded by pine trees and got out of the SUV. When they walked up a flagstone path, Richardson saw the five large buildings that filled the compound. There were four glass-and-steel structures placed on the corners of a quadrangle and they were connected to each other by enclosed second-floor walkways. A windowless building with a white marble facade was in the
Nathan Boone reached inside his parka and pulled out a white envelope. "This is a copy of your contract. I was told to direct your attention to clause 18-C. Are you familiar with this section, Doctor?"
Richardson remembered the clause, of course. It was something unique to the Evergreen Foundation, placed in their grant contracts to guard against waste and fraud.
Boone took the contract out of the envelope and began to read: "Number 18-C. The grant recipient—I guess that's you, Doctor-agrees to meet with a representative of the Foundation at anytime to give a description of the ongoing research and a statement concerning the allocation of grant funds. The meeting time will be determined by the Foundation. Transportation will be provided. Refusal to honor this request will cause the grant to be rendered null and void. The grant recipient must return all previously allocated funds to the Foundation."
Boone thumbed through the rest of the contract and reached the final page. "And you signed this, Dr. Richardson? Correct? Is this your notarized signature?"
"Of course. But why do they want to talk to me right now?"
"I'm sure it's just a small problem that needs to be cleared up. Pack some socks and a toothbrush. I'll take you down to our research center in Purchase, New York. They want you to review some data tonight so you can meet with the staff tomorrow morning."
"That's out of the question," Richardson said. "I have to teach my graduate students. I can't leave New Haven."
Boone reached out and grabbed Richardson's right arm. He squeezed slightly so the doctor wouldn't run away. Boone hadn't drawn a gun or made threats, but there was something about his personality that was very intimidating. Unlike most people, he didn't show any doubt or hesitation.
"I know your schedule, Dr. Richardson. I checked it before I drove up here. You don't have any classes tomorrow."
"Let go of me. Please."
Boone released Richardson's arm. "I'm not going to force you to get into the car and come down to New York. I'm not going to force you at all. But if you decide to be irrational, then you should prepare for negative consequences. In this case, I'd always feel regretful that such a brilliant man made the wrong choice."
Like a soldier who had just delivered a message, Boone turned quickly and marched back to his SUV. Dr. Richardson felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. What was this man talking about? Negative consequences.
"Just a minute, Mr. Boone. Please ..."
Boone stopped at the curb. It was too dark to see his face.
"If I go down to the research center, where am I supposed to stay?"
"We have some very comfortable living quarters for our staff." "And I'll be back here tomorrow afternoon?"
Boone's voice changed slightly. It sounded as if he was smiling. "You can count on it."
Chapter 10
Dr. Richardson packed an overnight bag while Nathan Boone waited for him in the downstairs hallway. They left immediately and drove south to New York. When they entered WestchesterCounty, near the town of Purchase, Boone turned onto a two-lane country road. The SUV rolled past expensive suburban homes built of brick and stone. White oak and maple trees dotted the front lawns and the grass was covered with autumn leaves.
It was a few minutes after eight o'clock when Boone turned onto a gravel driveway and reached the entrance of a walled-in compound. A discreet sign announced that they had arrived at a research facility operated by the Evergreen Foundation. The guard in the booth recognized Boone and opened the gate.
They parked in a small lot surrounded by pine trees and got out of the SUV. When they walked up a flagstone path, Richardson saw the five large buildings that filled the compound. There were four glass-and-steel structures placed on the corners of a quadrangle and they were connected to each other by enclosed second-floor walkways. A windowless building with a white marble facade was in the
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