They went down the marble staircase and Grant signaled the security man, who leaped up and opened the front door for them. He probably got a tongue‑lashing from Grant, Stone told himself.
As they stepped onto the wide porch, dusk all around them, Grant turned and headed toward the south end and a long wooden bench.
"Want to tell me what the hell's going on?" he said gesturing toward the bench and then sitting down. "W.B. said you claimed to be writing a book about this project. If that's true, then it's a seriously bad idea. You have no idea what he's capable of if he gets pissed."
"Oh, I think I'm getting a rough idea, but I'm a little pissed too," Stone said, remaining standing. "For example, there's the matter of Kristen Starr. You see, she was terminated from the clinical trials approximately three months back. So I was wondering, when is Van de Vliet planning to report her current condition to the NIH?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." His startled voice said otherwise.
"Oh, I think you do. I saw her today." Then he decided to bluff. "She had an interesting tale to tell. She—"
"Shit, you interviewed Kristy? Aw, man, don't believe anything she . . ." He hesitated. "What did she say about W.B.?"
"Tell you what, we'll play twenty questions. You tell me what you think she said and I'll tell you if you're right or not."
"Hey," Grant declared, his eyes intense, "she wanted to do it man. Nobody put a gun to her head or anything. She was freaking out after she got sacked. She thought Dr. Vee could fix her skin and she couldn't wait to try it."
"You mean—"