Pemberton Investments has a full-time medical staff in the east wing of the office. They prep employees who are traveling into the jungles of underdeveloped nations. The medical staff is often treating two common ailments: panic attacks and gout. The latter known as King’s Disease is brought on by excess consumption of red meat, scotch, and cake. Today though the staff wasn’t treating either of these ailments, instead it was poison.
Grigsby rushed into the medical room. Ryūki was lying on a table, his skin the color of fishbelly. The lead doctor, Vanessa Myles, stood, snapped off a latex glove and shook Grigsby’s hand.
“The blood work came in and it appears there are trace amounts of cyanide and iridium in Ryūki’s system. We’re treating this by restoring fluids and giving him 100% oxygen and hydroxocobalamin—” Grigsby gave a confused look, “It’s Vitamin B12a.”
“He’ll pull through this?” Grigsby asked.
Dr. Myles nodded, “We’re monitoring him closely, a nurse will be in the room at all times.”
“How’d it enter his system?”
“We’re still trying to determine the cause, but I’d say it was most likely ingestion.”
There was a knock on the door. Ira poked his in, “Grigs the NYPD are here.” Grigsby told them he’d be out in a moment.
“Ingestion…” Grigsby thought for a moment and slammed his fist on the table. He thought back to the night after filming Very Ferry. Joji offered desserts from Tokyo, they were daifuku and mochi. Grigsby and Ira declined as they were about to head to the country club for steak night. “Ryūki couldn’t resist the sweets from his home. Dammit!” Grigsby stormed out of the room.
Outside NYPD officers were talking to Jacques, the head of security for Pemberton Investments. He was from Nigeria and the size of a Volkswagen, he played for Ole Miss as a linebacker then joined the Marines. Jacques ran security operations for employees around the globe. Grigsby walked over and shook the officer’s hands.
“The commissioner sent a team of officers to guard the premises and the Penthouse on Park Avenue,” Jacques said.
They briefed Grigsby on the specifics of the added security. When the officers left he asked to speak with Jacques alone.
“Do the police know about Ryūki?”
“No sir, per your instructions I omitted that fact.”
“Good, we don’t want any written record of this. The Yakuza are everywhere.”
“Understood, how can I help?”
Grigsby looked up at Jacques, “This is something I have to handle on my own.”