Pretty grim, Jack thought. And now he could see how Nadia and Alicia Clayton had connected. Alicia ran the pediatric AIDS clinic near St. Vincent’s, just a few blocks to the west of here.

She went on. “My paying job—which I’ve only had for a couple of weeks now—is with a pharmaceutical company called GEM Pharma. Ever heard of it?”

Jack shook his head. Merck and Pfizer, yes, but never GEM.

“It’s a small company,” she said. “Mostly they manufacture and market generic prescription drugs—antibiotics, antihypertensives, and such on which the patents have run out. But unlike most companies of their type, GEM does basic research—not a lot, but they at least make a stab at it. That’s why I was hired—for their R and D Department.”

“A couple of weeks and already your boss is hassling you?”

“No. Someone is hassling him. At least I think so.”

Good, Jack thought. It’s not sexual. “And why’s that?”

“I saw him arguing with a man in the corporate offices. They were down the far end of a hall. They didn’t see me, and they weren’t shouting, so I don’t know what the argument was about, but I saw the other man shove him, then walk out, looking very angry.”

“Not a disgruntled employee, I take it.”

“No, but the man looked vaguely familiar. It took the rest of the day before I could place him. Then I remembered. He was Milos Dragovic.”

Well, well, well, Jack thought, remembering a guy who’d contacted him recently about a beef with Milos Dragovic. Two customers interested in Dragovic in as many weeks. That boy do get around.

Nadia was staring at him. “I can’t believe you haven’t heard of him.” She must have misinterpreted his silence.

“Oh, I have. Everyone’s heard of the Slippery Serb.”

That was what the Post had dubbed Dragovic a couple of years ago. And he lived up to the title. He’d faced indictments for gunrunning, racketeering, procuring, even murder, and had walked on every one. A sharp dresser who hobnobbed with celebrities at all the in restaurants and hot nightspots, Milos Dragovic had replaced John “the Dapper Don” Gotti as the city’s chic hood.

“You’re sure it was him?” Jack said.

“Totally. I dug out an old copy of New York magazine that had a cover story on him. Milos Dragovic, no question.”

“And he’s pushing your boss around. Any idea why?”

“That’s what I’d like you to find out.”

“Well, since your guy works for a drug company—”

“He’s one of the founders.”

“Even better. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Pharmaceuticals of a less than legal nature must be involved. Why not call the cops and tell them the Slippery Serb is shaking down your boss? I’m sure they’d love to know.”

“Because Dragovic may have something on him, some secret he’s blackmailing him with. And he may already have coerced him into doing something illegal. I don’t want to see him go to jail or get hurt.”