4 Blood Pact (32 page)

Celluci swiveled his attention from one woman to the other but held his tongue. It was Vicki’s call.

“All right,” she said at last, straightening. “Tell us what’s going on.”

Dr. Burke took another drink, then visibly slipped into lecture mode. “I am a good scientist but not a great one. I just don’t possess the ability to devise original concepts that greatness requires. I
am
a great administrator. Probably the best in the world. Which means diddley squat. I make a reasonable amount of money, but do you have any idea what a couple of biological patents with military applications could net you? Or something that the pharmaceutical companies could really sink their teeth into? Of course you don’t. This is where Catherine comes in.

“She’s a genius. Did I mention that? Well, she is. As an undergraduate she’d patented the prototype of a bacterium that should, with further development, be able to rebuild damaged cells. When I became her adviser, it soon became obvious that she was, like many geniuses, extremely unstable. About to suggest that she seek professional help, I realized that this was my chance. Her research was the only thing that she related to and I was her only touchstone with reality. The whole situation begged to be exploited.

“Pretty soon I realized we weren’t just heading toward monetary rewards but that there was a distinct possibility of a Nobel prize. Once we actually managed to defeat death, of course. Sounds insane, doesn’t it?” She took another drink. “Let’s not rule it out; it might be a valid defense. Anyway, Catherine came up with some pretty amazing possibilities and we began working out experimental parameters.”

“Don’t you guys usually work with rats,” Celluci growled.

“Usually,” Dr. Burke agreed. “Are you familiar with the theory of synchronicity? Just as Catherine finished working out the theory, someone in Brazil published a paper involving roughly the same ideas. There was only one way to guarantee we’d win the race. We went directly to experimentation on human cadavers. I set up a lab and rerouted the freshest bodies from the medical morgue—you’ll excuse me if I don’t go into the tedious bureaucratic details of how that was accomplished with no one the wiser, but if you’ll remember I did say I was a great administrator. . . . ” Confused, she stared down into the mug. “Where was I?”

“Human cadavers,” Vicki snarled.

“Oh, yes. That was when I realized we needed someone else. Donald had gotten himself in a little trouble at medical school and I’d smoothed things over for him. Mostly because I liked him. Also a genius, he was charming and pretty much completely unethical.” With exaggerated care, she smoothed out the wrinkles she’d folded into the jacket. “After a while, we began to have some success. We’d been using nonspecific bacteria and brain wave patterns, but if we wanted to move on we had to get our hands on a body we’d been able to type before death. That turned out to be Marjory Nelson. When I was certain she was going to die anyway, under the cover of tests on her condition, we took tissue samples and recorded her brain wave patterns.”

“Then you brought her back to life.”

Gray eyes opened with a flash of recognition
. “More or less. We brought back the mechanics of life, that was all.” That
was
all. “Organic robots, if you like. Trouble was, the bacteria are very short-lived and we had a problem with rot. Which, in case you were wondering, was why I wanted your mother partially embalmed.” She finished the whiskey remaining in the mug, then lifted it to Vicki in a mocking salute. “If you’d just left that casket closed, no one would have been the wiser.”

“You seem to be forgetting that you murdered my mother!”

Dr. Burke shrugged, refusing to argue the point any further. “So now you know the whole story, or at least the edited for television version. There’ll be a test in the morning. Any questions?”

“Yeah, ignoring for the moment a teenage boy whose death you’re also directly responsible for, I’ve got two.” Vicki shoved at her glasses. “Why are you telling us all this?”

“Well, there are theories that say confession is a human compulsion, but mostly because our little experiment has now moved completely out of my control. Catherine slipped into the abyss and I have no intention of following her.” Although just for a moment, with her hand on the latch of the casket, she’d come close. How far, she’d wondered,
would
they be able to go with a really fresh corpse? And then Donald had told her. But that was personal and no one’s business but hers. “And because Donald’s dead.”

“So’s that kid and so’s my mother!”

“The kid was an accident. Your mother was dying. Donald had everything to live for.” For an instant her face crumpled then it smoothed again. “What’s more,” she continued, pouring the final dregs from the bottle, “I liked Donald.”

“You
liked
my mother!”

Dr. Burke looked placidly across the desk at Vicki. “You said you had two questions. What’s the second?”

How could this creature sit there so calmly and admit to such horror? Caught up in an emotional maelstrom, Vicki was unable to speak. Realizing that the next time she broke, Celluci wouldn’t be able to stop her, she spread her hands and stepped back from the desk.

He recognized the signs and moved forward.

“Where,” he asked, “is Henry Fitzroy?”

“With Catherine.”

He took a deep breath and ran both hands up through his hair. “All right. Where is Catherine?”

Dr. Burke shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest idea.”

“All right. Let’s see if I understand what you’re saying.” Vicki drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Screaming and throwing things would contribute nothing to the situation. “Your graduate student, Catherine, who is crazy, has murdered your other graduate student, Donald. When you went back to the lab, late this afternoon, you discovered she’d hidden Henry and you don’t know where she is—they are.”

Dr. Burke nodded. “Essentially.”

So much for good intentions. “WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, ESSENTIALLY?”

Alcohol-induced remoteness cracked as Vicki grabbed the lapels of Dr. Burke’s lab coat and nearly dragged her over the desk. “If you could loosen your grip,” she gasped, “I might find it easier . . . to answer your question.”

Vicki merely snarled inarticulately.

“Detec . . . tive!”

Celluci shifted his gaze to a point about six inches over the doctor’s head, expression aggressively neutral.

Collar cutting into her windpipe, Dr. Burke realized further hesitation would only make things worse. “She’s in the old Life Sciences building. Your vampiric friend is locked in a big metal box. Trying to maneuver that out the door and into her van would’ve attracted a bit of attention.
Where
in the building . . .” Considering her position, the shrug was credible. “. . . I have no idea.”

Vicki didn’t so much release her hold as shove the older woman back into the chair. “Your lab is in there? In the old building?”

“Yes.” Rubbing the back of her neck where the fabric had dug in, Dr. Burke snapped, “And so is your mother. Somewhere.” She shot a superior look up over the edge of her glasses. “Your dead mother. Walking around.”

My dead mother. Walking around.
Anger couldn’t stand under the weight of that pronouncement.

“Vicki?”

She fought free of the image of her mother flattened against the window and met Celluci’s worried gaze.

“We have a confession. We can call in Detective Fergusson now. You don’t have to have anything more to do with this.”

“Nice try, Mike.” She swallowed, trying to wet a throat gone dry. “But you’re forgetting about Henry.”

“Mustn’t forget Henry.” Above the hand still rubbing at her throat, Dr. Burke almost grinned. “I’d love to hear you explain
him
to the local police. Until you find Henry, you’ve got to keep this quiet. And after? What about after?” She shook her head at their expressions and sighed, placing both hands flat on her desk. “Never mind, I’ll tell you. There won’t
be
an after. Until Catherine contacts me, you haven’t a chance of finding your friend. There’s a million stupid, useless cubbyholes in that building and she could’ve stuck him in any of them. You’re just going to have to sit here with me and wait for her phone call.”

“And then?”

“Then I play along, she tells me where she’s stashed him, you get him out, call the police, and she pays for Donald.”

Vicki’s eyes narrowed. “And
you’ll
pay for my mother.”

“Ms. Nelson, if it makes you happy, I’ll even pay for dinner.”

“What if she doesn’t call?” Celluci demanded, cutting off Vicki’s response.

“She said she would.”

“You said she’s crazy.”

“There is that.”

“Mike, I can’t wait.” Vicki took four steps toward the door, turned on one heel, and took three steps back. “I can’t base everything on what a crazy woman may or may not do. I’m going to find him.
She
. . .” A toss of her head indicated the doctor. “. . . can take us to the lab. We’ll work a search pattern from there.”

“Not on your life.”
She
wasn’t going near the lab. Bad enough she could still hear him calling her in spite of half a bottle of Scotch. “You’ll have to drag me. Which might alert Security. There’ll be a brouhaha. Your Henry Fitzroy ends up confiscated by the government. You want to go to the lab, you can find it on your own.”

Vicki leaned forward, laying her hands on the desk, fingertips not quite touching the doctor’s, her posture more of a threat than her earlier actions had been. “Then you’ll give us very precise directions.”

“Or you’ll what? Try to pay attention, Ms. Nelson—you can’t do
anything
until you rescue your friend.”

“I can beat your fucking face in.”

“And what will that accomplish? If you beat the directions out of me, I can guarantee they won’t be accurate. Try to be realistic, Ms. Nelson, if you can. You and your flat-footed friend here can go and try to find Mr. Fitzroy, but you’ll have to leave me out of it.” Not even in words would she trace the path to the lab again. “But just to show there’s no hard feelings, I’ll let you in on a nonsecret. There’s a way into the old building from the north end of the underground parking lot. Security’s supposed to have video cameras down there, but they ran out of money. Don’t say I never gave you anything. Happy trails.”

Celluci took hold of Vicki’s shoulder and pulled her gently but inexorably away from the desk. “And what will you be doing while we’re searching?”

“The same thing I was doing when you showed up.” Dr. Burke bent and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, pulling out an unopened bottle of Scotch. “Attempting to drink myself into a stupor. Thank God, I always keep a spare.” It took three tries before the paper seal tore. “I assure you, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Why not, when at the very least you’ll be facing a murder charge?” Vicki asked, shaking free of Celluci’s hold.

“You’re still on about your mother, aren’t you?” The doctor sighed and stared for a moment into the pale depths of the amber liquid before continuing. “I lost interest in the game when Donald died.” The bottle became a silver casket. She shuddered and raised her head, looking past Vicki’s glasses, meeting her eyes. “Essentially—and I beg your pardon, Ms. Nelson, if the word offends you, but it’s the only one that fits—essentially, I just don’t care any more.”

And she didn’t. Even through her own grief and rage and confusion, Vicki could see that. “Come on.” Pulling her bag up onto her shoulder, she jerked her head toward the door. “She’s not going anywhere right now.”

“You believe her?”

Vicki took another look into Dr. Burke’s eyes and recognized what she saw there. “Yeah. I believe her.” She paused at the door. “One more thing; you may not care now but don’t think you’ll be able to use your knowledge of Henry as a bargaining chip later . . .”

“Later,” Dr. Burke interrupted, both hands around the bottle to keep from spilling any of the Scotch as she refilled her mug, “without an actual creature to run tests on, I can scream vampire until I’m blue in the face and no one will believe a word I say. Grave robbing does not help to maintain credibility in the scientific community.”

“Not to mention murdering one of your grad students,” Celluci pointed out dryly.

Dr. Burke snorted and raised the mug in a sarcastic salute. “You’d be surprised.”

 

“Jesus H. Christ.” Celluci slammed the flat of his hand against the wall in frustration. “This place is like a maze; hallways that don’t go anywhere, classrooms that lead to hidden offices, labs that suddenly appear . . .”

Vicki played the powerful beam of her flashlight down the hall. With the one in four emergency lighting on in the old building, she could see well enough to keep from crashing into things but not well enough to identify the things she wasn’t crashing into. Only the area starkly illuminated by her flashlight held any definition. It was like she was moving through the slides of a bizarre vacation, stepping into a scene just as it was replaced by the next. Her nerves were stretched so tightly she could almost hear them twang with every movement.

Her dead mother was walking around in this building.

Every time she moved her circle of sight she wondered,
Will this be the time I see her?
And when all that showed was another empty room or bit of hall, she wondered,
Is she standing in the darkness beside me?
Under her jacket and sweater, her shirt clung to her sides, and she had to keep switching the flashlight from hand to hand to dry her palms.

“This isn’t going to work.” Her arm dropped to her side and the hall slid into darkness except for the puddle of illumination now spilling over her feet. “The layout of this place defeats any kind of a systematic search. “We’ve got to use our heads.”

“Granted,” Celluci agreed. He tucked himself up against her left shoulder; close enough, he judged, for her to see his face. “But we’ve got a crazy woman who’s run off with a vampire. That doesn’t exactly lend itself to logical analysis.”