Bear Claw Bodyguard (14 page)

Percy’s head came up and his hand slapped flat on the desk.
“What?”

“You heard me,” the Investor snarled. “The detective and his little tree doctor survived the crash. What’s more, they somehow made it out to the processing site, sneaked into the lab, disabled the DB-Auto and sneaked out again.”

“They… Oh, hell.” The sweat was flowing in earnest now, making Percy feel oily and desperate.

The Investor gave an inarticulate snarl of fury. When the other man regained his voice, he grated, “What’s more, nobody I’ve talked to knows how to undo what she’s done to the DB. It’s got some sort of personal code attached
to it, and if we don’t use the right one, the whole damn system could shut itself down and take the refinement protocol with it.”

“Can’t you buy another machine and upload the protocol?”

Dead. Silence.

“Oh,” Percy said, guessing too late what had happened: namely, that the scientist who had developed the drug must have fouled all the backup material somehow, probably as a way of ensuring his own survival. The researcher, Dr. Ervil Howard, had started out a willing partner, but had balked once he realized the drug was being field tested in Bear Claw. He had disappeared a few months ago, and Percy hadn’t asked about him. He’d just taken it as an object lesson in what happened to people who crossed the Investor. Like him.

They survived the crash.
The ominous words replayed themselves in his mind, taunting and jeering with the knowledge that although he might have been thinking only moments earlier that he’d give anything to go back and not sabotage the SUV, now all he could think was that he was totally screwed. “I’m sorry. You said to make it look like an accident.”

“I said for you to make them go away. You didn’t. But as much as I dislike second chances, I’m going to make an exception in this case.”

Meaning he wanted Percy to go after them again. Which, if he wound up caught, would be one-hundred-percent political suicide, and in an election year. The mayor’s fingers tightened on the phone. “But…”

There was a hesitation before a deadly-sounding “Yes?”

“There’s an election coming up, and already rumors
that there’s going to be a real candidate this time. That ranger, Matt Blackthorn. He was a poli-sci major, did ten years as a cop and another eight as a ranger. He’s perfect for the job.” Not to mention perfectly upstanding. If he got even a whiff of how fast and loose the mayor had been playing with city finances, Percy wouldn’t just lose the election, he’d also stand a good chance of landing in jail. “I can’t do this right now. I just can’t.” Surely the man on the other end of the phone would understand? The mayor’s office was one of his investments, after all. “Can’t you just…take care of them?”

“I’ve done entirely too much of that over the years, which is why we both find ourselves in the current predicament.” The Investor paused. “Face it, Proudfoot, both of our tenures in Bear Claw are almost over. At least mine is. For you, it’s decision time. You can either man up, take care of this problem you’ve created, and come with me when I move my operations someplace bigger and better…or you can stay behind.”

Quailing at the idea of being stuck in Bear Claw without his investment adviser—mentor, business partner, whatever—Percy locked on to the important part of that. “What do you mean, bigger and better?”

“Exactly what I said. What do you want to be next, a member of the state senate? A congressman? More? If you do this for me, if you commit yourself to me fully, I can make that happen. You’ll be an important man, a successful one. Doors will open, women will throw themselves at you, men will want what you have.”

The sweat was trickling down Percy’s spine now, simultaneously hot and cold as he alternated between horror and excitement. But what choice did he have, really? He
had committed himself to the devil years ago; it was far too late to turn back now and they both knew it.

He took a long look around the glossy office, noticing for the first time in a while that the woodwork was stained pine, the gloss a couple of layers of polyurethane. “Okay, I’ll… Okay. Whatever you want. Just take me with you.”

“Good. You’ve made a wise choice, Mr. Mayor. Now, here’s what I need you to do…”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Chondra’s eyes radiated concern from the computer screen. Behind her, thanks to the uplink’s clarity, Tori could make out the organized chaos of desks and the black borders of several motivational posters—and one joke demotivational one—about working hard and saving the environment.

Normally, Tori didn’t much care where she was as long as the work was interesting and she was making progress, and maybe having a little fun during her downtime. Now, though, she found herself wishing she were back in the lab, separated from the rest of the world by a layer of academia. She and Jack had gotten back to Bear Claw City mid-morning, and he’d almost immediately been whisked off by his boss, Tucker McDermott. Jack had looked back at her and sketched a wave as he was being hauled off, and she couldn’t stop wondering if he’d been trying to say he’d see her later, or goodbye, or what.

Not that she was going to tell Chondra that because she would know that the situation had to be really bad for Tori to be stressing over a guy. Her friend would see it as a sign that she was transferring her other fears on to something that usually wouldn’t matter to her, and maybe she would be right.

Because she wanted her friends to worry less, not more, Tori gave an “everything’s cool” shrug and said, “I’m perfectly safe. I’m working out of the city’s crime lab, which is in the basement of the main P.D.”

It was a well-appointed basement, she thought with a quick look around at the computer space of the multi-room lab space, which had top-notch if slightly dated equipment, well-organized workstations and cheerful artwork on the walls. It was still a basement, though, and she was the only one down there, and had been for most of the day.

The crime scene analysts—all high-powered, self-confident women—had been in and out when she first arrived, showing her around and offering her any help she needed as she continued to analyze the fungus, not only looking for a way to cure the forest now, but also a way to treat the Death Stare addiction, maybe even prevent death in the case of an overdose. The analysts had been friendly and welcoming, and had made the lab come alive. As the morning wore on, though, and the department mobilized to work the new connections Tori and Jack had discovered, the others had disappeared, leaving her alone.

Chondra’s lips pursed. “I’m glad they’ve got you under lock and key, but it’s not what I was asking about. What’s wrong?”

The good news, Tori thought, was that she was back down in Bear Claw with access to a real network and functional uplink. The bad news was that she was back in Bear Claw with access to a real network and functional uplink…because the speed and clarity of the data feed not only gave her access to all the databases and files she needed, it also made it impossible for her to dodge her
friend’s concern with excuses about bad connections and fuzzy video.

She started to brush it off, but the honest worry in her friend’s expression had her sighing instead. “I’ll be fine, I promise. And I appreciate your concern, but…not now, okay? Right now I’d really like to focus on the work. We can catch up on the other stuff later.” As in way later, once she’d gotten some distance in time and space, and with it, some perspective. “How are you doing on figuring where this thing came from?”

Chondra hesitated momentarily, as if to say
I know you’re changing the subject, and I’m going to let you get away with it, but only for now.
But then her eyes took on a triumphant glitter. “We got it.”

“You got it.” Tori closed her eyes and breathed a “Thank you,” then opened her eyes, feeling her spirits start to lift. “Talk to me.”

“Meet Dr. Erwin Howard.” Chondra clicked her mouse a few times, and a small window popped up in the corner of the video screen. It showed a mug shot–type ID photo of a middle-aged guy wearing glasses and showing a lot of teeth. “He was a tenured prof at one of the big universities in North Carolina, with a big lab and some serious grant money behind him, both private and federal. As you figured, he was working on bioengineering an organism that could be used to pull dispersed metals—either contamination or natural reserves—out of large patches of soil. Actually, the fungus was part of a symbiotic process, paired up with a fast-growing, deep-rooting plant that did the actual mining, with the fungus concentrating the metal for harvesting.”

“I vaguely remember the project, but it seemed like it
petered out after a while.” Or folded up entirely, Tori realized. “You keep saying ‘was’…what happened to him?” Unfortunately, she had a pretty good guess.

“He disappeared a little over two years ago, along with copies of his notes and samples of all his work. At the time, everyone thought he would turn up working for one of the really cutting-edge metal-refining companies. He never did, though.”

The confirmation put a queasy shiver down the back of her neck. The shimmies only got worse when she combined that with the abandoned-looking workstation and the fact that the last programming in the DB-Auto had been time-stamped several months earlier. Granted, Dr. Howard might have moved on from the mobile lab setup, or been paid off and gone on to spend his ill-gotten gains. She had a feeling, though, that wasn’t the way the militia worked, and that the scientist might very well be dead.

She rubbed her hands over her arms reflexively, shivering even though it was comfortably warm in the basement lab. The move made her very aware of the echoing emptiness of the lab space, though, and the nerves just served to reinforce the knowledge that she was seriously off balance, off her game. She didn’t feel like herself, didn’t even look like herself really.

She had gotten a change of clothes from one of the CSIs—a dark-haired profiler named Maya Thorne. The other woman was petite enough that at least Tori wasn’t swimming in the borrowed clothes, but the other woman’s high-end, understated taste was very different from Tori’s usual preference. The tailored navy slacks and silky, subtly ruffled button-down shirt were loose on her but still managed to feel constricting somehow…and the navy-
and-yellow “Property of the BCCPD” sweatshirt Tori was wearing for warmth, which Maya had scrounged from another of the CSI’s lockers, held a good dose of irony after last night.

Don’t go there.

“Are you getting anywhere with an antidote?” Chondra asked, bringing her back on task.

Tori gave herself a mental shake and, when she realized she had spun around in her chair so she was facing the doorway leading to the main stairs rather than her borrowed workstation, she deliberately turned around and put her back to the door. The floor above her was crawling with cops, so there was no way the militia could get to her, and she didn’t need company, darn it. She was fine on her own.

Aware that her friend would have seen the carousel routine and had to be wondering about it, Tori cleared her throat, tapped a few keys to zip several files into an email-able package, and sent it to Chondra’s address. “I’m sending you what we’ve come up with so far.” Although Tori and her lab employees weren’t drug specialists by a long shot, the FBI analysts who had taken over that part of the investigation had asked her to stay on the case from her end, knowing she might have a unique take on things. “A couple of labs in this country and a few more abroad have been working on using the parental fungus for medical applications.”

“I thought it was poisonous.”

“There are dozens of compounds out there that are medicinal at one dose, poisonous at another, higher dose,” Tori pointed out, trying not to sound like an instant expert after several hours spent reading up on the three organ
isms that had been spliced together to create her, or rather Bear Claw’s, fungus.

“True enough.” Chondra’s attention went to the corner of her screen, then returned to Tori. “Your email just came through. What do you want me to look for?”

“Have you been able to get in touch with anyone from Howard’s old lab?”

“I’ve got a friend in the department, actually. She’s getting us everything she can find and will email what she can and ship the rest.”

“If it hasn’t already shipped, have her hold on to it. I have a feeling it should go straight to the task force, do not pass go, do not collect two hundred. I’ll check on that, though.” Tori wrote herself a reminder, then said, “Beyond that, just keep doing what you’ve been doing all along.”

“Except that now I can do it officially.”

“There is that.” The moment Tori’s bosses at the university and in the Park Service had heard about her discovery, they had thrown their full support back behind the investigation. Which probably should have been gratifying rather than annoying, but she figured she was entitled to a little grouchiness given that they hadn’t trusted her word in the first place. Granted, they’d had a point about the danger. But if she hadn’t stayed, they wouldn’t be where they were right now with the case.

Or her emotions, for that matter, although that hadn’t been the danger her bosses had been worried about.

Don’t think about it.

“Given that the task force seems to be more focused on the Death Stare drug angle, do you want me to concentrate on ways we might be able to help the forest?”

“No, I’d like you to take a look at what they’ve come
up with for antidotes against the addictions and overdoses, and see if you see something they haven’t thought of. People are dying, and that’s got to take precedence over the forest.” When guilt stung, Tori added defensively, “It’s the right thing to do.”

“I know that…I just didn’t think you did.” Chondra’s expression went speculative. “And no offense, because you know I love you just the way you are, but I’m not sure you would have put drug users over the possible demise of a state park last week. So what gives?” Her eyes sparked. “Did something happen between you and the hunky cop bodyguard you were telling me about?” Whatever she saw in Tori’s expression must have given it away because her mouth went round in an O of surprise and excitement. “It did! Come on, come on, give me something here. Remember that I’m stuck back here in the lab, living my dreams of adventure vicariously through you.”

Tori snorted. “Your idea of an adventure is sidewalk sale day at the outlet mall, not roughing it overnight in a cave.”

“A cave? Sounds romantic. And potentially Freudian.”

That surprised a rusty laugh out of Tori, but she shook her head. “It was…” She trailed off because it hadn’t been perfect, not by a long shot, but that was the word that kept getting stuck in her head. That wasn’t right, though, it couldn’t be.

Could it?

You’re just tired, stressed out, strung out,
she told herself. There was no other reason why she would be so close to tears for no reason.

Chondra’s smile tipped to real concern. “Seriously, Tori. Are you okay?”

To her surprise, she was sorely tempted to talk it out when that had never been her thing before. To her, guys came and went. Sometimes it pinched, sometimes it was a relief, and most times it was with fond memories and promises of “I’ll see you around.” Now, though, she was worked up, churned up, her emotions far too close to the surface of her mind.

Knowing that she didn’t dare let any of that loose, though—not now, when she needed to be focusing on the case and handling herself in as professional a manner as possible—she shook her head and swallowed down the choking emotions to say, “Listen, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Much later.”

Chondra looked dubious. “Okay, but if you change your mind…”

“I won’t.”

“If you do, call me, anytime. I mean it.”

Tori nodded, but didn’t quite trust herself to speak.

“And do me a favor? Give this guy a chance. If he’s got you all worked up like this, he’s got real potential.”

“I’m worried about the investigation, not him,” Tori contradicted, hearing the edge of desperation in her own voice. “He doesn’t figure into this. If anything, I’m worked up because I’m itching to get out of here. With the feds on the case and things moving in the directions of biochemistry and genetic engineering rather than plant pathology, I’m not really needed.” The statement brought a dull ache that served only to increase her growing conviction that she’d be better off hitting the road sooner than later.

“But your detective—”

“He’s not my detective,” Tori interrupted too sharply, then sighed and shook her head. “Sorry. I just…I need to
get out of here, that’s all.” She reached for the cutoff. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

Chondra had barely begun a too-perceptive, too-sympathetic nod when Tori killed the feed. Then she just sat there for a long moment, staring at the computer screen, which showed her email in-box. It was loaded with everything from routine correspondence to flagged answers to her inquiries on the Bear Claw case. And although she knew she had to keep going, she couldn’t make herself click on the first of those flagged messages.

She didn’t want to think about the case right now, which was selfish, just as it had been selfish of her to hang up on Chondra when she was only trying to help. And even that selfishness wasn’t typical of her—usually she turned her moods inward, hiding them from others and dealing with them in private. Not now, though. Now, she was stirred up…and none of that mattered. What mattered was that there was a chance that she could help the task force find a treatment for the fungal poisoning, and save some lives in the process. Which had to trump anything she might, or might not, have going on in her personal life.

Tapping her forehead against her closed fist, she said, “You’ve gotta pull it together and figure out where to go from here.”

“I hear Maine is nice this time of year,” Jack said from behind her.

She stiffened, heart leaping at the sound of his voice. “Jack!” She turned her chair to find him standing in the doorway, filling it with the sheer impact he commanded in clean jeans, a tight white T-shirt, shoulder holster and leather jacket. But any thought she might have had that he was suggesting a romantic getaway died the instant she
saw his thunderous expression. She lowered the hand she had started to hold out to him. “Jack?”

He narrowed his eyes. “If you want to go, then just go. Nobody’s stopping you.”