Bug Man Suspense 3-in-1 Bundle (117 page)

Nick slumped in his chair in the faculty commons and stared blankly across the table. He was vaguely aware of forms gesturing around him, but he saw no faces and heard no sounds. All the lights were off in his mental house except for one bare bulb, and right now that bulb was focused on a mass of dead larvae afflicted by some unknown parasite.

“Nicholas?”

Nick's consciousness snapped back like a recoiling rubber band. “What?”

“I need to ask you a question, Nicholas.”

Nick sat up straight and slapped his hand on the table. “I agree—Sherm Pettigrew should be immediately dismissed from the faculty. It's a bold move, but I think we've all seen this coming.”

Pettigrew rolled his eyes. “Very amusing, Dr. Polchak.”

“Nicholas, we aren't discussing Dr. Pettigrew.”

“Well, we should be. This department has to have some standards. What if word leaks out that he works here? Even insects won't come around anymore.”

Pettigrew turned to Noah in disdain. “I don't know why you bother waking him. He never has anything productive to contribute anyway.”

“Nicholas, you'll be happy to know that the faculty meeting is just about over—so try to stay with us for a moment, will you? I was just mentioning to the group that Barbara and I are hosting a cocktail party on Saturday. Members of the faculty from various departments will be attending, and I was just about to ask if anyone from our department would like to attend. Not a fancy affair; just an intimate soiree.”

Pettigrew did a double take. “You woke Dr. Polchak up for that? Why? I've never known Dr. Polchak to attend a social function in all the years I've been here.”

“Have
you
attended these functions?” Nick asked.

“I most certainly have.”

“Well, that explains it.”

“Gentlemen, please. Barbara has requested a head count so she can plan the hors d'oeuvres. Dr. Griggs from the Department of Mathematics will be attending; so will Dr. Sandberg from the Chemistry department. I've also received an RSVP from Dr. Lumpkin in the Department of Crop Sciences.” Noah paused for a moment. “Come to think of it, Nicholas, you might be interested in meeting Dr. Lumpkin.”

“Why?”

“Dr. Lumpkin is a mycologist.”

Nick raised his hand. “I'm in.”

Pettigrew did his second double take of the day. “Dr. Polchak, did I just hear you accept an invitation to a social gathering?”

“I'm just a social butterfly,” Nick said. “What would you expect from an entomologist?”

“How many will be in your party, Nicholas?”

Nick blinked. “Party?”

“It's a
social
gathering,” Pettigrew said. “I believe the word
social
comes to us from the Latin
socius
, meaning ‘companion'—as in, will you be bringing one?”

Nick leaned across the table to Noah. “Party of two.”

Pettigrew grinned. “Will wonders never cease? Dr. Polchak, I wasn't aware that you even had a companion. I wonder who this mystery woman could be?”

Good question
, Nick thought.

20

P
asha steered his Boxster into the parking lot of Carolina Insectary and skidded to a stop, then swung his legs over the side of the car like a gymnast dismounting from the parallel bars. He threw open a metal fire door marked private: employees only and charged into the building.

Jengo and Habib looked up as he entered the room.

Pasha headed straight for Habib.

“The incubators will serve well,” Habib said. “All we have to do is—”

Pasha reached him before he could finish the sentence. Without breaking stride he backhanded Habib across the jaw, sending him sprawling backward onto the concrete floor. When Habib attempted to sit up, Pasha planted one foot in the center of his chest and shoved him back down again.

Jengo timidly approached. “Why do you do this, Pasha? What is wrong?”

Pasha reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside it was a small dead larva with a tiny growth protruding from the back of its head. He tossed the bag to Jengo. “
That
is what is wrong.”

Jengo held the bag up to the light and immediately recognized the insect. “Where did you get this?”

“From a laboratory at the university.”

“How did it get there?”

Pasha jammed his heel into Habib's breastbone. “I was hoping our friend could tell us.”

Habib was unable to speak.

Pasha finally removed his foot, allowing Habib to regain his breath and struggle to a sitting position. Pasha took the bag from Jengo and dropped it into Habib's lap. “Well?”

Habib looked at the specimen in horror. “But how—”

“This hornworm was found in a tomato field. It must have arrived in the shipment—the shipment that you sent, Habib. The question is, why is this insect infected with the fungus?”

Habib began to pout angrily. “I told you—it was a jungle. The conditions were deplorable. I had to share my laboratory with barbarians. I had to do all my work in one small space—my work on both the insects
and
the fungus.”

“The fungus was not to be present until the second phase of our test,” Pasha said. “The first test was only to determine if the insects would survive shipment. Was this not clear to you?”

“The shipment must have become contaminated. I was working with a fungus in a very small area—the spores, they drift. I couldn't help it—it was an accident.”

“Chernobyl was an accident,” Pasha said. “That excuse did not satisfy the dead. There were two other shipments, Habib. Were they also contaminated?”

“I don't know,” Habib said. “I prepared them on separate days. Perhaps not.”

“
Perhaps
not,” Pasha repeated.

“What does it matter? The other shipments did not even arrive.”

“They did not arrive because they were intercepted,” Pasha said. “Right now someone from the Drug Enforcement Administration may be looking at your clever little fungus, wondering what it is and where it came from.”

“There is no danger,” Habib said, climbing to his feet. “The toxin was not present.”

“There
is
danger, thanks to your clumsiness. This specimen was collected by an entomologist—a professor at the university. I know this man; he is a very curious fellow, and he will want to know why a fungus from Asia has infected an ordinary hornworm.”

Jengo grew more agitated as he listened. “What if this man knows already? What if we are discovered?”

“There is nothing to know,” Habib scolded. “You two are a couple of old women. What if this man does identify the fungus? What will that tell him? I tell you, without the toxin he knows nothing.”

Pasha gave him a searing stare. “Listen to me, fool. Our plan was for the eggs to be delivered; then the insects would hatch; then the fungus would do its work; then the toxin would be released, and by the time the toxin did its work the insects that carried it would have long since died and withered away. Did you not understand this? There would have been no trace of our delivery method—no connection to us. Now there is a possible link. Now I may have to deal with this man.”

Jengo's eyes widened. “What do you mean, ‘deal with this man'?”

Pasha turned to him and forced a smile. “Never mind, Jengo. Perhaps I have been too harsh on Habib. We are all under pressure, yes? Let me worry about this man. We must each focus on our own responsibilities. What remains to be done?”

“Only replication,” Jengo said. “To produce this fungus in such quantity . . .”

“Then I will let you return to your work.” Pasha turned to Habib. “And you—you will have the insects ready?”

“Of course,” Habib said indignantly.

Pasha took a silver pen from his shirt pocket. He closed one eye and aimed it at Habib's chest. “No more mistakes, Habib.” He winked and dropped the pen back into his pocket. “You only get one.”

Nick pulled into the gravel driveway in front of the barn and got out of the car. He could see the tip of Alena's head halfway across the field. He wondered how much of the five acres she and Ruckus had finished and how much they still had left to go. He saw Alena turn to him and wave; Nick waved back. She started walking toward him, and Nick headed for the tomato fields to meet her—but before he was halfway there he heard a pleasant voice calling from behind: “Nick!”

Kathryn was approaching from the farmhouse with Callie in tow.

“Nick!” Callie shouted too. Her voice was half-greeting and halfscream.

“Hi, Callie,” Nick said. “Read any good books lately?”

Callie pulled away from her mother and started back toward the house, but Kathryn caught her by the hand. “She thinks you're telling her to go read a book,” Kathryn explained. “They don't understand clichés and they don't get sarcasm.”

“Most women don't,” Nick said. “Heaven knows I've tried.”

“What are you doing here? I didn't expect to see you until you check the temperature tonight.”

“I've got something I need to check on first,” he said.

“What is it?”

Nick held up a clear plastic specimen bottle; in the bottom were half a dozen lifeless larvae.

“What are they?”

“The same things we found in your field—tobacco hornworms. These only look different because they're a little older. They're greener and larger than the ones we picked off your plants.”

“Where did you get those?”

“They came from the eggs I collected that first night.” He handed the bottle to Kathryn.

She held the lid between her thumb and forefinger as if the bottle might be radioactive.

“Look closely,” Nick said. “See the little growth coming out of the tops of their heads?”

Kathryn held the bottle up to the sun and squinted. “I can't see anything—they're too small.”

Nick took off his glasses and held them out to her.

Kathryn didn't take the glasses; she just stood there staring at Nick's eyes.

“What's the matter?”

“I haven't seen you without your glasses in a long time.”

“I've never seen you without them at all.”

“You know, your eyes are really very nice.”

“They're like celebrities,” Nick said, “beautiful but useless.”

Kathryn slipped on the spectacles and grinned up at him. “How do I look?”

“How would I know?”

She hooked her arm through his. “I feel like Mrs. Polchak.”

“You think I'd marry someone who looks like me? How blind do you think I am?”

Just then Alena emerged from the fields with Ruckus trotting beside her. She smiled at Nick—but when she saw Kathryn standing beside him, arm in arm, her expression changed. “Cute,” she said. “Do you guys share outfits too?”

“Nick was just showing me something,” Kathryn said.

“Lucky you.” She looked at Nick's face. “I've never seen you without your glasses before.”

“It's part of my mystique,” Nick said. “Can we get back to business now? I'm feeling a little naked here.”

Kathryn held up the specimen bottle and moved it back and forth like the slide of a trombone. “I can't seem to focus,” she said. She took off the glasses and used them like a magnifier instead.

“See them now?”

“Yes, I see them.” Kathryn handed the bottle and glasses to Alena. “Look at their heads,” she said. “They look like little bean sprouts.”

Alena held the glasses up to the bottle and looked. “Yeah, I see them too. So?”

“So they're not supposed to be there.” Nick held his hand out in front of him. “Are you two finished?”