F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (53 page)

           
"That should be proof that I
didn't want to harm you. I called that ambulance."

           
"Right. After you gave me an
ultrasonic zap." She moved closer and
Duncan
edged away to his right. He didn't dare
make a grab for the handle. Her thumb was on the power button. A little
pressure on that and the implant in his leg would dissolve, after which his
mind would quickly follow suit. He had to keep her talking.

 
          
"You
don't understand," he said, continuing to edge away. "Oliver told me
you'd removed both. I only came,"

           
"Oliver didn't know that! He
only saw the one in the bottle, the second one. The first one fell into the tub
and broke and washed down the drain."

           
He kept moving, inches at a time He
would have loved to put the counter between them, but she was following his
every move, waving that transducer at him.

 
          
"Gin
. . . "

           
"How could you do that to me,
Duncan? How could you try to ruin my life like that? You might as well have put
a gun to my head. I trusted you, Duncan!"

           
His heart started hammering as he
saw the fury begin to mount in her eyes. He looked around for a weapon, a way
out, anything, but he was trapped. He'd have to stop backing away and go after
her, have to risk grappling with her.

 
          
And
then he spotted his salvation, not two feet away. He averted his eyes. Couldn't
let her see him looking at it. If he could reach it before she blew . . .

 
          
"And
I trusted you, Gin," he said, hoping to buy some time if he could put her
on the defensive. "I gave you a job, gave you the keys to my building, and
what did you do? You picked the lock on my desk drawer and invaded my
privacy." The anger in her eyes receded, but only a short way.

 
          
'"How
did you find that out?"

           
He was close now, almost within
easy reach. If he could get his hand up . . .

 
          
"You
left a piece of your lock pick behind." He raised his right hand with the
thumb and index finger an eighth of an inch apart. "Just a tiny," He
darted his hand to the right, grabbed the power cord to the ultrasound unit,
and yanked it from the wall, leaving Gin holding an inert piece of metal.
Duncan
slumped against the counter. Lord, that had
been close. He held out his hand. "Give it to me, Gin. It's useless
now."

 
          
"Don't
count on it! " She reared back and threw it at his face.

 
          
Duncan
twisted away and ducked, but not in time to
avoid it completely.

 
          
The
transducer handle thudded painfully against his skull. By the time he
straightened, shook off the pain, and looked around, Gin had unlocked the door
and was pulling it open. She was out and gone before he could grab her.

 
          
Ignoring
the pain in his leg,
Duncan
gave chase, limping after her as she headed for the stairs.

 
          
Gin
gasped for breath as she pounded up the steps. She'd taken the rest of the
antibiotic she got from Oliver, but she was still sick, still weak. She wasn't
going to outdistance
Duncan
for long.

 
          
She
reached the first floor and broke into a run down the hall, Right into the arms
of three men in suits.

 
          
"What
the hell's going on here? " said the tall, dark one in the middle, as the
one to his right, the one she'd bumped into, grabbed her upper arm and held it.
His fingers felt like steel. She might as well have been manacled to him.

 
          
'"Agent
Decker!" said
Duncan
's voice behind her. "Thank God you came early! I found this young
woman here when I arrived. Apparently she broke in sometime during the
night." He held up the trocar. "She just stabbed me with this."
She twisted around and saw
Duncan
standing in the doorway to the basement, panting.

 
          
"I
just did to him what he was going to do to the president today."

 
          
"Whoa,"
said the tall, dark one
Duncan
had called Agent Decker. "Hang on there, ma'am,"

           
"She's deranged, '
Duncan
said, moving closer. "She's had a
complete break with reality."

 
          
"That's
not true!" Gin cried. "I work here! I'm a doctor. And he's planning
to kill the president today." That was an overstatement, but she needed to
get their attention. And now she had it.

 
          
"Yes,
she used to work here, Agent Decker, "
Duncan
said quickly. "We've noticed erratic
behavior lately and we've been trying to arrange psychiatric help.
Unfortunately, she decompensated before we were able to finalize those
arrangements.

 
          
"What's
your name, ma'am? " said Decker.

 
          
"Dr.
Gin Panzella. I'm a board-eligible internist, and I'm as sane as you are."
She launched into an account of the mishaps that had befallen former members of
the Guidelines committee who happened to be
Duncan
's patients, but
Duncan
interrupted her after a few sentences.

 
          
"Agent
Decker, do we have to listen to these ravings? Check with the FBI. Just last
week she led them on a wildgoose chase with some story of my implanting some
poison in Senator Marsden."

           
"Wait," Gin said.
"Don't listen to him. He pulled a reverse on that one."

           
Duncan
shook his head sadly as he stared at her.
God, the bastard was a good actor. A regular Jack Nicholson. You'd almost think
he truly felt sorry for a former colleague's deteriorating mental condition.

 
          
"After
a full medical exam on the senator,"
Duncan
said, "including an MRI scan, they
found nothing and ended up looking like fools. You can check it out."

 
          
"Trust
me," Decker said. "We will check it out. We check everything
out."

 
          
"Good.
The name of the agent in charge of that particular boondoggle was Canney. I'm
sure he rues the day he was conned into believing Dr. Panzella."

 
          
"Canney?"
Decker said.

 
          
"Yeah.
I'll give him a call."

 
          
"Come
on!" Gin said. "You've got to listen to me!"

           
"We listen to everybody,"
Decker said. He turned to the man who was holding her.

 
          
"You
and Briggs take her downtown and get her statement. I'm going to get in touch with
Mallard and see if we can put this deal off for a while. I don't like the smell
of this. Don't like it at all."

 
          
"Thank
you, God!" Gin said as they started leading her toward the rear of the
building. "I don't care if you believe me or not, just don't let the
president come here today."

           
Decker looked at her with new
interest as he opened the loot to the parking lot. "That's not always our
decision, ma'am. So, you know Gerry Canney, do you?"

           
He knew Gerry's first name! "Yes!
Since high school. Do you?"

           
"We've met. Are you the one
who told him about the president's surgery?"

           
"That's me! You're the one he
called?" Decker didn't answer that.

 
          
He
was staring at the car that had just pulled into the rear lot.

 
          
A
long night. A bad night. Gerry hadn't had a wink of sleep Isince 6 A. M. yesterday
morning. He was tired, his stomaching was on fire, and he was generally pissed.

 
          
After
leaving the Tremont Hotel last night he'd been unable to had a trace of Gin. The
only action he'd had was the 91 I call to her apartment that turned out to be a
false -alarm. Nobody home when the ambulance got there, but the door had been
wide open.

 
          
Something
strange and ominous about that call. Something going on that he couldn't quite
grasp. Something just out of reach. And it was that tantalizing closeness that
had kept him running all night.

 
          
He
hadn't been able to stop, hadn't been able to drop it. He'd called Mrs.
Snedecker and asked if Martha could stay overnight. Martha didn't mind. She
liked sleeping over anywhere. Sometimes that worried him. He'd talked to her on
the car phone, then kept driving, periodically stopping back at the Bureau
building. He'd even spoken to Gin's parents. No, they hadn't heard from her. He
hoped they were telling him the truth and he hadn't been patrolling the whole
damn northwest all night for nothing.

 
          
He'd
just made another stop at Gina's apartment. Still empty. And now, for the third
time tonight, or this morning rather, since the sun was threatening to rise, he
was checking out Lathram's building.

 
          
He
pulled into the rear lot and was startled to find three cars there, two of them
Federal, according to their plates. As he parked and got out of his car, he saw
a very grim-looking Gin being escorted from the building by three guys in
suits.

 
          
Weak
with relief, he leaned back against the car. Thank God!

 
          
At
least she was alive, though not looking too well. And the three with her, had
to be Secret Service. Bob Decker was one of them.

 
          
Secret
Service . . . the president's surgery. Shit. If she'd been right about that,
what else had she been right about?

 
          
He
slammed the car door behind him. God damn it!

 
          
Gin's
face broke into a smile. "Gerry!"

           
"Speak of the devil,"
Decker said, "we were just,"

           
"You son of a bitch!"
Gerry shouted as he strode toward them. "Son of a bitch!"

           
The two other agents with Decker
pulled back and their hands started drifting toward their jackets.

 
          
"It's
okay," Decker said. "I know him. A Fibby."

 
          
"Gin,"
Gerry said, "are you okay?"

           
She beamed at him. "I am
now."

 
          
She
looked so small and fragile between them. Gerry wanted to take her in his arms
and tell her she'd be all right, but now wasn't the time, not in this place,
not in this company.

 
          
He
turned to Decker. "You told me you knew nothing about any surgery on the
president, yet here you are at Lathram's surgicenter at five in the morning.
You want to explain that, pal?"

           
Decker shrugged. "The Man says
he doesn't want anyone told, no one gets told."

 
          
"This
could have ended up a disaster, you know."

           
"You mean if we'd let this
young lady run loose in there?"

           
"No, I mean if she hadn't
found her way here."