F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (54 page)

 
          
"Gerry!"
Gin said, her eyes wide. "You mean you believe me!"

 
          
"I
don't know exactly what I believe, but I know there's enough fishy stuff
connected with Dr. Lathram that you shouldn't let him come within a couple of
miles of the president."

           
Decker's bantering manner was gone.
"He told us this little lady led you and the Bureau on a wild-goose chase
last week."

 
          
"It
was a wild-goose chase, all right, but I'm not so sure anymore who was leading
us."

           
"And the doc inside says she
stabbed him."

 
          
"With
the trocar," Gin said. "The same one he used on me. The one he was
going to use on the president."

           
Gerry winced at the way that
sounded. So far out. Who on earth would believe her?

 
          
Which
worked perfectly to Lathram's advantage.

 
          
But
what if he'd intended that all along?

 
          
"My
agents'll take her downtown and get a statement,"

           
"No, wait!" Gin cried.
"We can settle this all now. I know how."

           
"Come on, miss," said the
red-haired agent holding her, and began guiding her toward the car.

 
          
Gerry
put a hand on his chest. "Give her a minute. Let's hear her out. Maybe if
I'd done that a while back, the five of us might be home in bed instead of
standing here at this ungodly hour." She'd been right about the
president's surgery. What else had she been right about?

 
          
The
grateful look Gin gave him more than made up for all these sleepless hours.

 
          
"All
right," Decker said. "Five minutes, then she's on her way."

 
          
Duncan
couldn't imagine how things could get much
worse, but assumed they probably would.

 
          
As
he watched the Secret Service agents escort Gin to the parking lot, he
discarded all plans of making further use of the TPD. Damage control was the
immediate and most pressing concern.

 
          
And
the first, all-important task was to dispose of the TPD.

 
          
Duncan
pulled the vial from his pocket and hurried
back downstairs to Oliver's lab. He placed it in the utility sink, covered it
with a paper towel, and smashed it into tiny fragments. He ran water into the
sink for a while, then dumped the remaining glass shards from the strainer into
the soggy paper towel. He rinsed the syringe Gin had used, running acetone
through the barrel and the needle to destroy any trace of TPD.

 
          
Then
he simply dropped it in the sharps receptacle with all the other used syringes.

 
          
He
left the water running while he went back upstairs to the men's room and
flushed the remnants of the vial, its label, and the paper towel into the
Chevy Chase
sewer system .

 
          
And
that was that. TPD? I don't know what she's talking about.

 
          
Search
the place. Be my guest.

 
          
The
last remaining sample of the compound was nestled in his thigh.

 
          
That
was a truly horrifying thought. Imaginulg what would happen to him if it
ruptured before he could have it removed broke him out in a sweat.

 
          
He'd
have to be very careful for the next few hours. And by this afternoon, when
everything settled down, he'd have the implant removed.

 
          
Any
one of his many friends among the surgeons of the area would take care of that
on a moment's notice.

 
          
He
rinsed his hands. As he dried them he stared at himself in the mirror.

 
          
It's
over, he thought. Maybe you accomplished something by disrupting the Guidelines
committee, maybe you didn't. At least Lisa is avenged.

 
          
Any
regrets?

 
          
Only
having to act against Gin. And having to pass up a once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to strike against that wampus in the White House.

 
          
He
sighed. But a man had to know when to quit. And that time was now.

 
          
He
dried his hands and stepped back into the hall.

 
          
"Dr.
Lathram." It was Agent Decker's voice.

 
          
He
turned and saw a small crowd approaching him. Gin, The three Secret Service
men, and a fourth man. Canney, the FBI man. What was he doing here?

 
          
"Can
we go downstairs?" Decker said. "We're trying to dear up a few things
here and I wonder if you could help us."

           
Duncan
didn't like the sound of that, and he
didn't like the predatory look in Gin's eyes.

 
          
For
an instant he considered calling a lawyer, but decided against it.

 
          
That
would look suspicious and only draw things out.

 
          
He
could handle these people.

* * *

           
Gin listened as Agent Decker began
talking. He was a cool character, seemed almost imperturbable. But his blue
eyes never stopped moving.

 
          
This
guy didn't miss a trick.

 
          
"Now
Dr. Lathram, you stated earlier that Dr. Panzella stabbed you. Are you willing
to file assault charges?" Gin saw a look of relief flicker across
Duncan
's features.

 
          
"No.
Absolutely not. She's not herself. I don't want her jailed, I simply want her
to receive the proper therapy." Gin clamped her jaws to keep from
shouting. As planned, the red-haired agent, his name was Reilley, she'd
learned, had positioned her on the far side of the lab bench. Gerry stood on
the near side, partially blocking her from
Duncan
's view.

 
          
Dear
Gerry. She'd never been so glad to see anyone in her life as when he'd cruised
into the parking lot this morning. He hadn't given up on her, hadn't written
her off. He'd been up all night searching for her.

 
          
She'd
wanted to throw her arms around him.

 
          
"That's
very generous of you," Decker was saying, "but we're concerned about
your safety. Dr. Panzella said she left some sort of poison pellet under your
skin when she stabbed you."

 
          
"Ridiculous,"
Duncan
said. "It's part of her delusional
system. She imagines I've been doing that to other people, including herself,
so now she thinks she's done it to me. She needs therapy, gentlemen. And the
sooner you get her to a facility that can care for her, the better." So
damn glib, Gin thought as she quietly reinserted the plug of the ultrasound's
power cord into the wall socket. The "silver-tongued devil" made flesh.

 
          
She
pressed the ultrasound's power switch to ON. The red light began to glow.

 
          
'"Ready,"
she whispered.

 
          
Gerry
turned and winked at her as he picked up the transducer handle.

 
          
He
turned back to
Duncan
and held it up where he could see it.

 
          
"If
that's true, Dr. Lathram, then I don't suppose you'd mind if I ran this over
your leg." Gin saw
Duncan
's eyes widen, saw his gaze dart to the glowing power indicator on the
machine. He spun and tried to flee, but Briggs was at the door, and
Duncan
wasn't getting past him.

 
          
"Keep
that away from me!" he cried. "For God's sake, turn that thing off!"
Decker glanced Gin's way and gave her a little nod of acknowledgment .

 
          
Triumph
burned through the haze of her fatigue. Yes! Add one more to the believer list.

 
          
Decker's
features hardened as he turned back to
Duncan
, but he didn't get a chance to speak. Gerry
had taken over.

 
          
"Sit
down, Dr. Lathram," Gerry said, gesturing carelessly to a chair near the
counter with the transducer.

 
          
"Please,"
Duncan
said. "Be careful with,"

           
"Sit down!"
Duncan
sat. Gin watched admiringly as Gerry
commanded the room.

 
          
"Is
there an implant filled with something called TPD in your leg?"

           
"No." Gerry examined the
transducer handle. "Then I guess there'd be no harm in my turning this
thing on and,''

           
"All right! "
Duncan
cried. "Yes! Yes, there is! There's an
implant in my leg!" He was visibly trembling now. "Please put that
thing away!"

           
"Just a couple more questions.
Did you stick a similar implant in Senator Vincent's leg after you did plastic
surgery on him?"

           
"I don't have to answer that,
"
Duncan
said.

 
          
"Of
course you don't," Gerry said. He half turned to Gin and pointed to the ON
button on the handle. "Is this the one that makes it work?"

           
"Yes!"
Duncan
shouted. "Yes, I did!" He said
it! Thank God!

 
          
"And
how about Lane and Allard and Schulz?"

           
"Yes, yes, yes!" He was
on his feet, backing away, his voice rising toward a scream. "Are you
satisfied? Yes, goddammit! Now turn that thing off!"

           
"I've heard enough,"
Decker said.

 
          
"So
have I," said Gerry. He placed the handle in its cradle on the ultrasound
machine.

 
          
It's
over, Gin thought, sagging against the counter. Over at last.

 
          
Decker
turned to the agent next to Gin and pointed to
Duncan
.

 
          
"Reilley,
why don't you keep Dr. Lathram company. Everybody else stay right where they
are for the moment. I'm going upstairs to make some calls."

           
Gerry stretched his hand across the
counter to her. Weak with relief, she clutched it.

 
          
"How's
it going?" he said.

 
          
"Much
better, now that you're here."

           
He stared into her eyes. "Tell
me . . . back at the Tremont . . . the blood in the bathroom . . . did you . .
. ?" She nodded and he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. When he opened
them he was looking away.