The Chemist Part 14

"Did they get what they were after?"

He made a disbelieving noise in the back of his throat. "Are you kidding?"

She raised one eyebrow. "Like I said."

"And you could have made me talk?"

Her lips pulled into a bleak smile. "Oh, yes."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Daniel shudder convulsively.

The dog was quiet now but still alert underneath her. It seemed unsure of the situation, with its master talking so calmly to its target.

"Hey, I know who you are," Kevin said suddenly. "Yeah, the girl. I heard rumors about you. Exaggerations. They said you'd never had a miss. You were batting a thousand."

"Not an exaggeration."

His expression was skeptical. "You worked with the old guy, the Mad Scientist, they called him. The Agency called you the Oleander. Honestly, I didn't put it together at first because I heard you both died in some lab accident. And also, I always imagined the Oleander was pretty."

Daniel started to say something, but she interrupted.

"Oleander? That's just awful."

"Huh?"

"A flower?" she growled to herself. "That's so pa.s.sive. A poison doesn't do the poisoning, it's just an inert agent."

"What did your unit call you?"

"The Chemist. And Dr. Barnaby was not a mad scientist. He was a genius."

"Tomato, tomahto," Kevin said.

"Back to the truce I was speaking of," Daniel interjected. The way he looked at her hands and arms, she thought he might have guessed how much they were hurting her. "Alex will give me the keys, and Kevin, you will call off Einstein. When I think everything is under control, I'll let you out. Alex, do you trust me?"

He looked up at her with his wide, clear hazel eyes while Kevin spluttered in inarticulate fury.

"The keys are in the left front pocket of my jeans. I'd hand them to you, but if I loosen my hands, I'll fall."

"Be careful, she'll stab you!"

Daniel didn't even seem to have heard his brother's warning. When he climbed onto the chair, his head was actually higher up than hers. He had to stoop, his head pressed against the foam roof. He put one hand under her back, supporting some of her weight, while he fished gently in her pocket for the key.

"I'm sorry my brother is so socially inept," he whispered. "He's always been that way."

"Don't you apologize for me, you moron!" Kevin yelled.

Daniel smiled at her, then took the key and stepped down. She was actually in agreement with Kevin. How could Daniel be like this with her? Where was the totally natural resentment? Where was the human desire for retribution?

"I've got the keys, Kev. Do you have a lead for the dog?"

"A lead? Einstein doesn't need a leash!"

"What's your suggestion, then?"

Kevin glared at him balefully. "Fine. I'd rather kill her myself anyway." He whistled at the dog. "At ease, Einstein."

The dog, who had followed Daniel anxiously as he approached Alex, now went calmly to its master's head and sat down, his tongue lolling out in what appeared to be a smile. A very toothy smile.

"Let me out."

"Ladies first." Daniel climbed up on the chair again and offered her his hand. "Need some help?"

"Er, I think I've got it." She dropped her legs toward the desk, her arms extending as she tried to touch down with her toes. How had she gotten up here? Her tired hands started to slip.

"Here you go." Daniel caught her by the waist as she fell and set her carefully on her feet, one on the desk, the other with a clang in the middle of the prop tray. His blanket skirt loosened; he quickly grabbed the fabric and tightened it.

"I can't believe this," Kevin muttered.

Alex stood cautiously, watching the dog.

"If he tries anything," Daniel murmured to her, "I'll distract him. Dogs love me."

"Einstein isn't stupid," Kevin growled.

"Let's not find out. Now your turn." He climbed down from the chair and crouched beside Kevin.

Alex slithered off the desk as quietly as she could, one hand reaching out for the keyboard. The dog didn't respond; it was watching Daniel release its master. She opened the system preferences. Screen saver wasn't the only way to release the sleeping gas, and she still had both masks.

But she knew that would just make things difficult. She would have to trust that Daniel could handle Kevin for now. She eased herself into the chair.

Daniel had started with the ankle and it was going slowly-he was keeping one hand on his blanket.

"Just give it to me, I'll do it," Kevin said.

"Be patient."

Kevin huffed loudly.

The key turned and Kevin was immediately on his feet, crouching beside his tethered arm. He s.n.a.t.c.hed the key from Daniel's hand and had his wrist free in less than a second. He stood tall, stretching his neck and rolling his back muscles. The torso pieces of his Batsuit hung down like an avant-garde skirt. The dog kept still at his feet. Kevin turned to Alex.

"Where are my guns?"

"Backseat of the car."

Kevin stalked out of the tent without another word, the dog at his heels.

"Don't open any doors or windows!" she called after him. "Everything's armed again."

"Is the car b.o.o.by-trapped?" he called back.

"No."

A second later. "Where are the magazines? Hey, where are the firing pins?!"

"Pins in the fridge, bullets in the toilet."

"Oh, come on!"

"Sorry."

"I want my SIG Sauer back."

She frowned and didn't answer. She got up stiffly. She might as well disarm the traps. It was time to go.

Daniel was standing in the middle of the tent, staring down at the silver table; he had one hand wrapped around the IV pole as if for support. He seemed to be in a daze. She went hesitantly to stand beside him.

"Are you going to be okay?" she asked.

"I have no idea. I can't understand what I'm supposed to do next."

"Your brother will have a plan. He's been living somewhere, he'll have a place for you."

He looked down at her. "Is it hard?"

"What?"

"Running? Hiding?"

She opened her mouth to say something soothing, then thought better of it. "Yeah, it's pretty hard. You get used to it. The worst part is the loneliness, and you won't have to deal with that. So that's one minor plus." She kept to herself the thought that loneliness might be a better companion than Kevin Beach.

"Are you lonely a lot?"

She tried to laugh it off. "Only when I'm not scared. So, no, not too often."

"Have you decided yet what you're going to do next?"

"No... The face is a problem. I can't walk around like this. People will remember me, and that's not safe. I'll have to hide somewhere until the swelling goes down and the bruises fade enough to cover with makeup."

"Where do you hide? I don't understand how this works."

"I may have to camp out for a while. I've got a bunch of subsistence food and plenty of water-by the way, don't drink the water in the fridge without checking with me first, the left side is poisoned. Anyway, I may just find someplace remote and sleep in the car until I've recuperated enough."

He blinked a couple of times, probably thrown by the poison thing.

"Maybe we can do something about your problem with conspicuousness," she said more lightly, touching his blanket with one finger. "I think there might be some clothes up at the house. I doubt they'll fit you, but they're better than what you've got."

A wave of relief pa.s.sed over his face. "I know it's a small thing, but I think that would actually help quite a bit."

"Okay. Let me go turn off the lethal-gas trap."

IN THE END, she did surrender the SIG Sauer, although with some regret. She liked its weight. She'd have to find her own.

The farmhouse owners' belongings were stashed in the attic, in a set of dressers from six or seven decades back. The man was obviously a lot shorter and wider than Daniel. She left Daniel to sort that out while she went back to the barn to pack up the car.

Kevin was there when she entered, tightly rolling a big swath of black fabric into a manageable armload; it took her a moment to realize the fabric was a parachute. She kept her distance as he worked, but the truce felt solid. For some reason, Daniel had put himself between her and his brother's animosity. Neither she nor Kevin understood why he was doing it, but Kevin cared too much about Daniel to violate his trust today. Not when he was still reeling over years of lies.

Or that's what she told herself to muster up the courage needed to walk past the dog to her car.

She was an old hand at packing, and it didn't take her very long. When she'd come out to meet Carston, she'd stowed her things and dismantled the security at the rental house, just in case she didn't make it back. (One of her nightmares was that the department would get her while she was out, and then some innocent, unsuspecting landlord would enter the premises and die.) She'd stashed everything outside DC, then come back for it when she'd started setting up for Project Interrogate the Schoolteacher. Now she fitted it all into the worn black duffels-the pressurized canisters, the miles of lead wires, the battery packs, the rubber-encased vials of components, the syringes, the goggles, the heavy gloves, her pillow, and her sleeping bag. She packed her props and some of the new things she'd picked up. The restraints were a good find, and the cot was decently comfortable and folded down into a small rectangle. She put her computer in its case, grabbed the little black box that was just a red herring, like her locket, pulled down the long cables, and rolled up the extension cords. She was going to have to leave the lights, which was a b.u.mmer. They hadn't been cheap. She dismantled the tent, leaving just a pile of meaningless foam and PVC pipe, and shoved the table back to where she'd found it. There wasn't anything to do about the holes she'd drilled.

She could only hope that she'd obfuscated things enough that the owners would only be confused and angry at the destruction rather than suspicious that something nefarious had happened here. There was a chance they'd report their destructive tenant to the authorities, but local police wouldn't be able to construe anything from the mess either. As long as certain words didn't go into the report, there was no reason for anyone in the government to notice. She was sure there were Airbnb stories of destruction much more interesting than this one.

She shook her head at the door to the bunk room. The dog had chewed or clawed a hole two feet high and a foot wide right through the center of the solid wood door. At least it had only jumped over the car rather than eating it on its way out.

She was finished loading the trunk when Daniel came back in.

"Nice capris," Kevin commented, winding the cable of his grappling hook into a neat coil. Alex wondered if he'd climbed back up onto the roof to retrieve it and, if he had, how she'd missed that.

It was true that Daniel's pants made it only halfway down his shins. The cotton shirt was a few sizes wide, and the sleeves were probably too short as well-he had them rolled to the elbows.

"If only I had half a wet suit." Daniel sighed. "Then I would feel ready to face the world."

Kevin grunted. "I'd have a whole wet suit if the psycho wasn't such a perv."

"Don't flatter yourself, I was looking for weapons."

Daniel watched her close the trunk.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I need to get somewhere safe so I can sleep." She imagined she looked haggard enough that the explanation was a little redundant.

"I was thinking..." Daniel said, and then hesitated.

Kevin looked up from his rifle, alerted by Daniel's tone.

"What were you thinking?" Kevin asked suspiciously.

"Well, I was thinking about the scorpions in the jar. Alex said there were only two outcomes-one kills the other, or both die. And I imagine that the people who wanted to kill you thought the same thing."

"So?" Kevin said.

"So, there was a third option," she said, guessing the direction Daniel was headed. "The scorpions walk away. They won't be expecting that. That's what will make you safe, Daniel."

"But there's a fourth option, too," Daniel answered. "That's what I've been thinking about."