Devil's Gold (19 page)

The rustle of underbrush and scattering of rocks stopped her movement. Years of training had her instantly frozen in place, her ears straining to hear what moved below. Heavy footfalls bounced back through the morning air, along with deep ragged breaths as if someone were racing up the mountain. Crouching at the edge of the trail, she waited, not wanting to call attention to herself. Whoever was jogging this trail must be in excellent physical condition and definitely someone she wouldn't want to encounter in such a remote area. With disappearing wolves and drug smuggling at the park, Cassidy intended on being cautious.

The intruder rounded the pass, stopped, and with incredible instincts looked directly at her.

“J
ASON
?” E
DWARD'S VOICE DRIFTED UPWARD THROUGH THE
rectangular hatch. He cringed at the fear that resonated in the hesitant, shrill tone of his words. Edward hated the small confines of the laboratory. He was claustrophobic. Another sound echoed from above, and his breath hitched. “Jason?”

“Right here, Eddie.” Jason stepped onto the top rung, braced his feet against the side of the ladder, and slid down to land gracefully on the hard linoleum floor below.

“What were you doing up there?”

Jason shrugged. “Just checking to make sure we hadn't left anything we might need.” He moved forward toward Edward. Clearing his throat, he smiled his usual silly grin and stepped closer. “All done?”

Edward frowned and scooted his chair toward the counter. He grimaced as the wheels scraped against the linoleum, shooting a shiver straight up his spine. “Yes and no. I ran several more tests and discovered an amazing but disturbing occurrence.”

Jason shrugged. “Whatever it is, I'm sure you'll plug it into your report. Relax, man.” He lifted a hand and signaled toward a metallic silver briefcase. “Is that the briefcase containing the vials of CPV-19?”

Edward glanced over to where Jason pointed. “Yes. But you really need to witness this.”

“Eddie ole man, I think that
you
really need to witness
this.”
Jason pointed a semiautomatic handgun at Edward and waved it in a small circle. “Isn't it cool?”

Panic and fear skittered along Edward's skin and he stood, slow and cautious. “Jason, what on earth is going on? Put down that gun.”

Jason snorted in disbelief. “Time's up, Doc.” He winked. “You've been sold out.”

Edward froze, shock overshadowing fear. “I don't understand,” he stammered.

Jason shook his head. “Ya know, I believed in what we were doing. I really did. But a better offer came along and…” He paused, sighing and lifting his left shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “I went with the better offer. Now move it. Get up those stairs.”

Edward saw no other option. His mind whirled with escape ideas, but until something solidified he would do as he was told.

Humming a Beach Boys tune, Jason grabbed the briefcase and hurried up the ladder behind Edward before he had a chance to gain any distance.

“Don't even think of trying something stupid, Eddie. I'll be happy to blow a hole in you right now.”

Edward turned and glared down at Jason. “Then why don't you?”

Jason shook his head. “Because, Eddie, you're too damn fat to haul across the yard.”

They scrambled out of the laboratory, Edward's lack of physical fitness a hindrance. He swore silently and cursed himself. He was a walking coronary.

Jason shoved the gun in Edward's back, its round chamber sinking into soft flesh and biting the muscles beneath. Jason grabbed the back of his shirt, stopping him before he moved too far ahead. Edward paused, allowing his eyes to adjust to daylight as his captor forced him outside.

“Come on, Eddie. Let's walk.”

Edward stumbled. “Don't be stupid, Jason. We can work out a new arrangement. I'll add your name to the patent.”

Jason bent forward, smacking his free hand against his thigh. “You don't get it, man, do you? I don't give a rat's ass about the patent or saving humanity.” He shoved Edward in the back. “Pick up the pace, you stupid son of a bitch.”

They reached the clearing around the incinerator. Jason pushed Edward hard and sent him flying forward. “Sorry, man. This is the end of the line.” Edward lay on the ground. Thoughts whirled and whirled in his head, but nothing jumped out to solve the situation. He stared back at Jason and felt himself cowering like a pitiful pound puppy. Clucking his tongue, Jason stared, his eyes glowing with maniacal pride, relishing the feeling of God-like power. He controlled Edward, and he knew it.

Winking, Jason gave Edward one of those half-smiles that the kid thought made the ladies all hot and bothered. “Lights out.” He aimed and fired.

The kid was a class-A screw up. Edward squeezed his eyes against the pain in the right side of his head. It felt ready to explode. He stifled a moan, his ear burning like he'd dipped it in molten lava. Fear still ran through Edward's system, mimicking the dip and dive of the river rapids shooting past the front of the property.

Jason hadn't bothered to check whether or not the bullet hit home, assuming because of the amount of blood and lack of movement that he'd succeeded in striking a killing blow. Edward supposed he should be grateful that all the years of making Jason redo tests because he'd skipped a step or forgotten to write down pertinent data never sunk into the kid's pot-damaged brain. Carelessness granted Edward an upper hand.

He lifted his head, fighting a wave of nausea and dizziness. If he didn't act fast, his system would shut down from shock. Edward spotted the gun lying about five feet from his leg. Jason opened the door to the incinerator, and Edward took advantage of the blast of heat that temporarily blinded the kid to move sideways and grab the gun. Edward quickly scooted back and braced himself against a tree, not trusting his legs.

What was the idiot doing?

At the sound of the chainsaw, Edward's chest tightened. He had to give the kid a few points for creativity, not to mention guts. The mere thought of Jason hacking his body to pieces brought forth a conundrum of nightmares.

As Jason turned in his direction, Edward pointed the gun at the kid's chest and willed his hand to stop shaking. He could do this. It was a game of survival.

Jason stopped short, pointing the chainsaw in Edward's direction. “You gonna kill me, Eddie?” His voice rang loudly above the whirring of the power tool.

Edward nodded.

“Nah. I don't think so. What would the scientific community say?”

Edward frowned. Jason had a point. He couldn't very well kill the boy and then call 911. He'd have to explain about the laboratory and then CPV-19 and then …

“I don't care.” Edward said, as convincingly as possible.

Jason flipped the switch on the chainsaw and silence descended, creating a preternatural calm. “Of course you do. Your patent hasn't been filed yet, man.”

Edward narrowed his eyes. “How could you know that?”

Jason dropped the chainsaw and lifted his hands as if in surrender. “Well, you see, I wasn't bought off by another group wanting CPV-19. I was paid by New World Petroleum to watch you and filter back your process. They don't care about the patent, and because of that you're disposable. Besides…” The lab assistant shrugged, stepping forward. “CPV-19 is already running free.”

Edward froze, his mind trying to sort through this last piece of news. “It couldn't have spread so quickly.”

“Well, see, that's where we were wrong. According to my main man, it's spreading—spreading real quick. Which means, Eddie …” Jason bent forward and dropped his voice to a soft whisper. “Yellowstone is about to have a few very bad weeks. And you are out one highly prized patent. They ain't never gonna give you any awards for creating something this nasty. As a matter of fact, they'll probably put you right in jail.”

With a jolt, Edward realized Jason had moved too close. “Stop. Don't take another step.”

“Tsk tsk, Eddie. Afraid?” Edward's eyes widened as Jason's face transformed into a maniacal monster's with only one item on the agenda. Murder.

Edward felt as if he'd fallen down a rabbit hole. He had one clear thought: in order to survive, Jason must die.

Before he chickened out, he fired the gun. His head snapped back against the tree as the shock of the weapon vibrated from his fingers through his arm. Sulfur tinged the crisp air, and the shot echoed through the valley, transforming the two-second episode into slow motion.

Blood spread rapidly across Jason's chest. He staggered then collapsed to the ground, pressing his hands against the mortal wound. Several gurgling gasps for air, and then all became still.

Edward hurried over, holding the gun in front of him. The gun wobbled violently, and he tried to steady his hand as best he could. Bending, Edward checked for a pulse. Nothing.

Glancing around, his gaze rested on the chainsaw. There was no way he'd be able chop the kid up. His stomach just wasn't built for that type of thing.

He'd leave him.

Edward pressed his hand against his own wounds and staggered to his feet. He needed to act fast. With hesitant steps, he made his way toward the main house. Each movement forward sent slashes of pain searing through his head.
Damn Jason. Damn him to hell
.

Entering the small half bath on the first floor of the house, he surveyed the damage to his head. The bullet grazed his temple but not before shattering the top of his ear. Actually, that was probably a lucky thing. The amount of the blood from the ear wound was what had convinced Jason his shot had been true. He reached beneath the vanity and searched blindly for the first-aid kit.

Swearing, Edward bent down to locate what his fingers couldn't find. Pain strangled his head, and he fought against the blackness that threatened. He spotted the white plastic box and with shaking hands went to work.

He stitched the three-inch gash above his right eye, sucking sharp breaths in and out as the needled pierced his skin. Finished, he swabbed the wound clean and pasted a Band-Aid over the stitches.

The ear was a mess.

Edward splashed disinfectant on the shattered skin, then wrapped it as tightly and with as much gauze as he could.

Finally done with first-aid, he retraced his steps back toward the incinerator. The case containing the CPV-19 vials and antidote lay propped against a tree. Edward retrieved it and made his way beyond the quaking aspens and into the log cabin. Each step required reaffirmation that everything would be all right. His head pounded, his hands shook. Life wasn't looking so bright.

Entering the lab, he gathered the data from the last test. Edward verified there was nothing else of importance he needed. The lab had been stripped down over the past twenty-four hours. There was nothing here that would reproduce the genetic mutation process or CPV-19.

His patent was safe. But the suitcase he carried meant he stepped into the world of the hunted. Edward needed to reach New York and have his lawyer file the patent before NWP caught up with him.

His stomach lurched. He felt sick. To be truthful, Edward didn't know how far the board's power spread. He'd accepted their money with gratitude, never once questioning their motivation.

He'd allowed his greed for recognition to cloud his judgment. What a stupid man he'd been!

Climbing the stairs out of the lab, Edward sealed the door and exited the cabin. Squinting against the brightness of the sun, he noticed a peculiar pattern flickering on the grass.

Dark shadows moved in and out of his line of vision. Edward gazed upward and gasped at the tornado of vultures circling high in the sky. They'd smelled death.

This wouldn't do. It could draw attention to the property. He didn't know when and where Jason was supposed to hand over the virus; it could have been within the hour, or it could have been the next day. Everything needed to appear normal.

He moved as quickly as possible toward the incinerator. Jason's body was sprawled on the ground, the pool of blood bigger than when Edward had left.

Glancing around in a panic, his gaze fell on the river. That would work. The rapids would carry the body downriver, and by the time it was discovered Edward would be long gone.

He grabbed Jason under the arms and began dragging him across the grass to the riverbank.
Don't think about death
. It'd been necessary. Still his heart felt heavy, and his head felt as if it'd been split in two. If he focused on remaining conscious, the guilt of his murderous actions faded to a soft whisper.

The strain of using muscles he didn't have forced blood to pump from the wound on his ear. Sweat poured from his forehead, blocking his vision.

Murder was an uncomfortable thing.

After an interminable amount of time, Edward reached the banks of Yellowstone River. The water sped past the loamy shore. He needed to drag the body past the row of kayaks piled to the left that Jason had collected over the past five years.

He hauled the body into the river, inhaling sharply when the frosty bite of the river seeped into his clothes. Edward made certain he'd waded far enough offshore before releasing his hold on the lab assistant. He watched, mesmerized as the river tossed the remains of Jason from one icy wave to another. The choppy surface swallowed death in a matter of seconds.

Edward headed back to shore, an unusual patch of white catching his attention. He frowned and squinted at the thing lying close to the edge of the embankment. As he approached it, a flash of fear caused his heart rate to increase and beads of sweat to form on his brow. His body alternated between shivers from the icy water of the river and shakes caused by the dead wolf at his feet.

He knew what he had to do. Edward calculated the time it would take for him to retrieve his medical kit and obtain blood samples from the infected animal. It would be well worth it. This was an opportunity to study a live second-generation virus sample. The importance and impact on his research outweighed the half hour he'd expose himself to capture.