F Paul Wilson - Novel 02 (51 page)

           
Gin let him get a good look, then
she smoothed the gauze back into place and began rewrapping the Ace.

 
          
"How
else was I going to get it out?"

           
He said nothing, simply sat and stared
at her, wonder in his eyes.

           
"Do you have any antibiotics
in the house?" As she pulled her jeans up.

 
          
"I've
got some amoxicillin."Not his first choice but it would do for now. He
hurried away and returned a minute later with an amber plastic bottle. Gin
washed down four of the capsules with water and pocketed it for later.

 
          
Oliver
was staring at the vial with the implant, shaking his head and speaking to
himself as much as to Gina couldn't believe
Duncan
would do such a thing.

 
          
Well
maybe to the committee members . . . I could see that . . . I mean, after Lisa
died he went a little crazy, made all sorts of threats . . . but you . . . he
thinks the world of you . . . he'd never . . .

           
Poor Oliver, she thought. His
heroic image of his older brother is coming undone.

 
          
"He
knows I'm on to him," Gin said softly. "And he knows I'll be in the
way tomorrow."

           
Qliver's head snapped up.
"Tomorrow? Oh, no! You don't think, he wouldn t!"

 
          
"Yes,
he would. That's why he did this to me. To give him a clear shot at the
president."

           
He got to his feet. "I've got
to go see him stop him. I can talk to him. He'll listen to me."

 
          
"Will
he? I wouldn't count on it."

 
          
"He'll
have to. Now two people know. And soon more will. He grabbed a jacket that had
been hanging over the back of a chair. "He's beaten. But still I've got to
see him." Anger flashed in his eyes. "Using my implants for something
like this! I've a good mind to . . . " He didn't finish the thought.

 
          
Instead,
he pointed to the bottle on the table.

 
          
"Can
I take that with me?"

           
Gin grabbed it and held it tight in
her fist.

 
          
"No.
Sorry. This is the only proof I've got that I didn't make all this up. I'm not
letting it out of my sight. And you realize, don't you, that as soon as you
confront him he'll know how you found out and he'll know where I am. And since
I have the only hard proof against him, I think maybe I'll disappear for a
while."

 
          
"Good
idea. Don't even tell me where you're going, just in case, '' He shook his head
to clear it. "Who'd ever believe I'd be thinking this way about my
brother?"

           
"I know how you feel. Can you
call me a cab?"

           
Another shiver rattled her teeth as
Oliver was phoning the cab company.

 
          
She
was definitely getting a fever. She hoped whatever was infecting her wasn't
penicillin resistant.

 
          
"They'll
have one here in about ten minutes, " Oliver said. "I'm going to call
Duncan
."

           
"No!"

           
"Just to see if he's home. No
sense in going over there if he's not in." He dialed, waited, then said,
"
Duncan
. It's me. We need to talk. No, in person.
I'll explain when I get there. See you in a few minutes." He hung up and
bustled toward the door. "Wish me luck, " he said. "And lock the
door as you leave."

           
Gin shivered again as the front
door closed behind Oliver.

 
          
It
was almost over.
Duncan
was at his place, Oliver was on his way there, a cab was on its way
here. But where was she going?

 
          
Not
another hotel. She couldn't stand the thought of another strange little box
with a bed and a TV that passed for a room.

 
          
Her
folks' place? The old homestead. The thought comforted her.

 
          
She'd
make a quick stop at her apartment for a change of clothes, then head over to
Arlington
. She'd be safe there. Another chill wracked
her. And warm.

 
          
Where
was that cab? She took a look our the window but the driveway was empty.

 
          
She
went down the hall and found Oliver's bathroom. On the top shelf of the
medicine cabinet she found a thermometer. She rinsed it off, shook it down, and
stuck it in her mouth. After a couple of minutes she checked it, 102.4 degrees.

 
          
No
wonder I'm shivering, she thought. I'm sick.

 
          
Well,
she had two grams of amoxicillin perking through her bloodstream.

 
          
It
had to kick in soon. She'd left her Tylenol at the hotel, so she took a few of
Oliver's.

 
          
A
car horn honked outside. She hurried back to the living room and peeked out a
corner of the front window. Her heart was pounding, from fever as much as fear.

 
          
If
I've fallen into a B movie, she thought, there'll be a black Mercedes idling
out there.

 
          
But
no. It was a Diamond cab. She hurried outside, thinking that if she were in a
real schlock movie,
Duncan
would be behind the wheel, disguised as the driver. But a black face
peered out the driver window as she approached and pushed open the rear door
from inside.

 
          
'"Where
we going?" She gave him her address and they were off. She huddled in the
back seat, shivering.

 
          
"Would
you mind turning up the heat?" she said.

 
          
She
was so cold her teeth were chattering.

 
          
Duncan
sat mute, shaken. Oliver's arrival had
taken him completely by surprise. He'd never seen his brother like this. He'd
burst in and immediately launched into a blistering verbal attack.
Duncan
didn't know which shocked him more,
Oliver's naked self-righteous anger, or the fact that Gin had reached Oliver
and told him everything.

 
          
The
words poured out of Oliver in a steady, rapid-fire fusillade. Not just his
anger, but the story of Gin slicing open her own leg in that hotel room and
removing an implant with drugstore equipment.

 
          
Despite
his ongoing shock,
Duncan
had to admire the unwavering determination and pure guts Gin had shown.
He doubted he'd have been able to do the same had situations been reversed. But
he was glad he hadn't underestimated Gin. He'd half anticipated this. That
young woman did not know the meaning of the word quit. And she was as intent as
ever on stopping him.

 
          
And
she just might. His whole world seemed about to crumble around him.

 
          
Visions
of headlines and courtrooms and, Lord, prison swirled around him. Everything
was falling apart, He shook off the visions. He had to settle down and deal
with Oliver.

 
          
The
situation was still salvageable, barely. He'd have to move fast.

 
          
But
before he could do anything, he'd have to neutralize Oliver.

 
          
"What
did she tell you, what exactly did she say she removed from her leg?"
Duncan
said.

 
          
"An
implant, one of my implants, filled with TPD, of all things."

           
Duncan
shot from his seat and adopted a fiercely
indignant pose. "And you believe this fantastic story?" But Oliver
wasn't backing down.

 
          
He
leaned into
Duncan
's face. "She's got the bloody implant
in a bottle. She showed me. She's got a fresh incision on her leg. She showed
me that too. She knows about TPD, Duncan. How could she know about TPD if she
didn't find it in your office as she says? And on the way over here, I
remembered our discussion about my rogues' gallery earlier this year and
telling you about TPD. You were very interested, wanted to know all about it.
And tonight I couldn't find my sample bottle in the gallery. Where's my TPD,
Duncan?" Damn it. He was caught. No way to deny this. But worse was the
look in Oliver's eyes. The almost worshipful regard was gone, replaced by anger
and . . . fear.

 
          
My
brother fears me.

 
          
That
hurt. But no less than he deserved.

 
          
Don't
fear me, Oliver. Even if I can't explain the TPD.

 
          
TPD.
That was the rock-steady anchor of Gin's story. He could ascribe everything
else she'd said or done to mental illness of one form or another. But that damn
TPD . . . that was real. Oliver knew it better than anyone. And he'd already
guessed that on one of his visits to his home,
Duncan
had crept down to the basement and removed
the world's last remaining sample.

 
          
"Answer
me, Duncan, Oliver said. "Where is it and what have you been doing with
it?" No sense in denying he'd taken it. He slumped his shoulders and
sighed.

 
          
"It's
downstairs." He turned and began walking away. "I'll show you."
Duncan
's admission worked a dramatic change in
Oliver's demeanor.

 
          
Suddenly
he was solicitous.

 
          
"You've
been working too hard,
Duncan
," he said as he followed him to the cellar. "I've warned you
about that. You need a long rest and . . . and maybe some . . . maybe you could
talk to someone."

           
"You mean psychotherapy?"

           
"Well, yes." Oliver was
obviously uncomfortable telling his brother the doctor that he needed to see
another doctor.

 
          
"I
think that might be a good idea. I've been under terrible stress lately. And I
never did get over Lisa's death . . . finding her like that."

 
          
"I
know,
Duncan
. You've been through a lot."

           
Duncan
turned on the lights. The basement was
finished but dusty and musty. The previous owners had set it up as a game room
but
Duncan
rarely set foot down here. He led Oliver to
the center of the room, then stopped and looked around feigning puzzlement.

 
          
"Now
where did I put that?" He turned in a slow circle, then snapped his
fingers. "I know. Wait here." He hurried for the stairs and bounded
back up to the main floor where he shut the basement door and locked it. He
heard Oliver rush up the steps, try the knob, then start pounding on the other
side.

 
          
"
Duncan
!
Duncan
, don't do this! This is insane!"