KISS THE WITCH (17 page)

“
Do the whisper box on
him, like you did with the guard at the gate.”

“
No, that’s not the same.
The whisper box is a will chill spell. It makes the recipient bend
to suggestive actions. It’s more mechanical than
cerebral.”

“
That’s what I’m saying.
Use it to suggest he let you touch his plus point.”

“
That’s just
stupid.”

“
You have a better
idea?”

He had me there. Already, we were standing
outside Ferguson’s office and I had nothing better to offer. “All
right, but I’m going to need a vessel. A box, an envelope or
something.”

“
Leave it to me. I’ll get
something to you.”

Ferguson seemed surprised, if not annoyed,
to see us. Probably because we let ourselves into his office
unannounced.

“
Mister Ferguson,” I said.
“I hope we’re not interrupting. Your secretary left her
station.”

Ferguson came around his desk, offering a
disingenuous smile and a cold handshake. “Not at all, Detectives.
Come in. To what do I owe this honor? Have you found Howard
Snow?”

“
Yes and no,” said Carlos,
passing on the handshake.

“
Excuse me?”

“
We found him. We just
haven’t picked him up yet.”

“
You haven’t picked him
up?”

“
Not all of
him.”

He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

I said, “Mister Ferguson, that’s not why
we’re here. We wanted to talk to you again about QE647.”

“
Detective, I already told
you everything I can about that. Now for what it’s worth, I am
willing to forget about all this if Snow is willing to return the
research documents, the computer files and everything else
pertaining to the research and development of QE647. If he no
longer has the compound, that’s okay, too. I will forgive him. I
will waive prosecution. The only thing I want now is to put all
this behind us. Let bygones be bygones.”

I looked to Carlos and delivered him a
subtle nod. I saw him reach into his pocket as he turned his back
to us and strolled casually toward the window. Ferguson seemed
uninterested.

“
Let bygones be bygones?”
I asked.

“
Yes sir.”

I could tell from the tic over his left eye
he was hiding something. “Well, that sure is generous of you,
Mister Ferguson. I mean, if Howard Snow stole my research, I would
want to make an example of him.”

“
I suppose that’s the
difference between us, Detective. Isn’t it?” He attempted a forced
smile, and that tic over his eye morphed into a nervous twitch on
his upper lip.

I called to Carlos, who returned with a
lottery ticket that he had shaped into a cup by wrapping it around
his finger and twisting the ends together. “This?” I said,
whispering to him as he passed it to me.

He whispered back, “It’s all I had. You got
something better?”

I took the handoff. “Carlos, why don’t you
tell Mister Ferguson where Howard Snow is right now?”

As we traded places, with me going to the
window, Carlos approached Ferguson and said, “He’s dead.”

I think I heard Ferguson audibly gulp.
“Dead?”

“
Dead as a stone, or
rather a bunch of small stones. Someone blew him up in his Hummer
this morning.”

“
But…I don’t understand.
Why would––”

“
Oh, come now,” I said.
“You know damn well why someone would kill him. Now why don’t you
tell us what you know about QE647? Who is behind the research and
funding?”

“
I told you. A
conglomerate of private financiers interested in producing a corn
syrup––”

“
Forget it. Look. I want
you to have this.”

I handed him the lotto ticket, hoping like
hell it kept the spell I whispered into it. “What is this?” he
asked.

“
I want you to look at it
closely.”

“
It’s a lotto
ticket.”

“
Yeah, and if it wins it’s
mine,” said Carlos.

I turned sharply and gave him a look that
should have bruised him. He brushed it off with a shrug. “Well it
is.”

Ferguson brought the ticket to within inches
of his face and peeled open the folds. A whimsical little puff of
wind rolled out and flirted with his lashes, causing his eyelids to
flutter. He looked up at me quizzically. “Is this a joke,
Detective?”

I took the ticket back and gave it to
Carlos. “Yes, Mister Ferguson. It’s a joke.” I stepped toe-to-toe
with him and said, “Now, may I take your pulse?”

He peered into my eyes, unblinking. I could
not read him, except to imagine how insane my request must have
sounded to him. Carlos shuffled his stance and gauged Ferguson’s
expression, yet I doubt he could gather any better understanding of
his mindset than what I could.

Seconds rolled, ten, fifteen, twenty.
Ferguson remained unmoved. I knew something was happening though,
or he would have stepped away from me already. I resolved to
continue staring him down, saying nothing and concentrating
fiercely on the suggestive power of the spell.

It seemed obvious the lotto ticket made for
a poor vessel, and I wished I had come more prepared for the task.
Clearly, as the name suggests, a whisper box works best when
captured in a small box, like a jewelry case. Even envelopes work
well, as demonstrated with the guard at the front gate earlier. On
our last case, I even used one of Carlos’ empty candy bar wrappers.
But I had never used a lotto ticket before. I only hoped this time
the ticket was a winner––where spells were concerned.

Ferguson furled his brows
and parted his lips into something resembling a smile. What I
expected from him were the words,
of
course not
, or
get the hell out of my office
. But
he said nothing. Then his expression softened. I reached for his
hand and touched his pulse point. “Mister Ferguson. What is
QE647?”

He looked me straight in the eye and said
calmly, “It’s a miracle compound. QE647 is the very essence of
life, a synthetic energy source developed to stimulate
bio-reanimation in complex life forms.”

I turned to Carlos and gave him the silliest
grin. I could not help it. I don’t know if I found greater pleasure
from ascertaining the information about QE647 from Ferguson, or
from knowing that the pulse point spell really worked for me.

I followed that up. “Who funds the
research?”

“
The government,” he
said.

“
What branch?”

“
We get automatic deposits
from the DOA”

“
Department of
Agriculture?”

“
Yes.”

“
What is their interest in
QE647?”

“
I believe they…they.” He
rocked his head back and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling.
Believing he might pass out, I waved Carlos over to help steady him
into a chair.

What happened next was not pretty. Ferguson
began shaking uncontrollably, his muscles convulsing in spastic
protest, as if shocked by electrical impulses. Carlos and I grabbed
his arms to steady him.

“
Hold him.” I said, though
I knew Carlos was doing all he could already.

“
What do we do
now?”

“
Let’s get him to the
floor.”

“
How do we do
that?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
Let go,” said
Carlos.

“
What?”

“
Let go of
him.”

“
Let go of
him?”

“
Trust me, Tony. It will
work.”

Carlos stepped back and threw his hands into
the air. I did the same. Ferguson continued thrashing about and
eventually bounced himself out of his seat onto the floor. I stared
down at him in dismay, his convulsing seemingly more erratic then
before. I looked at Carlos, who seemed equally horrified.

“
Carlos, how is this
better?”

He furrowed his brows. “I don’t know. It was
your idea to get him on the floor.”

“
Yes, but I
thought––”

“
Look!” Carlos pointed at
him. Blood ran from Ferguson’s mouth and down the side of his
chin.

“
He’s chewed his tongue
off!”

“
Oh, God…. Oh
God!”

“
Give me your
tie.”

“
My what?”

“
Your tie, Carlos. Give me
your tie.” He undid his tie and handed it to me. “Now sit on his
legs.”

I rolled the tie into a ball and stuffed it
into Ferguson’s mouth. Next, I grabbed his arms, pulled them up
over his head and pinned them under my knees. Ferguson’s secretary,
having returned to her desk, heard the commotion, barged into the
office and screamed.

“
Call 911,” I yelled.
“Now!”

By the time paramedics arrived, Ferguson’s
convulsions had subsided to an occasional spastic twitch. His eyes
were no longer up in the back of his head, but his pupils remained
non-responsive. When asked what happened, I told the paramedic I
did not know and that Ferguson simply fell into convulsions.

“
Epilepsy,” said Carlos.
We all turned to look at him. He shrugged. “That’s what I
think.”

Surprisingly, the paramedics bought it.

We left Biocrynetix Laboratories in a hurry
after that. I remember Carlos asking me what went wrong. To be
sure, I didn’t even know if what happened to Ferguson was my
fault.

“
Maybe you were right,” I
said. “Maybe Ferguson is epileptic.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Tony. I
think you nearly killed the guy. You don’t know your own strength
now that you became one with the coven.”

“
Please. That’s
ridiculous.”

“
Is it? You unleashed a
double spell on the man. It’s possible that’s too much for one
person.”

“
Oh, nice you mention it
now, Carlos. May I remind you it was your idea I try the whisper
box on him first?”

“
Yeah, but I didn’t say
kill him.”

“
I didn’t kill
him.”

“
You don’t know that. Did
you see his eyes when they wheeled him out?”

“
Forget it. Just
drive.”

“
Where to?”

“
I think we need to trace
things back to the beginning. Do you have Mark Williams’
address?”

“
Dominic’s got it. Want me
call him?”

“
Yes. I think we should
pay a visit to his widow. Maybe she can shed some light on this for
us.”

“
Company.”

“
Yeah, I suppose she can
use the company.”

“
No. I mean we have
company.”

I looked at Carlos. His eyes were glued to
the rearview mirror. “We’re being followed?”

“
Yeah. A black
sedan.”

“
You see who it
is?”

“
Uh-uh. The windows are
tinted too dark. You want me to pull over and see if they
stop?”

“
No, they won’t stop. Can
you see the plates?”

He sped up a bit to put some distance
between the vehicles. “Yeah, I see it now. Massachusetts.
Charlie-Alfa-Romeo-Echo-1.”

“
I’ll call it in.” I got
my phone out and speed-dialed Spinelli. He answered on the second
ring.

“
Tony. `Sup?”

“
Dominic, we are three
miles east of Biocrynetix Laboratories. We have a tail. I want you
to run this tag. Massachusetts,
Charlie-Alfa-Romeo-Echo-1.”

“
You’re kidding.
Right?”

“
What?”

“
CARE-1?”

“
Huh?”

“
That’s what it
spells.”

“
Just do it.”

He came back thirty seconds later.
“Tony.”

“
Yes?”

“
E.I.N.I. is down. Can’t
run the tags right now, but I called for a unit to drop in behind
you to pull him over.”

“
That’s good. Make sure
they know––”

Carlos interpreted. “Gone.”

“
What?”

“
They veered south down a
side street. Want me to double back and follow them?”

“
No. Forget it.” I got
back on the phone. “Dominic, they’re gone. Send that unit south.
They’re heading for Route-1. Be advised, they’re probably
armed.”

Spinelli returned, “Got it.”

“
One more thing. When
you’re done, call me back with an address for Mark
Williams.”

“
Sure. No
problem.”

“
Thanks.”

I tucked the phone back in my pocket. “He’s
a good man,” I said.

“
Dominic?” Carlos nodded.
“That he is.”

I found my gaze wandering out the window and
my mind along with it. Images of the night before followed like
shadows I could not shake. I thought of Spinelli. Imagined the look
on his face if he knew what I did to his fiancée. What she did to
me. It was no big deal for Lilith. She expected it might happen.
Accepted it as the price for making me participate in the ceremony.
Spinelli, I knew, was incapable of demonstrating a similar
understanding.