Old Poison (28 page)

“Just look in the upper left corner for the
department. Any files generated by the fuel research division,
bring to me. If they say engine performance or lubricant or any
other department, set them over by the door with the others.

Out of the first four boxes, I found one for
James and three for the door. The fifth box I opened was a
surprise. “James, there’s a personnel file here.”

“Just put it by the door.”

I picked it up and headed for the door but
something seemed very wrong. As I set it down on the growing stack
I asked, “How many personnel files have you found in here?”

“None. Ignore it. Someone just misfiled
it–”

“No, it can’t be just misfiled. The
personnel records were in the can they locked me up in. They
wouldn’t even be here yet.”

I began looking through the box. James shook
his head and went back to his own search. What I found was so
fascinating that I took two file folders out. Sitting on the floor
between the pile of file boxes and a pile of iron pipe that was
stacked against the front wall, I rapidly scanned the contents.

The door burst open and Woods strode in,
pointing a nine millimeter at James, who was in plain sight in the
middle of the room. He stopped, slightly in front and to the left
of the pile of boxes that shielded me from view.

“Hello, Jimbo. You been having fun in here
playing with the files at night?” He laughed. “You think you’re so
damn smart, and you are really so fucking dumb. Every time anyone
slides a pass card through that security slot it registers a nice
big red light in my office and gives me the user’s ID.”

James stood. “What do you think you’re
doing, Woods?”

“Following orders. Keeping you occupied and
out of trouble until it’s time to put you away.”

With no warning, he adjusted his aim and
prepared to fire. As soon as Woods’s hand tensed around the weapon,
James dived behind a nearby container, but Woods followed his
moving target and fired. I heard James yell. Woods started moving
to the right, trying to see around the container and determine if
he had killed James.

“Oh, that hurt, Jimbo? I hope so, you
interfering prick. The funny part is that what you want isn’t even
here. We purged the whole Hyacinth safety research file.”

He laughed again and moved farther to the
right, which brought him almost in front of my pile of boxes.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to find it
anyway. The whole project is now out of civilian hands and locked
down in a military special projects division where it belongs.
Hyacinth Red will rule the whole fucking world and those sand rats
in the Middle East can stick their oil right back down their little
black holes.”

He took two more steps to the right and was
standing directly in front of me. If he turned around, I would be
in plain view, but he was concentrating on James, trying to figure
out how badly he was hit, where he was, and if he was armed.

I eyed the pile of iron pipe. One of those
would make a great weapon, but trying to pick one up without making
noise would be like playing pickup sticks with wind chimes.

Woods brought his left hand up to support
his right wrist as he spotted his prey. I wrapped my hands around
the pipe that was on top of the pile, but I could see that when I
raised it another pipe would be freed and would clatter down the
pile. I would have to be very fast.

Woods’s body tensed as he took aim. In one
fluid motion, I rose, swinging the pipe with all my weight and
power. Distracted by the sound of the pipe, Woods started to turn
toward the noise as he squeezed the trigger, pulling his shot and
sending the bullet whizzing high above the target. The pipe
connected with the back of his skull and his gun fired again, but
the bullet went into the roof. Woods sprawled on the floor
unconscious or dead, I wasn’t sure which.

“Get his gun.”

I grabbed the nine millimeter and searched
Woods for other weapons, retrieving a knife from his sleeve and a
small .22 from his boot. I stuffed the weapons, Woods’s radio, and
the two personnel files I had been reading into my pack, then ran
to James. He was on his feet, leaning against the container, trying
to tie a large bandana around the bleeding wound in his thigh.

“Not bleeding enough for a vein. Did it get
the bone?”

“No, muscle.”

I finished the makeshift bandage. “Come on,
lean on me. We have to get out of here before some of Woods’s
playmates show up.”

“No, I can hardly walk, much less run. You
get out of here and don’t quit running until you get back to
California.”

I stepped under his arm so he could use me
as a crutch. “As you already pointed out, that didn’t do much good
for Evelyn. Besides I’ve got us a ride.”

* * * * *

As we hobbled down the road like a team in a
three legged sack race, we listened anxiously for sounds of alarm
from the camp, but all remained quiet. Leaving James beside the
river, I ran to the spot where I had left the rowboat. Stumbling
along the water’s edge, I towed the boat upstream to James and
helped him into it. We pushed off, using both the oars and the
river current to carry us across the river to where the motorboat
waited.

James managed to move to the motorboat
without help while I tied the rowboat to the back and pushed our
small flotilla out into the current. I was climbing into the boat
when the woop, woop woop sound of the camp alarm blasted the quiet
night. Soon lights lit the camp and guards could be heard relaying
orders and reports.

James and I used one oar each like paddles
and punting poles, as needed, to make our way down the far side of
the river. The search was still limited to camp and we were a good
half mile downstream before we saw the first spotlights trained on
the river in back of us.

“Diana, they’ll see the boats are missing
and send someone down the road to the bridge.”

“We’re not going as far as the bridge.”

He said nothing else for a while and we let
ourselves drift for two or three miles without the engine.

“James, untie the row boat. We can let it
drift down to meet them at the bridge and give them a new
puzzle.”

James grimaced and said, “You better cut me
loose too. I’ll never make it through the forest.”

“Don’t have to. There’s a doctor over on the
next tributary and if and if my hearing is accurate, we are about
to the confluence of the two rivers.”

He stared at me blankly. “How could you know
that?”

“Long story.” I started the outboard engine,
turned on headlights, and powered us through the rushing water at
the forks. Then cutting the lights, I headed upstream toward the
Enviro-Medic Research station and what I hoped would be medical and
transportation assistance.

There was not a light on anywhere and the
station was little more than a slightly darker shadow against the
blackness of the forest. If it hadn’t been for the protrusion of a
small dock on the river, we might have missed it. I tied up at the
dock and climbed the steps to peer through the windows into the
combination house and medical office. Unable to wait for my report,
James had hobbled up beside me, causing his wound to start bleeding
again.

I knocked for the third time and got no
response. I tried the door and both windows but found them all
locked.

“It doesn’t look deserted. There’s stuff
inside, but the doc doesn’t seem to be home. Maybe we better break
a window and get some disinfectant and decent bandages for your
leg.”

James nodded and sat down on the step as I
picked up a club-sized piece of wood and prepared to smash the
glass.

“Please don’t break the glass. It is very
expensive to replace out here.”

Startled by the voice, we both turned toward
the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Even without seeing him, I
knew who was there. The soft mellifluous voice, with its slight
Spanish accent and cultured English tones, could only belong to one
person. The question was, would he be friend or foe?

He walked into the clearing, and I could see
that he was even wearing the same distinctive leather hat he had
worn when he followed me around the environmental expo in Long
Beach.

“I am Guillermo Jesus Montegro y Monteblan.
At your service. Sir, you seem to be in need of medical aid.”

“Yes, I’m afraid so. I’m James Nolan, and
I’ve had a bit of an accident. We heard there was a doctor here,
but he doesn’t seem to be in. This is . . . ”

“Dolores Gomez. Happy to meet you. Could you
help us get in here for some disinfectant and bandages?”

Gill pulled out a set of keys and opened the
door. “Certainly, please come in. Unfortunately the doctor and her
husband have returned to the United States, but they still have
some supplies here. Our local people became quite dependent upon
them for medical assistance. We miss them.”

The only light in the place was a Coleman
lantern. Gill lit and set on the table. While he collected
first-aid materials, James untied the handkerchief and took off his
pants. As Gill began to clean the wound, he asked, “Who shot you,
Mr. Nolan?”

“Me, I’m afraid. One of those stupid things,
trying to clean my gun and the damn thing went off.”

“Hmm, you must have very long arms. No
powder burns. Why would you have a gun anyway?”

“Self protection. Snakes, crocodiles, you
know.”

“Oh, of course.”

I wasn’t sure where this nonsense
interrogation was going, but our previous meeting had convinced me
that Gill was a professional investigator of some sort. To keep him
from notifying the authorities, we would probably have to tie him
up or lay out our credentials and see where he stood. With one hand
inside my pack in case I needed a gun, I asked a little question of
my own.

“Gill, I need to know one thing. Why did you
and Ken and Judith Hoffman disappear so quickly from the
environmental expo in Long Beach?”

He stopped, frozen for a moment while he
processed that one. Then he turned around and studied me, raising
the lantern to direct the light to my face.

“Well, well. Diana Hunter. Very good. I
truly did not recognize you.”

“Answer the question, please.”

“Certainly.” He set the lantern back on the
table and continued wrapping the wound. “Because we were all
afraid, both for our own lives and the life of our friend Evelyn.
We didn’t know then who had sent you. I stayed in California long
enough to learn who you were, while Ken and Judith came back
here.”

“What happened to them?”

“Oh, they are quite all right, but when they
returned to the station and learned that Blue Morpho had moved into
the lodge next door, they were terrified it was more than
unfortunate coincidence. They were back in the United States before
I had time to get down here. They won’t be coming back, I am
afraid.”

“Why are you here?”

“I live here. I am retired to a small
finca
not far from here, and I still keep an eye on this
place. Once in a while, I am able to give some small first aid to
local people who were used to seeking medical assistance here. And
why are you here, and how did this man really get wounded?”

Before I decided on truth or lie, James
asked, “Retired from what?”

“I was an employee of my country’s
government, in law enforcement.”

“I’m afraid your fears for Evelyn were
justified,” I said. “She was found in a dry wash in Arizona,
murdered. Since my card was found on her, the FBI called me to
identify the body.”

Gill nodded. “A friend of mine in Interpol
notified me. I assume your arrival here has something to do with
her death, but I am still curious about Mr. Nolan and his
wound.”

James looked at Gill sharply and asked, “Did
this friend of yours in Interpol have anything to do with a report
sent to Blue Morpho regarding Woods and the local research
facility?”

There was silence while we all looked at
each other and waited for Gill’s answer. Instead he countered with
a question of his own. “Could you tell me, please, how you know
about the report?”

“I read it just before my boss at Blue
Morpho sent me down here to look into it.”

“Ah, so your assignment to the research
facility was in response to our report. I see. I would have hoped
that our report contained sufficient merit to warrant more than one
man.”

“It was a good report. If it hadn’t been,
you wouldn’t even have gotten me. So you did write it?”

“No, but I supplied information for it. I
prevailed upon my old comrade at Interpol to see that a report got
to the proper persons. We had hoped it would generate a full
investigation.”

“Yeah, well, the ‘proper persons’ decided
the first step was to check the situation out, quietly.”

“I see. So you are an intelligence officer
for Morpho?”

“No. I was a plant manager in Santa
Barbara.”

Gil’s look was frankly incredulous.

James shrugged. “Yeah, that’s what I thought
too. But you see, Woods knew everyone in investigations. Since I,
at the tender age of nineteen, had worked in army intelligence, I’m
what you got.”

Gill studied him a moment, then nodded.
“Perhaps you two should come to my house for something to eat and
drink. It seems we have some common interests to discuss.”

* * * * *

It rained all the way to San Jose, and I was
glad Gill had convinced us to wait for daylight to travel the
rutted back roads that challenged even his rugged four-wheel drive.
Though long and uncomfortable, his route provided us with a safe
and uneventful trip into the capital.

Before we left the Enviro-Medic Research
compound, we had untied the motorboat and allowed it to drift down
the river, knowing it would come out at the same bridge the rowboat
had. We hoped that would keep our pursuers beating the bushes and
searching the river for us or our remains.