The Proteus Cure (40 page)

He flipped the switches to activate the video feed from Sheila’s office. Empty. He quick reversed today’s recording for an accelerated look at her activities. He watched her quick-step backward into the office; saw her sit at her desk …

… saw her pulling the bug from her pencil cup.

He shut off the recording. This was bad, terrible. She’d discovered the surveillance and then somehow she’d found her way in here and stolen the disc. He must call Dr. Gilchrist.

But what to say? Shen couldn’t tell him that he’d burned a copy of their coupling.

Bill’s cell phone interrupted an informal meeting with Abra. He couldn’t ignore it—couldn’t ignore
any
calls now.

“Gilchrist.”

“
Oh, Doctor
,” said a familiar voice. “
This is Shen Li.”

Please have good news about something.

“Yes, Mr. Li.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Abra. “I’ve had security on extra alert since the Kaplan murder. No telling if that killer might turn up here.”

Abra looked startled. “Oh, dear. I never even thought of that.”

Bill smiled. “That’s why you have me.”

Shen was saying,
“I am asking, sir, if you might have been in the monitoring room today.”

“Me? No. Why?”

“
Well, sir
”—was that relief in Shen’s voice?—“
I am sorry to report that I fear someone may have been here
.”

Bill felt spicules of ice begin to form in his blood. He faced away from Abra and lowered his voice.

“Impossible. What makes you think so?”

“
I am not sure, sir, but the room looked different, as if items had been moved. And one thing else, sir. Doctor Sheila found one of our bugs.”

Bill felt the room swaying.

“You’re sure?”

“
Yessir. It was recorded
.”

It’s unraveling. It’s—

Again, that dread that kept him awake nights. This time a vision of his kids being raised by someone else while a father they barely remembered rotted alone in prison.

Prison.

Once the inmates found out what he’d done—or rather their third-grade understanding of the process—he’d probably be stabbed. Or beaten to death with bars of soap wrapped in towels. Not to mention rape. Surely he’d be raped. That went without saying. If they didn’t kill him right off, they’d all want to drive their dicks into him …

He caught himself.
Don’t start. Once you think you’re beaten, you are.

He could salvage this yet. The key was Rosko. He had to find him, silence him. Once he did that, he was sure he’d be able to control Sheila. He’d explain the bug as overzealousness on Shen’s part. But if she ever found out about the recording … thank God it had been erased.

And where the
hell
was Rosko?

Bill had called him last night from a blocked cell phone at exactly six. No answer. Then again at 6:02, 6:05, 6:10. He never answered.

He’d checked with Lieutenant Zacks to see if they’d been able to trace Rosko’s phone, but no—he’d never turned it on.

Damn the man! Where could he be?

Then it hit him: Sheila’s?

Bill walked out of Abra’s great room and into the hall.

“Can we tap Doctor Takamura’s home phone?”

“
Not in this weather
,” Shen said. “
Not without Doctor Sheila knowing. Need light, need time. Would need better equipment
.”

Shit.

“All right then, I want you to watch her house all night.”

“
But sir
—”

Bill felt a surge of anger. “No arguments! I’m here with my sister and we are both sure that Rosko won’t go out during the day; but he’ll feel safer at night. If you see him enter Takamura’s house, or spot him through a window, call me. If you see him come out, follow him. Whatever you do, do not call the police. Am I making myself clear?”

“
Yessir.”

“Excellent. Get to it.”

Bill jabbed the OFF button and turned to find Abra staring up at him from her wheelchair.

“Do not call the police about what?”

Oh, Christ.

“I was telling Shen not to call the police about the flooding in the parking lot. I don’t want people thinking that Tethys can’t take care of its own.”

Lame … Christ, that was lame.

Abra stared at him. “Really.”

He saw questions, doubt in her eyes.

Don’t you turn against me too, he thought. I’m doing this all for you. Someday you’ll understand the sacrifices I’ve made for you and your dream—or at least a version of it … mine and Mama’s.

Paul couldn’t read in the dark and turning on the light in the bathroom so he could read would also turn on the fan. Hadn’t thought of that until Coogan switched on the light the first time and the loud hum filled the room. No one was in the building as far as he knew but he couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t do anything in the dark but sleep, and that wasn’t an option. Until this was over he doubted he’d sleep at all. He felt like a caged animal.

Some father, some protector. So far he’d done nothing but put the two people he cared most about in danger. He’d been sitting here at the IV offices for hours, trying to work out a plan. And coming up empty.

Gilchrist was out of town, which was too bad because Paul was dying to beat the shit out of him. Shake him up, knock him around until he told who Lee Swann was. And once he did, he’d smash his face in for killing Sheila’s husband. Paul smiled. Okay, he wouldn’t really do that because he was trying to stay out of prison. But God, he’d like to.

On the other hand, Gilchrist was probably the only thing standing between Swann and Sheila. Taking out Gilchrist might doom Sheila.

Not to mention that if Paul showed his face anywhere around Tethys he’d be arrested on the spot.

He needed to talk to Sheila and Coog and assure himself that they were okay, but didn’t dare turn on the cell. And he didn’t dare risk using the IV phone in case Swann called to check the answering machine and got a busy signal.

He stared out the window at the darkness and listened to the pelting rain. It afforded some cover—not as much as snow would, but better than nothing. He had to get out of here. A basement office was the worst place to be in a flood. Water was seeping in from everywhere and the Berber carpet was spongy and starting to smell like mildew. The stench and cabin fever was fogging his brain; maybe a drive would clear his head.

Maybe he’d drive by Sheila’s place. Sneak in the back again. A quick visit and he’d come back here refreshed.

Paul stepped up on the chair and heaved himself out the first floor window, the only exit he trusted now. Water gushed in. He hoisted himself over the soaking, muddy grass line, slipping through the muck. His hands and knees were covered. He looked around. Coast was clear. He slid the window most of the way closed. More water would leak in, but if he shut it too tight, he might get locked out.

He walked down the street to his car and drove to McDonald’s. Again he blessed the drive-thru. He was shaking from lack of sleep and worry. Food, especially the high-fat, high-protein variety, would calm him. He bought a grilled chicken meal. The friendly voice coerced him into a fruit yogurt parfait and a few packages of cookies too. That much sugar would surely keep him awake.

He wolfed down the sandwich and fries as he drove. When he coasted up to Sheila’s he saw a car parked on the road in clear view of her house. Someone was sitting in it. Watching? Not a police car unless it was unmarked.

He drove by and scanned the streets for a public phone. The one on Main Street was too conspicuous. A mile away he found another near the Catholic Church. A sign?

He glanced around the darkened street. No sign of life. No houses close by. And no one in the church lot. He parked his car sideways to hide his plates. With his hood on, standing in the rain, no one would recognize him.

Sheila couldn’t sit still. That disc. Dek’s murder. The message Hal Silberman had scrawled on Tanesha’s file:
Changing the World One Person at a Time.
Kelly Slade sitting in the examining room, a wispy white woman in a black woman’s skin …

And Abra—dear little Abra—the last time she’d seen her … lying through her teeth. How much did she know?

Hated to even think it, but she couldn’t trust Abra.

Sheila sniffed the pot of noodles and beef. Dinner in a box. Not her usual fare but the lasagna wannabe smelled pretty good. Hearty was the only way to describe it. Coogan would like it.

As she called Coog over to the table, the phone rang. She watched the caller ID. “Pay phone.”

Paul.

Instead of hello, she said, “Listen, before you say anything, don’t tell me where you are. Don’t even say your name. I found a bug in my office today.”

She heard a deep intake of breath on the other end. Then a reply.

“They’re watching from all angles. There’s someone parked in front of your house.”

She squinted out the window but couldn’t see anyone.

“Stay away from the windows. Do you catch my drift? Stay away from the windows unless the curtains are pulled.”

Drift? What drift?

Coog! He didn’t want to say Coog’s name.

She looked around and gasped when she saw the boy standing before the bay window. She’d meant to shut the blinds. How had she forgotten?

She covered the mouthpiece with her palm and waved her free arm.

“Coogan, over here! Quick!”

She motioned him toward the table in the corner.

She stretched the cord into the windowless hall. She couldn’t let Coog know she was speaking to his dad. He’d want to say something. And if the line was tapped …

But she wanted to stay on the line, needed to talk to Paul, hear his voice.

“How you holding up over there?” Paul asked. “You okay?”

“We—I’m okay. Staying dry and inside.”

She wanted to talk in code but her mind was blanking. Even if she could think, what could she convey? That she was terrified? Wished he was there with her? He knew that.

Inspiration struck.

“That puppy I’m watching for my friend, he’s doing great. I thought he’d be afraid in a new house but he’s fine.” Her eyes welled up. “He’s a brave little puppy. He misses his owner I bet, but he’s acting fine. ”

“That’s good to hear.” Paul’s voice softened. Maybe even choked. “You never know with puppies.”

She wished they could really talk.

Paul said, “Gotta go now. Can’t stay here too long. Have to get back to work. You be careful.”

“I will. You too.”

She hung up and took a deep breath.

For the hundredth time she checked the locks on all the doors and windows. She shut every blind and curtain. She was creeped out but knew one thing she could do that might help them—at least until FDA investigators started swarming the campus—and that was to identify Lee Swann.

Paul had written two phone numbers on her kitchen scratch pad. The first was the phone at IV where she could reach him in case of emergency—but
only
in emergency. The second was the number that had called in to the answering machine—the fax machine with the Tethys address. That was the one that could help them.

Sheila moved close to Coogan and lowered her voice. She didn’t want to frighten him but he needed to know.

“Someone is watching the house. Stay away from the windows. They might see your silhouette.” Then, limiting how much information she gave him, she added, “I got called into work and have to leave for a little while. Don’t answer the phone or the door. Your dad called. He’s fine and he loves you. I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.”

His bit his lip and his eyes teared. “Didn’t he want to talk to me?”

“Yes but the phone might be tapped. He doesn’t want anyone to know you’re here.”

If he was shaken, he hid it well. He nodded.

“You be careful,” he said.

It touched her. The same words his father had spoken. She hugged him, then started for the closet to bundle up and head down to Tethys.

Li Shen started his car again. He would run it just long enough to warm up the interior and clear the fogged windows. He didn’t want his exhaust fumes to announce that the car was occupied.

He returned his attention to Dr. Sheila’s house and raised his Leica Duovid field glasses. Her picture window swam into view again.

Swam … very appropriate. In all his life Shen had never seen rain such as this. So much for so long. Even at 12X he could see little through the downpour. He had spotted Sheila a number of times through the bay window.

He rested his elbows against the door to steady his hands. At this magnification the image tended to wobble. He wondered how long Dr. Gilchrist wanted him out here. All night?

Shen stifled a yawn. He began to lower the glasses to rub his burning eyes when a different figure appeared in the window. Not Dr. Sheila. No, this was a male, but too small for Rosko. A boy? His son, perhaps?

As Shen tried for better focus, the figure ducked out of view. Then the blinds went down. He saw a shadow of the added blockage of curtains falling as well. Jotting down the time and his impressions, he watched a while longer but could see nothing of the inside. From the way the figure had darted from view, Shen assumed the boy had either realized that he was exposed or was told to get away from the window.

He decided to call Dr. Gilchrist. He put down the binoculars and had his finger poised over the speed-dial number when he saw Dr. Sheila’s car’s reverse lights go on. Troublesome rain! He had missed her exiting the house. Her car backed out the driveway and headed for the road. Shen slammed his car into reverse and backed up until he was around a bend and not visible from her driveway. If she drove his way, she’d see him. He prayed she would turn the other way.

He waited but no car came around the bend. Leaving his lights off, he put his car into motion. Ahead, down the slope, he spotted Dr. Sheila’s taillights and followed her.

Was she going to meet Paul Rosko? He hoped so. To end this once and for all would be a relief. He could call the police and they could take him. Then
Ji
ù-zhù-zh
e
and Dr. Gilchrist would finally stop asking him for special projects.