Critical Judgment (1996)

by Michael Palmer

  "Killing someone wouldn't have made anything all right. Josh, you're sick. You've been poisoned--with cadmium. You need help. You need treatment."

  "Are you two lovers?"

  "Josh--"

  "Are you?"

  "No."

  "You are! I can tell."

  "Will you please put that gun down? Josh, we've got to get you to a hospital."

  Josh rubbed at his eyes again and stumbled back a step. This time, when Abby gently implored him to sit down, he did so. The semiautomatic was awkwardly heavy for her. She set it aside, then knelt beside him and supported him with her arm around his shoulders. She could smell alcohol on his breath and clothes.

  "Are the headaches bad?" she asked.

  Josh buried his face in his hands, then pressed in at his temples.

  "I can't take them anymore.... If I had killed Bricker and Gentry, they ... would be gone.... Why did you stop me?"

  "I didn't want you to kill, that's why. Josh, where's the Jeep?"

  "In the woods ... a mile from here.... It's out of gas."

  Abby cursed under her breath. There was probably a filled gasoline can somewhere around the barn or in one of the sheds. But no doubt the Jeep was a police target as well. Whether they ended up trying for San Francisco or Feather Ridge, their best bet was clearly the truck. But with no key, that meant dealing with Alvarez.

  Perhaps that's the way it should be, she thought.

  She looked down at Josh and wondered how much he could be counted on. With surprise and Alvarez's rifle or Josh's gun on her side, it was just possible she wouldn't need him.

  She found a coil of clothesline hanging on the wall and some duct tape on a shelf. She set them both beside the truck. Then she stripped off the tarp, smashed in the driver's-side window with the hammer, and used the ski mask to sweep the fragments of glass onto the hay-strewn floor. Across from her, Josh was now slumped against the wall, asleep or unconscious.

  Abby hefted the high-powered rifle, then pulled open the magazine, loaded it with three rounds, and used the bolt to thrust one bullet into the firing chamber. As a kid, she had done a little riflery in summer camp--strictly twenty-twos. But since then, the only time she had ever pulled the trigger of a gun was in amusement parks. She opened the barn door and peered through the telescopic sight at the rooster weather vane mounted on the roof of the house. The metal head of the bird, a dark shadow against the lighter sky, filled the scope. The O in Stanford--that's what Gould had said the sniper could have hit had he wanted to. Now she understood. She took a step through the door to shield Josh from the noise. Then she braced herself, set the crosshairs on where it seemed the rooster's eye might be, and fired. The recoil was like a heavyweight punch to her shoulder, but she was balanced for it. Almost on top of the sharp report from the rifle, there was a muted clang. The vane spun like a pinwheel.

  Piece of cake.

  Abby stepped back inside the barn. Josh stared at her briefly with exhausted eyes, then slumped back against the wall. Abby set a new shell in the chamber and laid the rifle down by the rope. Then she fished out her wallet from the pocket of her slicker, found the slip with Ezra Black's number on it, and called. She wondered if, at this hour, Black would answer his own phone.

  "Feather Ridge," a cultured voice said.

  Abby pictured the skeletal houseman.

  "This is Dr. Abby Dolan. I'd like to speak with Mr. Black."

  "Is this an emergency?"

  "It is."

  "One moment, please."

  In fact, it was almost a minute before Black came on the line. There was no hint in his voice that he had been sleeping. And Abby sensed from his first words that he was well aware she had penetrated the lab.

  "So, Doctor, did you abuse your degree with the operator again, or do I have to get this number changed?"

  "You can keep it."

  "Might I ask how you came by it?"

  "We have more important things to talk about, Mr. Black."

  "Such as?"

  "I'm in some trouble here in Patience."

  "So I've been told. Attempted murder is a very serious charge."

  "Kelly Franklin and I were on the same side. We both wanted to get at the truth. There's no way I would have hurt her. It was Lyle Quinn who tried to kill her."

  The momentary silence that followed was telltale. Black didn't know! Quinn might or might not have told him about Abby's finding the lab but had not been honest about Kelly.

  "And just who tried to kill Mr. Quinn?" he asked.

  This time the silent pause was Abby's.

  "A man who was trying to save my life. What's Quinn's status?"

  "His assistant told me that his knee has been shattered by an arrow from a high-powered bow. He's going to require surgery."

  In spite of her situation and her sensibilities, Abby smiled at the news.

  "He tried to kill Kelly Franklin. And I'm certain his men are out looking to kill me right now."

  "Is that what you called to say?"

  "No. I need you to call off Captain Gould and the rest of the people who are after me."

  "If you're wanted by the police, Dr. Dolan, I would suggest the prudent thing to do would be to give yourself up."

  "I don't feel safe doing that. Mr. Black, you impressed me as being tough, but not the sort of man who would allow his employees to go out and murder people."

  "I'm not."

  "In that case I don't think Lyle Quinn has told you everything. I'm calling now because I have a trade to offer."

  "Go on."

  "Sir, I spoke to you yesterday about my belief that your son was inadvertently poisoned with cadmium by some sort of accident at the plant."

  "And I told you what I thought of your theory."

  "And you were right. I know now that there was nothing inadvertent about it, and that it wasn't Colstar's fault. Ethan was intentionally poisoned. I have absolute proof of how, who, and why. Mr. Black, your son was no more responsible for assaulting that farmer with a baseball bat than he was for jumping out that window."

  Abby could feel Black dissecting her revelation about the farmer. It didn't take him long.

  "Dr. DeShield will feel the sting of abusing his relationship with me," he said. "And I will have this number changed."

  "Mr. Black, we're talking about your son and his murderer."

  "And exactly what is it you want from me in exchange for your information?"

  "I want the dogs who are chasing me called off. I want something done about the laboratory in the old Patience mine. And I want justice for Lyle Quinn for whatever happens to Kelly Franklin."

  This time the silence was prolonged.

  "Have you anything else to say to me?" Black asked finally.

  Abby felt her hopes sink. She had clearly read the man wrong.

  "No," she said. "That's it."

  "Well, first of all, if the police have a warrant out for your arrest, it would behoove you to turn yourself in before you get hurt. Second, I know nothing about any laboratory in a mine. And as far as Mr. Quinn goes, his situation is no different from your own. If he's charged with a crime, he will have to answer for it. In the meantime, as far as I know, he is not. I'm his employer, not his judge, jury, or executioner."

  "Good-bye, Mr. Black."

  "If what you're saying about my son is true, Doctor, I promise you that one way or the other I'll find out."

  The thinly veiled threat was chilling, but Abby's frustration and anger quickly overrode any fear.

  "Not before a lot of people find out about Mark Corman and that underground lab," she snapped. "Think over my offer. I might call you back later."

  "Do what you wish, Dr. Dolan."

  Abby slammed the phone down on the seat. Black's final words had left the door slightly ajar for her to call him again. But her friends in San Francisco were a far safer bet. Just then she heard the thumping rotors of a helicopter not far overhead. She raced past Josh and through the door. A good-sized helicopter,
landing lights on, was swooping over the valley toward the hospital. MedFlight! Assuming they were coming to transport Kelly to a decompression chamber, Lew would be home before long.

  Abby knelt beside Josh and assured herself that his carotid pulses were decent. Then she checked his pupils. They were nearly pinpoint. Almost certainly he had augmented whatever he had been drinking with narcotic painkillers.

  "Josh," she whispered, shaking him gently. "Josh, wake up. I need to talk to you."

  He stirred, then opened his eyes dreamily.

  "Leave me alone," he muttered.

  "Josh, listen. It was Dr. Alvarez who did this to you. He poisoned you with the cadmium. He did it when he sewed up your leg. Remember?"

  Josh's sleepy eyes widened.

  "Why?"

  "He thought Colstar was trying to cover up a cadmium spill by faking lab results. He thought they were succeeding because none of the exposure cases was terribly sick. So he decided to create cases that would be seriously ill enough to indict the company and close it down."

  And of course, she thought, but didn't bother to add, he also created an ally in one Abby Dolan--a sap who would be certain the blood work was sent off to the right place and the battle against Colstar would escalate.

  Josh struggled to his feet.

  "Where is he now?"

  "He'll be home soon. But we don't want to hurt him. The law will do that. With the proof I have, I promise you they will. Understand?"

  For the first time Abby felt she saw a spark of life in Josh's eyes.

  "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

  Abby called the ER and was told that Dr. Alvarez was outside at the helipad, helping to load Kelly Franklin onto the MedFlight chopper for a trip to the hyperbaric chamber in Castro Valley. She insisted that her call was an emergency and waited until Alvarez came on the line.

  "God, but I've been worried about you," he said in a near whisper. "The police have been here twice asking about you. I think they're still around. Where are you?"

  "I'm at a phone booth at Five Corners."

  "I'll pick you up there."

  "No! I mean, I told a guy here that my car had broken down. He's waiting to take me to your place. Just meet me there. I'll wait by the barn."

  "I'll be there in five minutes. If you wait inside the barn, be careful not to go walking around. There are rotting floorboards all over the place."

  Abby glanced over at the pickup.

  "Thanks for the warning," she said.

  "Abby, the news on Kelly is good. She's lighter. Much lighter. I think the steroids are kicking in. Med-Flight's just taking off with her. Apparently the decompression chamber is ready."

  "What about Quinn?"

  "Did that hermit Ives do that to his leg?"

  "Do what?"

  "He was shot with an arrow--the same sort of arrow Ives makes. His kneecap is shattered. I mean blown to bits. The arrow went right through it, then right through the joint. It may have severed the popliteal artery. Ortho's in with him now. So's the vascular team. They may not be able to save the leg."

  "Ives did what he had to, to save my life. Lew, I've got to get going. I'll see you at the farm."

  "I'm so glad you're all right, darling."

  "I know you are, Lew. Hurry home and I'll tell you what I found."

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Five minutes. Abby felt wired--the same tense anticipation as she had felt so many times in the ER.

  We are on our way to your facility with Priority One traffic. Repeat, Priority One traffic. Our ETA is five minutes....

  Organize the troops. Start thinking through treatment protocols. Check off a mental list of potential problems and responses. And above all, no matter how shaky you're feeling, get ready to be composed--prepare to be the eye of the storm.

  Her mouth unpleasantly dry, Abby swung open the large front doors of the barn and positioned the rifle just a few feet inside, in the deep shadow between two rough-hewn supports. Then she returned to the truck, set the plastic garbage bag on the floor in the cab, and helped Josh up onto the cargo bay. He was definitely too weak, too ill, to rely upon, except perhaps for helping to tie up Alvarez once she had the rifle pointed squarely at him.

  As a precaution, she tore off several two-foot lengths of duct tape and hung them on the door of the truck. Then she made a loop and slip knot at one end of the clothesline. If she had to work alone, she would be ready.

  "It's almost over, Josh," she said, handing him his gun. "A few more minutes, and we'll be headed to the city. We'll go straight to St. John's. Once they get you on treatment, you're going to feel much better."

  Josh propped himself up against the metal side wall, steadied the gun with two hands, and aimed it at a spot in the darkness.

  "Ka-pow!" he whispered.

  "Please, honey. Please don't do anything except wait. I want to take him with us and hand him over to the police in San Francisco. So, please, just keep out of the way.... Promise? ... Josh, I'm begging you."

  "Promise," he muttered.

  He rubbed at his eyes again and shook his head as if trying to dislodge claws that were piercing his brain.

  Abby hopped down from the truck. With the front doors open, light from the outside illuminated most of the barn. She made certain the wooden wall of the stall kept the pickup from being spotted from the doorway.

  "Stay still and stay quiet," she whispered.

  She moved to the front of the barn, leaned against the siding, and waited. Five minutes went by. Then another five. Nothing. She left her post and hurried back to check on Josh. He was still sitting, but he was asleep, his head lolling to one shoulder. His hands were still wrapped around the grip of his gun. Just as well, she thought.

  Abby checked her watch again. For the first time a knot of panic began to tighten in her chest. Something was wrong. She stepped outside the barn and peered down the driveway. Another five minutes passed. Alvarez had said five minutes. Now it was more than fifteen.

  She had placed the rifle in the shadows for surprise. Now, suddenly, she felt as if she needed it for protection. She turned toward the back of the barn and gasped. Alvarez was standing behind her, not five feet away, grinning at her arrogantly.

  "I know you too well, Abby," he said. "I've known you inside out since the day we met. That's why you've been so easy to control. You didn't sound quite like yourself when you called me from the so-called pay phone. And there was no traffic noise in the background. So just in case, I decided to come up an old logging road and walk across the fields to the door back there. I notice you broke the window in my kitchen door."

  "Just to use the phone."

  "How I wish I could believe that. I also noticed my old pickup over there is uncovered. Is that the phone you used? I assume tonight you stumbled on it by accident and recognized it from that day on the road. That's why you broke into the house."

  Without taking a step Abby took a quick, vicious kick at Alvarez's groin. Before she connected, he snapped one hand down and caught her ankle. Then he twisted her foot until she fell heavily to the floor.

  "You know," he said, "I was going to have that truck painted sometime before you asked to move in with me. Now I guess I don't have to bother."

  "I would never have moved in with you."

  "As I said, I know you like a book. Two or three weeks ago, before your friend Wyler even moved out on you, I circled tomorrow's date on my calendar. That was the day we were going to become lovers."

  "Go to hell."

  Abby forced her eyes to remain locked on his. The rifle was just a few feet away, but Alvarez hadn't spotted it. He hadn't discovered Josh yet, either. Perhaps if she could just head him toward the house and make some noise, she might be able to wake Josh up.

  "You hurt a lot of people," she said. "A number of them are dead."

  "You were in my house. I assume you saw pictures of my village. This is war. In war there are casualties. I want to know how you got from the hospital to Col
star, and what you found there that upset Lyle Quinn so."

  "The police have been up here twice looking for me. They're due again any minute."

  Alvarez snatched her wrist, yanked her to her feet, and twisted her arm high behind her back. Abby cried out in pain. Tears instantly filled her eyes.

  "I asked you a question," he said, forcing her deeper into the barn.

  "Let go of me!" she screamed.

  Alvarez released some of the tension on her arm. They were moving closer and closer to the truck.

  "Tell me!" he snapped.

  "You were wrong all the time," she said loudly. "Wrong! It was never cadmium. They have a lab down there set up for testing sarin, phosgene, and a bunch of newer chemical weapons, and for trying out antidotes to them."

  "They put the gas in through the MRI?"

  "Yes! Now let me go!"

  She shouted the words again. It was no use. Apparently Josh was comatose.

  "Did you take things from Gabriella's room upstairs?" He twisted her arm even more viciously than before. "Did you?"

  "In the truck," she sobbed.

  Alvarez eased the force on her arm and dragged her several feet closer to the pickup. One or two more steps and there was no way he could avoid spotting Josh sprawled in the back. All Abby could think about now was the weapon in Josh's lap. Which would give her the better chance--trying to rouse him somehow, or trying to pull free and vault into the cargo bay herself? She decided to do both.

  "Josh!"

  She screamed the word at the same instant she yanked her arm free and dived headfirst over the side wall of the pickup. The metal rim caught her at the waist, sending pain screaming from her pelvic bones. The cargo bay was empty. Alvarez whirled, caught her by the leg, and threw her back to the floor. She rolled away from him, over and over, until she was well outside the stall. Alvarez came after her quickly, but he was still several feet away when Josh stepped out of the dimness on the far side of the truck.

  "Hold it!" he ordered.

  There was little strength in Josh's voice. Alvarez stopped short and turned slowly, his hands open in front of him. Abby scrambled to her feet. She could see that Josh was able to stand only because his back was braced against the wall. He was struggling to keep his gun trained on Alvarez's chest.