A coffee table in the living room was askew from the other furniture, but otherwise things appeared normal. I wasn’t fooled. The smell of death filled the place.
Cynthia’s body lay behind the couch near the hallway to the bedrooms. She had one hole in her forehead, and a shocked expression on her face.
The Campbell’s cottage was about an hour west of the city. Cottage, of course, was a relative term. I’d seen the blueprints, and the cottage was about the size of Diane Sheridan’s house. I raced out to my motorcycle and headed for the freeway.
Two trucks on the freeway had some sort of computer glitch and ran into each other. Even on the bike, there wasn’t room to get past. I sat and steamed for an hour waiting for the wreckage to clear. I should have asked Blaine for an aircar, even if I didn’t get to keep it. By the time I got underway again, I was at least two hours behind Diane.
I left the highway and drove along the country lane that led to Campbell’s cottage. About two miles away, I topped a ridge and saw smoke in the distance. By the time I reached the driveway, it was obvious my destination was the fire. Pulling into the driveway, I left the motorcycle, even though I had another half-mile to go. If the forest caught, I wanted the bike away from it.
The cottage was merrily burning, and had been for some time. The building was a total loss. I circled around and found a path through the woods.
As Cynthia said, the barn was about a hundred yards away. I expected a barn, old and big and made of wood. Instead, I found a modern one-story metal building. I drew my pistol, blurred my form, and crept closer.
The report of a pistol, one shot, sent me diving behind a tree. I crept forward, moving slowly so that I matched my surroundings. As I reached the building, I heard two more shots from inside.
I crawled around to the front door, and when I opened it, I smelled smoke, new smoke, not that of the burning house behind me. The smoke inside had more of a chemical tinge. I cautiously edged into the room and toward a hall that led farther into the building. I heard the sound of footsteps, then a door opening and closing.
Pulling on my gas mask, I cautiously worked my way through the building, but as I turned down a hall, I stopped short at the body lying there.
Liam Campbell was dead, shot three times in the torso. The smoke was getting thicker, and I didn’t see any reason for me to explore farther. I made my way back outside and saw Diane Sheridan at the edge of the clearing, a pistol in her hand. She must have heard me because she turned around and raised the gun.
“You’re Elizabeth Nelson, aren’t you?” she called. She didn’t point the gun directly at me, or make any other threatening moves.
“Yes. Diane Sheridan, I presume?”
She gave me a half-bow. “Thank you for warning my brother. Unfortunately, he went to Campbell, and that was a mistake.”
“I figured you were the brains behind this operation,” I said, “and now you’re the only one left.”
“So it seems. The brains? You flatter me. If I was smarter, I would never have let Liam talk me into it.”
“Your brother invented the drugs, but Campbell was his boss. Doctor Sheridan needed you to supply test subjects. What did they talk you into? Selling it on the black market?”
“Oh, no, that was my idea, but I wanted to sell it to a different market.”
I thought about it for a few moments. “More upscale. Older.”
“You are a sharp girl. Yes, the yacht crowd, the investor class, the C-level society set. You could charge ten times as much per dose. You wouldn’t have the distribution problems or have to split the money with so many people, so many stupid, greedy people.”
“My chemist suggested that it should be diluted fifty percent,” I told her. “You would be able to still charge the same amount, and not have to worry about overdoses.”
She nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“What now?” I asked, my hand tightening on the grip of my pistol.
“I walk away, you walk away. With the lab and Campbell gone, the drug will dry up.”
“There’s still a lot of it out there. You could stop the deaths if you tell me who is distributing it. Besides, the genie is out. Someone will analyze it and figure out how to make it.”
“Perhaps. There are a couple of tricky steps, and if you don’t stabilize it properly, it deteriorates rather quickly. As to the distribution, I never wanted to know about that step. I told you, I disagreed with what they were doing.”
“But you still know how to make it,” I said. The building behind me was getting uncomfortably hot, and I moved away from it to my right. Diane watched me but didn’t make any threatening moves.
“Oh, yes, I know how to make it. I can always rent a lab to make a batch or two. I’m not the brilliant research scientist my brother was, but I am a doctor and I am a competent lab technician. My big score, though, will be selling the final product to another drug company.”
“The pills. The aphrodisiac that isn’t psychoactive,” I said.
“You are smart. We should get together some time.”
“I don’t think drugs are how I want to make my money.”
“Oh, well. Good luck to you.” She turned and walked away through the woods. I watched her go, then pulled out my phone, called the emergency number, and reported the fires. I figured someone should come out and make sure the forest didn’t catch. There were a lot of other homes in the area.
Then I called Wil and told him about the lab and the Campbells’ deaths.
Chapter 20
Ron called the next day and asked if I had time for lunch. That was a bit out of character.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I have a surprise for you.”
Okay. It wasn’t my birthday, and I doubted he was pregnant, but I decided to play along. We made arrangements to meet at a place near his home.
I parked my motorcycle and started around the corner to the café’s entrance when a young woman about my age stepped in front of me. The pistol in her hand grabbed my attention. Something cold and hard and about the diameter of a pistol barrel pressed against the back of my head.
“Don’t move. Don’t do anything unless I tell you to,” Ron said close to my ear. A hand pressed down on my shoulder. “Turn ninety degrees to your left and walk toward the car with the open door.”
They hustled me into Alice Alderette’s back seat, and the four of us took off. The woman I didn’t recognize sat in the front seat and kept her gun pointed at me. Ron never took the muzzle of his gun away from my head.
“You don’t know who I am, do you?” the woman asked.
I didn’t answer.
“I’m Jennifer Blaine. You killed my father.”
I knew Gareth was divorced, but I never thought to check into his children.
“You’re going to tell us exactly what you’re investigating, and what you told your friend Wilbur,” Ron said. “Whether I give you to Jenny depends on how cooperative you are. She’s very upset with you. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I managed, though my mouth was so dry that it came out as a croak. I could all too easily imagine my brains splashed across the inside of that car.
I managed to beat down the panic that came close to paralyzing me and tried to envision my options. My dad and Wil were the only people I could imagine riding to my rescue. I bit down on the signal device in my mouth and prayed that Wil was paying attention.
“Start talking,” Jenny said.
“What do you want to know?”
“Why did Wilberforce order drones to follow Ron and Alice?” Jenny asked.
“Because they’re shipping drugs.”
“Oh? And how did you find that out?” Ron asked.
“I saw her deliver them to you. I figured you’re shipping them in the coffins I saw near the door that night.”
Alice half-turned and spat, “You left a shipment out in the open where anyone could see it? Damn it, Ron, how stupid can you get?”
&
nbsp; “It wasn’t out in the open,” he replied. “The truck was coming in the morning before we opened.”
“No one could see it except whatever bimbo you dragged home that night.” Jenny said.
I didn’t object to being called a bimbo. As long as they didn’t pull any triggers, they could call me anything they wanted to.
“Why did you order Cynthia Campbell and Sophia Gonzales followed?” Alice asked. By this time, I could see we were driving toward the funeral home, the perfect place to dispose of a body. The day was not going well.
“I saw you having lunch with them,” I said.
Alice and Jenny exchanged a glance.
“Why were you watching my place?” Ron asked. He still hadn’t relaxed, and the gun barrel still pressed against my temple.
“When I saw Sophia having lunch with Alice and Cynthia, and subsequently found out you were Brian Gonzales’s cousin, I remembered those coffins with shipping labels. Then later I saw you at dinner with Sophia. Too many coincidences. I figured you were shipping the drugs, so I watched to see how you got them.”
“Well, Dad was right about one thing,” Jenny said. “You’re definitely smarter than Wilbur. I don’t think he’d have ever figured it out.”
“I wish he had,” I said. “I’d much rather you were pointing a gun at his head than mine.”
Please, Wilbur, be listening. And hurry.
Ron pulled me out of the car and pushed me toward the back door of his mortuary. The last thing I wanted to do was go through that door. Joining the dead people I’d seen in there seemed like the worst idea in the world. I stumbled, put out my hand to catch myself, and pulled free from his grasp.
I rolled when I hit the ground. The report of a pistol shattered the quiet of the neighborhood, and I twisted to the side. The pistol fired again, small caliber, probably Jenny’s. The bullet kicked up asphalt a few inches from me.
“Hold it right there or I’ll blow your head off,” Ron shouted.
I glanced his way and saw his gun pointed directly at me. I froze.
A shot sounded from off to my right, and Ron’s head exploded. I rolled away and felt a sting in my hand as Jenny fired again. The sound of a second shot from my right coincided with Jenny spinning around and falling to the ground.
I gathered my legs under me, crouched, and readied myself to spring in any direction. Ron was obviously dead, and Jenny was out of commission. Alice stood watching with an expression of terror on her face. I leaped in her direction. She stood frozen until I almost reached her, then she turned as if to run. Wrapping my arms around her and pinning her arms to her side, I lifted her off her feet.
She kicked at me with her heels, and for the first time, I felt anger rather than fear. Two long strides took me to the building, and I slammed her into the wall, pulled back, and slammed her again. She went limp, and I let go of her, wound my left hand in her hair and punched her in the nose as hard as I could.
It felt so good that I drew my fist back to hit her again, but someone caught my arm. I whirled about in a roundhouse kick designed to knock someone’s head off, but Wil ducked and blocked my foot with his forearm.
“Hey, hold on, Libby. It’s over.”
I glared at him, then all the adrenaline I couldn’t release hit, and I started shaking. My legs gave way, and I sank to the ground next to the lump that was Alice Alderette.
Wil leaned over and took me by the arms, pulling me to my feet and wrapping me in a hug. He felt warm, and solid, and safe. Over his shoulder, I saw men with rifles and vests labeled SWAT in large yellow letters.
Someone was screaming, “Medic.”
“I’m okay,” I said. It was hard to talk because my teeth were chattering.
“You may be okay, but that woman is still alive.” I gathered he meant Jenny. He looked down at Alice. “I think they probably need to look at her, also.”
I saw a lot of blood on Alice’s face.
“Bitch needed a nose job,” I said, but my shaky voice made the joke fall flat.
A man with a red-cross armband walked up and said, “Let me see that hand.”
I held out my right hand, the one I’d punched Alice with. I hadn’t even skinned my knuckles. “It’s fine.” I held it up. “See?”
“I meant the other hand.”
The back of my left hand had a hole in it that was pouring blood. Turning it over, I discovered a hole in the other side as well. Shards of jagged bone poked out of the hole.
“Oh. Damn! That hurts!” The world turned a little gray. I suddenly felt light-headed and swayed into Wil’s chest. He helped me sit down as the medic held a jet injector to my forearm and triggered a shot. I felt immediately better, and the pain faded.
“I thought she missed me,” I said.
“She almost did,” the medic said, “and she almost nailed you square. Are you a glass half-empty or a glass half-full kind of girl?”
I thought about it. “I’m a grateful kind of girl.” I turned my face up to Wil. “Thank you.”
Wil’s team searched the premises and found the drugs in the upstairs bedroom. Jennifer Blaine had taken a rifle bullet in her left shoulder. They put her in one ambulance and me in another. Alice didn’t rate an ambulance. Wil said they were taking her back to Chamber headquarters and calling her husband to come get her.
“You’re not letting her go, are you? What you should do is call Alonzo Donofrio to come get her.”
Wil looked thoughtful.
“Call my dad and talk to him.”
He nodded. “Okay. I’m still calling her husband. I think it’ll be easier than hunting him down.” They closed the ambulance door and made me lie down as we drove away.
The doctors insisted on knocking me out. I felt worse when I woke up than I did before I went to sleep.
The first thing I saw was Mom. Dad sat in his chair behind her. I croaked something and she handed me a cup full of ice chips. They tasted so good I wanted to buy the company that made them.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked.
“Like crap. What did they do to me?”
“Anesthesia,” Dad said. “You’ll feel better as soon as it finishes wearing off. As for your hand, they grafted in two artificial bones, along with three muscles and two tendons from a cadaver. You’re going to have about a six-month rehab before you can use it the way you used to.”
I lifted the white club at the end of my left arm. “No rope climbing?”
“Not for a while, but the doctors said you should completely recover.”
“I’m thinking of sending Glenda over to help you until you can use the hand again,” Mom said. My first reaction was to say no, but then I thought about it. How many things required two hands? I decided to think about it some more before I said no.
“Well, that’ll teach me to get shot. Who’s paying?”
“The Chamber is,” Mom said. “You’re in University Hospital. The best hand surgeon in the city did the work.”
I sensed someone at the door and looked up to see Wil. “Hey. It’s the cavalry.”
He came in the room. “You scared the hell out of me. What happened? How did they capture you?”
“Ron called and asked me to lunch. When I got there, they pulled guns on me, forced me into Alice’s car, and drove me to the funeral home. I don’t think they planned on letting me leave.”
Wil pursed his lips. “It’s my fault. You asked if the Chamber people were solid. I wasn’t aware that Jennifer Blaine was in charge of the Chamber’s drones. When we ordered surveillance, she knew immediately. That’s why we never got any useable information.”
“How is she?”
“She’s out of surgery, but the doctors say she’ll need at least two more procedures to fix her shoulder. It may never work properly.”
“And Alice?”
He chuckled. “You broke her nose. She’ll be breathing through her mouth for quite a while.”
“Alonzo took her to Saint Michael’s Hospital,” Dad said. �
��He and Wil and I had a long talk. I expect we’ll either hear about Jimmy Alderette on the news sometime soon, or we’ll never hear about him again. As for Alice and Sophia, let’s just say that Alonzo wasn’t pleased.”
“So where does that leave us? Do we know who was distributing the drugs in the other cities? Did the women talk?”
Dad and Wil exchanged an unhappy glance. “No,” Wil said, “we didn’t get a chance to interrogate Alice and Sophia. We’re hoping Jennifer Blaine will talk.”
“Alonzo said he’d let us know if Sophia or Alice know anything,” Dad said.
I’d been in the hospital for a week, and then home for ten days, when the doctor reduced the bandages by a couple of pounds. The hand was still tender, and hurt if I banged it against anything, but I could finally use it to drive. Mom loaned me her car, since she could use any of the three chauffeured limos she owned. I took Glenda out into the country for a picnic. It was the first time in her life to cross the city boundaries of Toronto.
The main purpose of the car, though, was to reach my daily physical therapy appointments. After a week, I was convinced the sweet young therapist was really the last surviving member of the Inquisition.
“Oh,” she said brightly when I complained, “you thought PT meant physical therapist? You almost got it right. It stands for physical terrorist.” And then she laughed.
I spent a lot of our sessions fantasizing painful ways for her to die.
I discovered a lot of things required two hands. Washing my hair for one thing. Dresses were a lot easier than pants, but zipping up could be a problem so I had to choose dresses without back zippers. No shoes with laces. Cooking required two hands, especially for chopping things. That wouldn’t normally be a problem, since I never cooked, but Glenda insisted on showing off her new skills. The kid did a pretty good job with basic stuff. She made a dynamite pizza and some tasty pastries.
Something she couldn’t help with was the computers. I typed fast enough to take dictation on a keyboard, so typing with one hand was frustrating. Voice commands were fine for simple things, but the kind of computer commands I used required a finer touch. The infonet was the only thing that kept me from going totally stir crazy, though. I spent a lot of time teaching Glenda basic computer skills and helping her read the stuff she found online.
Chameleon Assassin (Chameleon Assassin Series Book 1) Page 19