The Chemist

by Stephenie Meyer

  "Alex, Republican or Democrat?" Daniel asked.

  "Pessimist."

  She reached for the other computer, the one with the bugged calls on it, and plugged in her headphones.

  "So nobody cares that the front-runner is some ultra-right senator from Washington State who used to work for the Defense Intelligence Agency?"

  The first call Alex had missed was from the daughter again--she could tell from Carston's warm, fatherly voice. She started fast-forwarding.

  "Makes sense," Val was saying, pulling a rubber band out of her hair. She was wearing sweaty workout clothes and looked like she should be on a Maxim cover anyway. "Howland is soft. Get someone with a conservative edge, pull some voters off the fence. Plus, the new guy is one part grandpa, one part silver fox, with a catchy two-syllable name. Howland could do worse." She shook her golden hair out, and it fell into perfect waves down her back.

  "It's sad, but you're probably right. Just a beauty pageant."

  "Everything is, honey," Val told him.

  Alex stopped to check the recording, but Carston was still just listening and muttering kindly mm-hmms. She sped it up again.

  "I suppose I should get used to it, since I imagine I don't get to vote anymore." Daniel frowned. "Vice President Pace. Do you think he was born with that name, or did he alter it to make it voter-friendly? Wade Pace. Is that something you would name a kid?"

  "I wouldn't name a kid anything," Val said. "Because I would never be dumb enough to bring one home."

  Alex's fingers reached down automatically to stop the recording.

  "What was that?" she asked.

  "Just explaining that I'm not the mom type," Val said.

  "No, Daniel, what was that name?"

  "Senator Pace? Wade Pace?"

  "That name... it sounds familiar."

  "I think everyone knows his name," Daniel said. "He's been positioning himself for this kind of promotion, not exactly low profile."

  "I don't follow politics," Alex said. She stared at the TV now, but it just showed some news anchor. "How much do you know about this guy?"

  "Just the stuff they're running on the news," Daniel answered. "Sterling service record, all the normal cliches."

  "He was military?"

  "Yes, some kind of general, I think."

  "A lieutenant general?"

  "Maybe."

  Kevin was paying attention now. "Wade Pace. Pace with a P. That our guy?"

  Alex stared into space, unconsciously rocking slightly back and forth on her stool. "He's from Washington State... he worked defense intelligence..." She looked up at Kevin. "Let's say the DIA is theoretically exploring some biological-weapons options. This guy's already got some political aspirations, so of course he makes sure the money gets spent in his hometown. They would have had plenty of innocuous goals on the surface--all the outsiders would see was the economic boost. Probably helped get him his seat in the Senate. Great. But then, years later, the fabricated virus is stolen. Obviously, no one can know that he ever had a hand in its creation. No one can know it exists. We track down the bad guys, and they give up too much information. Wade Pace has big dreams. Anyone who heard his name in connection with this virus--"

  "Has to be preemptively silenced," Kevin finished. "And who knows exactly what the too-thorough CIA agent might have seen? Better shut him up, too."

  "Can't take any chances," Alex whispered. "Not when you're reaching this high."

  It was silent for thirty seconds.

  "Wow," Val said, so loudly it made Alex jump. "Are you guys going to assassinate the vice president?" She sounded utterly thrilled by the idea.

  "He's not the vice president yet," Kevin said. "He's nothing, officially. That means no Secret Service."

  Daniel's mouth was hanging open.

  Higher stakes again, but not by so very much. In the end, no matter what else he represented, Wade Pace was just one beating heart.

  Kevin locked eyes with Alex. "So he put a hit out on me, my brother, you, your friend... so he could try to be president. Oh, I'm going to enjoy this one."

  She opened her mouth but then quickly snapped it shut again. It would be a lot easier and safer--for her--to let Kevin do as much of the wet work as possible.

  But there was her anonymity--Daniel's, too, so she might as well lump in Kevin's matching face--which had to be protected above all else if this plan was going to work. Kevin might be better at killing people than she was, but she was pretty sure that she was better at doing it with minimal ripples. If you want something done right...

  "As much as I hate to deprive you of any fun, I think you might want to let me take this one." She shivered slightly. This was probably a big mistake. Was she turning into the adrenaline junkie she'd accused Daniel of being? She didn't think so. She felt nothing but dread at the idea of adding another job to her list. "Quiet is the goal, right? It won't get too much attention if our wannabe president dies of a heart attack or a stroke--not the same coverage as if he were found shot in some kind of home invasion."

  "I can be quiet," Kevin insisted. His eyebrows were pulling down into a scowl.

  "Natural-causes quiet?"

  "Close enough."

  "Close enough puts our other targets on high alert."

  "They're already on high alert."

  "So how do you see this happening?"

  "I'll improvise when I get there."

  "Sound plan."

  "You know how many people die in household accidents every day in this country?"

  "No. But I'm positive that more white men in their early sixties die from health-related problems than from any other reason."

  "Okay, great, a heart attack would be the quietest way for Pace to die, agreed. How are you going to get in, shorty? Knock on the door and ask to borrow a cup of sugar? Be sure to wear your frilly apron--really sell it."

  "I can adapt the Carston plan. I'll just need a few more days of research on Pace--"

  Kevin's hand slapped loudly against the counter. "We don't have that kind of time. We've delayed too long as it is. You know Deavers and Carston aren't wasting the prep time we've already given them."

  "Rushing just leaves openings they can take advantage of. Proper preparation--"

  "You are so annoying!"

  She hadn't realized how close together she and Kevin had gotten--pretty much spitting in each other's face from about six inches away--until Daniel's hand suddenly shot in between them.

  "Can I interrupt to suggest the obvious?" he asked.

  Kevin smacked his hand away. "Stay out of it, Danny."

  Alex took a deep, calming breath. "What's obvious?" she asked Daniel.

  "Alex, you have the best plan for how to... um, assassinate the senator." He shook his head quickly. "I can't believe this is real."

  "It's real," Kevin said harshly. "And I wouldn't call a plan with no entry point the best plan."

  "Let me finish. Alex has the best... methodology. Kevin, you have the best chance of getting in undetected."

  "Yeah, I do," Kevin said belligerently.

  "Oh," Alex said, feeling suddenly disgruntled for some reason. Probably just bruised pride and the irritation of having to cooperate with someone so obnoxious. "You're right," she admitted to Daniel. "Again."

  He smiled.

  "What?" Kevin demanded. "And stop with the goo-goo eyes, you'll make me vomit."

  "Obviously"--Alex drew the word out into almost five syllables--"we have to do this together. You go in with my premixed solution in hand. Actually..." Her brain started turning over options. "More than one solution, I think. We'll have to stay in contact so I can guide you to the best application--"

  Kevin gave her a withering look. "You're in command, and I'm just following orders on the ground?"

  Alex stared him down. "Tell me your better plan."

  Kevin rolled his eyes, but then refocused. "Fine. It makes sense. Whatever."

  Alex felt better already. She could perform her part without any
risk. And though she didn't love to admit it, she knew Kevin could do his.

  Kevin snorted like he could hear her thoughts, then said, "Can I ask one favor?"

  "What do you want?"

  "When you're mixing your little beakers of poison, could you make this one hurt? Hurt bad?"

  Alex smiled in spite of her fear. "That I can manage."

  He pursed his lips for a minute. "This is weird, Ollie. I... well, I almost like you right now."

  "The feeling will pass."

  "You're right--it's fading already." He sighed. "How long will you need with your chemistry set?"

  Alex calculated quickly. "Give me three hours."

  "I'll research my new target, then."

  Kevin grabbed his machete and other knives and headed upstairs, whistling.

  Alex stood and stretched. Even with the new pressure and attached dread, it felt good to have the answer. The missing name had been an irritant, like an itch on the inside of her skull. Now she could concentrate on her next move.

  *

  "ALL RIGHT, I'M in the master bath."

  Kevin's voice was muted, for Kevin, but still louder than Alex felt was safe. If she'd mentioned her concern, he would only have reminded her that he was the expert now, but still. He was just so cocky.

  Alex wondered if he'd brought Einstein into the house with him. Probably, she thought, but of course the dog made no sound.

  "Make sure you've got his side of things. I don't want to kill the wife." Alex couldn't bring herself to speak above a whisper despite his apparent comfort.

  "What?"

  "Make sure you find his stuff," she murmured a little louder. "Nothing unisex, like toothpaste."

  "I'm pretty sure the right-hand side medicine cabinet belongs to our guy. Refill safety razor blades, Excedrin, SPF forty-five sunblock, Centrum Silver, some makeup, but it's all flesh tones..."

  "Be positive."

  "I am. Lots of lipsticks and perfumes on the left side."

  "Some things they might share... check the drawers under the medicine cabinet."

  Alex pictured the pretty blond woman she'd seen standing beside Wade Pace in the official photos. Carolyn Josephine Merritt-Pace. She was only ten years the senator's junior, but she looked a full quarter of a century younger. Whatever surgeries she had undergone, she'd been circumspect enough to keep things minimal; she'd retained her warm, beaming smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes and had every appearance of being genuine. She'd inherited a fortune from her aristocratic southern family, much of which she used to fund her various causes--literacy, feeding hungry children, saving music programs in inner-city schools, building shelters for the homeless. Never anything controversial. She had been a stay-at-home mother for their two daughters, both of whom had graduated from Magnolia League schools and were now married to respectable men--a pediatrician and a college professor. From everything Alex had learned in her hurried research about the senator's wife, Mrs. Merritt-Pace seemed a pleasant enough woman. Certainly not deserving of the painful death her husband was about to suffer. Hopefully about to suffer, Alex amended. There was still so much that was left to luck.

  "I've got three boxes of bar soap, a pack of extra toothbrushes, ChapStick in two flavors, cherry and strawberry... pomade, cotton pads, Q-tips... Next drawer down--oh, now here we go. Hemorrhoid cream. That's fitting. Suppositories, too. Whatcha think, Ollie?"

  "That might work. I'd love to use something topical rather than going the oral route, just to separate this as much as possible from Carston. But he might not use either the cream or the suppositories regularly."

  "A good point. Though it would be so great to literally shove this poison up--oh, hey, is our guy a smoker?"

  "Um... hold on one second."

  Alex typed the phrase Does Wade Pace smoke? into her open browser window. She was immediately flooded with articles and pictures. She clicked on the images--poor-quality photographs taken from behind or at a great distance. Wade Pace--younger than he was now, still some dark in his hair, usually in a military uniform--was never at the center of the photo, but it was easy enough to pick him out, cigarette in hand. And then the more recent photos where he was centered; these were after he'd morphed into the "silver fox" Val had called him, and he never held a cigarette. But several photographers had focused in on the nicotine patch just slightly visible through the sleeve of his white button-down. Another on vacation, in a garish Hawaiian shirt, the bottom corner of the tan patch showing just below the sleeve. The vacation picture was from April. Not that long ago.

  "Looks like he used to be," Alex said. "Tell me you found the patches."

  "NicoDerm CQ. One half-used box, with three unopened packages behind it. I'll check the trash."

  Alex waited eagerly through the short silence.

  "Affirmative. Used patches in the trash under his sink. I'd say this bin gets emptied regularly. So he's still actively using them."

  "This couldn't be more perfect," Alex said through her teeth. "Use the syringe marked with the number three."

  "Got it."

  She could hear the quiet pull of a zipper.

  "Don't let the liquid come in contact with your skin. Come at it from the seam--don't leave an obvious pinhole."

  "I'm not an idiot. How much?"

  "Depress the syringe halfway."

  "It's pretty small, are you sure--you know what, never mind. How soon will it dry?"

  "A few hours. Put it--"

  "Underneath the top patch, right?" Kevin interrupted. "Second down."

  "Yes, that will work."

  Alex heard Kevin's low chuckle.

  "Mission accomplished. Wade Pace is one very deserving dead man walking. Moving on to target number two."

  "Will you check in when you're in position?"

  "Negative. Should be less than twenty-four. I'll see you back at the apartment."

  "Fine."

  "Get on your guy, Ollie."

  Her voice was a little higher-pitched when she answered. "Yeah. I'll have that, um, done before you're back."

  He tuned in to her nervousness, and his tone became gruff, commanding. "You'd better. If I cause ripples, your plan might not work."

  "Right."

  He disconnected before she could. Again.

  Alex took a deep breath and set the phone and the computer down on the bed next to her.

  Daniel was cross-legged on the floor at her feet, one hand curled loosely around her calf. His eyes hadn't left her face throughout the phone call.

  "Did you get all that?" she asked.

  Daniel nodded. "I can't believe he didn't wake anyone. Tell me my voice isn't so piercing."

  She grinned. "It's not."

  He leaned forward to put his chin on her knee. She felt his hand tighten around her leg.

  "And now it's your turn." He said the words in barely more than a whisper, but the volume didn't disguise his intensity.

  "Not quite yet." She glanced automatically at the digital clock she'd set up as part of her temporary lab. The display read 4:15. "I've got a few hours till showtime."

  She felt the shift against her skin as his jaw tightened.

  "I'm not doing anything dangerous," she reminded him. "I won't be breaking into anyone's fortress. It's not so different from placing the tracker."

  "I know. I keep telling myself that."

  Alex stood, stretching, and Daniel leaned back to give her room. She nodded to the corner where her lab equipment was spread out inefficiently across a variety of end tables. She'd taken advantage of the setup to create a healthy supply of Survive after she was done with the recipes for Pace.

  "I suppose I should clean this up before it upsets Val."

  Daniel got to his feet. "Can I help?"

  "Sure. Just don't touch anything without gloves."

  It didn't take long; she'd had so much practice setting her lab up and taking it down, sometimes with an urgent deadline. Daniel was quick to grasp the order of things, and soon he had the p
roper case ready before she had the equipment totally dismantled. As she carefully wrapped up the last round-bottomed flask, she glanced at the clock again. She still had hours before Val would need to start on her makeup.

  "You look exhausted," Daniel commented.

  "We got an early start. Val will fix me up so I'm presentable."

  "A nap might not hurt, either."

  Alex was fairly sure that she wouldn't be able to fall asleep. She was working to seem composed so that Daniel wouldn't worry, but in truth she could feel the seeds of panic beginning to take root in her stomach lining. Not that she'd lied to him about anything she would be doing, but she wasn't anywhere close to relaxed about the next phase. The actual action part. The truth was, she'd fallen back into her usual mind-set, gotten very comfortable with preparation. Now that it was time for her to implement the plan, her nervous system was in overdrive. Still, even just resting would probably be smart.

  "Good idea."

  *

  AS ALEX WATCHED Carston's housekeeper walk through the automatic doors into the huge supermarket, she took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to center herself. She examined her face in the visor mirror and was reassured by the illusion Val had created. Alex was sandy blond today, quite believably so. Her makeup appeared understated, despite all the coverage. Alex was happy to see that her nose was settling into its new shape, probably permanently. Every little bit helped.

  A few other shoppers parked and entered, and Alex knew it was time to move. One more deep breath. This wasn't that hard. Just a normal shopping trip for now.

  Inside, the market was busy. It was a diverse group of patrons, and Alex was sure she wouldn't stick out. She was suddenly reminded of Daniel's catastrophic shopping spree in Childress, and she was surprised to find herself smiling. She blamed her reaction on nerves.

  Despite the traffic, it wasn't hard to find the woman she was looking for. The housekeeper was wearing a bright yellow cotton wrap dress, and the color stood out. Rather than follow her through the store, Alex worked the opposite pattern and crossed paths with her every other aisle. It put Alex in the woman's sight line more often but seemed more natural, less creepy. The woman--who appeared to be about fifty from close up, in good shape and fairly attractive--paid Alex no attention. Meanwhile Alex filled her cart with random items that seemed innocuous--milk, bread, toothpaste--and then added the few items that mattered.

  Carston liked these small bottles of organic orange juice. They must expire quickly, because the housekeeper bought a few every trip but never stocked up. Alex grabbed three--the same number as in the housekeeper's cart--and put them in the front child seat of her own.