Implant

  Okay. She was on her way again. No more mishaps. Really, what were the odds of having two cabs in a row break down? Astronomical. She allowed herself to relax and began rehearsing how she'd break the news to Oliver.

  As the cab pulled to a stop at Dupont Circle, Gin glanced out the window to her right. A cold tingle spread across her shoulders as a black hood with a familiar three-armed ornament slid into view. She caught her breath and froze keeping the cab's rear post between herself and the other car.

  Just a black Mercedes, she told herself. Thousands of them in the District.

  The Mercedes inched ahead, anxious for the green. The windshield came into view, then the steering wheel and the hands gripping it. A man's hands. And then the driver himself.

  Gin gasped and pressed herself back into the seat.

  Duncan.

  Keep calm, keep calm, he can't see you.

  But he was here, not half a dozen feet away. Had he been downtown all this while? My God, she could have run into him outside the hotel.

  That must have been him on the phone. But he hadn't been in the lobby.

  Maybe he'd been calling all the hotels downtown asking for Gin Panzella's room. But then why was he heading away from the Tremont instead of toward it? This made no sense, no sense at all, She huddled there begging the light to turn green. When it finally did, the cab and the Mercedes entered the circle together. But halfway around, Duncan's car turned off onto Connecticut while her cab stayed on until P Street.

  Gin slumped in the seat. Safe. But where was he going? Connecticut wouldn't take him home. That was the way to . . .

  . . . my place.

  As the cab turned off P and took Wisconsin uphill toward Bethesda, Gin considered her options. Her original plan had been to call Oliver from her room before heading uptown. But she'd fled before making that call.

  Maybe that would work to her advantage. Maybe it was better to drop in on him cold. What if he spoke to Duncan between her call and her arrival? She shuddered. Better, safer, to knock on Oliver's door and wing it from there.

  She spotted the Naval Observatory on her right and knew she was getting close.

  The cab turned left off Wisconsin and soon she was leaning forward, scanning the street for any sign of a black Mercedes. She couldn't imagine how Duncan could have beaten them here after turning off on Connecticut, but she'd learned the hard way never to take anything for granted where that man was concerned. No Mercedes in sight. She paid the cabby and hurried up the walk. She rang the bell, dreading to see who'd answer. Her life seemed to have turned into a Hitchcock movie. She'd be only mildly surprised if it turned out to be Duncan.

  "Gin?" Oliver said as he opened the door. "What on earth are you doing here?" He pushed open the screen door for her. "Come in, come in. "

  "I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Gin said, her eyes quickly searching the cluttered living room and what she could see of the dining room beyond. "You don't have company, do you?" He smiled and shut the door behind her. He wore a V-necked sweater over his usual white shirt, and ankle-high slippers on his feet.

  "No. Although I probably should have. I'm too excited about tomorrow to sleep. I'm glad you came."

  "You may not be when I'm finished."

  His smile faded. "Is something wrong?"

  "Yes, " she said, pulling the vial from her pocket and pressing it into his hand. "This."

  He stared at it. "An implant?"

  "Yes. I dug it out of my leg this morning."

  Oliver stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What? How . . . ?"

  Gin decided to hit him with everything at once. She watched his expression carefully. If for even an instant he looked as if he weren't shocked, or was faking surprise, she'd be running for the door.

  "Duncan jammed it into my leg last night while I was out cold. He's been after me all day trying to dissolve it with ultrasound."

  A tentative smile flickered across his lips. "This is a joke, right? You and Duncan,"

  "It's no joke, Oliver. That thing's filled with TPD."

  "TPD? " he said, still smiling. "What's,?" And then the smile faded. "TPD? How could you know about TPD?"

  "Triptolinic diethylamide. Duncan keeps a vial of it in his office."

  "Impossible. That's a defunct compound."

  "I know. Tested and discarded by GEM Pharma, your old company."

  "Right. I have the last sample."

  "Really? Where?"

  "In my basement. I'll show you." He led her through the dining room to the kitchen, and from there down a flight of steps. "This is my private little lab, " he said as he turned on the overhead fluorescents. "For years I spent every night of the week and every spare moment on weekends here."

  Gin looked around the largely unfinished basement at the benches, retorts, ovens, centrifuges, and rows of other equipment she didn't recognize, all dusty with disuse.

  "Is this where . . . ?"

  "Uh-huh. I developed the implant membrane here. And over there . . . " He flicked on another set of lights. "I call it my rogues' gallery. All the useless or discontinued compounds I worked on during my years with GEM. I kept a sample of each one."

  Gin was startled by the array of bottles lining an entire wall. There had to be hundreds there, perhaps even a thousand.

  "So many. How would you ever find a particular one?"

  "Easy. They're in alphabetical order." He gave her a sheepish look. "I can't help it. That's the way I am." He stooped and ran a finger along one of the rows. "R . . . . . . T . . . " He squinted at a few bottles, grunted a few nes, then straightened and turned to Gin. "The, um, TPD . . . it's missing."

  "I know," she said. She pointed to the pill bottle he still clutched in his left hand. "Some of it's in there. Duncan has the rest."

  He stared down at the bottle, then at her. "You've got to be mistaken. Duncan wouldn't do something like that. What reason would he have?"

  "Because I know about the others."

  "Others?"

  "Let's go upstairs and I'll explain everything."

  They sat in the kitchen, Gin sipping a can of Pepsi, the bottle containing the implant sitting between them in the center of the table, and Oliver leaning forward, listening intently, a look of growing horror on his face as Gin explained what she suspected about the deaths and mishaps involving Senators Vincent and Schulz and Congressmen Allard and Lane.

  She shivered with a sudden chill. Was it the Pepsi or was she starting a fever? Her strength seemed to be fading.

  "Are you okay?" Oliver said.

  "My incision might be getting infected."

  "What incision?" Since showing was better than telling, she stood, unzipped her jeans, and turned sideways as she slid them down to her knees. "Gin! " Oliver said, averting his face at first, then staring as the Ace bandage was revealed.

  Gin unwrapped the Ace, then peeled the gauze halfway back to reveal the incision. An angry red had invaded the edges.

  Oliver sucked in a breath. "Oh, dear Lord. You did that? To yourself?"

  Gin let him get a good look, then she smoothed the gauze back into place and began rewrapping the Ace.

  "How else was I going to get it out?"

  He said nothing, simply sat and stared at her, wonder in his eyes.

  "Do you have any antibiotics in the house?" As she pulled her jeans up.

  "I've got some amoxicillin."Not his first choice but it would do for now. He hurried away and returned a minute later with an amber plastic bottle. Gin washed down four of the capsules with water and pocketed it for later.

  Oliver was staring at the vial with the implant, shaking his head and speaking to himself as much as to Gina couldn't believe Duncan would do such a thing.

  Well maybe to the committee members . . . I could see that . . . I mean, after Lisa died he went a little crazy, made all sorts of threats . . . but you . . . he thinks the world of you . . . he'd never . . .

  Poor Oliver, she thought. His heroic image of his older brother is com
ing undone.

  "He knows I'm on to him," Gin said softly. "And he knows I'll be in the way tomorrow."

  Qliver's head snapped up. "Tomorrow? Oh, no! You don't think, he wouldn t!"

  "Yes, he would. That's why he did this to me. To give him a clear shot at the president."

  He got to his feet. "I've got to go see him stop him. I can talk to him. He'll listen to me."

  "Will he? I wouldn't count on it."

  "He'll have to. Now two people know. And soon more will. He grabbed a jacket that had been hanging over the back of a chair. "He's beaten. But still I've got to see him." Anger flashed in his eyes. "Using my implants for something like this! I've a good mind to . . . " He didn't finish the thought.

  Instead, he pointed to the bottle on the table.

  "Can I take that with me?"

  Gin grabbed it and held it tight in her fist.

  "No. Sorry. This is the only proof I've got that I didn't make all this up. I'm not letting it out of my sight. And you realize, don't you, that as soon as you confront him he'll know how you found out and he'll know where I am. And since I have the only hard proof against him, I think maybe I'll disappear for a while."

  "Good idea. Don't even tell me where you're going, just in case, '' He shook his head to clear it. "Who'd ever believe I'd be thinking this way about my brother?"

  "I know how you feel. Can you call me a cab?"

  Another shiver rattled her teeth as Oliver was phoning the cab company.

  She was definitely getting a fever. She hoped whatever was infecting her wasn't penicillin resistant.

  "They'll have one here in about ten minutes, " Oliver said. "I'm going to call Duncan."

  "No!"

  "Just to see if he's home. No sense in going over there if he's not in." He dialed, waited, then said, "Duncan. It's me. We need to talk. No, in person. I'll explain when I get there. See you in a few minutes." He hung up and bustled toward the door. "Wish me luck, " he said. "And lock the door as you leave."

  Gin shivered again as the front door closed behind Oliver.

  It was almost over. Duncan was at his place, Oliver was on his way there, a cab was on its way here. But where was she going?

  Not another hotel. She couldn't stand the thought of another strange little box with a bed and a TV that passed for a room.

  Her folks' place? The old homestead. The thought comforted her.

  She'd make a quick stop at her apartment for a change of clothes, then head over to Arlington. She'd be safe there. Another chill wracked her. And warm.

  Where was that cab? She took a look our the window but the driveway was empty.

  She went down the hall and found Oliver's bathroom. On the top shelf of the medicine cabinet she found a thermometer. She rinsed it off, shook it down, and stuck it in her mouth. After a couple of minutes she checked it, 102.4 degrees.

  No wonder I'm shivering, she thought. I'm sick.

  Well, she had two grams of amoxicillin perking through her bloodstream.

  It had to kick in soon. She'd left her Tylenol at the hotel, so she took a few of Oliver's.

  A car horn honked outside. She hurried back to the living room and peeked out a corner of the front window. Her heart was pounding, from fever as much as fear.

  If I've fallen into a B movie, she thought, there'll be a black Mercedes idling out there.

  But no. It was a Diamond cab. She hurried outside, thinking that if she were in a real schlock movie, Duncan would be behind the wheel, disguised as the driver. But a black face peered out the driver window as she approached and pushed open the rear door from inside.

  '"Where we going?" She gave him her address and they were off. She huddled in the back seat, shivering.

  "Would you mind turning up the heat?" she said.

  She was so cold her teeth were chattering.

  Duncan sat mute, shaken. Oliver's arrival had taken him completely by surprise. He'd never seen his brother like this. He'd burst in and immediately launched into a blistering verbal attack. Duncan didn't know which shocked him more, Oliver's naked self-righteous anger, or the fact that Gin had reached Oliver and told him everything.

  The words poured out of Oliver in a steady, rapid-fire fusillade. Not just his anger, but the story of Gin slicing open her own leg in that hotel room and removing an implant with drugstore equipment.

  Despite his ongoing shock, Duncan had to admire the unwavering determination and pure guts Gin had shown. He doubted he'd have been able to do the same had situations been reversed. But he was glad he hadn't underestimated Gin. He'd half anticipated this. That young woman did not know the meaning of the word quit. And she was as intent as ever on stopping him.

  And she just might. His whole world seemed about to crumble around him.

  Visions of headlines and courtrooms and, Lord, prison swirled around him. Everything was falling apart, He shook off the visions. He had to settle down and deal with Oliver.

  The situation was still salvageable, barely. He'd have to move fast.

  But before he could do anything, he'd have to neutralize Oliver.

  "What did she tell you, what exactly did she say she removed from her leg?" Duncan said.

  "An implant, one of my implants, filled with TPD, of all things."

  Duncan shot from his seat and adopted a fiercely indignant pose. "And you believe this fantastic story?" But Oliver wasn't backing down.

  He leaned into Duncan's face. "She's got the bloody implant in a bottle. She showed me. She's got a fresh incision on her leg. She showed me that too. She knows about TPD, Duncan. How could she know about TPD if she didn't find it in your office as she says? And on the way over here, I remembered our discussion about my rogues' gallery earlier this year and telling you about TPD. You were very interested, wanted to know all about it. And tonight I couldn't find my sample bottle in the gallery. Where's my TPD, Duncan?" Damn it. He was caught. No way to deny this. But worse was the look in Oliver's eyes. The almost worshipful regard was gone, replaced by anger and . . . fear.

  My brother fears me.

  That hurt. But no less than he deserved.

  Don't fear me, Oliver. Even if I can't explain the TPD.

  TPD. That was the rock-steady anchor of Gin's story. He could ascribe everything else she'd said or done to mental illness of one form or another. But that damn TPD . . . that was real. Oliver knew it better than anyone. And he'd already guessed that on one of his visits to his home, Duncan had crept down to the basement and removed the world's last remaining sample.

  "Answer me, Duncan, Oliver said. "Where is it and what have you been doing with it?" No sense in denying he'd taken it. He slumped his shoulders and sighed.

  "It's downstairs." He turned and began walking away. "I'll show you." Duncan's admission worked a dramatic change in Oliver's demeanor.

  Suddenly he was solicitous.

  "You've been working too hard, Duncan," he said as he followed him to the cellar. "I've warned you about that. You need a long rest and . . . and maybe some . . . maybe you could talk to someone."

  "You mean psychotherapy?"

  "Well, yes." Oliver was obviously uncomfortable telling his brother the doctor that he needed to see another doctor.

  "I think that might be a good idea. I've been under terrible stress lately. And I never did get over Lisa's death . . . finding her like that."

  "I know, Duncan. You've been through a lot."

  Duncan turned on the lights. The basement was finished but dusty and musty. The previous owners had set it up as a game room but Duncan rarely set foot down here. He led Oliver to the center of the room, then stopped and looked around feigning puzzlement.

  "Now where did I put that?" He turned in a slow circle, then snapped his fingers. "I know. Wait here." He hurried for the stairs and bounded back up to the main floor where he shut the basement door and locked it. He heard Oliver rush up the steps, try the knob, then start pounding on the other side.

  "Duncan! Duncan, don't do this! This
is insane!"

  "Just one more thing left to do, Oliver, " Duncan said as he wedged one of the heavy kitchen chairs under the doorknob as a precaution. He braced the kitchen table behind that for extra insurance. "Make yourself comfortable down there. I'll let you out later when I'm through." No windows down there, no phone. Oliver would be neutralized until Duncan had finished what he had to do.

  "She's not at my house, if that's what you're thinking. I told her to disappear to someplace safe and I don't even know where. So if you're thinking of finding her and destroying the evidence, forget it. You'll never find her."

  "We'll see about that, " Duncan said.

  A good chance Gin wouldn't go into hiding without stopping at her own place first. Especially if she felt safe.

  He checked his coat pocket to make sure he still had his minitransducer with him, then he hurried to the garage.

  Yes, as Oliver had guessed, he was certainly interested in retrieving the implant Gin had excised from her leg. That was hard evidence against him. But that wasn't the only implant involved here.

  Good thing he'd had the foresight last night to place two in her thigh.

  Gin felt as if her apartment were filled with water. Every move was an effort. The very air around her weighed her down. It was an ongoing test of her will to resist crawling into her bed, still unmade from this morning, and pulling the covers over her head.

  At least she'd managed to change her sweaty clothes and underwear. A shower would have been wonderful but she couldn't risk the time She'd take one in Arlington, and give her folks some excuse about having the flu or something to explain her sickly looks.

  She was feeling weaker than ever as she finished packing a small gym bag with another change of clothes. But at least the chills had stopped.

  As a matter of fact, she was beginning to feel warm. Hot even. Maybe the amoxicillin was kicking in. Or maybe the Tylenol was breaking the fever.

  She was actually a little clammy now.

  And then a cool draft wrapped around her feet and she thought she heard a click from the front room.

  The front door?

  Oh, no. It couldn't be.

  Trembling, feeling weaker with each thudding heartbeat, she stepped to her bedroom door and peered into the front room. It looked empty. But it was dark, full of long shadows cast by the light from her bedroom.