driver’s side window. That made him even more nauseous.
“They sent two,” he said, “so there’s probably a third on the way. It’s never just two. Either one is enough, or they order double backups.”
“I mean after.”
“After what?”
“After we go public.”
“Depends on what you have in San Diego.”
Vanessa had told him that before she quit the lab in Dublin, she’d dumped as much as she could into a USB key. She was fairly sure she saw Excel files. Which probably meant financial transactions. If they could financially tie the Proximity nanovirus to CI-6, the fuckers would sink under the weight. Nobody could survive scrutiny like that, no matter how secret or buried.
You try bankrolling something that winds up infecting most of North America—and, like, can kill on demand via satellite. See how far your career goes then. It’s not exactly something you can hide on your resume.
Kowalski had held off on rushing to San Diego. Bolting there right away would have raised eyebrows, he thought.
Now it didn’t seem like it fucking mattered.
But he hadn’t lied. CI-6 was predictable. They wouldn’t have just sent two killers. What was strange, however, was that they usually tried to make it look like an accident. The first one—random home invasion. He got it. But this second killer just charged at them with a gun. I mean, where the hell was the finesse in that?
Maybe the third killer would be just as obvious.
He hoped.
“I just keep going south on 5?”
“Wake me up when you see signs for Solana Beach.”
“If I don’t get us into a massive collision.”
“Wake me up if that happens, too.”
Now it’s time for the interesting part,” said the interrogator. “Come on, on your feet.”
“What?” Kowalski asked.
“Pain time. Remember? The bucket? Little pieces of you on the menu?”
“Hey, I’m telling you everything.”
The interrogator smiled. “I
The word “piss” reminded Kowalski. He wouldn’t be able to keep his bladder on clampdown too much longer. He needed to get this moving.
“So c’mon then,” the interrogator said, pushing his chair back. “Let’s get you on the hook the easy way, okay? You’ll want to save your strength for the main event.”
“You want to know what was on the USB key? I’ll tell you. I’ll even write it out for you.”
The interrogator stood up, looked down at the tiny knife in his hand, then back up at Kowalski.
“You know, this isn’t fucking fair. They told me you’d be impossible to break. Can’t you just play along?”
“What can I say? One look at you, and I’m ready to spill everything.”
Kowalski locked his eyes on one of the surveillance cameras. “The man who authorized the purchase of Proximity was a spook named David Murphy. First payment was sent July 12, bank routing number 4987B …”
“Oh you’re no fun at all,” the interrogator said.
Nobody tried to kill them outside the Westin Horton Plaza. Nobody flinched when they went to the front desk and asked for a package for “Mary Kate.” Nobody tried to stab them in the elevator. Nobody was hiding in their closets or in the shower. Nobody even noticed when Kowalski filched an Apple iBook from a portly dude in a black T-shirt.
Once they were inside their room, Vanessa decided she needed another shower.
“Got to wash the boot print off my tits.”
Kowalski couldn’t argue with that. He wished he could wash the boot print off his skull, but it seemed to be permanently stamped there. Once he knew what was on this USB, maybe he’d have the luxury of some real sleep in the near future.
“Anybody breaks in and tries to kill us,” she said, “just knock on the door three times.”
“Enjoy your shower.”
Kowalski suspected she went in there just to be alone, and to cry. She showered a lot.
He used to do that, too. Right after Katie.
He fired up the computer and looked for Excel files. There was a lot of junk on this USB key. All he needed was a name he recognized. Come on, come on. Give me something to work with, baby.
Something pinched his neck.
“Ow,” he said, and reached up to feel his neck. Or at least, he thought he did. But his hands remained frozen over the keyboard.
“Shhhh, now,” said a voice at his ear.
Oh fuck.
Hello, third killer.
The shower water pummeling tile made for nice, soothing white noise in the background. The voice, which was female, was almost as soothing.
“I put a needle in your spinal cord. You’re paralyzed from the neck down. I’m going to push it in a little further now, and that will freeze everything else. You
“Wait…”
She did.
He was lucky. He still could blink. That was something.
The woman set him up in a chair in the corner so he faced the rest of the room. He heard the ripping of tape. She was probably using some to keep the needle in his neck in place. As if he could someone how blink hard enough to make it wobble and fall out of his spinal cord.
She leaned over him as she worked. Her tits were in his face. She smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol.
She crouched down in front of him. “I’ve been asking myself, who would be the victim? I think it has to be the redhead. You’re the one with the scarier background. She’s only been killing for a short while.”
Of course he couldn’t.
She reached into a backpack which was by her feet. Kowalski hadn’t know it was there. Shit, he hadn’t even known she was there. Where didn’t he check? The drapes? Fuck. He was better than this. It had to be the concussion.
Yeah, sure, blame the concussion.
Admit it. You’ve gotten sloppy, monster.
Otherwise, you wouldn’t have received the concussion in the first place.
“Guy like you,” she continued, “killer virus in your blood … It could make anyone snap.”
She showed him a white cardboard box, raised her eyebrows. She was actually strikingly beautiful. Even when she opened the lid and showed him what was inside.
Many, many syringes.
“You freaked out, Kowalski. You thought you could save her. One vial of blood at a time. If you could take enough blood out of her veins, you could help her get rid of the virus. Isn’t that right? You kept drawing more and more and more blood until she fell asleep. You stuck the full syringes on the wall over there, and you made the shape of a heart, because you know, during these past few months, you’ve fallen in love with her. And that’s why you’re trying to cure her. Because you love her, Kowalski. You love her don’t you?”
Sloppy, sloppy monster.
