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window—his right knee was beginning to make popping sounds every time he moved—and rolled in front of the door.
With the feeling this was going to be it for him, he shouldered the door open and covered the room with the Uzi.
And there was Mister Mad Bomber, looking like he was about to wet his pants. The rat's twenty-two thumped on the carpet.
Stephie was alive, and apparently unhurt. She had been stripped naked and tied to the bed. She turned her head toward the door when it burst open. She had never smelled so good to him.
The Beast wanted Nohar to shoot the rat. To Nohar's surprise, he still had control. Even though the mental door was no longer there.
'Kid, second chances are rare, use yours. Get out of here.'
The rat carefully approached the door, where Nohar was still half-sitting, stepped over him, and ran into the night. Stephie's eyes were wide as she watched Nohar pull himself into the room and on to the bed. Nohar didn't waste time. He bit through the rope.
As soon as Stephie was free, Nohar found himself on the receiving end of an embrace that smeared her with blood. 'God, what's happened to you—where's Angel?'
'Angel, I called an ambulance for her— and everyone else. They killed Manny—' Stephie broke off the hug. 'Oh, Christ, I'm sorry—'
'Can you find me something to use as a cane?'
The curtain rod was stainless steel, and not as cheap as everything else in the motel. It made a halfway decent cane. Stephie found a robe and followed him out to the parking lot. He asked aloud the question that had gnawed at him ever since he had smelled Shaun-assy's blood—
'Damn it, why?'
He hobbled to the wreck of the remote. The power 262
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plant was still alive. The wheels were trying to drive it away despite the broken axle. He walked up to the vehicle. Green, just like Smith's van. Hell, it could be Smith's van. 'The whole thing was blown. The Fed has everything.' He slammed his left fist at one of the dangling pneumatic doors. There was a slow hiss, and the door slid aside with the smell of leaking hydraulic fluid. There were guns and a dozen white plastic crates in the back. Most of the crates had burst open. Little vials of red liquid rolled out the rear of the van. Hypo cartridges-flush, a few million dollars' worth.
The DEA would be happy.
Nohar leaned in and looked at the crates more closely. They were labeled. 'NuFood Inc. dietary supplements—MirrorProtein(tm) *'
MLI was using NuFood as a drug lab.
There had to be another reason for NuFood. The Zips had only come on the scene recently. MLI had been dealing with NuFood ever since MLI's inception. MirrorProtein?
What was it Manny said about the chemical analyzer? They had been cataloging amino acids and the display was reversed. Nohar had thought the picture had been coming up backward.
What if it was the amino acids themselves that were coming up reversed? 'Stephie, do you know any biochemistry?'
Stephie was already at the Zips' room checking on Angel. 'What?'
Nohar hobbled after her. His thoughts were flying, trying to remember things, put them into place. 'This is important. Really important. Biochemistry, proteins, amino acids, what do you know?'
'Next to nothing.' She had her hand on Angel's neck. 'She's still alive— What the hell are you talking about?'
'I need to remember if we're based on levo or dex-tro amino acids ...'
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'Derry was the chemistry major. Where the hell are you getting this from?' Stephie was looking worried, as if she thought he had gone over the edge.
Far from it. Things were making sense. 'I don't know if you'll understand this.' He was racing to get it all out. 'I lived most of my childhood with Manny— a doctor and an expert on moreaus. I got a biology lesson every time I asked a question like, 'Why am I different from the other kids?' '
Even to him he sounded like he was rambling. He slowed down. 'You can't live like that and not pick up on biological trivia. Like the fact our amino acids all have their mirror image versions.' He finally remembered. 'Almost all the life in this world is based on levo amino acids—'
'So?'
Nohar shook his head. 'Just tell the cops when they get here. You have to talk to an FBI agent—Isham. Tell her the franks aren't at MLI's office building. It's just a front, like everything else. If they're anywhere, they're at NuFood's R&D facility. Tell her the MLI franks are based on a dextro amino acid biology. Got that?'
'Yes, but-'
Nohar was hobbling back to the Maduro. He stopped at the remote. An Uzi wouldn't do much to one of the things Manny described. He looked in among the crates of flush and saw a pump shotgun. He'd take that, and hope.
He was beginning to hear sirens in the distance. Stephie ran after him. 'Where are you going?'
'NuFood. This isn't over—'
He slumped up next to the car. 'Did they wire the car?'
'No—'
'What's the combination?'
'Nohar, you can't! You're in no condition ...'
'The damn combination!'
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Stephie backed up a bit at Nohar's growled command. Nohar shook his head. 'Please, God damn it.'
Stephie heard the sirens now as well.
She stepped up and punched the combination on the driver's door. Nohar watched the numbers. She looked up at him afterward. She was crying. 'You are not going to die on me.'
Nohar hugged her with his good arm. 'I don't intend to.'
The Maduro had pulled out of the parking lot and was going down Mayfield by the time a convoy— Chesterland and Cleveland local cops, sheriffs from Cuyahoga and Geauga, six ambulances, two police wreckers, a fire rescue vehicle, and three Haviers— shot by going in the opposite direction.
Everything but the National Guard.
Nohar drove by them going a sedate sixty klicks an hour. He was squeezed in the sports car, but the gentle ride of the undamaged suspension made up for it.
Everything came together for him when he saw that NuFood label. He had been right along. Despite the hyped violence, the morey terrorism, the Johnson killing came down to one little piece of information in Binder's financial records.
The precognitive letter from Wilson Scott was only part of it. That only proved MLI had a hand in planning the Zipheads' terrorism. MLI was trying to hide something else.
Their origin.
Johnson used to be a chemistry major. It made sense he would figure this mess out.
It had all started thirteen years ago. Midwest Lapidary would have approached Young, Binder's new finance chairman. It would have been a very tempting offer. Young took the offer, and the bucks poured into the campaign.
And Binder's position became more and more reactionary.
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