Whistleblower

Victor shook his head. 'This looks impossible. We can't get through all that.'

Cathy frowned at him. 'Wait a minute. What are you talking about? You aren't considering going into that building, are you?'

'We discussed it last night,' said Victor. 'It may be the only way—'

'Are you crazy? Viratek's out to kill us and you want to break in?'

'It's the proof we need,' said Ollie. 'You try going to the newspapers or the Justice Department and they'll demand evidence. You can bet Viratek's going to deny everything. Even if someone does launch an investigation, all Viratek has to do is toss the virus and, poof! your evidence is gone. No one can prove a thing.'

'You have photos—'

'Sure. A few pages of animal data. The virus is never identified. And all that evidence could' ve been fabricated by, say, some disgruntled ex-employee.'

'So what is proof? What do you need, another dead body? Victor's, for instance?'

'What we need is the virus—a virus that's supposed to be extinct. Just a single vial and the case against them is nailed shut.'

'Just a single vial. Right.' Cathy shook her head. 'I don't know what I'm worried about. No one can get through those doors. Not without the keypad codes.'

'Ah, but those we have!' Ollie flipped to the second photo. 'The mysterious numbers. See, they finally make sense. Two sets of seven digits. Not phone numbers at all! Jerry was pointing the way through Viratek's top security.'

'What about the lasers?' she pointed out, her agitation growing. They couldn't be serious! Surely they could see the futility of this mission. She didn't care if her fear showed; she had to be their voice of reason. 'And then there's the guards,' she said. 'Two of them. Do you have a way past them? Or did Jerry also leave you the formula for invisibility?'

Ollie glanced uneasily at Victor. 'Uh, maybe I should let you two discuss this first. Before we make any other plans.'

'I thought I was part of all this,' said Cathy. 'Part of every decision. I guess I was wrong.'

Neither man said a thing. Their silence only fueled Cathy's anger. She thought: So you left me out of this. You didn 't respect my opinion enough to ask me what I think, what I want.

Without a word she turned and walked away.

Moments later, Victor caught up with her. She was standing on the dirt path, hugging herself against the cold. She heard his approach, sensed his uncertainty, his struggle to find the right words. For a moment he simply stood beside her, not speaking.

'I think we should run,' she said. She gazed over the dry lake bed and shivered. The wind that swept across the reeds was raw and biting; it sliced right through her sweater. 'I want to get away,' she said. 'I want to go somewhere warm. Some place where the sun's shining, where I can He on a beach and not worry about who's watching me from the bushes.,..' Suddenly reminded of the terrible possibilities, she turned and glanced at the oaks hulking behind them. She saw only the fluttering of dead leaves.

'I agree with you,' said Victor quietly.

'You do?' She turned to him, relieved. 'Let's go, Victor! Let's leave now. Forget this crazy idea. We can catch the next bus south—'

'This very afternoon. You'll be on your way.'

'I will?' She stared at him, at first not willing to accept what she'd heard. Then the meaning of his words sank in. 'You're not coming.'

Slowly he shook his head. 'I can't.'

'You mean you won't.'

'Don't you see?' He took her by the shoulders, as though to shake some sense into her. 'We're backed into a corner. Unless we do something—I do something—we'll always be running.'

'Then let's run!' She reached for him, her fingers clutching at his windbreaker. She wanted to scream at him, to tear away his cool mask of reason and get to the raw emotions beneath. They had to be there, buried deep in that logical brain of his. 'We could go to Mexico,' she said. 'I know a place on the coast—in Baja. A little hotel near the beach. We could stay there a few months, wait until things are safer—'

'It'll never be safer.'

'Yes, it will! They'll forget about us—'

'You're not thinking straight.'

'I am. I'm thinking I want to stay alive.'

'And that's exactly why I have to do this.' He took her face in his hands, trapping it so she could look nowhere but at him. No longer was he the lover, the friend—his voice now held the cold, steady note of authority and she hated the sound of it. 'I'm trying to keep you alive,' he said. 'With a future ahead of you. And the only way I can do that is to blow this thing wide open so the world knows about it. I owe it to you. And I owe it to Jerry.'

She wanted to argue with him, to plead with him to go with her, but she knew it was useless. What he said was true. Running would only be a temporary solution, one that would give them a few sweet months of safety, but a temporary one just the same.

'I'm sorry, Cathy,' he said softly. 'I can't think of any other way—'

'—But to get rid of me,' she finished for him.

He released her. She stepped back, and the sudden gulf between them left her aching. She couldn't bear to look at him, knowing that the pain she felt wouldn't be reflected in his eyes. 'So how does it work?' she said dully. 'Do I leave tonight? Will it be plane, train or automobile?'

'Ollie will drive you to the airport. I've asked him to buy you the ticket under his name—Mrs. Wozniak. He'll have to be the one to see you off. We thought it'd be safer if I didn't come along to the airport.'

'Of course.'

'That'll get you to Mexico. Ollie'll give you enough cash to keep you going for a while. Enough to get you anywhere you want to go from there. Baja. Acapulco. Or just hang around with Jack if you think that's best.'

'Jack.' She turned away, unwilling to show her tears. 'Right.'

'Cathy.' She felt his hand on her shoulder, as though he wanted to turn her toward him, to pull her back one last time into his arms. She refused to move.

Footsteps approached. They both glanced around to see Ollie, standing a few feet away. 'Ready to go?' he asked.

There was a long silence. Then Victor nodded. 'She's ready.'

'Uh, look,' Ollie mumbled, suddenly aware that he'd stepped in at a bad time. 'My car's over by the boathouse. If you want, I can, uh, wait for you there....'

Cathy furiously dashed away her tears. 'No,' she said with sudden determination. 'I'm coming.'

Victor stood watching her, his gaze veiled by some cool, impenetrable mist.

'Goodbye, Victor,' she said.

He didn't answer. He just kept looking at her through that terrible mist.

'If I—if I don't see you again...' She stopped, struggling to be just as brave, just as invulnerable. 'Take care of yourself,' she finished. Then she turned and followed Ollie down the path.

Through the car window, she glimpsed Victor, still standing on the lake path, his hands jammed in his pockets, his shoulders hunched against the wind. He didn't wave goodbye; he merely watched them drive away.

It was an image she'd carry with her forever, that last, fading view of the man she loved. The man who'd sent her away.

As Ollie turned the car onto the road, she sat stiff and silent, her fists balled in her lap, the pain in her throat so terrible she could scarcely breathe. Now he was behind them. She couldn't see him, but she knew he was still standing there, as unmoving as the oaks that surrounded him. I love you, she thought. And I will never see you again.

She turned to look out. He was a distant figure now, almost lost among the trees. In a gesture of farewell,