Whistleblower

hour and he missed her already.

He gave a shrug, as though by that gesture, he could somehow cast off the fears. Still they remained, constant and gnawing. He found a place under the eaves and huddled on the steps to wait for Ollie's return.

At dusk he was still waiting. By the last feeble light of day, he paced the stone courtyard. He counted and recounted the number of hours it should've taken Ollie to drive to San Jos? Airport and return. He added in traffic time, red lights, ticket-counter delays. Surely three hours was enough. Cathy had to be on a plane by now, jetting for warmer climes.

Where was Ollie?

At the sound of the first footstep, he spun around. For a moment he couldn't believe what he was seeing, couldn't understand how she could be standing there, silhouetted beneath the sandstone archway. 'Cathy?' he said in amazement.

She stepped out, into the courtyard. 'Victor,' she said softly. She started toward him, slowly at first, and then, in a jubilant burst of flight, ran toward his waiting arms. He swept her up, swung her around, kissed her hair, her face. He didn't understand why she was here but he rejoiced that she was.

'I don't know if I've done the right thing,' she murmured. 'I hope to God I have.'

'Why did you come back?'

'I wasn't sure—I'm still not sure—'

'Cathy, what are you doing here?'

'You can't fight this alone! And he can help you—'

'Who can?'

From out of the twilight came another voice, gruff and startling, 'I can.'

At once Victor stiffened. His gaze shifted back to the arch behind Cathy. A man emerged and walked slowly toward him. Not a tall man, he had the sort of body that, in a weight-loss ad, would've been labeled Before. He came up to Victor and planted himself squarely on the courtyard stones.

'Hello, Holland,' he said. 'I'm glad we've finally met. The name is Sam Polowski.'

Victor turned and looked in disbelief at Cathy. 'Why?' he asked in quiet fury. 'Just tell me that. Why?'

She reacted as though he'd delivered a physical blow. Tentatively she reached for his arm; he pulled away from her at once.

'He wants to help,' she said, her voice wretched with pain. 'Listen to him!'

'I'm not sure there's any point to listening. Not now.' He felt his whole body go slack in defeat. He didn't understand it, would never understand it. It was over, the running, the scraping along on fear and hope. All because Cathy had betrayed him. He turned matter-of-factly to Polowski. 'I take it I'm under arrest,' he said.

'Hardly,' said Polowski, nodding toward the archway. 'Seeing as he's got my gun.'

'What?'

'Hey, Gersh! Over here!' Ollie yelled. 'See, I got him covered!'

Polowski winced. 'Geez, do ya have to wave the damn thing?'

'Sorry,' said Ollie.

'Now, does that convince you, Holland?' asked Polowski. 'You think I'd hand my piece over to an idiot like him if I didn't want to talk to you?'

'He's telling the truth,' insisted Cathy. 'He gave the gun to Ollie. He was willing to take the risk, just to meet you face-to-face.'

'Bad move, Polowski,' said Victor bitterly. 'I'm wanted for murder, remember? Industrial espionage? How do you know I won't just blow you away?'

''Cause I know you're innocent.'

'That makes a difference, does it?'

'It does to me.'

'Why?'

'You're caught up in something big, Holland. Something that's going to eat you up alive. Something that's got my supervisor doing backflips to keep me off the case. I don't like being pulled off a case. It hurts my delicate ego.'

The two men gazed at each other through the gathering darkness, each sizing up the other.

At last Victor nodded. He looked at Cathy, a quiet plea for forgiveness, for not believing in her. When at last she came into his arms, he felt the world had suddenly gone right again.

He heard a deliberate clearing of a throat. Turning, he saw Polowski hold out his hand. Victor took it in a handshake that could very well be his doom—or his salvation.

'You've led me on a long, hard chase,' said Polowski. 'I think it's time we worked together.'

'Basically,' said Ollie, 'What we have here is just your simple, everyday mission impossible.'

They were assembled in Polowski's hotel room, a five-member team that Milo had just dubbed the 'Older, Crazier Out of Tuners,' or Old COOTS for short. On the table in the center of the room lay potato chips, beer and the photos detailing Viratek's security system. There was also a map of the Viratek compound, forty acres of buildings and wooded grounds, all of it surrounded by an electrified fence. They had been studying the photos for an hour now, and the job that lay before them looked hopeless.

'No easy way in,' said Ollie, shaking his head. 'Even if those keypad codes are still valid, you're faced with the human element of recognition. Two guards, two positions. No way they're gonna let you pass.'

'There has to be a way,' said Polowski. 'Come on, Holland. You're the egghead. Use that creative brain of yours.'

Cathy looked at Victor. While the others had tossed ideas back and forth, he had said very little. And he's the one with the most at stake—his life, she thought. It took incredible courage—or foolhardiness—even to consider such a desperate move. Yet here he was, calmly scanning the map as though he were planning nothing more dangerous than a Sunday drive.

He must have felt her gaze, for he slung his arm around her and tugged her close. Now that they were reunited, she savored every moment they shared, committed to memory every look, every caress. Soon he could be wrenched away from her. Even now he was making plans to enter what looked like a death trap.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Then, reluctantly, he turned his attention back to the map.

'The electronics I'm. not worried about,' he said. 'It's the human element. The guards.'

Milo cocked his head toward Polowski. 'I still say old J. Edgar here should get a warrant and raid the place.'

'Right,' snorted Polowski. 'By the time that order gets through the judge and Dafoe and your Aunt Minnie's cousin, Viratek'll have that lab turned into a baby-milk factory. No, we need to get in on our own. Without anyone getting word of it.' He looked at Ollie. 'And you're sure this is the only evidence we'll need?'

Ollie nodded. 'One vial should do it. Then we take it to a reputable lab, have them confirm it's smallpox, and your case is airtight.'

'They'll have no way around it?'

'None. The virus is officially extinct. Any company caught playing with a live sample is, ipso facto, dead meat.'

'I like that,' said Polowski. 'That ipso facto stuff. No fancy Viratek attorney can argue that one away.'

'But first you gotta get hold of a vial,' said Ollie. 'And from where I'm standing, it looks impossible. Unless we're willing to try armed robbery.'

For one frightening moment, Polowski actually seemed to give that thought serious consideration. 'Naw,' he conceded. 'Wouldn't go over well in court.'

'Besides which,' said Ollie, 'I refuse to shoot another human being. It's against my principles.'

'Mine, too,' said Milo.

'But theft,' said Ollie, 'that's acceptable.'

Polowski looked at Victor. 'A group with high moral standards.'

Victor grinned. 'Holdovers from the sixties.'

'Sounds like we're back to the first option,' said Cathy. 'We have to steal the virus.' She focused on the map