Whistleblower

'Wait!' said Wallace. 'I wanna talk to you first! I got just a few questions—'

'She can talk to you later,' snapped the policeman, taking Cathy by the arm. 'After she talks to us.'

The policemen were polite, even kind. Perhaps it was her docile acceptance of the situation, perhaps they could sense she was operating on her last meager reserves of strength. She answered all their questions. She let them examine the rope burns on her wrists. She told them about Ollie and Sarah and the other Catherine Weavers. And the whole time, as she sat in that room in the Palo Alto police station, she kept hoping she'd catch a glimpse of Victor. She knew he had to be close by. Were they, at that very moment, asking him these same questions?

At dawn, they released her.

Jay Wallace was waiting outside near the front steps. 'I have to talk to you,' he said as she walked out.

'Please. Not now. I'm tired....'

'Just a few questions.'

'I can't. I need to—to—' She stopped. And there, standing on that cold and empty street, she burst into tears.

'I don't know what to do,' she sobbed. 'I don't know how to help him. How to reach him.'

'You mean Holland? They've already taken him to San Francisco.'

'What?' She raised her startled gaze to Wallace.

'An hour ago. The big boys from the Justice Department came down as an escort. I hear tell they're flying him straight to Washington. First-class treatment all the way.'

She shook her head in bewilderment. 'Then he's all right—he's not under arrest—'

'Hell, lady,' said Wallace, laughing. 'The man is now a genuine hero.'

A hero. But she didn't care what they called him, as long as he was safe.

She took a deep breath of bitingly chill air. 'Do you have a car, Mr. Wallace?' she asked.

'It's parked right around the corner.'

'Then you can give me a ride.'

'Where to?'

'To...' She paused, wondering where to go, where Victor would look for her. Of course. Milo's. 'To a friend's house,' she said. 'I want to be there when Victor calls.'

Wallace pointed the way to the car. 'I hope it's a long drive,' he said. 'I got a lot of gaps to fill in before this story goes to press.'

*

Victor didn't call.

For four days she sat waiting near the phone, expecting to hear his voice. For four days, Milo and his mother brought her tea and cookies, smiles and sympathy. On the fifth day, when she still hadn't heard from him, those terrible doubts began to haunt her. She remembered that day by the lake bed, when he'd tried to send her away with Ollie. She thought of all the words he could have said, but never had. True, he'd come back for her. He'd knowingly walked straight into a trap at the Saracen Theater. But wouldn't he have done that for any of his friends? That was the kind of man he was. She'd saved his life once. He remembered his debts, and he paid them back. It had to do with honor.

It might have nothing to do with love.

She stopped waiting by the phone. She returned to her flat in San Francisco, cleaned up the glass, had the windows replaced, the walls replastered. She took long walks and paid frequent visits to Ollie and Polowski in the hospital. Anything to stay away from that silent telephone.

She got a call from Jack. 'We're shooting next week,' he whined. 'And the monster's in terrible shape. All this humidity! Its face keeps melting into green goo. Get down here and do something about it, will you?'

She told him she'd think about it.

A week later she decided. Work was what she needed. Green goo and cranky actors—it was better than waiting for a call that would never come.

She reserved a one-way flight from San Jose to Puerto Vallarta. Then she packed, throwing in her entire wardrobe. A long stay, that's what she planned, a long vacation.

But before she left, she would drive down to Palo Alto, She had promised to pay Sam Polowski one last visit.

Chapter 14

(AP) Washington.Administration spokesman Richard Jungkuntz repeated today that neither the President nor any of his staff had any knowledge of biological weapons research being conducted at Viratek Industries in California. Viratek's Project Cerberus, which involved development of genetically altered viruses, was clearly in violation of international law. Recent evidence, gathered by reporter Jay Wallace of the San Francisco Chronicle, has revealed that the project received funds directly authorized by the late Matthew Tyrone, a senior aide to the Secretary of Defense.In today's Justice Department hearings, delayed four hours because of heavy snowstorms, Viratek president Archibald Black testified for the first time, promising to reveal, to the best of his knowledge, the direct links between the Administration and Project Cerberus. Yesterday's testimony, by former Viratek employee Dr. Victor Holland, has already outlined a disturbing tale of deception, cover-ups and possibly murder.The Attorney General's office continues to resist demands by Congressman Leo D. Fanelli that a special prosecutor be appointed...

Cathy put down the newspaper and smiled across the hospital solarium at her three friends. 'Well, guys. Aren't you lucky to be here in sunny California and not freezing your you-know-what's off in Washington.'

'Are you kidding?' groused Polowski. 'I'd give anything to be in on those hearings right now. Instead of hooked up to all these—these doohickeys.' He gave his intravenous line a tug, clanging a bottle against the pole.

'Patience, Sam,' said Milo. 'You'll get to Washington.'

'Ha! Holland's already told 'em the good stuff. By the time they get around to hearing my testimony, it'll be backpage news.'

'I don't think so,' said Cathy. 'I think it'll be frontpage news for a long time to come.' She turned and looked out the window at the sunshine glistening on the grass. A long time to come. That's how long it would be before she'd see Victor again. If ever. Three weeks had already passed since she'd last laid eyes on him. Via Jay Wallace in Washington, she'd heard that it was like a shark-feeding whenever Victor appeared in public, mobs of reporters and federal attorneys and Justice Department officials. No one could get near him.

Not even me, she thought.

It had been a comfort, having these three new friends to talk to. Ollie had bounced back quickly and was discharged—or kicked out, as Milo put it—a mere eight days after being shot. Polowski had had a rougher time of it. Post-operative infections, plus a bad case of smoke inhalation, had prolonged his stay to the point that every day was another trial of frustration for him. He wanted out. He wanted back on the beat.

He wanted a real, honest-to-God cheeseburger and a cigarette.

One more week, the doctors said.

At least there's an end to his waiting in sight, Cathy thought. I don't know when I'll see or hear from Victor again.

The silence was to be expected, Polowski had told her. Sequestration of witnesses. Protective custody. The Justice Department wanted an airtight case, and for that it would keep its star witness incommunicado. For the rest of them, depositions had been sufficient. Cathy had given her testimony two weeks before. Afterward, they'd told her she was free to leave town any time she wished.