Maybe

Sam hadn’t considered he might feel severe pressure building up in his nose as the plane begins its initial descent into Las Vegas, but that’s exactly what happens. To make matters worse, his swollen nose has blocked his nasal passages and made him congested to the point his ears feel like they’re going to explode.

He tries not to cry out in pain, but he’s aware his dull moaning noises are annoying the passengers around him. He dabs at his nose with a cocktail napkin. Within seconds, it’s soggy with blood.

“That’s abhorrent!” the lady next to him says. “You need to do something!”

“Sorry,” Sam says.

“Are you crying?” she says.

“Probably.”

The pain in his face and ears is excruciating, and blood’s dripping from his nose faster than his napkin can contain it. Sam looks up to see the fasten seat belt sign lit and knows the flight attendants are buckled in for the landing. He asks the passengers around him if anyone has an extra cocktail napkin he can use, but either they didn’t hear him, or pretend not to. The lady next to him says, “That’s just great,” and fishes two tampons from her purse.

“It’s all I’ve got,” she says. “Do not bleed on my outfit.”

Sam accepts the tampons gratefully, opens them, and inserts one into each nostril as expertly as if he’d done it a hundred times.

“I hope you get toxic shock syndrome,” she says.

Sam packed light, so he doesn’t have to wait at baggage claim. He moves his jaw from side to side and pulls on his ears, trying to open them up. He gets one open in time to answer his cell phone.

“Where the hell have you been?” Darwin says.

“I just landed in Vegas. What’s wrong?”

“Donovan Creed is ruining your plans.”

“What do you mean?”

“He landed in Roanoke two hours ago.”

“Why’s that a problem?”

“Check your messages. I’ve left three.”

Sam makes his way to a quiet area and leans against the wall. “Since you’re already on the phone, can you just explain the problem?”

“Roanoke is near Creed’s headquarters, Sensory Resources. The place you met Doc Howard. The place they kept you after your snake bite. Does any of this ring a bell?”

“Of course. So what?”

“Don’t you think Creed might be there to check on Sherry Cherry? To see if she’s sobered up enough to effect the exchange?”

“Shit!”

“That’s the response I’m looking for.”

“If he’s got her, it’s over. I’ve lost.”

“Not necessarily. He still has to make arrangements with the government, and that will take time. Since you’re in Vegas, get Maybe Taylor on board. I’ll see if I can arrange for Sherry to escape.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, just do your part.”

20

Maybe Taylor.

MAYBE CALLS SAM from the lobby and learns he’s on the second floor, room 228.

She’s excited to see Sam. Not because she finds him attractive, or even appealing, but because he adores her so. It allows her to dictate the terms of their relationship. She loves having sexual power over a man, especially a bright, older man like Sam. The fact he’s married adds to the appeal. She’s flattered he prefers her to his wife, and flattered to hear he’s willing to get a divorce to prove his love.

“You look like shit,” she says, when he opens the door.

“You look wonderful,” he says.

She enters, he closes the door, and slides the deadbolt into place.

“I killed Gwen,” she says.

“What?”

She laughs. “Just kidding. But I’ve got a plan, depending on the weapon you’ve brought. I’ve invited her to go shopping with me tomorrow, and-”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Sam says.

“What do you mean?”

“We need to put Gwen on hold.”

“No. I’ve got it all worked out, and you promised me the money.”

“I’ll still give you the hundred grand. It’s just…there’s a different target.”

“I’m not killing Callie Carpenter,” Maybe says.

“Not Callie. A woman from Virginia.”

“What woman?”

“Sherry Cherry.”

“What? Don’t fuck with me, Sam.”

“No, seriously, that’s her name. Look, it’s no big deal. She’s like a housewife or something. It’ll take you five minutes. Five minutes for a hundred grand.”

“Details, please.”

Sam hands her a small metal cylinder. It’s silver, and has the words “Lens Cleaner” printed in black on one side.

“Don’t open it,” Sam says. “It contains a mixture of cyanide and DMSO.”

“What’s that?”

“Dimethyl sulfoxide. You can use this to kill Sherry and Gwen. But you need to do Sherry first.”

Maybe scrunches her nose. “Cyanide’s a poison. What do you do, spray it in her nose?”

“Nose, mouth, eyes, are the best targets. But anywhere on her face will work, if you pump it several times. But be careful. Hold your breath while spraying, and move away quickly. If you do it outside, be sure there’s no wind to blow it back into your face.”

“How long does it take to work?”

“Seconds.”

“Bullshit.”

“I wouldn’t pay you a hundred grand to kill someone, and provide an inferior weapon,” Sam says. “But you can use a gun or knife on Sherry if you’d prefer.”

“I’ll try the spray, but I want a gun with a silencer as a backup,” Maybe says.

“I can arrange that.”

Maybe frowns. “Here’s what I don’t understand. You know all about these poisons. You can arrange for me to get weapons with silencers. Why don’t you meet Sherry Cherry yourself and give her face a quick spray?”

“That would deny you the opportunity to earn an easy hundred grand.”

“You think I like the killing, don’t you?”

“I know you do.”

“What prevents me from spraying you in your sleep tonight?”

“Nothing. But you don’t have to wait for me to fall asleep. You can spray me right now, if it pleases you.”

She looks at the spray bottle. “If this really works, I could kill Callie.”