Kelly opened her eyes. “Look, forget everything I told you. You can believe me; you can think I’m crazy. You can write a story about this, or you can go off and never think about this again. I ask one thing of you: a night’s sleep. I’m begging you. Just lie next to me in bed until morning; then I’ll give you the antidote and you’ll never have to see me again.”
Jack looked at her. She did look exhausted. Exactly like he felt.
“What if I take the antidote from your bag when you’re sleeping? How do you know I’ll stay?”
“You haven’t tried taking it so far, Jackie boy. You’re not that kind of guy.”
“You’re so sure of that?”
“Besides, it’s a bit tricky. I dosed you with luminous toxin. Nasty stuff if not treated correctly. I need to step- dose you out of it. You find the antidote, by some small miracle, you have to know how to take it.”
“Luminous
“I’m a scientist, Jack. I’ve got access to all kinds of disturbing chemicals.”
“Okay, say I get your bag and take it to a doctor. Tell them what you told me. That you gave me luminous tox—”
“
“Toxin. Right. Luminous toxin. You’re not the only scientist who knows how to deal with that stuff.”
“Whatever you say. But if you try to leave this room while I’m sleeping, at least linger in the hall for a few seconds so you can listen to me die.”
Jack looked at the digital clock next to the bed: 12:54 A.M. He had his appointment to keep in less than eight hours.
“I just need sleep.
So did he. And for the first time all evening, Kelly sounded somewhat rational. Maybe she’d calmed down a bit by talking this stuff through. An idea formed in his Jack’s mind. He found himself saying, “Okay.”
Kelly leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. Instinctively, he turned his face toward her, then caught himself at the last minute. Jesus. For a moment there, he’d thought it was Theresa. He’d almost kissed her on the lips.
But even if Jack hadn’t stopped himself, her recoil would have done the trick. She pushed herself away like he’d given her an electric shock.
“You don’t want to kiss me.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
The thought was the furthest thing from his mind for a number of reasons—not the least of which being he usually didn’t kiss people who had tried to kill him. But now that she had stressed it… of course, now it was all he could think about. Kissing her.
“Trust me, Jack. It’s a very bad idea. Remember the Mary Kates?”
“I wasn’t going to kiss you.”
“Just imagine I’d got a cold. A very bad cold. That’s how these damned things work anyway.”
“Okay,” Jack said, staring at her lips. Her natural, full, soft lips.
She turned her face away, then lowered her head onto his shoulder.
“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for someone to believe me. Someone who didn’t think I was crazy. If I weren’t infected with killer nanomachines, I’ve give you a blow job out of gratitude.”
Jack didn’t know what to say to that. He settled for “Urn, thanks.”
Her body started shaking, as if she had started crying.
No, it wasn’t tears. She was laughing.
“What?”
“I’m glad I didn’t have to resort to plan B. You would
“PlanB?”
“Handcuffs.”
12:55 a.m.
Not good, not good. Kowalski could see the flashing cherries of the fire trucks filling the night sky. Wouldn’t be long before police started searching the immediate area, looking for survivors. Wouldn’t be long before the neighbors would pop their lights on, look out their front doors, wondering what the hell was going on at one o’clock in the morning.
And the tree house was empty.
His bag was gone.
Not a soul in the immediate vicinity. Bag wasn’t there long enough for someone to have “accidentally” discovered it. What, was he away three minutes? Four, tops? What the hell happened? Did Ed’s decapitated head sprout green hairy spider legs and go for a stroll?
Lights were flicking on in houses spread across the hills. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kowalski noticed the opposite: a light flicking
It all came together within seconds.
He
Within thirty seconds, Kowalski was in the living room, staring at the guy who was staring at the stolen Adidas bag on his dining table. In the dim light, he looked like a young workaholic college professor, staying up late to do grades and putter away at a novel in spare moments. He had that bedhead look, even though he was still dressed in jeans and a button-down shirt a shade too tight for his age. The guy was so entranced by the bag— maybe he was thinking, Forget this novel stuff; I may have a bag full of stolen loot here. And that made sense. Who else would stash a bag in a tree house but a criminal? The prof, however, was in for a little surprise. Kowalski considered waiting until the guy opened it before speaking up. There you go, buddy. Put
Not tonight.
“Ahem.”
The guy jolted, then froze. Only his eyes moved.
“Yeah, right over here, see?” Kowalski waved.
The prof nodded slowly.
“That bag does not belong to you. It does not contain cash or jewelry, or anything else you might consider valuable. Take a few steps back, let me take my bag, and I’ll be gone. No harm, no foul.”
“How do I know this is yours?”
“Because I say it is. And you should always believe a man with a semiautomatic pointed at your stomach.”
Kowalski had no such thing pointed anywhere.
The man’s voice cracked: “I want my cut.”
“Of what?”
“What’s in this bag. You can spare a little. Consider it a holding tax. I know how you armed robbers operate.”
“You don’t need anything in that bag.”
“
The guy was a stubborn fucker. Definitely a college professor, thinking he could throw his intellect around like a sledgehammer. Always thinking he was too clever to get caught. He must have been sipping a cappuccino, up late, thinking amazing thoughts, and then watched Kowalski stash the bag in the tree house.
“You’re not worried about your children? Because once I kill you, they’re next.”
