Aboud shook his head in wild denial.
“Don’t matter to me if you rat him out or not. I already had a heart-to-heart with him this mornin’.”
Aboud’s eyes widened in alarm. “You spoke to him?”
“I surely did.” Hunt stood up, hat in hand. “Went to deliver the same message I’m fixin’ to give you.” With his left hand, he moved the Stetson aside to reveal a pistol in his right hand. Without hesitation, he fired two shots straight into the doctor’s chest.
The look of stunned surprise never left Aboud’s face as he staggered backwards and dropped to the floor.
“Woo hoo!” Leroy let out a bloodcurdling yell of exultation. “There ain’t nothin’ beats a live target. Two in one day! My trigger finger is finally gettin’ a proper workout.”
Maskeen ducked down, covering his head. “Please don’t shoot me! I don’t know what any of this is about. I beg you, don’t shoot me!”
The cowboy eyed the cowering lab assistant dispassionately. “Mister, get on up. I ain’t got no quarrel with you.”
With trembling hands raised above his head, Maskeen rose.
“Like I said, I ain’t got no quarrel with you,” Leroy repeated. “Less, of course, you’re a double-dealer.” He raised the gun and aimed it at Maskeen’s head. “So, you tell me straight out. Are you a double-dealer?”
“A what?” the lab assistant quavered with rising hysteria.
“A double-dealer, old son. Somebody who takes money from the boss with one hand and sells him out with the other.”
Maskeen tried to form words but failed. All he could manage was a violent headshake.
“Course you ain’t. One look at that scared rabbit face tells me so. Put yer hands down.” Leroy replaced his gun in its shoulder holster. Then he put his hat back on his head. “Maskeen, is it?”
The man nodded shakily, lowering his arms.
“Congratulations, Maskeen. You just been promoted.” Leroy reached out and shook the man’s limp hand. “See, the boss needs somebody to run the operation while it’s windin’ down. I think you’re just the feller for the job. You know the ropes, don’t you?”
Maskeen gulped. “Yes,” he agreed faintly.
“Well, it’s like this. The preacher says he wants you to make enough vaccine for everybody. You think you can do that?”
Maskeen stared at him helplessly. “Everybody? I have no idea how many people that is.”
“Me neither,” the cowboy agreed ruefully. “I expect it’s a couple thousand but don’t quote me on that.”
A look of panic crossed Maskeen’s face.
“Now don’t you fret none. Here’s my advice. You get your people workin’ round the clock on that vaccine til the boss says ‘whoa.’ He’ll send one of his long-faced brood over here every couple days to pick up what you got. OK?”
Maskeen nodded dazedly.
Leroy clapped him on the back. “You play straight with the boss and do like he says. Otherwise, I might have to pay another visit, and you wouldn’t want that now, would you?”
“No!” the man exclaimed loudly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know you will. Do yer job right, and a month down the line you’ll leave this place for good with money in your pocket and no need to cross paths with me ever again.”
The new lab director relaxed slightly at the cowboy’s assurances.
Leroy glanced down at the body lying on the floor. “Before I go, we got to do somethin’ about this mess.”
Maskeen peered at him bleakly. “But what?”
“The boss tells me you got a nice hot oven in this place. Is that true?”
The director nodded doubtfully.
“Then here’s what you do. Round up a couple of yer boys. The kind who can keep their traps shut. Tell ‘em to bring a body bag. Then you zip up the trash and stick it in the oven. Easy-peasy.” The cowboy scowled at the floor. “Shame about the rug. A little stain remover and some elbow grease should get that right out for you.”
Maskeen stared at him open-mouthed.
“Well, I gotta saddle up and hit the dusty trail.” He tipped the brim of his hat and grinned. “Y’all have a nice day now, you hear?”
Chapter 44—Prophet and Loss
Erik busily flipped through the pile of papers strewn across Metcalf’s desk. On Maddie’s orders, he was making one final sweep of the diviner’s office for anything he’d overlooked earlier. The field team would soon be flying back from Sweden which meant it was almost time for the final showdown between the Nephilim and the Arkana. If they hoped to foil Metcalf’s plan for global destruction, any small detail might be critical to their success. The paladin swore under his breath. There was nothing here he hadn’t seen before. The chatelaine would have to make do with the intel he’d already given her. Erik hoped it would be enough. He was on the point of leaving when he heard a key scrape in the lock. He froze. It was two in the morning. Who could possibly be moving around this late? He dove under the desk and pulled the office chair in close to his body. Luckily, it was a huge desk, and there was room enough for both him and the chair.
He couldn’t see who had entered, but he recognized the voice. It was Abraham Metcalf. He was muttering something that sounded like a cross between a prayer and a complaint.
“Lord, I beg for your aid. The devil besets me at every turn. He has sent his imp to break my rest once more. Annabeth pursues me from beyond the grave.”
His words lapsed into slurred incoherence. If Erik didn’t know better, he might have suspected the old man was drunk. Then he remembered the gossip about the diviner’s “medicine.” Whatever it was, he seemed to be under its effects now. He might even be sleepwalking.
Erik relaxed a hairsbreadth. If he was spotted here, maybe Metcalf would think he was a hallucination. Better yet, the old man might not even remember the encounter the following morning.
“I need the comfort of your revelations, Lord, tonight of all nights. I can only quell the attack
