True Evil

name MIGHT AS WELL imprinted on the lid. Thora fit easily into the can, which he'd rolled straight to the parking garage. He transferred Thora to the back of his Cayenne, and then-after returning the trash can to a different side of the fifteenth floor-he'd returned to his office as though nothing had happened.

But something had happened. And since that murderous minute, he'd felt his time as a free man draining away like blood from a severed vein. He had an escape plan, but to initiate it he'd first have to break free of FBI surveillance. He did not know how to do that. He still held out hope that Dr. Tarver would save them-if Tarver had not already bolted. The doctor had requested an emergency rendezvous at Chickamauga via e-mail, but Rusk had been unable to keep it without dragging the FBI along with him. Nearly frantic, he'd gone to a friend's office in the tower and sent Tarver an e-mail summarizing every threat arrayed against them, in the hope that Tarver could somehow cut through the closing net. But if Tarver didn't contact him soon, Rusk was going to have to take drastic measures. Like calling his father. He dreaded the thought, but at this point-without Dr. Tarver's help-it would take the legendary clout and connections of A.J. Rusk to save him.

'Lisa, honey,' he said softly. 'We're only talking about a few months in Cuba. I've arranged for us to live on a beautiful yacht right in the marina. Guys like Sinatra paid through the nose to hang out there with Ava Gardner and Marilyn Monroe.'

'Yeah, like in the Dark Ages.'

Lisa was twenty-nine years old. 'Castro's history, babe. He's going to die any day now. He may already be dead, in fact.'

She looked skeptical. 'Didn't JFK try to assassinate him like a bunch of times, and he couldn't do it?'

Rusk wanted to kill Oliver Stone. 'That doesn't matter, honey. As soon as the heat is off, we'll move to Costa Rica under different names. And Costa Rica is a goddamn paradise.'

'But I like my name.'

Rusk squeezed her hand. 'Think of it this way: With the name you've got, you're worth about five million bucks. Under your new name, you're worth twenty. That's a big difference.'

This got her attention. 'Twenty million dollars?'

He nodded with the gravity such an amount demanded. He could see the wheels clicking behind her gorgeous green eyes. Despite the pounding at the base of his skull, he managed a smile. 'That's Hollywood money, babe.'

'But why can't we go to Costa Rica now?' she asked in a girlish voice.

He forced himself not to scream. 'Because it's not safe. We have to let the FBI check Costa Rica and find nothing. Then we can go there.'

'What have you done, Andy? You said it was some kind of tax thing. How pissed off can the government be about that?'

What have I done? I killed a woman who looked a lot like you, only better. And if you keep this up, I might just kill you, too. He glanced worriedly at the dark windows. 'You don't understand these things, Lisa. The simple truth is, we don't have a choice.'

She gave him a long stare, surprising in its coldness. 'Maybe you don't have a choice. But I haven't done anything. I can stay right here until it's safe in Costa Rica. Then I can join you there.'

Rusk stared, incredulous. She sounded just like Thora Shepard! 'You'd stay here without me?'

'I don't want to. You're the one making this happen, Andy, not me.'

She's right, he thought. Cuba had seemed such a cool idea when Tarver suggested it five years ago. It was one of the last mysterious places on earth, the last commie outpost save China. And it had that Hemingway glamour. What more macho retreat could there be? The fucking Cold War was still going on there, for God's sake. But then Castro got sick. Nobody knew what was really going on. And forty-eight hours after having his umbilical to Dr. Tarver cut, Rusk thought the prospect of living in postcommunist chaos sounded dicey. Lisa certainly wanted no part of it. Maybe she wasn't so dumb after all.

'I can't do it, Andy,' she said with sudden conviction. 'I promise I'll come to Costa Rica when you get there. But I don't want to leave my mom and my friends to go to Cuba.'

'Baby…once we get there, you'll see how great it is. Now go upstairs and pack the absolute minimum you need to leave the country. One suitcase, okay? One.'

Instead of obeying, Lisa set her jaw and spoke through clenched teeth. 'I said-I'm-not- going. You can't make me. And if you try, I'll file for divorce.'

For the second time today, Rusk was stunned speechless. Lisa had to be bluffing. He'd written an ironclad prenup. If she divorced him, she'd get almost nothing. Well…that wasn't exactly true anymore. Over the past three years, he had found it advantageous to transfer some considerable assets into her name. It had made a lot of sense at the time. But now…now he saw himself as a sucker, like one of his pathetic clients. Before he realized what he was doing, he had slid his right hand up to her throat.

'One more inch and I'll scream,' she said evenly. 'And when those FBI guys bust in here, I'll tell them about every tax scam and swindle you ever pulled.'

Rusk stood and backed away from his wife. Who the hell was this woman? And why in God's name had he married her?

It doesn't matter, he told himself. To hell with her. As long as I get out of the country, it doesn't matter what she does. She can have a few million. There's plenty more for me. If only Tarver would show the fuck up….

He walked toward the central hallway, meaning to check his e-mail on the computer in his study, but as soon as he entered the hall, he saw a massive shape silhouetted by the light spilling from the study.

'Hello, Andrew,' said Dr. Tarver. 'It's pretty crowded outside. Did you give up on me?'

Rusk couldn't see the doctor's face, but he heard the cool amusement in that voice. Nothing rattled this guy. 'How the hell did you get through those FBI agents?'

Soft laughter from the shadow. 'I'm a country boy at heart, Andrew. Remember when I shot the Ghost?'

Hell, yeah, Rusk thought, recalling the legendary buck with a flush of admiration. 'You really pissed off the old-timers that day.'

Dr. Tarver unslung a large backpack from his shoulder and dropped it on the ground with a heavy rustle.

'Can we get out?' Rusk asked, trying to sound calm. 'I mean, have you got something figured?'

'Have you ever known me not to have things figured, Andrew?'

Rusk shook his head. This was true, though he couldn't remember them ever being in this kind of spot before.

'I appreciated this afternoon's e-mail about Alexandra Morse. I'd suspected that she was acting on her own, but I had no idea that the Bureau was going to terminate her. Most convenient.'

As Rusk puzzled over this, Dr. Tarver turned toward the study. 'Call Lisa in here, Andrew. We need to get started.'

Rusk started to ask why the study, but then he realized it was because the room had no exterior windows. He looked over his shoulder. 'Lisa? Come here.'

'You come here,' came the petulant reply.

'Lisa. We've got company.'

'Company? Oh, all right. I'm coming.'

With Dr. Tarver's miraculous arrival, Rusk felt the pleasant return of male superiority. Meaning to say something witty, he turned back toward the doctor and saw the pistol rise as Tarver shot him in the chest.

Alex struggled up out of a dark sea into piercing white light.

'Alex?' said a deep voice. 'Alex!'

'I'm here!' She shielded her eyes with her left hand and reached out with her right. 'Don't touch it, Uncle Will!'

'I'm not Will,' said the voice, and gradually the blur above her coalesced into the face of John Kaiser. His