that by coming forward, you may save a lot of lives.'
'I honestly d-didn't know it was hurting anyone. He said that D-Dr. B-Baldwin caused their problem. N-not the virus.'
'Who's he, Warren?'
Warren Fezler rubbed at his eyes, which looked flat and tired. He turned to Martha, who gave an encouraging nod.
'Blankenship,' he said, suddenly. 'Eli B-Blankenship.'
Rosa stared at him incredulously. Blankenship! The one person aside from Sarah and Matt Daniels whom she had trusted with all her information. She felt a sick, empty churning beginning in her gut.
'Explain,' she said.
'I s-stutter a lot. I'm s-sorry.'
'There's nothing to apologize for, Warren. Don't even think about it. Just tell me about CRV113 and Eli Blankenship.'
'If I sp-speak slowly, it's not as bad.'
'You're doing fine.'
Fezler took a calming breath. In fact, when he did begin to speak again, he seemed more composed and fluent.
'The CRV s-stands for coagulation-related virus. I stumbled on its weight loss p-property by accident. I th- think it's due to some sort of gene that's closely linked on the chromosome to one of the ones I w-was working on. The linked gene interferes with the digestion and cellular storage of fat by blocking a specific enzyme. In isolating my clotting genes from their chromosomes, I apparently cut away the genes that provide the checks and balances on the fat-inhibiting one. My m-monkeys began losing weight. A lot of them died. After I realized what was happening with them, I p-played around with the inoculum size and some other stuff. They stopped dying, and just lost weight-right down to dry weight. F-finally I ingested the virus myself. It w-worked perfectly. I l-lost a hundred pounds in just a f-few months with no p-problem and absolutely no side effects.'
'But Cletus Collins said all your monkeys died.'
'I–I'm ashamed to say it, but I k-killed them m-myself to protect the secret. It was B-Blankenship's idea. We were classmates in graduate school. He has an M.D. I have b-both an M.D. and Ph.D. I s-swear I n-never thought anyone would get hurt. You've g-got to believe that.'
'She does, Warren,' Martha said sadly. 'Just go on.'
'I t-told Eli about the virus and what I h-had found. He said we could get very rich from it. There were two p-problems, though.'
Already, for Rosa, the final pieces had dropped into place.
'The patent,' she said.
'Exactly. B-BIO-Vir owns the virus.'
'And I guess the second would be the FDA.'
'You're very s-smart,' Fezler said.
Rosa thought about how much she had shared with Eli Blankenship-especially over the past two days.
'Not so smart,' she said. 'So, Blankenship concocted the Herbal Weight Loss powder to avoid any lengthy research protocol with the FDA.'
'Which they w-would n-never have approved of anyhow. Eli set up the whole thing. He's incredibly b-brilliant. But he's a demon. He's a liar, and he's v-very, very secretive. No one involved ever knew w-what anyone else was doing. N-not Singh, not Ettinger, not Paris, n-not even me.'
'None of them knew about the virus?'
'Just me… and Eli.'
'But it's in the diet powder.'
'N-no. Not in the powder. In the vitamins. One of the vitamin capsules-n-number nine-is different f-from the rest. I made them myself in a lab Eli s-set up for me. At first I believed him about D-Dr. Baldwin being responsible for those women. Then I b-began to have doubts. I got f-frightened about what we w-were doing. Especially with s-so many people buying the p-powder.'
'So Blankenship tried to kill you?'
'Not Blankenship. A m-man he hired. Tall and b-blond with-'
'No!'
Rosa was about to say the word herself when Martha Fezler screamed it. Her eyes were wide with terror. At that instant a soft pop came from Rosa's right. Martha cried out and flew over backward as if she had been hit by a wrecking ball. Warren and Rosa dropped to where she lay. She was grunting for breath. Her eyes were glazed.
'Oh, God!' Warren said, touching the dime-size hole in her overall bib, which was already soaking through with blood. 'She's been shot.'
'Excellent deduction, Warren.'
They spun to the voice, which Rosa had recognized even before she saw the man. Darryl was leaning comfortably against a support beam, grinning at her the way he first had on the highway. The silenced revolver, held comfortably in his hand, was pointed at a spot somewhere between her and Warren.
'H-he's the m-man,' Fezler said from his knees. 'B-Blankenship's man. Why d-did you sh-shoot my s-sister, you f-fucker? Why?'
'It's just business, Warren,' he said, taking a step toward them. 'I'm sure Rosa there understands that. She doesn't hold it against me that I shot out that tire of hers. She knows it was just business. Just a way to find out exactly where she was headed. I don't hold it against you that my knee got blown apart the last time we were together and that I'm going to be a fucking gimp cripple for the rest of my life. Occupational hazard is the way I look at it. Business. Now, though, it's your turn.'
'You s-son of a bitch!' Fezler whined.
'Get up! Now!'
Numbly the scientist did as he was asked. He looked like a man resigned to death.
Darryl's gun came up. Rosa could see Fezler had no intention of moving. She dove at him from the side and pushed him as hard as she could. He stumbled, tripped, and then toppled off the rear platform between the rails and the building. The gunman's reflex shot splintered the floor where Fezler had been standing.
'Run, Warren, run!' Rosa screamed.
Darryl turned to her and smiling in a calm, twisted way, shot her in the chest. In grotesque ballet, Rosa spun nearly full around, her arms flapping like a rag doll's, her glasses flying off. She fell heavily to the floor, not two feet from where Martha lay. Pain exploded through to her back from a spot just above her right breast. She cried out, but was not aware that she had made a sound. Drawing even a shallow breath sent daggers through her chest, and up into her shoulder and jaw.
Darryl, now ignoring her completely, had moved to the spot where Warren had fallen from the platform. He held the obscene, silenced revolver loosely as he stared out toward the water. Lying on her side, gasping for air, Rosa prayed that Fezler had overcome his cowardice and kept his head enough to try to escape.
'P-please d-don't sh-shoot,' she suddenly heard him beg.
'Up,' Darryl said. 'Slowly now. On your feet.'
Silently Rosa cursed both men. Moving through pain unlike any she had ever known, she pulled herself toward them.
'Now, Warren, this way. Come on… Come on, boy.'
Rosa felt herself move, then move again, first on her belly, then on her hands and knees. Her lung had collapsed. Of that she was sure. She tasted blood and sensed it welling up from her chest. She felt dizzy. Her vision blurred. Then, as she wondered if she could move even one more foot, her hand brushed against Martha Fezler's coffee can. Hearing the soft scrape, Darryl turned. With all her strength, Rosa splashed the solvent into his face. He staggered backward, screaming, pawing frantically at his eyes with his free hand and firing the revolver wildly with the other.
A bullet tore through the flesh of Rosa's arm, but she barely noticed. She had pulled herself up by a line and stumbled over to the wall.
'Warren, help!' she cried hoarsely.
Darryl, now writhing on the floor by the tracks, fired instinctively at her voice. The bullet shattered the
