The Chemist Part 21

It read, in all caps, ESCAPE PROTOCOL.

"Do you think something bad happens if we say it out loud?" she wondered.

"I suppose it's possible. I'll believe anything after seeing his secret lair."

"Kevin really needs to hire someone to come up with better names for his commands. He's not very good at that part."

"I guess that could be my job now." Daniel sighed. "I do like dogs. It might be fun."

"It's still kind of teaching, right?"

"If Kev lets me do any." Daniel scowled. "I wonder if he sees me just mucking out stalls? I wouldn't put it past him." And then he sighed again. "At least the students all appear to be pretty bright. Do you think I could teach them to play volleyball?"

"Well... actually, yeah. They don't seem to have many limitations."

"I guess it won't be so bad. Right?"

"Right," she said confidently. And then mentally called herself a liar.

CHAPTER 14.

When Alex woke up, the first issue was the soreness. Unconsciousness had given her a break from the pain, and that period of relief, though welcome, made the awakening to reality worse.

The room was pitch-black. She a.s.sumed there was a window somewhere behind the boxes, but it must be covered with a blackout shade. Kevin wouldn't want too many lighted windows at night. Better to keep the house looking only partially inhabited. As far as any locals knew, Arnie was the sole occupant.

She rolled out of the cot, groaning when her left shoulder and hip hit the wooden edge, and then felt her way to the light switch. She'd cleared a wide path from the cot to the door so that she wouldn't add to her injuries fumbling around in the dark. Once the light was on, she disarmed the leads and then removed her gas mask. Given that there were people here that she didn't want to kill, she'd used a pressurized canister of knockout gas.

The hall was empty, the bathroom door open. There was one damp towel hanging on the rack, so Daniel must already be awake. That was no surprise. She'd been up pretty late with her memory list, despairing, even as she continued typing, at the probability of recalling in a week's time what any of her cryptic notes stood for. As she worked through it, she noted plenty of secrets worth killing over, but none specific to her or Barnaby. There would have been other victims if any of those particular secrets were the root problem. From what she'd been able to track in the news, her death and Barnaby's had not been followed by any other names she recognized. Nothing public, anyway.

While she shampooed her hair, she thought about how she could narrow down the time frame. She usually did her best creative thinking in the shower.

Barnaby had always been paranoid, but he hadn't started acting on that paranoia until two years before his death. She remembered that initial conversation, the first time she'd realized she was in actual danger. It had been late fall-around Thanksgiving. If that was not a random change, if there had been some sort of catalyst, maybe Barnaby had been reacting to the case that was the issue. She couldn't be sure of the timing, but she was fairly positive about the interrogations that had taken place after that change-in her memory, they were all riddled through with the new stress and distraction. So those could be ruled out. And she knew all the cases from her first year easily, when everything had been horrifically new and awkward; those could be set aside as well. It still left her three years of work to sort through and two of the nuclear scares, but she was happy to have even the slightest measure of containment.

She appreciated the fluffy towels the bathroom was stocked with. Kevin apparently enjoyed his creature comforts. Or maybe it was Arnie who liked things plush. Whoever it was had also stocked the bathroom with all the toiletries a hotel would provide, only in full-size bottles. There had been shampoo and conditioner in the shower. Toothpaste, lotion, and mouthwash were all set out on the counter. Nice touch.

She took a swipe at the mirror with the towel and quickly confirmed that she was still unfit to be seen. The black eyes were mostly a sickly green color now, with some of the darker purple in the inside corners. Her lip was starting to deflate, but that only made the superglue more obvious. The bruises on her cheeks were just barely beginning to yellow around the edges.

She sighed. It would be at least a week before her face could go out in public, even in makeup.

After dressing in her least dirty clothes, Alex gathered the rest, balled them up inside a T-s.h.i.+rt as an improvised laundry bag, and set off in search of the facilities. It was empty and quiet downstairs. She could hear barking in the distance. Daniel and Arnie must be out dealing with the animals.

She found the s.p.a.cious laundry room tucked away behind the kitchen. She noted the back door-always good to be familiar with the exits-and the large plastic attachment to the bottom half of it. It took her a minute to realize it was a doggie door-a huge doggie door, big enough to let Khan in. She hadn't seen any dogs in the house so far, but it must not always be off-limits. She started her load, then went to find breakfast.

The cupboards weren't much more helpful than the refrigerator had been. Half were full of cans of dog food, and the other half mostly empty. There was some coffee left in the pot on the counter, thank goodness. She also found a stash of Pop-Tarts, which she pilfered. Apparently Kevin and Arnie cared less about food than they did about towels. She found a mug from a Boy Scout camp circa 1983, chipped and faded. The time frame didn't fit either of the men who lived here-must be a secondhand acquisition. It worked just fine, regardless. When she was done, she loaded the mug in the stainless-steel dishwasher and then went to see what was on the day's agenda.

Lola and Khan were on the front porch, along with the Rottweiler whose name she couldn't remember. They all got up like they'd been waiting for her and followed as she headed out to the barn. She patted Lola a few times as they walked; it seemed like the polite thing to do.

North of the modern outbuilding was a big run full of animals, Arnie in the center of them all, calling out commands to the frolicking dogs. It didn't look like many of them were listening to him, but a few played teacher's pet. She couldn't see Daniel anywhere. She wandered into the outbuilding, went down the length of it to where the supply room was. Kevin and Arnie stocked the place much better for the dogs than for themselves. Daniel wasn't there, either.

She meandered out to the edge of the practice yard, not sure what else to do. It was odd; she was used to being alone all the time. But now Daniel wasn't around to check on, and suddenly she was at loose ends.

Arnie, of course, paid zero attention to her as she came up to the fence and hooked her fingers through the links. She watched him work with a young German shepherd-still all oversize paws and floppy ears-long past the point when her own patience would have run out. Lola's two pups came over to press their bodies against the fence and beg for licks from their mother. She obliged a few times, then yelped at them, a funny sound that made Alex think of her own mother reminding her to study after dinner. Sure enough, the two half-grown puppies ambled back toward the man with the treats.

Maybe Daniel had returned to the practice range. Kevin had said there was a truck around here, but she'd seen no sign of it. She wished Daniel had waited for her. She wanted to play with the SIG some more. And, honestly, she could use some exercise with her PPK, too. Her life had never depended on her aim in the past, but it very well might in the future. She didn't want to waste the unexpected opportunity to improve her skills.

She watched Arnie with the young dogs for another half hour. Finally, she interrupted, more out of boredom than any driving need to know.

"Hey," she called over the dog sounds. "Um, Arnie?"

He looked up, his face betraying no interest.

"Did Daniel take the truck over to the range? What time did he leave?"

He nodded, then shrugged. She tried to guess at a translation, but quickly gave up. She would have to keep the questions simpler.

"He took the truck?" she verified.

Arnie was focused on the dogs again, but she did get an answer. "Guess so. Wasn't there the last time I went to the barn."

"How far is it to the range?" she asked. It had seemed too long a distance to walk, but she might as well ask.

" 'Bout five miles, as the crow flies."

Not as far as she'd thought. Daniel was a runner-couldn't he have left the truck? Well, she could use a run herself, but he'd probably be on his way back before she could get there.

"And you don't know what time he left?"

"Didn't see him. It was before nine, though."

It had been more than an hour. Doubtless he'd return soon. She'd wait her turn.

It was good that Daniel was taking an interest in the practice. Maybe some of what she and Kevin had been trying to tell him had sunk in a little. She didn't actually want him to have to live in fear, but it was the best option. Fear would keep him alive.

She waved her thanks to Arnie, then headed back to the house to finish the laundry, furry entourage in tow.

An hour later, she was in clean clothes for the first time in several days, and it felt fantastic. She put the outfit she'd been wearing in the was.h.i.+ng machine, happy at the thought of having her whole wardrobe smelling nice again. She put in another thirty minutes on her memory project; at least she remembered her notations twelve hours later. She was trying to do things chronologically as best she could, though her numbering system was based on severity. It might have made things more confusing than they should be, but she didn't want to reorganize it all now.

This morning she worked terrorist events number fifteen and three-an attempted subway bombing and a stolen biological weapon-trying to think of any names that had come up in context. The terrorist and Russian profiteers on number fifteen had been dealt with, so it was probably nothing to do with them. She noted it down anyway. NY was too obvious an abbreviation, so she used MB for ManhattanBronx; the 1 train had been the target. TT for the faction behind it, KV for Kalasha Valleys, VR for the Russian who sold them the materials. A few outsiders who had aided and abetted: RP, FD, BB.

Number three had a few loose ends, as she remembered, but those had been turned over to the CIA. She looked at her letters: J, I-P for Jammu, India, on the border of Pakistan. TP; the Tacoma Plague, they'd called it. It had been developed by a known terrorist cell from the notes of an American scientist, lifted from a lab near Seattle. The splinter cell, FA, was involved in events T10 and T13 as well. The department had still been helping the CIA procure information about the remnants of the cell back when she'd been "fired." She wondered if the CIA had ever shut it down completely. Kevin had been busy enough in Mexico that he probably couldn't give her the answer. She noted down initials for a few connected names. DH was the American scientist the formula was stolen from, and OM was a member of the terrorist cell whom she'd interrogated. She thought there was another American involved somehow-not a partic.i.p.ant in the event. Or had that name been related to number four? She only remembered the name was short, clipped-sounding... did it start with a P?

She'd never been allowed to keep any notes, of course, so there was nothing to refer back to. It was frustrating. Enough so that she gave up and decided to look for lunch. The Pop-Tart hadn't exactly been filling.

As she walked into the great room, she could hear the low rumble of an engine pulling up outside, then the grinding sound of heavy tires on the gravel. Finally.

Habit had her checking out the door to make sure it was Daniel. Just as she peeked out, the engine noise cut off. A dusty white older-model Toyota truck with an equally aged and dusty camper sh.e.l.l was parked where they'd left the sedan last night, and Daniel was getting out of the driver's seat. Einstein jumped out the car door after him.

Even as she was admiring the vehicle's ordinary exterior-perfect for blending in-a slow creeping sensation started to inch up her back, raising b.u.mps on her skin as it moved. She froze, wide eyes darting around like a startled rabbit trying to suss out the direction danger was coming from. What had her subconscious noticed that she had not?

She zeroed in on the paper bag cradled in Daniel's left arm. As she watched, he pulled the front seat forward and grabbed another bag. Einstein danced happily around his legs. Khan and the Rottweiler ran down the porch steps to join in.

She felt the blood drain out of her face, leaving a dizzy sensation behind.

And then the second of shock pa.s.sed, and she was in motion. She charged after the dogs, feeling the blood pulse back into her bruised cheeks.

"Hey, Alex," Daniel called cheerfully. "There are a few more bags in the back, if you're feeling-" He stopped abruptly when he processed her expression. "What's happened? Kevin-"

"Where did you go?" She spit the words through her teeth.

He blinked once. "I just ran out to that town we pa.s.sed on our way in. Childress."

Her hands balled into fists.

"I took the dog," he offered. "Nothing happened."

She pressed one fist to her mouth, winced, and tried to calm herself. It wasn't his fault. He just didn't understand. She and Kevin should have advised him better. It was her own misstep for a.s.suming some of that guidance had happened while she'd been asleep in the car. But if Kevin hadn't been prepping Daniel for his new life, then what had they been talking about for all those hours?

"Did anyone see y-of course they did. You bought things. How many people saw you?"

He blinked again. "Did I do something wrong?"

"You went into town?" A deep voice rumbled behind her.

Daniel s.h.i.+fted his gaze to a point over her head. "Yeah-I mean, you guys were pretty short on groceries. I just wanted to get some nonfrozen stuff, you know? You seemed busy..."

She turned to look at Arnie. His face was impa.s.sive, but she knew it well enough now to see little breaks in the facade-stress marks around his eyes, one slightly more prominent vein in his forehead.

"Do you have a way to contact Kevin?" she asked him.

"You mean Joe?"

"Probably. Daniel's brother."

"Nope."

"What did I do?" Daniel asked pleadingly.

She sighed as she turned back to him. "Do you remember when Kevin said that no one around here had ever seen his face? Well... now they have."

Daniel's color started to ebb as he processed that. "But... I used a fake name. I-I said I was just pa.s.sing through."

"How many people did you talk to?"

"Just the cas.h.i.+er at the grocery store and the one at the-"

"How many places did you go into?"

"Three..."

She and Arnie exchanged a glance-horrified on her part, more inscrutable on his.

"Kevin left me money for things I might need-I a.s.sumed he meant stuff like eggs and milk," Daniel offered.

"He meant fake IDs," Alex snapped.

The rest of Daniel's color vanished, and his mouth fell open.

They stared at him for a long moment.

Daniel took a deep breath, visibly centering himself.

"Okay," he said. "I screwed up. Can we take the groceries in before you tell me how bad? It only adds waste to my mistake if the perishables spoil in the truck."

Lips pressed into a tight line-ignoring the irritating glob of superglue-Alex nodded once and went around to the back of the truck to help unload. She saw all the bags inside the camper and felt the blood behind her bruises again.

Of course, on top of going into the closest town, he would have bought enough food to feed an army. And if there was any other thing that would make him more memorable, he'd probably done that, too.

In ominous silence, Alex and Arnie brought all the bags in and put them on the counter. Daniel worked back and forth between the cupboards and the fridge, sorting each item into the right spot. Alex might have thought that he wasn't taking this seriously enough except for the fact that his color kept changing; though his expression was steady, his cheeks and neck would suddenly flush, and then he'd go white again.

The cooling-off period was probably a good idea. It gave Alex a chance to think everything through and be realistic about the danger posed. She'd been about ready to steal Arnie's truck and disappear, but she knew that would be overreacting. Sometimes overreactions saved your life; sometimes they just put you in more danger. She had to remember her face; running now would only cause her more problems.

Daniel placed the last item-some kind of leafy green vegetable-in the fridge and shut the door. He didn't turn, just stood there with his head slightly bowed toward the stainless steel.

"How bad?" he asked quietly.

She looked at Arnie. He didn't seem inclined to speak.

"Tell me you paid cash," she began.

"Yes."

"Well, that's something, at least."

"But not everything," Daniel guessed.

"No. Childress is a very small town."

"Just over six thousand people," Arnie rumbled.

It was worse than she'd thought; she knew of high schools with bigger student bodies.