ER - A Murder Too Personal (22 page)

The lights were on in the two low-slung
buildings, but otherwise the night was black as hell and twice as
forbidding.

I dropped to a crouch and crossed twenty
meters of lawn to the back of the nearest building. That was where
the offices were. I flattened myself against the building with my
back to the brick wall. In front of me, about fifteen meters away,
at the edge of the parking lot was a white security van. The
lettering on the side of the van was too indistinct to make out.
Next to the van was Chisolm’s fool car, the Hummer. So Chisolm was
working late. Either he was doing some honest productive work or he
was doctoring up some more phony clinical trial results.

The windows behind me were above eye-level,
so I couldn’t get a look inside the building. There was no way of
telling if there was a batallion inside or just a lone security
guard. Hobley had given me some intelligence, but his information
might have been inaccurate or obsolete. I hated to go blind into a
situation like this.

It was another twenty meters to the second
building. I made my way over in a crouch. Both buildings were two
stories. This one housed the labs. Hobley had described the
emergency exit. I ran my hand along the brick wall until I found
it, maybe five meters down on the far side. It was a solid steel
door that opened outward. I put the heels of both hands against the
door. It was cold to the touch in spite of the warm evening
air.

I listened. There wasn’t a sound except the
crickets. I couldn’t see a damn thing for the blackness and I
didn’t want to use a flashlight unless I had to.

The door didn’t have anything to grab on to.
I ran my hands over the entire surface. Then, halfway down on the
left-hand side, a piece of cardboard stuck out an inch. That was
where Hobley had taped over the lock. I pulled the piece of
cardboard slowly until I could get a couple of fingers inside the
door. This was the moment of truth when the alarm would go off.

Nothing.

I pulled the door open a crack until I could
see the light inside.

Still no alarm. I held my breath and opened
the door wide enough for me to slide in. Once in, I peeled off the
tape and the cardboard, put them in my pocket, and eased the door
shut. My back was in the hollow of the door frame. I shifted my
shoulder holster so it would be easier to grab the gun.

A blank wall faced me and a corridor ran to
the right and left. Hobley said I’d have to go left and make the
first right to get to the security guard.

I looked to the right to make sure it was
clear. Then I started down the corridor to the left. The hum of the
air-conditioning muffled my steps on the asphalt tile.

It was twelve thirty-six. Hobley said the
relief guard didn’t come on until one-thirty, but sometimes he
showed up early to shoot the breeze. He also said there was a guard
in the other building.

I got to the right turn and stopped. Straight
ahead was a set of double doors and above them was a sign that
read: LABORATORY-AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

I dropped to one knee and snuck a peek around
the corner to the right. At the far end of the corridor the guard
sat at a console of closed circuit monitors.

There was just one tiny problem.

He was looking straight at me.

I jerked back.

It felt like Peter Rabbit and Farmer Mac
Gregor.

Had the son of a bitch seen me? There was
only one way to find out.

I took another look.

The guy hadn’t moved.

OK. I couldn’t just saunter up and say, “Nice
night, isn’t it?” On the other hand, I didn’t know if I’d come
around behind him if I went up the other corridor. Such are the
vagaries of life.

Might as well chance it. I headed back the
way I came, passed the exit door and stopped at the end. The johns
were to the right. Straight ahead was an unmarked door. The
corridor angled left. Above the door was a TV camera. The guard was
probably watching my smiling face right now on his monitor.

This was not my idea of a fun night. I headed
left up the corridor. There were more rooms on both sides. Some of
the doors had small windows in them. The rooms appeared to be
auxiliary labs and offices. Any one of them could be occupied. I
edged along the outer wall and tried to make myself as
inconspicuous as possible. Like a tarantula on top of a slice of
angel food cake.

I made it to the end of the hall without
setting off General Quarters or causing any other kind of
disturbance. The place was as quiet as the grave. I took a deep
breath and peeked around the corner.

The guard still hadn’t moved. He just sat
there, his left side to me, his hands on the console. His hat was
slanted forward over his eyes.

Two to one the guy was catching some z’s.
What else would you do on the night shift, besides dance the
tango?

I took two steps over to the far wall and put
my back to it. At least I was outside his field of vision.

I sidled along the wall like a crab and hoped
the son of a bitch was a heavy sleeper.

He looked like a retired cop with a pot belly
and a fringe of white hair under the cap. As I got closer, he
started to fidget in his chair, trying to find a more comfortable
position. Then he rubbed his nose with the back of his hand and
began the slow process of waking from his alpha state.

I was next to him and five feet from his left
shoulder. Over his shoulder I could see the console monitors and
the control board.

He was still half asleep. I crossed the five
feet and tapped him gently on the shoulder. He spun his chair
around slowly, his mouth wide open. I smiled at him, just as sweet
as could be, put my index finger over my mouth and whispered,
“Shhhh.” He blinked. I pointed behind him at the corridor straight
ahead. He swiveled around the way he was facing to get a look,
giving me the back of his head. I removed his hat and rapped him
smartly with the Glock. Just enough to stun him. He fell forward
over the console.

Neat.

I tied his hands and feet and taped his
mouth. Then I maneuvered him so he was under the console.

I checked my watch. Twelve fifty-seven.
Little more than half an hour. Tight but not impossible.

I walked down the corridor straight ahead to
the lab. The double doors were locked. It wasn’t hard to jimmy them
open with a screwdriver.

The lab was dark except for the light that
slanted in from the hallway. The shapes and shadows were the same
as any other lab. Refrigerators, autoclaves, centrifuges, petrie
dishes, racks of syringes.

Beyond the lab was the room with the
clinicals. I edged down the long counters, trying not to knock
anything over in the semi-darkness. The place smelled like a
hospital—full of odors of disinfectants and chemicals. The only
things missing were the patients and the flowers. And it was quiet.
There were no gongs and no loudspeakers.

The door to the file room wasn’t locked. I
pulled a flashlight out of my back pocket and flicked it on and
swept the beam around the room. It was small, maybe twelve by
twelve. There were half a dozen file cabinets against the wall on
the right and two metal desks against the wall on the left. Wedged
between the file cabinets and the wall were a couple of folded
corrugated cartons. Good old Hobley.

I shut the door behind me and put the
flashlight on the nearest desk so it gave enough light to work. I
set up one carton and looked for the file drawer with the telltale
piece of Scotch tape. The drawer opened smoothly. As I put the
files into the box in the proper order, I started to understand why
Laura had been killed.

Alicia had sent that manila envelope with
some extracts of the clinicals and instructions to Laura to open
the envelope if something happened to her. When Alicia was killed,
Laura saw the clinicals, didn’t realize what they meant and
contacted Chisolm. She was so innocent. So trusting. She didn’t
know it meant her own death.

The envelope was postmarked the day before
Alicia was killed—the day after I’d turned down her plea for help.
Was that why Alicia wanted to see me? Would she have given me the
clinicals? Would I have been able to save her?

The first carton was filled. I folded the top
flaps down so they interlocked and started filling the second
box.

Why didn’t Laura come to me instead of
Chisolm? Do you have a closer bond with somebody you fuck than with
somebody you don’t?

The second carton couldn’t hold any more
files. I shoved down the contents as much as possible and closed
it.

The boxes were too heavy to carry both at
once. I grabbed the first one and backed out of the room, shoving
open the door with my shoulder. I retraced my steps through the lab
back to the exit and dropped the box there.

Then the alarm went off. The goddam bloody
alarm went off. My heart started pounding like a jackhammer.

Why the hell did it have to go off now?

It was loud and it didn’t stop. I couldn’t
tell which was louder—my heart pounding or that damn alarm. It
howled through the night like a wounded beast in its death throes.
At most I’d have five minutes.

I went back to the file room. I picked up the
second box and lugged it through the narrow aisle between the
counters in the lab. My side was aching again but I couldn’t put
the box down.

Then a door slammed behind me.

I tried to turn in the darkness but I
couldn’t move fast enough with the box in my hands.

I heard Chisolm’s scream a couple of feet
away. “Rogan—you son of a bitch.” His yell was high-pitched, like
an angry woman. “Let go of my papers. Give me my papers.” He
sounded frantic, hysterical. Like he’d lost control of himself. “I
want my papers.”

I saw the flash from the muzzle out of the
corner of my eye and felt the slug hit my shoulder at the same
moment. It knocked the wind out of me. I lost my grip on the box
and it fell into Chisolm’s path. He stumbled over the box and fell
on top of me in a dance of death that felt so slow, it was as if
time had stopped.

I couldn’t get to my gun. My right arm was
useless. He was on top of me. My back was twisted over the edge of
a counter and he was pounding my head with both fists. The guy was
grunting and moaning and screaming all at the same time and in the
dim light his eyes had a weird intensity.

I swung my left fist and missed him. Or
rather I hit him a glancing blow on his shoulder that seemed to
make him even more insane. He kept on shrieking wildly into my ear.
I couldn’t understand what the hell he was screaming.

There was no feeling at all in my right arm.
The blood from my wound was all over the side of his face and his
neck. He grabbed my head with both hands and began ramming it
against the countertop.

I started to black out.

“Don’t trouble yourself, dear,” a woman’s
voice said evenly. “I’ll finish him off.”

I tried to make out who it was. I took a deep
breath and shook my head to clear it. In the dim light I could see
Mrs. Chisolm holding a gun. She was the one who’d put the hole in
my shoulder.

Chisolm turned to look at his wife. “Do it,”
he whimpered. “Kill him, for God’s sake.” He was crying
uncontrollably.

I could see her white teeth in the darkness
as she smiled. “My husband couldn’t kill a cockroach. He’s too much
of a pussy. Too fastidious. He’d never get his hands dirty.”

“Kill him now,” Chisolm sobbed. “Please, kill
him now.” He started to move off me to give his wife a clear
shot.

She raised the gun in a police grip with her
left hand supporting the right hand. She looked like a real cool
pro.

I bit down hard on Chisolm’s ear and held on
like a beaver in heat. Nothing in this world or the next was going
to make me let go. I could taste the warm blood. I didn’t know if
it was his or mine. He let out a surprised shriek. At the same
time, I slid down under Chisolm and pulled my gun out with my left
hand.

Mrs. Chisolm hesitated, but she shouldn’t
have. She fired and her slug caught Chisolm between the shoulders,
right where my head would have been.

I went down and stuck my left hand with the
gun out from under Chisolm’s crotch.

She saw the gun and her eyes widened in fear.
She opened her mouth.

I gave it to her in the chest. Twice. The
impact of the slugs knocked her back against the wall.

She slowly slipped down the wall and left a
broad red streak behind her to mark the beginning of her descent
into hell.

I didn’t have much strength left. My vision
was narrowing, like in a tunnel. Black and narrow. I couldn’t see
very well.

Chisolm dropped off me and hit the floor on
his back.

He didn’t move. Mrs. Chisolm didn’t move.

Neither did I.

I couldn’t move.

But Mrs. Chisolm’s eyes were still open and
there was still a little light in them.

I could talk. Or at least I could whisper. I
could say a few words before I blacked out. So I did.

“You bitch,” I said. “That was for
Laura.”

THE END