Nowhere to Run (34 page)

Russ felt his stomach growl. He still had more than half an hour before his segment was scheduled. Since leaving the building to go up to the corner deli was out, he could grab something cold off the guests’ table in the greenroom or go downstairs to the cafeteria and get what he was really in the mood for, a bowl of hot, creamy oatmeal.

As he approached the entrance to Station Break, he saw the dog sniffing along the hallway floor.

“Wherever a person goes, whether he sits, stands, walks, runs, even swims, he sheds thousands of minute particles of skin,” the handler explained for Joe’s benefit as both kept their eyes on the retriever. “These rafts of skin contain the person’s individual genetic scent composition. The more contamination that occurs in an area, though, the more difficult it is for the dog to work the available scent.”

“So this guy walking toward us is going to foul things up, right?” Joe observed as Russ approached them.

“It ain’t gonna help.”

“Go back, sir. This is an investigation area,” ordered the police officer, waving Russ away.

Russ was only too happy to comply. If that dog sniffed its way to his desk, he was going to be in big trouble. He had to get that powder out of his desk, out of the Broadcast Center.

As she walked to the lobby to meet B.J., Annabelle recalled the twenty dollars she had lent Yelena the day the
ATM
was down. Twenty dollars perhaps simply forgotten with all that Yelena had on her mind. Annabelle had certainly forgotten about it herself until now. But Ruby’s remark about Yelena’s cheapness had made her remember.

How odd it was for someone, especially of Yelena’s stature, to pilfer a cup of sugar. But further reflection about her boss and her motives was diverted as Annabelle spotted the cameraman waiting for her, ready to track down the K-9 team.

It didn’t take long to find them.

The dog and its entourage were coming down the hallway toward the lobby.

B.J. switched his camera on and managed to get some video before the cops shooed him away.

“Joe, can I talk to you a minute?” Annabelle called to the security chief.

He shook his head. “Not now, Annabelle.”

“It’s important, Joe,” she insisted.

“All right, but be quick about it,” he said as he came toward her.

The retriever was leading the handler to the revolving door out to the street.

“Christ, if the suspect got outside, we’re dead.” The security chief groaned as he watched the dog circling in confusion.

“Joe, I just wanted to let you know about something I heard in Maplewood yesterday when we were out there for a shoot.” Annabelle hurriedly recounted the story the au pair had told her.

“All right, I’ll let the cops know,” he responded as he turned his attention back to the dog.

“And, Joe,” Annabelle said, as she took hold of his arm, “my son may have been exposed too.” She gave him the details of what she knew so far about Thomas.

The security chief looked stricken.

“Can’t you let me out of here, Joe?” she tried.

“I’m sorry, Annabelle. No exceptions.”

Thinking her cooperation with him should at least earn some reciprocal information for her story, Annabelle continued, “All right, but I’ve got to do this story for the show, Joe. What can you tell me about what’s happening here?”

“Sorry again, Annabelle. I would help you if I could, but there’s nothing I can say right now.”

The second his movie segment interview with Harry finished at the end of the first hour of the broadcast, Russ clipped off his microphone and headed up to his office. He took the envelope from the bottom drawer of his desk and stuffed it in his raincoat pocket.

The main entrances might be blocked, but there were other ways out of the Broadcast Center.

If he escaped this time, Russ vowed he was going to clean up his act.

Gavin looked over the copy he was about to deliver on the Wellstone investigation. As he waited while the microphone was clipped to the lapel of his suit’s soft jacket, he wondered how much longer he really wanted to continue in this business. Getting up most mornings at an ungodly hour, being under pressure to perform, enduring Linus’s insults and tirades, and, now, the aspersions cast upon him by Yelena, assailing his character.

He didn’t need this anymore. He had enough money, his retirement fund was fat. He could get a part-time teaching position at a university if he wanted to make sure that he would have breaks from Marguerite’s harping. Yes, a college would be a good place to be. All those young, pretty coeds looking up to him.

He should get out while the going was still good.

Annabelle’s cell phone pulsed. With shaking hands, she flipped it open.

“Mike?” she answered anxiously.

“They aren’t even waiting for the test results, Annabelle. They’ve already started Thomas on Cipro.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“Eighty percent of cutaneous anthrax cases recover.”

There was a long silence. Neither one of them would speak of the other 20 percent.

“Annabelle?”

“Yes, I’m here.”

“Look, sweetheart,
all
that matters is Thomas getting well and you staying safe. Everything is going to be all right. I promise.”

Annabelle hung on to the phone, fighting back tears and clinging to her husband’s reassurance and strength. For the first time in these many months, she really started to sense that Mike was going to be okay.

As Russ pushed through the heavy metal door, the red light flashed from the board in the security office.

“The alarm is blinking at the rear emergency exit on Fifty-sixth Street,” the guard yelled at his colleague. “I’m running out there. You call Joe and let him know.”

The guard pushed through the emergency door into the torrential rain. He looked from side to side and randomly decided to run toward Tenth Avenue. Squinting through the downpour, he searched fruitlessly.

It was too late.

“Damn it!” Joe hissed.

The dog was coming up empty, losing the track in the lobby, the rain washing away the possibility of following the scent outside and, now, someone had escaped through the back of building.

“Let’s see if we can get prints off that emergency door,” offered the cop.