Outbreak (33 page)

She was back in the kitchen just in time to hear Ralph start down the back stairs.

"There you go," he said, dropping a blue tablet into Marissa's hand.

"What dose is this?"

"Ten milligrams."

"Don't you think that's a little much?"

"You're so upset. It won't affect you as it would normally," said Ralph, handing her a glass of water. She took it from him, then pretended to take the Valium, but dropped it into the pocket of her jacket instead.

"Now let's try the food again," said Ralph.

Marissa forced herself to eat a little as she tried to figure out a way to escape before Jackson arrived. The food tasted awful, and she put down her fork after a few bites.

"Still not hungry?" said Ralph.

Marissa shook her head.

"Well, let's go into the living room."

She was glad to leave the cooking smells, but the moment they were seated, Ralph urged her to have a fresh drink.

"I don't think I should after the Valium."

"A little won't hurt."

"Are you sure you're not trying to get me drunk?" said Marissa. She forced a laugh. "Maybe you'd better let me fix the drinks."

"Fine by me," said Ralph, lifting his feet to the coffee table. "Make mine scotch."

Marissa went directly to the bar and poured Ralph a good four fingers of scotch. Then, checking to see that he was absorbed, she took out the Valium tablet, broke it in half and dropped the pieces into the alcohol. Unfortunately, they did not dissolve. Fishing the pieces out, she pulverized them with the scotch bottle and swept the powder into the drink.

"You need any help?" called Ralph.

"No," she said, pouring a little brandy into her own glass. "Here you go."

Ralph took his drink and settled back on the couch.

Sitting down beside him, Marissa racked her brains to figure out where he might have put his car keys. She wondered what he would say if she suddenly demanded them, but decided it was too great a risk. If he realized she knew about him, he might forcibly restrain her. This way, she still had a chance, if she could just find the keys.

A horrible thought occurred to her: he probably had just put them in his pants pocket. As distasteful as it was, Marissa forced herself to snuggle against him. Provocatively, she placed her hand on his hip. Sure enough, she could feel the keys through the light gabardine. Now, how on earth was she going to get them?

Gritting her teeth, she tilted her face to his, encouraging him to kiss her. As his arms circled her waist, she let her fingers slide into his pocket. Scarcely breathing she felt the edge of the ring and pulled. The keys jangled a little and she began frantically kissing him. Sensing his response she decided she had to take the chance. Please God, please God, she prayed and pulled out the keys and hid them in her own pocket.

Ralph had obviously forgotten Jackson was coming, or he'd decided sex was the best way to keep Marissa quiet. In any case, it was time to stop him.

"Darling," she said. "I hate to do this to you, but that pill is getting to me. I think I'm going to have to go to sleep."

"Just rest here. I'll hold you."

"I'd love to, but then you'd have to carry me upstairs." She pulled herself out of his embrace, and he solicitously helped her up the stairs to the guest bedroom.

"Don't you want me to stay with you?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Ralph. I'm about to pass out. Just let me sleep." She forced a smile. "We can always continue when the Valium wears off." As if to end any further conversation, she lay on the bed fully clothed.

"Don't you want to borrow pajamas?" he asked hopefully.

"No, no. I can't keep my eyes open."

"Well, call if you need anything. I'll just be downstairs."

The moment he closed the door, she tiptoed over and listened to him go down the front stairs. Then she went to the window and opened it. The balcony outside was just as she remembered. As quietly as possible, she slipped out into the warm spring night. Above was an inverted bowl of stars. The trees were just dark silhouettes. There was no wind. In the distance, a dog barked. Then Marissa heard a car.

Quickly she surveyed her position. She was about fifteen feet above the asphalt drive. There was no possibility of jumping. The balcony was surrounded by a low balustrade, separating it from the sloped roof of the porch. To the left the porch roof abutted the tower and to the right it swept around the corner of the building.

Climbing over the balustrade, Marissa inched her way to the corner. The porch roof ended about twenty feet away. The fire escape descended from the third floor, but it was out of reach. Turning, she started back for the balcony. She was halfway there when the car she'd heard earlier turned into Ralph's drive.

Marissa lay still on the sloped roof. She knew that she was in full view of anybody coming up the driveway if they happened to look up. The car's lights played against the trees, then swept across the front of the house, bathing her in light before it pulled up to the front steps. She heard the doors open and several voices. They were not excited; apparently no one had seen her sprawled on the roof. Ralph answered the door. There was more conversation, and then the voices disappeared inside.

Marissa scampered along the roof and climbed back over the balustrade to the balcony. She ducked into the guest room and eased open the door to the hallway. Stepping into the hail, she could hear Ralph's voice though she could not make out what he was saying. As quietly as possible, she started toward the back stairs.

The light from the vestibule did not penetrate beyond the second turn in the hallway, and Marissa had to make her way by running her hands along the walls. She passed a number of dark bedrooms before

she rounded a final corner and saw the kitchen light shining below. At the head of the stairs, she hesitated. The sounds in the old house were confusing her. She still heard voices, but she also heard footsteps. The problem was, she couldn't tell where they were coming from. At that moment she caught sight of a hand on the newel post below.

Changing direction, Marissa went up the stairs and was halfway to the third floor in seconds. One of the treads squeaked under her foot, and she hesitated, heart pounding, listening to the relentless approach of the figure below. When he reached the second floor and turned down the hall toward the front of the house, she let out her breath.

Marissa continued up the stairs, wincing at every sound. The door to the servants' apartment at the top was closed but not locked.

As quietly as possible, she made her way across the dark living room and into the bedroom that she guessed looked out on the fire escape.

After struggling to raise the window, she climbed out onto the flimsy metal grate. Never fond of heights, it took all her courage to stand upright. Hesitantly, she started down, one step at a time, leading with her right foot. By the time she reached the second story, she heard excited voices inside the house and the sound of doors opening and slamming shut. Lights began going on in the darkened rooms. They had already realized that she had fled.

Forcing herself to hurry, Marissa rounded the second-story platform and was stopped by what seemed to be a large jumble of metal. Feeling with her hands, she realized that the last flight of stairs had been drawn up to protect the house from burglars. Desperately, she tried to figure out how to lower them. There didn't seem to be any release mechanism. Then she noticed a large counterweight behind her.

Gingerly, she put her foot on the first step. There was a loud squeak of metal. Knowing she had no choice, Marissa shifted her full weight to the step. With a nerve-shattering crash, the stairs shot to the ground and she ran down them.

As soon as her feet touched the grass, she ran for the garage, arms swinging wildly. There was no way the men inside the house could not have heard the fire escape's descent. In seconds they would be looking for her.

She ran to a side door to the garage, praying to heaven that it was not locked. It wasn't. As she raced inside, she heard the back door of the house open. Desperately, she stepped into the dark interior, puffing the door shut behind her. Turning, she moved forward, colliding almost immediately with Ralph's 300SDL sedan. Feeling for the car door, she opened it and slipped behind the wheel. She fumbled with the key until it slid into the ignition, and turned it. Several indicator lights flashed on, but the car didn't start. Then she remembered Ralph explaining how you had to wait for the orange light to go

out because the engine was a diesel. She switched the ignition back off, then turned the key part way. The orange light went on, and Marissa waited. She heard someone raise the garage door; frantically, she hit the button locking all four doors of the car.

"Come on!" she urged through clenched teeth. The orange light went out. She turned the key, and the car roared to life as she stomped on the gas. There was a series of loud thumps as someone pounded her window. She shifted to reverse and floored the accelerator. There was a second's delay before the big car leaped backward with such force that she was flung against the wheel. She braced herself as the car shot out the door, sending two men diving sideways for safety.

The car careened wildly down the drive. Marissa jammed on the brakes as the car screeched around the front of the house, but it was too late. She rammed Jackson's car with the back of hers. Shifting to forward, Marissa thought she was free, until one of the men, taking advantage of her momentary halt, flung himself across the hood. Marissa accelerated. The tires spun, but the car did not move. She was caught on the car behind. Putting the Mercedes into reverse, then into drive, she rocked the car as if she were stuck in snow. There was a scraping sound of metal; then she shot forward, dislodging her attacker as she careened down the drive.

"Forget it," said Jake, crawling out from under Jackson's car, wiping grease from his hands. "She busted your radiator," he told the doctor. "There's no coolant, so even if it started, you couldn't drive it."

"Damn," said Jackson, getting out. "That woman lives a charmed life." He looked furiously at Heberling. "This probably wouldn't have happened if I'd come here directly instead of waiting for your goons to get in from the airport."

"Yeah?" said Heberling. "And what would you have done? Reasoned with her? You needed Jake and George."

"You can use my 450 SL," offered Ralph. "But it's only a two-seater."

"She got too big a head start," said George. "We'd never catch her."

"I don't know how she escaped," said Ralph apologetically. "I'd just left her to sleep. She's had ten milligrams of Valium, for Chrissake." He noticed he felt a little dizzy himself.

"Any idea where she might go?" asked Jackson.

"I don't think she'll go to the police," said Ralph. "She's terrified of

everyone, especially now. She might try the CDC. She said something about a package being there."

Jackson looked at Heberling. They had the same thought: the vaccination gun.

"We may as well send Jake and George," said Heberling. "We're pretty sure she won't go home, and after what she did to Al, the boys are most eager for revenge."

Fifteen minutes from the house, Marissa began to calm down enough to worry about where she was. She had made so many random turns in case she was being pursued, she had lost all sense of direction. For all she knew, she could have driven in a full circle.

Ahead, she saw street lights and a gas station. Marissa pulled over, lowering her window. A young man came out wearing an Atlanta Braves baseball hat.

"Could you tell me where I am?" asked Marissa.

"This here's a Shell station," said the young man, eyeing the damage to Ralph's car. "Did you know that both your taillights is busted?"

"I'm not surprised," said Marissa. "How about Emory University. Could you tell me how to get there?"

"Lady, you look like you've been in a demolition derby," he said, shaking his head in dismay.

Marissa repeated her question, and finally the man gave her some vague directions.

Ten minutes later Marissa cruised past the CDC. The building seemed quiet and deserted, but she still wasn't sure what she should do or who she could trust. She would have preferred going to a good lawyer, but she had no idea how to choose one. Certainly McQuinllin was out of the question.

The only person she could envision approaching was Dr. Fakkry, from the World Health Organization. He certainly was above the conspiracy, and, conveniently, he was staying at the Peachtree Plaza. The problem was, would he believe her or would he just call Dubchek or someone else at the CDC, putting her back into the hands of her pursuers?

Fear forced her to do what she felt was her only logical choice. She had to get the vaccination gun. It was her only piece of hard evidence. Without it she doubted anyone would take her seriously. She still had Tad's access card, and if he was not involved with PAC, the card might still be usable. Of course there was always the chance that security wouldn't allow her into the building.

Boldly, Marissa turned into the driveway and pulled up just past

the entrance to the CDC. She wanted the car handy in case anyone tried to stop her.

Looking in the front door, she saw the guard sitting at the desk, bent over a paperback novel. When he heard her come in, he looked up, his face expressionless.

Rolling her lower lip into her mouth and biting on it, Marissa walked deliberately, trying to hide her fear. She picked up the pen and scrawled her name in the sign-in book. Then she looked up, expecting some comment, but the man just stared impassively.

"What are you reading?" asked Marissa, nerves making her chatter.

"Camus."

Well, she wasn't about to ask if it was The Plague. She started for the main elevators, conscious of the man's eyes on her back. She pushed the button to her floor, turned and looked at him. He was still watching her.

The moment the doors shut, he snatched up the phone and dialed. As soon as someone answered, he said, "Dr. Blumenthal just signed in. She went up in the elevator."