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Ted locked up the lab and led Kevin down the linoleum-lined hall to another beat up wooden door. He opened it to reveal a cramped office sparsely furnished with two bookshelves and the requisite metal desk. Books were still piled in boxes on the floor, and papers overflowed the desk space not occupied by the Macintosh. Kevin bit his lip and nodded his head.

“I know. It’s not exactly what I was hoping for,” said Ted. “But it hasn’t got that homey touch yet. One thing I do have, though, is a view.”

Ted raised the venetian blinds. From directly below the window to about a hundred yards out stretched the commuter lot he had talked about. Past the expansive lot, however, was a splendid mountain vista brightly lit by the full moon and dotted by lights from scattered houses.

“Bet you have fun riding your bike here,” said Kevin, thinking of the unrelenting flatness of Houston. Ted was an avid road cyclist and would routinely bike 75 miles in a weekend.

“You know it. Even after two months, my legs are still killing me from all these hills.”

Ted paused as if he didn’t know how to say something. “You sure you don’t want to go to the police?”

Kevin hadn’t told Ted about the run-in with the police yesterday or the death of his father. He worried that it might make Ted rethink letting Kevin use the lab.

“No. At least not yet. Maybe when we’re done in the lab.”

“How long will you need it?”

“Two days. Maybe a little longer. We’ll be out of here by Sunday night.”

“No problem. Stay as long as you need.” Ted didn’t ask more about why Kevin wanted the lab, but Kevin could tell he was curious.

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“Anything else you need?” Ted asked. “I saw you brought a cellular phone and laptop with you, but if you need to use my computer, you’re more than welcome.”

“We won’t be using the cellular phone. Call us paranoid, but it may be traced.”

That brought a raised eyebrow from Ted, but he didn’t pursue it. “You can use ours if you want while we’re gone. I got one of those deals. You know, get the phone free, sign up for two years’ service. Don’t worry about using it. We get 30 minutes a month included.”

“Aren’t you the yuppie?”

“Actually, I was going to tell you in a couple of weeks anyway, but since you’re here, I might as well tell you now. I got it for Janice, so I wouldn’t be worried. She’s pregnant.”

Kevin’s jaw dropped. Then he grabbed Ted’s hand and shook it furiously.

“Congratulations, you stud. I knew you had it in you, but I didn’t know it would be so soon.”

“Don’t mention it to Janice. She wants to wait until she’s past three months.”

“No problem,” said Kevin. “But you have to let me buy you a beer on the way home.” He was too tired to get any work done tonight anyway.

Ted looked at his watch. “I think we can find an open bar at 11:00 in a college town.”

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CHAPTER 26

In a neighborhood near the Rice University campus, Bern drove as Lobec searched for a house at 1509 Albans. It was 1:00 pm on Thursday, and Lobec knew he was running out of time.

The longer Kevin Hamilton and Erica Jensen remained at large, the greater the chance that he would never be able to recover the Adamas notebook, that they would turn it over to the police or someone else who may eventually understand the significance of it. Then the chase would be over. Every minute was valuable, and he and Mr. Bern were wasting it by following his arrogant boss’s orders.

Lobec hadn’t thought even Tarnwell would be foolish enough to bet everything on an untested technology. Then Tarnwell had proclaimed to the shareholders and press that he would announce a revolutionary new process next Tuesday, five days from now. With Adamas, his net worth would triple overnight. But if Tarnwell didn’t have the invention in hand at the time of the press conference, the stock would plummet, leaving him with no way to service the debt on the new company. It was all or nothing. Lobec supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised.

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Despite Tarnwell’s orders, Lobec had taken time to find out why Murray Hamilton had left his son and Erica Jensen at LuminOptics. After some monetary persuasion, the sales representative told Lobec they had purchased a laser at well above list price.

The reason for the purchase was immediately obvious to Lobec. They had obtained the laser in order to repeat the Adamas experiment, to produce enough diamond for evidence. It was possible that Kevin Hamilton did not even believe that the process worked. All of which led to the conclusion that they would acquire the rest of the equipment necessary and find somewhere to run the experiment. If Lobec found that place, he would find them.

Instead of looking for that place as they should, some of his men were staking out various locations throughout the city or maintaining phone taps, and the rest of his team, including Lobec and Bern, was interviewing anyone in Houston connected with Hamilton or Jensen. Although he did not agree with the tactic, they had learned some information. The hospital confirmed that Erica Jensen had called the school on Tuesday to tell them she would not be in the rest of the week, giving the excuse that she had a death in the family.

They had also learned from the transaction for the laser that Miss Jensen had a sizable insurance payout from the death of her parents and had used it to cut a check for the laser. It also explained how they were able to get by without the use of credit cards. She had merely made another withdrawal from an automated teller machine in Dallas the same day Lobec tried to capture them. With the additional three hundred dollars, they wouldn’t need to withdraw money for at least several more days. Lobec had instructed Mitch to report Murray Hamilton’s pickup truck stolen, but he didn’t have much faith in the ruse working twice. His quarry could be anywhere in the contiguous United States by now.

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“Here it is,” said Lobec, spying the number “1509” through the leaves of a live oak.

Bern stopped the car in front of the house. They got out and prepared their identification as they walked toward the door. Lobec carefully touched his throbbing nose. No one had mentioned his injuries, but he did observe several curious looks during the interviews.

After two rings, the door opened to reveal a six foot tall black man.

“Are you Nigel Hudson?” asked Lobec.

“Yes,” the man said warily.

Lobec flipped open his wallet. “My name is Detective Trumball, and this is my partner, Detective Braddock. May we have a few words with you?”

“About what?”

“We need to discuss a friend of yours. His name is Kevin Hamilton.”

Hudson eyed Lobec and Bern suspiciously. “All right,” he said after the hesitation. “Come on in.”

Good. This interview was already going as well as their other interviews. Perhaps this one would be more productive. If Lobec worded his questions correctly, he would know if this man had communicated with Kevin Hamilton. All he needed was one clue. Then he would have them.

* * *

At 1:00 pm on Thursday, Erica was driving Murray’s dualie down Tom’s Creek Boulevard away from Virginia Tech. She was alone. Kevin was in the lab, and Janice and Ted Ishio had left early Wednesday morning for Minnesota.

The first thing Erica and Kevin did yesterday was make two phone calls. The first call had been to Congressman Sutter’s office to make an appointment for next week. The only opening MORRISON/THE ADAMAS BLUEPRINT

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the congressman had was on Monday morning at 8:00; he was supposed to leave the next day for a two week junket overseas. Since Kevin thought he would be done even sooner than Sunday, he’d told the secretary, Marian, that Monday would be fine.

The second call had been to the Smithsonian. At first, Erica had been uncomfortable pretending to be Marian, but she quickly grew into the role and thought her performance was convincing. The favor she had asked was somewhat unusual, but the man she talked with didn’t seem very surprised and agreed to her request. His matter-of-fact tone led Erica to believe he would do it.

The rest of the day had been mundane, consisting primarily of moving equipment and adjusting settings per Kevin’s direction. Research had never been interesting to her, and the stuffy lab hadn’t changed her mind. Eating greasy take-out pizza all day didn’t help the situation. Since the setup was finished and Kevin didn’t need her help any more, she was taking the opportunity to get some food that was not made primarily of saturated fats.

Ted and Janice had been planning to be gone for several days, and they’d let their store of food dwindle, especially the fresh fruits and vegetables Erica craved. The obvious solution was the immense grocery now in front of her. It was one of the new ones that had a pharmacy, a full-service bank, a deli, and anything else they could cram in.

The lot was packed with cars of students just returned for the fall semester loading up on supplies. Erica had to park on the fringe, but it didn’t bother her. She was looking forward to the walk, amazed that on a sunny September day the temperature hadn’t been higher than 75 degrees.

Maybe later she’d walk around Ted and Janice’s neighborhood.

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When she saw the other students entering and leaving the store, she felt a pang of guilt for neglecting her own studies. But there was nothing she could do. At least this mess would all be over on Monday.

Erica followed two teenage girls into the store. She grabbed one of the shopping baskets piled at the front and dropped her purse into it. At the entrance to the produce section, a woman was holding a tray with bits of food. The teenagers each took a piece and popped them into their mouths. Erica hadn’t eaten since breakfast, so she walked over to the woman.

She held the tray up for Erica. “Would you like to try a sample of NYC brand coffee cake?”

“I’d love to. I’m starving.”

“The pieces on the left have walnuts and the ones on the right don’t. Take one of each. If you like it, you can pick up a box from aisle 12.”

“Thanks.”

Munching on the coffee cake, Erica headed into the produce section. As she popped the second piece of cake into her mouth, she thought she might actually buy some.

A salad was her top priority though, so she stopped and picked a head of Romaine lettuce, a bundle of carrots, two tomatoes, and a cucumber. Next was a stalk of broccoli. She only needed one since Kevin hated broccoli. She wrapped the broccoli in a tear-off plastic sack and went in search of the pasta aisle. The thought of marinara sauce with a light sprinkle of parmesan made her mouth water, and she looked for a sign marked “Italian foods”.

As she rounded the corner into the grocery store’s back row, she saw the two teenagers standing by a dispenser containing cold drinks. They were facing away from Erica. Both were MORRISON/THE ADAMAS BLUEPRINT

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short and thin, one with dark, curly hair, the other with a blonde crop cut. The dark-haired girl seemed to be comforting the blonde. As Erica got closer, she could hear what they were saying.

“Tory?” the dark-haired girl said in a voice that was tinged with fear. “What’s the matter?”

Tory shook her head. She seemed to be clutching her throat. Immediately, Erica thought the girl was choking. But then Tory turned around, and Erica knew that the situation was much worse.

Tory’s face was bright red, and her lips, cheeks, and neck were grossly swollen. Her eyes were beginning to shut because of the swelling. The hissing sound was Tory gasping for breath through her constricting throat. It was a textbook case of a severe allergic reaction. If nothing was done in the next few minutes to halt the reaction, Tory would go into shock and die.

When the dark-haired girl saw Tory’s face, she screamed. A dozen eyes turned in the teenagers’ direction, and without thinking, Erica ran over to them, as did a man who looked like a student.

“What’s wrong with her?” the student asked.

“I don’t know,” said the dark-haired teenager. “She was fine just a minute ago.”

“She’s having an allergic reaction,” Erica said, coming to a stop in front of the girls and dropping her hand basket to the ground.

“You,” she said, pointing at the student, “go call 911 and tell them it’s an emergency.”

She turned back to the teenagers. “Is she allergic to something in that cake you just ate?” she said to the dark-haired girl.

“Tory asked about nuts, but the woman said there weren’t any.”

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Erica put one hand on Tory’s shoulder and lifted her head. The swelling was spreading rapidly. Tory’s face was now the color of one of the ripe tomatoes in Erica’s basket.

Severe allergies to nuts were fairly common; 100 people in the U.S. die from them every year.

And sometimes the allergic person didn’t even have to eat nuts. The cake without walnuts might have had a nut oil, which would produce the same effect.

Tory lunged forward, panicking because she couldn’t breathe. She stumbled over Erica’s basket, scattering the fruit and the contents of her purse across the linoleum floor.

Erica clasped Tory’s shoulders hard, knowing the only way to save her was to give her the dose of epinephrine people with severe allergies like hers were supposed to carry.

“Tory, I know what the problem is and I’m going to help you. But you need to calm down.”

Tory shook her head, but didn’t resist.

“What’s your name?” Erica said to the dark-haired girl as she held on to Tory.

“Maggie.”

“Maggie, I’m Erica. I need you to help me get Tory lying down. If she passes out and collapses, she might injure herself.”

“Are you a doctor?” Maggie said.

“Yes,” Erica said, knowing that telling Maggie she was a med student would only cause problems. On the other hand, if you told people you were a doctor, they immediately trusted your abilities. “Now, grab her other side.”

Gently, they moved Tory to the floor. Her breath was now coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

“Where’s her epi pin?” Erica said, beginning to search Tory’s pockets.

Maggie looked at her, puzzled. “Her what?”

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“Her epinephrine. With her allergy, she should always be carrying it.”

“I don’t...”

“Damn!” Erica said. All she found were Tory’s driver’s license and seven dollars in cash. She wasn’t surprised; both of the severe allergic reactions she’d seen in the ER resulted from the patients not carrying their epi kits.

“Damn!” Erica yelled. “Did they call the paramedics?”

“They’re on their way,” someone said.

“How long?”

“They didn’t say. Maybe five minutes?” The response was more question than answer.

The nearest EMS unit could be all the way across town for all she knew. She had to do something, otherwise Tory would asphyxiate in minutes. Even if she didn’t, it wouldn’t take long for the girl to sustain irreversible brain damage. In an emergency room, a tracheotomy might have been an option, but under these conditions and with her lack of experience, she could just as easily kill the girl. Erica’s only choice was to stop the swelling before it got any worse.

By now, a few more of the students had gathered around the scene. An obese man wearing a tie and name tag shouldered some of the students aside.

“What’s going on here?” he said in a gruff voice.

“Are you the manager?” Erica said.

“Yes. Is the kid all right?”

“No, she’s about to go into shock.”

“Who are you?”

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”I’m a doctor,” Erica said, not wanting to waste time explaining. “Go to the front of the store and make an announcement over the PA. Ask if there is anyone in the store who is allergic to bees and carries epinephrine...” Suddenly, Erica realized that was unnecessary. She remembered the sign on the front of the store that said “Pharmacy.”

“Forget that. Is the pharmacy open?”

“Sure,” the manager replied.

“Good. Go to there and ask the pharmacist for an adult epi kit.”

“A what?” the manager said, obviously confused.

“An kit of epinephrine for...” It was going to take too long to explain. The manager still had a bewildered look on his face, and if he brought back the wrong thing, it might be too late.

“Never mind,” Erica said. “Where’s the pharmacy?”

The manager pointed at the far end of the store.

“Maggie,” Erica said. “Don’t let Tory get up. Keep her still. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to get some medicine.” She stood and faced the manager.

“Come with me,” she said and sprinted down the aisle toward the pharmacy.

Ten seconds later she skidded to a stop at the pharmacy counter. A man in his early thirties was sorting pills near the back. When she hit the counter, he looked up, startled.

“I need...an epi kit,” Erica said, gasping for breath more from the stress than the exertion.