Archiwum
- Index
- 2009.08 Dig Deep Debugging with Strace
- James Axler Earthblood 02 Deep Trek
- Dahlia Rose, Brenda Steele, Regina Paul, Dorian Wallace Mating Season (anth.) (pdf)
- Nawiedzona Deveraux Jude
- Fiedler Arkady a. Kanada pachnć…ca śźywicć…
- Jones_L._A._ _Fabryka_strachu
- Chmielewska Joanna (1993) Duch
- Diana Palmer Long Tall Texans 10 Emmett
- Celme Michelle Jezioro wspomnieśÂ„
- śąabiśÂ„ski Jan Przekrój przez ZOO
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- lafemka.pev.pl
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unharmed when this was all over.
But he had no control over any of it. He d fed the stuff to that human slug,
Salinas, and that was it. Dan had made suggestions as to how to best put it to
use, but the final decision was up to Salinas.
He tried to concentrate on Danny. This was a sort of farewell trip to his
favorite park. Carmella was taking their daughter and the grandchildren to
their Florida condo for a couple of weeks. Dan would have loved to go along,
to sit in the purifying rays of the sun and try to forget what was happening
here. But he had to stay. Especially now that Winston had dropped his
decriminalization bomb.
And now, when the wheels were in motion and he couldn t reverse them, he had
to ask himself whether he d do the same if he could go back and relive the
past couple of months.
Yes. He doubted he d change a thing. Because too much hung in the balance.
This was so much bigger than the well-being of one little girl. A whole nation
was at stake, a nation full of little girls like Katie Vanduyne& and little
boys like Danny.
Don t blame me, he whispered to no one.
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Blame that lousy, spineless excuse for a president. The country was already
in the toilet, but legalizing drugs would pull the plunger. Tom Winston
couldn t be talked out of this mad crusade God knew how many people had
tried so he had to be taken out.
Even if it meant colluding with people Dan despised more than the President.
It was, quite literally, a deal with the Devil, and if he burned in hell for
it, so be it. Somebody had to stop Winston.
Daniel Keane sent up a prayer not for himself, but for that little girl. He
prayed that this crazy, brass-balled scheme would work out with no one getting
hurt&
Except the President.
9
The computer screen said no mail.
John pounded his fist on his thigh. He d have much preferred to slam it on
the desk, but that would bring his mother running, asking, What s wrong? Has
there been any word? Do you think she s all right? Why aren t they telling you
what they want? And a million other questions.
He d lied to her on his return from Lafayette Square, telling her the
kidnappers hadn t phoned him, that he d stood around looking stupid, waiting
for the phone to ring.
A good lie. It kept Nana s anxiety at its current, just bearable level.
And it explained why he d rushed in and gone straight to his computer to send
off e-mail to the kidnappers. As far as Nana knew, it was to ask why they
hadn t called. In reality, it was to explain why they d been cut off and to
arrange another call.
A lie was the only way. How could he tell Nana what they wanted him to do?
And worse, that the call had been interrupted by some imbecilic woman in the
park?
She d go to pieces.
The phone rang.
John stared at it. Who was it this time? Phyllis again? He d called in sick
this morning, telling her he had a bad case of gastroenteritis and didn t dare
get far from a toilet. Highly unlikely he d be in tomorrow either. See you
Monday.
But that hadn t stopped her from calling about confirming this meeting with
that committee and luncheons with various advocacy groups and a number of
speaking engagements. Somehow he d managed to sound coherent, though he didn t
know how long he could keep it up. If this was Phyllis again he d have to tell
her whatever it was would have to wait. He was too sick to think.
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He picked up, but instead of Phyllis he heard Terri s voice.
You don t sound too sick. He had to think a minute. Had he told her about
it? He was new to this lying thing. Had to keep his stories straight. And keep
his voice light.
You should be here listening to my intestines rumble. But how d you know?
I called your office. Phyllis said you were out with an intestinal flu.
Anything serious?
I don t think so. Probably one of those two-or three day viruses.
Then I suppose our date s off tonight, huh?
John fumbled for a reply. Date? What date? Oh, God. He was supposed to have
dinner with Terri tonight. He d completely forgot.
Food? Don t even mention it. I ve been holding off on calling you, hoping
the symptoms would ease up, but they haven t. I was just about to pick up the
phone.
Want me to come over and pat your hand and put cold compresses on your
head?
That sounds great, but I m going to try the sleep cure. And besides, I don t
want to expose you to this. Believe me, you don t want what I ve got. No one
in the world wants what s ailing me.
But he wished to God he could sit her down and open up to her. He wished he
could share this crushing burden with somebody. If he could bounce a few ideas
off Terri, and get some feedback, maybe he could come up with a way out of
this.
But how safe would it be to burden her with this? With Terri knowing the
President was a target and her seeing Bob Decker or other Secret Service
agents a dozen times a day, how long could he expect her to keep mum?
No. He had to keep this to himself all to himself.
He fended off her offer of chicken soup and rescheduled their dinner for next
Tuesday, then got off the phone.
Next Tuesday. How would he get out of that? This virus story would carry him
through the weekend. Come Monday morning, he d have to come up with something
new.
He checked for e-mail again. And again, nothing.
Damn!
He glanced at his watch. When had he got back this morning? 10:30, maybe?
Here it was 4:30. Six hours since he d e-mailed Snake and still no reply. Had
he received the message? Why wasn t he replying? Was it over? Had they decided
John wasn t going to do what they wanted and so they were disposing of Katie?
He couldn t think about that. No, that couldn t be. And that wouldn t be.
Snake was playing games. Letting him twist in the wind awhile before he made
contact again. Well, he was twisting, all right. And damn near strangling with
worry.
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But when Snake did make contact, what would John tell him? Could he agree to
poison Tom?
Yes. What choice did he have but to tell Snake what he wanted to hear? Say
all the right things, then find a way to fake it.
But how, dammit? Snake had already warned him: Don t try any tricks. We ll
know. John had to respect that. Anyone who could ferret out Tom s reaction to
chloramphenicol had world-class sources.
But there had to be a way. If John could relax just long enough to get his
thoughts together, he knew be could come up with a way to save Katie and Tom.
10
Yes! Poppy said.
She circled the article and pulled the sheet free of the rest of the
newspaper. As she rose from the kitchen table she felt her spirits lifting.
She d spent the day in some kind of long dark tunnel, and now she d spotted a
light at the end.
She stepped into the front room and found Paulie sitting and watching the
phone. He d stationed himself on the inside end of the couch in the corner, as
far as possible from the phone, like he was afraid it was going to come to
life and bite him or something.
You finally finished with your reading? he said. Snarled was more like it.
You up to date on all the local news now? She d sent him out for all the
local papers the Washington Times, the Post, the Banner, everything available
in the 7-Eleven. And then she d begun combing them.
Yeah, I m finished, she said.
She had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning like an
Appleton. She d found the solution to all their problems. Okay, maybe not all,
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