Not today.
* * *
Pelham's hand tightened on the rifle.
There she was.
Rachel Kirby had come around the corner of the path. She was running hard, her forehead knitted with concentration. In her navy blue running suit, she looked even smaller than her five foot two. She appeared almost childlike, with her delicate features and short brown-gold hair, her face glowing with energy and life. Beneath the canopy of oak trees, she could have been an innocent little girl called home to supper.
She was far from innocent.
That delicacy and air of youth and pseudo innocence was just another of her weapons. There was nothing childlike about that cobra. She was filled with venom and power. She knew exactly what she was doing and thought she could get away with it.
Sorry, bitch. Not this time.
He lifted the rifle and sighted down the telescopic lens.
Just a little closer…
* * *
Lord, it was hot.
Rachel could feel the heat sapping her strength and breath as she ran down the path toward the Science Building. She had a stitch in her side that was like a dagger thrust. She hated running. Hell, she hated exercise. She ran because she knew it was good for her, and in her work, this daily run was the only way she could be sure of getting enough exercise to stay strong and functioning. But increasing the miles today had taken its toll on her, and the thought of Allie's words still haunted her.
Focus on something else. Like her job, maybe. Oh, yes, she knew how to obsess on that. Ask Allie.
With the computer systems she'd designed, at least there was a sense of order, clear-cut answers to the problems that came her way. Not messy like life.
This project, however, was different from the others. It was important. And sometimes, she was paralyzed by the thought that millions of lives could be at stake.
All those lives, but only one that truly mattered to her.
Just a mile more.
She smiled and waved at Professor Bullock as he parked his car in the lot. He hated her guts, but there was no use giving him ammunition by showing animosity. The best way to handle jealousy was to pretend it wasn't there.
"You're out of shape. You're panting like a pregnant mare." Simon Monteith was suddenly trotting beside her. "And why are you sucking up to that effete bastard?"
"Shut up, Simon. I wasn't sucking up to him. I was being civilized." He was right, she was wheezing, she realized with disgust. "And I didn't invite you to join me. Why aren't you in the lab? What do I pay you for?"
"My brain, my initiative, and for putting up with you."
"Why aren't you in the lab?" she repeated.
"Dinner break." He beamed. "And when I saw you gasping and suffering, I thought I'd show you how physically superior I was to you. I don't get much chance. Are you noticing how easy I'm finding this little dash? I'm not even out of breath."
"I'm noticing that you're twenty-four to my thirty-two. Dammit, you were still playing college football when I hired you two years ago." She added sarcastically, "Children always have more endurance."
"You used to have endurance. A year ago you ran the Boston Marathon. I was impressed. Then you went to pot."
"I doubled my miles today. Besides, I've been a little busy lately."
"Yeah, making Val's and my lives miserable." He paused. "How is Allie doing?"
"The usual." No, not usual. Today she had seen sadness and bewilderment and the beginning of resignation. "She said she missed me. She told me to give it up."
"And it made you feel guilty and torn and angry. So you decided to run from your house to the lab and get rid some of the emotion."
She didn't deny it. "And I had some thinking to do. I've been bothered by the amount of computing power we've lost in the last week. It's like our system has suddenly sprang a leak."
"Rachel, some loss of processing power is unavoidable. With power irregularities, network congestion—"
"Not this much. It's being siphoned off somewhere. It probably just comes down to one line of code."
"Out of millions."
"Yes. And it's starting to make me crazy."
"Which means everyone around you is going to catch hell tonight."
"Quit."
"I can't. What would you do without me?"
"Get someone who wouldn't give me the guff you throw at—" Her cell phone rang, and she glanced at the ID. "Norton." She ignored the call until it went to voice mail. It was the third time he'd phoned in the last two hours, and she didn't want to deal with the bastard now. She'd get angry and upset, and she had to focus on the work to night. "Has he been calling the lab?"
He nodded. "I told him you were in Jamaica lying on the beach and had thrown away your cell. Is that okay?"
She smiled. "Perfect."
"Except that since he's with the NSA, he probably knows every move you make. Why is he in such a stew?"
"I halved his computer time."
He gave a low whistle. "That would do it."
"Too bad. This blasted leak is making me come up short. I wasn't about to take any time away from the medical research. I don't even know what project Norton is working on. He's probably trying to pave the way to build a new and better bomb. Screw him."
"He can cause trouble. The National Security Agency is nothing to fool with. There are all kinds of ways for Norton to undermine you. Those government dudes are pretty sneaky."
"I'll deal with it."
"I know. You always do. Just a comment." He looked away from her. "And, actually, I lied. I wasn't at dinner. I was at Jonesy's relay lab in Galveston checking on something."
Her gaze flew to his face. "You found the leak?"
"Maybe. I found a thread that may lead to it."
"What?"
"I'll tell you at the lab."
"Now."
He shook his head. "I think you need incentive to keep you going." He speeded up, leaving her yards behind. "This pace is too boring for me. I'll see you at the lab." He darted a sly look over his shoulder. "If you make it."
She muttered a curse under her breath as she watched him lope away from her. Simon had a puckish and sometimes devilish sense of humor, and she wasn't in the mood for it right now. Then she smiled grudgingly as she trotted after him. At least he'd taken her mind off the pain in her side, and his teasing incentive was making her speed up her pace. She wished she could stay pissed at him, but she had known Simon had that wicked slyness when she'd hired him. He was brilliant and, as he'd said, innovative, and those qualities often were accompanied by idiosyncrasies. And if that brilliance had led him to finding the processing-power leak she had been searching for, then she'd put up with anything he threw at her.
And Simon usually knew better than to step over the line in his little jabs. He must have found out something at the relay station. Eagerness surged through her at the thought. Even if he had a clue, it would be something they could work on.
And, hell, maybe Rachel needed him pricking at her occasionally. She would probably become obnoxious if she was allowed to have everything her own way. Most of the people surrounding her would say she was already there.
He and Val had worked to exhaustion for the last few weeks, and she hadn't been easy on either of them. She was lucky they didn't walk out on her.