As a matter of fact, she was beginning to feel warm. Hot even. Maybe the amoxicillin was kicking in. Or maybe the Tylenol was breaking the fever.
She was actually a little clammy now.
And then a cool draft wrapped around her feet and she thought she heard a click from the front room.
The front door?
Oh, no. It couldn't be.
Trembling, feeling weaker with each thudding heartbeat, she stepped to her bedroom door and peered into the front room. It looked empty. But it was dark, full of long shadows cast by the light from her bedroom.
She'd left it dark so that anyone passing by wouldn't see the lights and know she was home.
Her gaze darted to the mantle where she'd left the bottle with the implant. Still there. She shuffled over and grabbed it. Yes. Same bottle. And there was the implant, safe inside.
Suddenly the glass tingled against her skin. Gin watched in horror as the implant shriveled and dissolved into a puddle of liquid. The membrane was gone, leaving only the TPD and a few floating streaks of dried blood.
She heard a rustle behind her and Duncan was there, stepping out of the shadows, the pager in his hand. Tears streaked his cheeks, his expression was tortured, his voice husky, hovering on the edge of a sob.
She turned to run, to scream for help, but she could not. Her mouth was dry, and she was so weak. Without taking her eyes off him, she reached out a shaky hand and found the edge of the couch. Two steps were all she could manage before she slumped onto the cushions.
"I'm sorry, Gin. You've left me no alternative. This is something I must do. Not just for me. For all of us." Gin opened her mouth but could not speak. Her body was bathe in sweat. She could feel it running down her skin in rivulets. An angry buzz was growing in her head.
Duncan stepped forward and took the bottle from her slick, nerveless fingers.
"I know you'll never forgive me, Gin. But I hope someday you'll understand why I had to do this." The buzzing grew louder as Gin tried to lift herself from the couch, to reach for Duncan, claw at him, but then the already darkened room went completely black, and the buzz exploded into a deafening roar, and she felt herself falling back .
.
.
But she never landed.
FRTOAY DUNCAN HAD LOST ALL HEART FOR THIS SCHEME.
Feeling utterly miserable, he drove through Chevy Chase in the predawn grayness and thought about Gin. He'd thought of little else since last night. He wondered how she was. He'd called 911 from the first public phone he found after leaving her and gave the operator Gin's address, saying there was an unconscious woman in the apartment.
The E.M.Ts would come and take her away. He hadn't stayed around. The police would be noting any onlookers, wondering which one had made the call. Duncan couldn't afford to be seen.
Placing a second implant in the trocar after he'd pierced Gin's thigh had been a last-second decision. A subhmlnal voice, more aware of her tenacity and relentless determination than his conscious mind, must have whispered to hlmX urging him to buy himself some insurance where Gin was concerned. Whatever it was, it had been right on the money.
Gin had cut her own leg open and dug out one of the implants .
But only one. Duncan had dissolved both, the one in the bottle and the one still in her thigh. The evidence was gone, and so was a brilliant mind. It would be years before the effects of the TPD wore off. Gin would find it almost impossible to get licensed when she recovered.
All her years of training, worthless. All her hopes for a career in medicine, dashed.
Duncan had sobbed like a child all the way home. He'd had to sneak into his own house so he wouldn't have to speak to Oliver. He knew his brother was comfortable down in the basement. It was heated and had its own bathroom, the extra fridge was down there, filled with juices and soft drinks. Every convenience but a phone.
Oliver probably spent a more comfortable night than I did, Duncan thought.
Duncan had lain awake the entire night on the couch, hearing Oliver occasionally shout his name, and watching over and over against the backs of his eyelids the replay of Gin's wounded, terrified expression before she passed out.
For a while he considered dropping all his plans. He could call that Secret Service agent who'd given him his card, Decker was his name, and tell him the surgery was off. Or call Dr. VanDuyne and tell him to tell his patient, the president, to go to hell and find another surgeon to fix his goddamn eyelids.
But after all he'd gone through, he couldn't allow himself such a luxury. Not after what he'd done to Gin. Unconscionable, but he'd done it for a cause. To fail to follow through would mean he'd made her suffer for nothing. And that would be monstrous.
That was why he was driving to the surgicenter at 4, 3O A. M. , half an hour earlier than planned. Oliver was still locked in the basement at home. As soon as the president left for Camp David, hopefully carrying an implant in his thigh, Duncan would return and release Oliver. What happened after that would be up to his younger brother.
Possibly he could convince Oliver to keep quiet. He'd return the remaining TPD and swear he'd done nothing to the president. He'd say he'd suffered through a period of aberrant behavior but he was better now, and he was going into therapy. He'd profess to know nothing of Gin's condition, and swear again that he'd gone looking for her last night but had been unable to find her. Oliver would suspect, but he couldn't know. After all, Gin had removed the implant, Oliver had seen it himself. And if Duncan could convince him that he was on the straight and narrow from now on, that they should put all this behind them, Oliver might go along.
Probably.
Hopefully.
After all, if the affair were made public, Duncan's opprobrium would attach to Oliver, and to Oliver's implants. His invention would be forever tainted by its misuse with harmful intent. The FDA might even hold up its approval.
Oliver will keep his peace, Duncan told himself. What harms me harms his implants. And he knows the good they can do will far outweigh the harm I've done.
He unlocked the private entrance and walked inside. He went to the keypad to disable the alarm and found it already off. Damn it.
Barbara had forgotten again to set it before she left. If she weren't such a good secretary . . .
He'd deal with her next week. Right now he had other concerns. The advance team from the Secret Service would be arriving in about half an hour to secure the building.
Plenty of time to fill an implant with TPD.
He turned on the inside hall lights and outside spots, then went to his office. He froze when he turned on his office lights and saw the books, journals, and papers scattered across the floor. The office was a shambles. Someone had broken in and torn it apart. Why? What could they be looking for?
The TPD?
He leapt to his desk. He groaned when he saw the splintered drawer.
It looked as if someone had taken a hammer to it and smashed it open.
He rifled through the contents. The TPD vial was gone. So was the trocar.
No!
His heart tore into overdrive. He hurried back into the hall and stood looking up and down its length. Somebody had found the TPD and stolen it.
But who? Oliver was locked up and Gin was in an emergency room somewhere. Who else knew about, ?
Duncan whirled as he heard a faint noise, like a chair being moved. It had come from down the hall. He saw that the door to the lower level was open.
From downstairs? Who would be down in the records room or, Oliver's lab!
Moving as quietly as possible, Duncan hurried along the hall and tiptoed down the stairs. At the bottom he saw light flooding out from the open door to Oliver's lab. And noises from within. Oliver must have escaped'from the basement. Gin had told him where the TPD was hidden and now he was here disposing of it.