Liquid fear

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Mark was startled to find his wife’s office door ajar and the lights off. During scheduled office hours, she kept it wide open. Otherwise, the small room was locked.

He glanced at his watch. He was only twenty minutes late, and she wouldn’t have left knowing he didn’t have a car. He tapped on the door as he opened it.

“Lex?”

He flipped on the light. Her normally neat office was in disarray, books pulled from the shelves, desk drawers open, papers and magazines scattered across the desktop. The computer was turned on its side, the mouse dangling by its cord halfway to the floor. A splintered pencil protruded from the forehead of the Styrofoam mannequin head he’d given her as a present, upon which she’d drawn a crude diagram of the brain’s different lobes.

Scrawled across the foam forehead, in Alexis’s handwriting, were the words “Every 4 hrs. or else.”

Or else what? If you’ve harmed her, you bastard, I’ll gut you like a frog in biology class.

He heard a purring electronic echo. Her phone was in the room. He found her purse upended behind the desk, the makeup compact, tampons, pens, coins, and car keys scattered across the floor, but it had quit ringing before he could answer.

Alexis was never without her phone. He checked the incoming number but it was blocked.

He jammed the phone in his pocket, swept up the keys, and grabbed the note. He locked the door behind him. A janitor’s discovery of the mess might lead to questions.

On the way to the parking deck, he called Burchfield, who answered with a terse greeting. While Mark was part of the inner circle, the senator didn’t like people calling without an appointment.

“Senator, we might have a problem with the trials,” Mark said, making sure no one was in earshot. People seemed wrapped up in their own concerns and the evening rush hour that awaited them.

“No problems, Mark, everything is under control.”

“But is Briggs under control? We knew he would be a big risk factor.”

“It’s only a risk when you have a choice.” Laughter and music leaked from the background, suggesting the senator was at some vitally critical social function. Canapes and Chablis on the taxpayer dole in the name of national security. “Briggs is the only one who can pull it off.”

“He’s not exactly flying under the radar here. Not when he’s dragging in a member of the bioethics council.”

“Your wife?”

“Maybe. I don’t know yet. But he’s playing some kind of game. It’s not just for money anymore.”

“You’re the boots on the ground there, Mark. Control Briggs and control your wife. Do whatever it takes.”

Mark wanted to hurl the phone at the concrete pillars of the parking deck. Instead, he said, “Yes, sir.”

“And Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Watch your back.”

The senator rang off and Mark took his advice, glancing behind him. After the incident at the airport, he felt exposed and vulnerable. The solid world of company profits, performance bonuses, Washington hobnobbing, and a big house in one of the brain centers of the South had given way to a landscape of ever-shifting horizons and illusory detours.

And a man in a dark jogging suit was now also in that picture.

Mark picked up his pace, wondering where Briggs had taken Alexis. Or if she’d been taken at all.

The man behind him began jogging in his direction. Mark gave one more glance back, and then began running. His hard-soled leather shoes slapped on the concrete, and a young couple eyed him suspiciously as he burst past the rows of cars. He made it to the stairwell before the jogger caught up with him. Mark waited, panting, on the concrete steps.

“Where is she?” Mark asked between gasps.

The jogger wore a stocking cap despite the relatively mild March weather, and it was pulled down to his eyebrows. He was trim, in his mid thirties, and clean-shaven, and had blue eyes that showed no hint of intention. “You’re forgetting who you work for, Morgan.”

“Christ. You’re CRO?”

“Let’s just say we’re an ‘allied interest.’”

“What’s with the cloak-and-dagger shit? Why can’t you just text me like everyone else?”

“Because they’re watching. We have to put on a good show.”

“They? There’s another level above you guys?”

The eyes didn’t harden, but the tone did. “There’s a lot more riding on this than Senator Botox and his rumored run for the presidency. Word is that CRO is going to let a few crates of Halcyon slip through the cracks, up through Canada and over to our cave-dwelling friends in Afghanistan. It looks like the first extensive field trials are going to involve U.S. troops.”

“No way. CRO is as red, white, and blue as Uncle Sam’s Saturday beer.”

“The only flag CRO waves is green.”

A teenager wielding a backpack shuffled around the turn in the stairs above, either too stoned to find the elevator or else on a misguided bout of self-inflicted physical activity. Mark thought over this new information until the student passed.

“Why should I believe you?” Mark asked.

“Your wife told us.”

Mark balled his fists and approached the man. “She’s out of this. That’s the word from the top.”

The man didn’t draw back or stiffen from the threat. “You’re assuming there’s only one top.”

“Tell me where she is.”

“You’re not in a position to make demands, Morgan. In fact, there are some who think you’ll have to be moved out of the way after this is over. Even though you don’t know as much as you think you do, it’s still too much.”

“More cloak-and-dagger bullshit. Just tell me what you want and get out of my face.”

“We hear Briggs is developing a spinoff. A rage drug.”

“Never heard of it.” Mark wondered how well he’d hidden the lie.

The man gave a snort of laughter. “I thought we were beyond all that. I thought you were in a hurry.”

“What are you? CIA? FBI?”

“I’m with the good guys. We’re checking out Briggs, but we need an inside source at CRO to tie this together.”

“Do I look like the kind of guy who would know what’s going on?”

The man looked him over as if deciding whether Mark would walk away breathing, or whether pain might elicit information. “Then maybe you better ask your wife about it.”

“I will. As soon as you tell me where she is.”

“We want to protect everyone.”

“None of you people give a damn about my wife, or any of the people in this. All you want is a piece of Halcyon.”

“Halcyon isn’t the real issue here. It’s the other stuff we want. The Seethe.”

“Seethe? What’s that?”

“Pray to God you never find out.” The man jogged away in an easy, rolling gait, now just another fitness freak putting in miles.

Mark was pretty sure Alexis wasn’t home, but he headed for the car anyway. He had something tucked away in the back of the closet shelf he might need.