The Protector

19

Rutherford closed the bedroom door. "Are you serious?"

"I need him to show me Prescott's lab. Maybe something there will tell me where Prescott went. It's the only direction I can think to go."

"Can't let you," Rutherford said. "Kline's an FBI prisoner now."

"I haven't heard you read him his rights."

"You will in about thirty seconds," Rutherford said.

"How about in a couple of hours?"

"What are you trying to-"

"Once Kline's officially in FBI custody and the Bureau puts him in a government facility, the pressure's off him. He won't feel threatened. He won't tell you anything more."

"Kidnapping a federal agent can put him in prison for life," Rutherford said. "He'll tell us anything we want to know in exchange for a plea bargain."

"But plea bargains take time," Cavanaugh said. "Meanwhile, Prescott's trail gets colder. I need everything Kline knows now."

"Can't," Rutherford repeated. "If the Bureau found out I let a prisoner go, I'd lose my job."

"You won't be letting him go," Cavanaugh said.

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"I'm taking him."

"What?"

"Wait two hours, then phone the Bureau. Tell them there was another prisoner but that I took him before the situation was under control. Tell them we went to Prescott's lab. Send a team out there. By then, I'll have learned everything I need from Kline."

"You are crazy."

"Let's just say things are happening inside me I need to stop."

"I don't understand."

Cavanaugh held up his shaking hand. "Prescott gave me a dose of the fear hormone Kline talked about."

Rutherford didn't say anything for a moment. "God."

"Kline said there was a neutralizer. Prescott has it. I need it." Cavanaugh opened the door and went into the living room, where Kline looked apprehensive. "Let's go."

"No," Rutherford said.

Cavanaugh thumbed open the Emerson knife, freed Kline from the chair, tied his wrists in front of him, and draped Kline's leather jacket over his hands. "We'll use the stairs and go out through the emergency exit. Jennifer, get the car. Meet us in back."

"I can't let you do this," Rutherford said.

"Two hours, John."

"Don't make me stop you."

"What are you going to do? Shoot me?"

Rutherford stared at him.