Red Widow

THIRTY-THREE

Back at her desk, Lyndsey checks her IM and sees a little green box by Detwiler’s name. He’s at his desk.

She types, Heard you put out a report on the Genghis toxicology report.

His reply is almost instantaneous. I did. But I found out something since that report. I did a little more research on the variant of gelsemium used on Genghis. Turns out it’s slightly different from the compound the Russians have used in the past. Chemical makeup suggests the variant found in Genghis’s body was gelsemium rankinii and not gelsemium elegans…

Lyndsey types furiously. In English, please.

A pause. It’s not the kind found in previous Russian killings, which is actually Chinese in origin…

The conversation with the NSC directors, Dentley and Cavanaugh, flashes through her mind. They were right to be suspicious about the poison. What are you telling me? she types. Was it the Russians or wasn’t it?

It’s not that simple.

She resists the urge to slam her hands on the keyboard. It’s never a simple answer with these analysts. It’s always messy and complicated. Let me ask you something. If it was the Russians, why didn’t they use Novichok? Isn’t that their poison of choice lately?

There is a long pause, the cursor blinking at her like some kind of electronic eye. Finally, he replies, Granted, Novichok is what they tend to use these days. But it’s not their only poison and it depends on a lot of things. Availability, for one…

She types, cutting him off. She is going to force the issue. If they kill someone today, which poison is most likely?

Blink, blink. Assessing, weighing. Figuring the odds. The wait seems maddeningly long. Probably Novichok.

She stares up at the ceiling. The ground is crumbling beneath her feet. Or, at least, it feels like it. Until the meeting with Dentley and Cavanaugh, Popov’s death seemed like a slam dunk. It was the Russians. They had found out about Popov and killed him. Then they found out about Kulakov and Nesterov and killed or detained them, too.

Now Lyndsey is not sure.

And Theresa being the one behind it all? She feels a glimmer of a doubt.

She types her thanks to Detwiler and closes the window.

A minute later, there’s a message from Molina. Got what you wanted. Only there weren’t emails between them, so I looked for chat. I’m sending you the instant messaging records.

In another few seconds, an email appears in her queue from Molina. The attachment isn’t long, but it is damning.

The last chat session was from a few days ago.

You don’t meet for work at a restaurant. Had they gone on a date?

Lyndsey looks up Kincaid’s phone number, then reaches for the phone. He has some explaining to do, such as why he hadn’t told her about Theresa’s interest.

But there is no answer. It goes to voicemail.

She slams the phone down. She can’t wait for him to get in touch with her and besides, he’ll only continue to be evasive.

She goes to the online white pages to pull up Kincaid’s record. It takes only a minute more to track down Kincaid’s supervisor. She exhales slowly in an effort to calm down, and is surprised when the phone is answered quickly.

She explains that she’s running an investigation and needs to speak to Kincaid. Can he tell her how to get in touch with him, please?

There is a strained silence on the other end. Finally, the man says, “You haven’t heard? I guess you don’t know… Kyle is in the hospital. He’s in a coma.”