7:50 a.m.





Within minutes, Kowalski had it squared away best he could. The tricky part had been apologizing to the guards he’d assaulted and then getting them to agree to guard the doors to room 803 until reinforcements arrived. But they did, God love ‘em. Their agreement was encouraged, no doubt, by the fact that Kowalski told them the dead man in the graveyard was an international terrorist. And that they’d probably receive medals and shit.

The guards kept the staff away, and the four of them had the room to themselves.

Kowalski, standing against the wall.

Kelly, in her bed.

Jack, slumped back in a leather and wood visitor’s chair.

Ed’s head, in its Adidas bag, placed in the corner, near the door. He was really starting to ripen.

“You okay, Jackie boy?” Kowalski asked.

“Never better,” Jack said, then looked over at Kelly, who was tucked under covers, eyes closed. “Though I wish I’d known I hadn’t actually been poisoned, oh, about eleven hours ago.”

Kowalski smirked. “Luminous toxin, Jack? It’s from D.O.A. The original. Not that shitty Meg Ryan remake.”

“I saw it, but I’ve never heard of luminous fucking toxin.”

“She pulled a mind op on you, bro. I checked her bag back at the hotel. She slipped you disulfiram. One pill, five hundred milligrams. Odorless, colorless, dissolves fast. Right in your beer. Made you dizzy, made you puke, but it was nothing lethal.”

“Disulwhat?”

“Disulfiram, aka Antabuse. The stuff they give alcoholics. She probably boosted it from some guy’s luggage. Am I right?”

Kelly smiled faintly. Her eyes were still closed.

“What about the other thing?” Jack asked. “The Mary Kates. They made up, too?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Wonderful.”

“Look. Hang with me, we’ll get this sorted out. I really do work for the government. A department you’re not supposed to know about, but still. I’m going to order you and Kelly some blood transfusions. That doesn’t work, we’ll get you more. This is Pennsylvania Hospital. Oldest hospital in the country. We’ll find a way to get you back to normal, even if they have to break out the leeches.”

Not likely, in all honesty.

But you had to give people something to hang on to.

Eventually, he had to get Kelly White—or Vanessa, if that was her true name—out of here. Worst case, he’d fill a syringe full of the old blood from Ed Hunter’s head. The stuff full of the Mary Kates. Loaded with his DNA. Long as Kelly kept that near her, she’d be fine. Could be worse. Some people had to cart around colostomy bags.

Next, he’d have to arrange some transport to move from here. Sort out CI-6’s stake in all of this.

Which, speaking of …

Kowalski picked up the room line, used the prepaid calling card, dialed the last number he had for Nancy.

She answered.

“I’ve got what you want.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I’d come through.”

“Michael… oh no. Michael.”

She was using his first name. She never did that.

“Something wrong?”

“What are you doing? This mission was over for you.”

“I never fail. You know that.”

“You did this time. Where are you? And is anyone else with you?”

“Like who?”

Kowalski heard a grunt behind him, but he ignored it. He needed to hear it from her. How far into this she was. If she was eating from both sides of the trough.

“Did you encounter any opposition?” his handler asked.

“And I said, Like who? Perhaps a certain thin-haired individual, Nancypants?”

Something pelted Kowalski’s shoulder. A dark pink cup made of hard plastic, hospital-issue.

What the

When he turned around, he saw it right away.

Jack and the gym bag were gone.

Four people, down to two now.

He looked at Kelly: her eyes open, her mouth agape, her finger pointing to the door, her face with that expression that said, I tried to tell you.

“Let me call you back,” Kowalski said.

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