The Serpent's Kiss

42

As they approached the front door, Jill Church said, “I was wondering why you were familiar.”

Derek nodded, studying the front door of William Harrington’s cape cod. “I thought we’d met before. I don’t specifically remember you, but Michael sure looks like his father.”

Jill bit her lip and stayed silent.

Derek cocked his head. “Sorry about the CIA thing.”

“It’s okay. It’s time he knew, I guess.” Jill turned back to the door. “You have a plan?”

“I would like to avoid getting blown up again today.”

“That’s a goal. Now, a plan?”

Derek reached out and knocked on the door. He waited.

Jill had her hand on her gun. Derek did, too. Nothing happened.

“Okay,” Derek said. “Nobody’s home. At least nobody alive. It’s been that kind of a day.” He pointed. “I’m having problems kneeling. Would you take the flashlight and light up along the edges of this door, see if you notice anything unusual.”

She took the flashlight and scanned the door, then clicked it off with a shrug. “Nothing unusual. Let’s walk around the house, like you suggested.”

They moved slowly around the perimeter, studying the ground, the base of the foundation, the windows. Whenever they came to a window, Derek approached without touching anything, turned on the flashlight and attempted to peer into the dim house. Whenever he was done he handed it to Jill, who double-checked. The interior of the house appeared empty. Nothing stood out.

Finally they worked their way around the whole house, back to the front door. Derek glanced over at Michael in the Honda. “Seems like a good kid.”

“He is, generally. He’s at that age.”

“What’s he into?”

“Girls. Video games. Girls. Karate. Girls. Rap and heavy metal and hip-hop.”

“And girls,” Derek said.

“You were probably just like him when you were sixteen.”

“Not the rap, heavy metal or hip-hop. And the karate came later for me. I was into track and cross country. Good grades. I was a grind. Straight As. Big into chemistry and biology. The girls, though…” He sighed and turned to the door. “Nothin’ but trouble. Some things never change. Here we go. Said your prayers?”

“We’re going to feel foolish if we take all these precautions and there’s nothing here.”

“Not nearly as foolish as we’d feel if our body parts were scattered over downtown Birmingham.” Derek reached out and opened the screen door. He sighed. “One down.” He retrieved the electric lock pick from his pocket and gestured for Jill to examine the interior door. She did, finally saying, “Nothing obvious.”

Derek inserted the pick carefully and clicked the button. After a second, he gripped the knob and said, “Ready?”

“Ready.”

He opened the door. Again, nothing happened. Derek swung the door wide, but didn’t step inside. He played the flashlight around. The front door opened into a foyer with hard-wood floors. A navajo rug covered most of the entryway in muted reds, oranges and yellows. Together they studied the rug.

“Should I try lifting it up?” Jill asked, gesturing.

“I don’t see anything that could be a trip-wire. Lift just a corner.”

She did, then lifted it all. Nothing.

“In we go, then.” Derek turned and waved at Michael. He raised an open hand, all five fingers displayed. Five minutes. Then he and Jill entered the house.

It was neat and clean and seemed entirely empty. Sticking together, they moved through the house, looking for trip-wires or anything that seemed remotely suspicious. Finally Derek said, “Tell Michael he can go back to school. And tell him thanks.”

Jill nodded and slipped out of the house. She returned a few minutes later with the atropine injector in her hand. She gave it to Derek, who slipped it into his pocket. “Okay,” Derek said. “What are we looking for?”

“Evidence that William Harrington is The Serpent.”

“You think he maybe left a signed confession?”

“No.”

“Upstairs?”

They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Like Rebecca Harrington’s house, one of the bedrooms seemed to be a guest room, the other appeared to be an office. Derek stood just outside the office/bedroom. There was a computer desk with computer and printer, office chair, filing cabinets and two bookshelves filled with text books. There was a big lounge chair with a good reading lamp next to it. Piled next to the chair was a two-foot-tall stack of technical journals.

Derek studied the room, then said, “Could you give me a hand, please?”

Jill approached him. “What do you need?”

“I want to get down on the floor. I need your help.”

She met his gaze. “Okay.”

“And I’ll really need your help getting back on my feet.”

A smile flickered across her face. “Oh, I don’t know. Leaving you lying on the floor might move things along smoother.”

“Ha. Ha. Very funny, Agent Church.” He held out his hand.

She helped him to the floor, where he sprawled on his stomach. With the flashlight in hand, he scanned the floor. He blinked.

“See anything?” Jill asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“What?”

He waved her down to his level. She joined him on the floor. He pointed the flashlight and aimed it into the foot-well of the desk. From this vantage point they could just see what appeared to be the bottoms of two red metal canisters.

Derek rolled over and sat up, breathing in deeply. Jill sat up, studying him. “You going to be okay?”

Sweat had broken out on his forehead and his complexion had turned gray. He held up a hand, leaning forward so his head was close to his knees. He inhaled deeply. His hand crept to the throat of his shirt and clutched a medallion around his neck.

Jill reached out and pulled up the chain to look at the medallion, a rabbit’s foot and ju-ju beads. “St. Sebastian?” she asked.

“Supposed to help protect against the plague,” he said, voice muffled. “My patron saint of choice. Might work better if I were Catholic.”

“Can you defuse it?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yes. I should be able to.” He panted slightly, sounding strangled. “Just as soon as this panic attack passes.”

Jill studied him. “Maybe you should get into another line of work.”

“Yeah,” Derek nodded. “Why didn’t I think of that?” He reached into his pocket and retrieved the set of tools. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “After this morning I’m worried about a secondary device. It’s not the kind of mistake you get to repeat. But I’ve got another concern. If he set this to go off when a desk drawer or filing cabinet drawer is opened, great. But I’m worried about a pressure switch.”

Jill’s eyes widened.

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Like underneath the carpeting somewhere.” A smile tweaked his lips. “You want to go in first, or shall I?”