The World Beneath

Chapter 49

Joe climbed up an old-fashioned stepladder to place an antique star ornament atop his Christmas tree. He’d discovered a box of Victorian decorations in the attic and brought them out. Hand-blown glass balls, cut-tin shapes, and heavy lead tinsel glittered from every branch. The homey smell of pine filled the room. He bet it looked very much as it had for the first Gallo Christmas. He placed the star atop the tree awkwardly with his left hand. His right arm was healing nicely, but he didn’t trust it to hold the fragile glass.

The fireplace crackled cheerily. He’d cleared off the mantel and covered it with pine boughs and holly. Two stockings hung there. A red one with Joe stitched on it and a larger, yellow one, emblazoned with Edison.

“Does this star look straight?” Joe asked Vivian. She was across the room, eying the tree.

“Mostly.”

Joe climbed down and scrutinized the angle himself. Crooked.

A warm nose nudged the back of his knee. Joe grabbed a doggie treat off the corner of the mantel. Edison cocked his head, looking festive in a Santa Claus hat. It had been given to him by the residents of the Carrie Wilbur Home for Adults with Special Needs. After taking over Erol Saddiq’s bills, Joe had set up an animal therapy program at the home. Andres would be taking Edison there weekly.

The hat slipped to the side when Edison tilted his head and brushed it against his inverted plastic collar. He was healing without complication and was already outrunning Joe during their morning tunnel jogs. Joe was healing more slowly. His ankle had become infected and took two courses of antibiotics to start healing.

“He loves it!” said a breathless voice from one of the wingback chairs. It was Celeste, on Skype, beaming at the dog. Even though she would deny it, her hair looked perfect.

“Of course he does,” said a deep voice with an Eastern European accent. “He is a dog.”

Andres balanced a bowl of popcorn on his knee. He had plugged his iPad into Joe’s speaker system and Estonian Christmas carols played softly in the background. At least Joe thought that they were Christmas carols — they could have been lullabies or funeral marches, for all he knew.

Andres had insisted that they create garlands of popcorn and cranberries. Joe had tried until he’d poked himself under the thumbnail with a needle for the third time. Vivian claimed she hadn’t heard that much swearing since she’d left the Army.

Joe’s cell phone blared Jingle Bells, and he hurried to silence it, but not before Celeste gave him a mocking look for having a holiday ring tone.

He’d barely answered before the man on the other end launched into a complicated question.

“Hang on.” Joe glanced around the room. “I have to take this, but it won’t take long. It’s work.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, he went to his upstairs office to get his laptop. He’d gone back to work the last time that Pellucid had asked him. It felt good to be using his brain again, solving problems, setting up systems to catch bad guys.

Making a difference.

It didn’t take him long to answer the programmer’s questions, but he hesitated for a moment, thinking back to a conversation he’d had with Vivian when she’d first arrived at the party. He hadn’t seen her since the night that she’d knocked out the agents and held the elevator for him.

He’d put a mug of warm mulled wine in her hand and taken a sip of his own.

“Why didn’t you release the encrypted page?” she’d asked. “The one that you said linked the doctor to the CIA? They got off scot-free.”

“I know,” Joe said. “And I would have released it, damn the consequences, except for one thing.”

Her voice sounded skeptical. “What was that?”

“The encrypted page was blank.”

Her eyes widened. “It was a bluff?”

“It kept them from shooting us when the elevator got to the top floor,” he said. “And it’s still keeping them cautious.”

She’d grinned and clinked her cup against his. “Well played, sir.”

Joe smiled, remembering, and turned to return to the party, but before he could go back downstairs, his phone rang again.

“I’m sorry to disturb you so late.” Joe recognized the voice. Dr. Samuels.

His heart skipped a beat. “Yes?”

“The test results are in.”

“And?” Joe asked.

“We’ve definitely established that you do not have toxoplasmosis.”

Joe could tell that more news was coming. “That’s good.”

“Some of the results seem to indicate that you might have been dosed with certain experimental substances that may have triggered your agoraphobia.”

“You mean, someone did this to me on purpose?”

“We don’t know.”

When Joe ended the connection a minute later, he stood in his darkened office, staring at the drapery covering a window that opened to nowhere.

Who would poison him?

He had to know.