Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(79)

“Okay.”

“The NSA was able to extract information from that computer which could only have come from within the Rho Project. The Rho source indicated that something was dangerously wrong inside the project.”

“Pretty weak justification to send you to Los Alamos. Why didn’t Riles notify the FBI? That’s their area.”

Jack shifted positions ever so slightly, the movement producing a barely visible reflection of the DC lights from the barrel of a weapon.

“I don’t know how he justified it. I do know he had a damn good reason to think the Rho source was legitimate enough to send me to check it out. That investigation left no doubt in my mind that the project is corrupt, with support from the highest levels of the government. I sent back an interim report along with the decapitated body of Carlton ‘Priest’ Williams.”

Kromly shook his head. “You’re losing me. What did Priest have to do with any of this?”

“Other than being the sick psycho bastard he always was, his blood carried proof of secret illicit testing of alien nanotechnology outside the confines of the national laboratory.”

“Yeah, I read about it in the papers. But that story is old news. It was all explained by Dr. Stephenson a couple of weeks later.”

“About the time the FBI came after my team.”

“Coincidence.”

“Let’s talk about coincidences. First, I send my report to Riles. Two days later he is dead. Second, I steal Priest’s body and provide evidence to the reporter who broke the nanite story. Immediately my team is taken down. Third, the president starts to back off on his commitment to release the Rho Project nanotechnology and he is assassinated.”

Kromly shook his head. “You left out a couple of other killings in the sequence. The FBI man in South Dakota and the FBI director, both people you had good reason to kill. That also applies to the president.”

“That’s true. You still have the scenario you have been operating under, the one that assumes Riles went nuts and that I’m a revenge killer working my way back up the chain of command. Everyone is so busy barking down that trail, they can’t see any other possibility.”

Jack stood. “I came here to tell you something’s very wrong with the work being done within the Rho Project, wrong enough to make someone kill the director of the NSA, the director of the FBI, and the president of the United States.”

“Jack, that’s one crazy story.”

“I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m still listening.”

“You tell me you’ll do some digging into what I told you, and you’ll live to see tomorrow. Lie to me and you’re dead.”

Kromly stared at the shadow standing above him. It hadn’t been the barrel of a gun that had glinted in the dim light, it was Jack’s knife. There was no doubt in his mind that judgment was now being passed.

“I, ah,” Kromly swallowed hard to wet his throat. “I’ll look into it.”

“Right answer. Sleep well, my old ex-friend.”

The cold spray of knockout gas hit Kromly in the face as he was inhaling, wrapping his brain in a fog in which the carpeted floor rose up to kiss him. He hadn’t felt the Berber against his cheek since he had made love to Pam on this floor. God, I miss you, baby. As his consciousness faded to black, a single tear rolled down his cheek and into the fibers of the carpet.





81


Heather had the pillow wadded so tightly in her hand that the seam had split, sending the goose down puffing out through the rip, but that wasn’t what held her vision. She was so close to recalling the dream from which her violent shaking had awakened her. Deep inside her head, something hammered to get out, the pressure building to the point where her skull threatened to explode.

“God, just let me see it,” Heather breathed.

But it wasn’t happening. The more she tried to focus on the strands that remained of the dream, the faster they unraveled. A gasp of frustration slipped from her lips as she pushed herself upright in bed, the sudden movement sending fifty-four feathers floating away like a line of tiny paratroopers leaping from the back of a combat aircraft.

The sound of a door closing at the far end of the hall brought her back to the moment. Was it morning? The light coming into her room said it was, but what day? Was it Saturday already?

Heather stood up, then immediately sank back as a wave of dizziness narrowed her vision. The feeling passed as quickly as it had come. Must have stood up too fast. Moving more slowly this time, she made her way across her bedroom and slid into her summer bathrobe. It took her two tries to tie the bow that held it closed, so badly was her hand shaking.

Heather held her hands out before her, palms down. There was no doubt that the unremembered dream held a terror and a need that called to her, but it wasn’t causing this. The tremor was only in her left hand and had been getting worse for the last two weeks, a side effect of her new antipsychotic drug, Thorazine.

She regretted mentioning the rising intensity of her unremembered dreams to Dr. Sigmund. The doctor had increased her dosage and then switched drugs altogether in an attempt to bring peace to Heather’s sleep, expressing a fear that if the dreams got stronger they might reassert themselves in her waking life. As for the drug side effects, Dr. Sigmund had assured Heather and her parents that they would most likely stabilize when the drugs and dosages were finalized.