Virals(49)

"Now!" Karsten pointed at the door. "Or you'll be mucking out monkey cages the rest of your career!"

Shaking his head, the guard shuffled out.

Oh boy.

I prepared for the onslaught. By sweating. Thanks glands, glad you could help out.

When the door closed, Karsten spoke softly.

"I'm not jumping through the same hoops with you, Miss Brennan. I'd be wasting my time."

"Dr. Karsten, I made a mistake." I tried to sound embarrassed. "I was confused. It was frightening, finding something dead in the dark. I panicked."

"I don't believe for one second you confused anything."

The gloves were off.

"Do you know how I'm acquainted with your Aunt Temperance?" Causal as water-cooler gossip.

I shook my head. This wasn't what I'd expected.

"We worked together in Sudan. Five years ago. Excavating Tombos, a colony of ancient Nubia." Karsten pressed both palms to the table. "Dr. Brennan is an expert with ancient skeletons. You idolize her. You read her books."

Karsten leaned close. I could smell the starch of his lab coat, see the enormous pores on his nose. "You'd never mistake monkey bones for human remains."

I cast about for a response. My mind was quicksand. I hadn't prepared for a direct attack.

"You've felt unwell lately." Karsten's voice was hard. "Haven't you?"

"Unwell?"

"Fever? Headache? Disorientation? Fatigue?"

"Not at all."

Karsten exploded.

"Where is the dog!? "

Adrenaline fired through me.

Coop! He knows!

"What?" My voice cracked.

"Where. Is. The. Dog?" Karsten slammed both fists on the table. "Enough games! I want him back. Now!"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I whispered.

The denial rang false, even to me. I considered bolting, decided it was pointless.

"Did you steal him by yourself?" Karsten hissed. "How did you gain entrance to that lab?"

I didn't answer. For a terrifying moment, I thought I might faint.

"Who told you to look for a body there?" A bony finger jabbed the table. "At that precise spot." Something malevolent danced in Karsten's eyes. "I know you're working with someone."

Silence.

Karsten sat back, squared his shoulders, and breathed deeply. When he spoke again, his voice was cool and modulated.

"If you think I'm a fool, Miss Brennan, you've picked the wrong man. I will catch you. And I will recover the animal."

I found the icy calm more unnerving than the fury. But anger kept my fear in check. Given the chance, I knew Karsten would execute Cooper.

Suddenly I pushed forward, craning over the table. The move caught the old bastard by surprise.

"Bring it on," I hissed, inches from Karsten's face.

Before he could react, the door burst open and Kit stormed in.

"Why is my daughter being interrogated alone?"

"We're done here." Karsten rose. "Feel free to take the children home."

With that, the old bastard strode past Kit and disappeared down the hall.

"You okay, kiddo?" I could see that Kit was livid. He glared down the hallway Karsten had just vacated. I suspected Kit was verging on a career-threatening move.

"I'm fine. We were chatting about the dig stuff. No biggie."

"Are you sure, Tor?"

"Absolutely. Karsten's not so bad!" The lie turned my stomach, but I didn't want Kit taking action he'd regret. "Let's go home. I've got tons of homework."

Kit hesitated a moment, then, "Fine. We'll talk about this later."

Gathering my things, I hurried outside on shaky legs. And managed to keep it together the entire ride home.

Barely.





CHAPTER 35


The director of LIRI was angry. And more than a little scared.

Dr. Marcus Karsten sat in his office, absently stroking the chimp skull he used as a paperweight. He'd acquired the artifact years earlier while researching Ebola in the jungles of Zaire. Its solid presence reminded him of past successes. Gave him confidence during times of turmoil.

Like now.

Karsten lifted the cranium and gazed into the empty orbits. My life has revolved around killer viruses, he mused. What's one more in the collection?

He stroked the polished bone, trying to calm his jangled nerves. Without success.

No way to sugarcoat things. The interviews had been a disaster. The kids had been prepared. He'd learned nothing.

Karsten returned the skull to his desk, still agitated. He, the adult and intellectual superior, had lost his cool. Worse, he'd failed to trip up the little delinquents. Their stories matched, down to minutiae.

A blasted dog festival? No way. They were lying.

And they'd uttered the name Katherine Heaton.

A chill traveled Karsten's spine. What had these bubblegummers learned about Heaton?

Karsten's fingers drummed the desktop. In the large bay window at his back, afternoon sunlight faded to evening.

Their audacity astounded him. Did they request authorization to dig? Not a chance. They'd just gone ahead with their plan. On his island!