“I’m sorry, Mr. Drake, but I was in the parking lot after the alarm, and someone from the Honolulu police came to see you. So I brought them in.”
“Oh. All right.” He hung up. “Great. The police.”
Alyson said, “I’ll go see what they want.”
“No, you won’t,” he said. “I’ll deal with the police. You go back to your office and stay out of sight until they are gone.”
“All right, if that’s what—”
“It is, yes.”
“All right, Vin.”
Jenny Linn watched as Vin Drake and Alyson Bender left the animal room. She noticed that Drake was careful to lock the door as he left. The plastic bag was lying on top of the snake’s tank. The top of the bag was twisted lightly. But it was loose. Jenny wriggled herself up in the neck of the bag, pushing, and she managed to get it open. “Come on,” she said. “We can at least get out.” The others followed Jenny, climbing out of the bag, until they were standing on the clear glass lid that covered the tank.
Jenny looked down into the tank. Peter was getting to his feet, obviously shaken. She shouted, “Can you understand me?”
He shook his head at Jenny: Not really.
Rick Hutter said, “Why didn’t the snake strike?”
Jenny got down on her hands and knees, cupped her hands around her mouth, and said, “Peter, can you hear now?”
He shook his head.
“Try bone conduction,” Amar said.
Jenny lay flat on the surface, putting her cheek against the glass. She spoke loudly: “Peter? Now?”
“Yes,” he said. “What happened?”
“I doused you with volatiles from a wasp,” she said. “Principally hexenol. I figured there were very few things that would put off a poisonous snake, but a wasp sting would be one of them.”
“Damn clever,” Amar said. “Snakes rely more on smell than sight anyway. And the krait’s nocturnal…”
“It worked. It thought I was a wasp.”
“Yes, but the substance is very volatile, Peter.”
“Meaning it will evaporate.”
“It is, as we speak.”
“Great. I’m not a wasp anymore.”
“Not for long.”
“How much time would you say?” he said.
“I don’t know. Minutes.”
“What can we do?”
Karen King said, “How are your reflexes?”
“Shot.” He held out his hand; it was shaking.
“What’s your idea?” Amar said.
“Do you have any of the spider silks we worked on?” For about six months, Amar and Karen had been synthesizing spider silks with various properties—some were sticky, some strong, some flexible like a bungee cord. Some could turn from smooth to sticky from the addition of a chemical at one end.
“I have several, yes,” Amar said.
“Okay, you see that plastic tube beside the cage, closed at one end?”
“It looks like it’s part of a little water dispenser.”
“Right. That’s the one. Can you grab that tube with sticky silk and hoist it up?”
“I don’t know,” Amar said doubtfully. “It probably weighs an ounce or two. We’d all have to help haul it up—”
“That’s fine because we all have to help, anyway. To open the cage.”
“Open the cage.” The top of the krait cage was a double piece of glass; one slid over the other. “I don’t know, Karen, that means shifting the glass piece.”
“Just an inch or so. Just enough—”
“To lower the tube.”
“Right.”
“Peter, are you following this?” Amar said.
“I am, and it sounds impossible.”
“I don’t see an alternative,” Karen said. “We have only one shot at this, and you can’t miss.”
Amar had opened up a plastic case, which he’d had in his pocket, and he was already uncoiling his sticky silk from an armature in the case. He lowered the silk over the edge, and hooked the plastic tube. It was surprisingly light. Amar and Rick Hutter were able to raise it easily.
They tried sliding the glass plate to get it open, but that proved to be a much greater challenge. “We have to be coordinated,” Karen said. “Everybody on the count of three, one…two…three!” The glass moved, just a few millimeters, but it moved. “Okay, again! Hurry!”
And the krait was becoming more active. Whether from seeing all the little people walking around on top, or because the volatile was wearing off, the snake began twisting and coiling, moving toward Peter, getting ready to try another approach.
“Get that thing down here,” Peter said. His voice was tremulous.
“Lowering it now,” Amar said.
The thread scraped over the glass edge, making a strange squeaking sound.
“That going to be okay?” Karen said. “Will it hold?”
“It’s strong,” Amar said.
“Come lower, a little lower,” Peter said. “Okay…Hold it there.” The tube was chest-high. He stood behind it, holding it in position with both hands at the back. But his hands were sweating, slippery. His grip unsure.
The snake was moving. Hissing through the leaves and sawdust.
“What if it strikes from the side?” Peter said.
“Adjust,” Karen said. “ ’Cause it looks like—”
“Yeah, it is—”
“Here it comes, damn it—”
“Oh shit,” Peter said. The snake struck with blinding speed-unimaginable speed-unthinking, he swung the tube to meet it—the full impact of the krait’s head slammed against his chest—the silk snapped, and Peter fell backward, with the krait on top of him, writhing and coiling angrily, pinning Peter’s body down. But the krait’s head was lodged tightly inside the tube, and it would be difficult for him to get free.
“How did you do that?” Karen said, her voice full of admiration. “The snake was so fast.”
“I don’t know,” Peter said. “I just…reacted.” It had all happened faster than thought. Now, Peter struggled to push the snake away. So close to him, the smell of the animal was nauseating. Finally he kicked free, and staggered to his feet.
The snake stared up at him with baleful eyes. It shook the tube hard, and banged it repeatedly against the glass, but did not dislodge it. Its furious hiss was magnified, reverberating inside the tube.
“That’s great,” Rick said. “But we better get you out of there.”
Vin Drake gritted his teeth. Mirasol, the receptionist, was beautiful but she was an idiot. The muscular man in the blue uniform standing before him was not a cop but a Coast Guard ensign; and what he wanted was information about ownership of Eric’s Boston Whaler, because the boat yard wanted to move it to another location, and they needed permission of the owner to do that.
“I thought the police were still inspecting the boat,” Vin said irritably. He might as well try to get some information from this numbskull.
“I wouldn’t know about that,” the ensign said. The police hadn’t come to see him, he explained; it was the boat-yard owner.
“I heard they were looking for a phone.”
“Not that I’m aware. I think the police have finished their investigation.”
Drake closed his eyes, gave a long sigh. “Christ.”
“At least,” the ensign said, “as soon as they complete their inspection of his office.”
Drake’s eyes snapped open. “Whose office?”
“Jansen’s office. His office here, in this building. He was vice president of this company, right? I know they went to Jansen’s apartment today, and that they’re coming to look at his office here—” the ensign glanced at his watch—“any minute now, actually. In fact, I’m surprised they haven’t already shown up.”
“Christ,” Vin Drake said.
He turned to Mirasol. “The police are going to be arriving soon,” he said, “and someone needs to show them around.”
“Should I page Ms. Bender?
”
“No,” Vin said. “Ms. Bender will be—she will be busy working with me. I have some lab work to ship out. It can’t wait.”
“Who should I call?”
“Get Don Makele, the head of security,” he said. “He can show the officers around. They’ll want to see Mr. Jansen’s office.”
“And wherever else he worked,” the ensign added. He was staring fixedly at the receptionist.
“And wherever else he worked,” Drake repeated. Cars were pulling up in the street outside. He repressed an urge to bolt, and instead calmly shook the ensign’s hand. “You’re welcome to go along with the police,” he said. “And Mirasol, why don’t you accompany the officers, see that they get coffee, whatever.”
“All right, Mr. Drake.”
“I believe I will stay,” the ensign said.
“Then you must excuse me for the moment,” Drake said. He turned and walked down the hallway. The moment he was out of sight, he began to run.
Alyson Bender sat in her office and bit her lip. The monitor on her desk showed the reception area; she could see Drake talking to the uniformed kid, and see Mirasol flirting, fussing with the flower in her hair.
As usual, Drake was impatient, quick, aggressive in his movements. Almost hostile, really. Of course he was under pressure, but seeing the way he moved—no words, just the body language—made it clear how angry he was. He was an angry, angry man.
And he was going to kill all of those kids.
It was only too clear what he intended to do. Peter Jansen had trapped him, and Vin was going to escape the only way possible, by leaving no witnesses. Seven young people, bright students with their lives before them, he didn’t seem to care. It didn’t seem to matter to him.
They were merely in the way.
It frightened her. Her hands trembled even when she pressed them flat against the desk. She was afraid of him, and terrified of the situation she found herself in. She could not confront him directly, of course. He’d kill her if she did.
But she had to stop him from killing those kids. Somehow, she had to do that. She knew what she had done. She knew her involvement in Eric Jansen’s death, knew it only too well. Making those calls to the trigger phone. But to be involved in the murder of seven more people—no, eight, including the Nanigen employee who’d had the bad luck to be in the control room when Drake came in—she wasn’t sure she could do it. It would be homicide on a grand scale. But she might have to do it…to save herself.
On the monitor, Drake was telling the receptionist what to do. The ensign was grinning. Drake would soon leave.
Alyson stood up, and hurried out of her office. She didn’t have much time. He could return to the lab looking for the students at any moment.
In the lab, the students had gotten out of the bag, and they stood on the transparent top of the krait cage, looking down at Peter Jansen. Alyson Bender burst into the room. She bent down and stared at them, her face looming over them. “I-won’t-hurt-you,” she said. Her eyes were wide and frightened. She put out her hand, palm flat, and picked up Jenny Linn very gently, and placed her on her palm. She gestured to the others. “Hurry. I-don’t-know-where-he-is.”
“Ms. Bender! Let me talk with Mr. Drake!” Jarel Kinsky shouted at her, waving his arms.
She didn’t seem to hear or understand.
The others, seeing no other option, climbed onto Alyson’s palm. She lifted them into the air, and the room spun around, the wind blew, knocking them off their feet—she carried them swiftly to a desk, and placed them down on it. Then she went over to the snake cage, opened it, and lifted Peter out, and put him on the desk with the others. She stared at them, seeming not to know what to do with them. Her breathing was ragged and loud.
Karen King said, “We should try to talk to her.”
“I don’t know if it will do any good,” Peter said.
Alyson moved away. They saw her go across the room. She threw open a cabinet, looked inside, took out a small brown paper bag, and hurried back to the desk. “Hide-in-this,” she said, speaking slowly. “You-can-breathe.” She opened the bag and laid it down on the desk with its mouth facing them, and gestured to them to get in. They scrambled into the bag. Last of all was the Nanigen man, who couldn’t seem to accept the reality of their desperate situation. He kept shouting, “Ms. Bender! Ms. Bender, please!”
Alyson folded the top of the bag tightly and hurried out of the room. She carried the bag into her office and placed it gently inside her purse, which sat on the floor by her desk. She snapped the purse shut and pushed it with her toe underneath her desk, and ran back to the animal lab, arriving just as Vin Drake walked in.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said.
“I was looking for you.”
“I told you to stay in your office.” Drake went over to the snake’s cage and saw the empty plastic bag. “They’ve escaped,” he said. He spun around and swore, and turned around again, and lunged at a shelf full of chemicals. With one movement he swept everything to the floor, sending broken glass and liquids splashing. “Where are they?”
“Vin, please, I don’t know—”
“The hell you don’t,” he snarled, and peered into the snake tank, where he saw the snake with its head stuck in the plastic tube, and no sign of Peter. “What the—? That Jansen kid is dead, anyway. Snake got him.” He shot Alyson a violent look. “We’re going to find the rest of them. And I swear to God, Alyson, if you’ve been screwing with me it will be the last thing you ever regret.”
She cringed. “I understand.”
“You’d better.” At that moment, two police officers came down the hallway, visible through the lab windows, led by Don Makele. They were both young, not in uniform, which meant they were detectives. Shit.
Drake straightened up and suddenly composed himself, a shift that happened so quickly it seemed eerie. “Hi there, Don,” Drake said, crossing the room and easing out into the hallway with a warm smile on his face. “Introduce me to our guests. We don’t often have visitors to Nanigen. Officers? I’m Vin Drake, I’m the president of this company. How can I be of service to you?”
The paper bag was scrunched up inside Alyson’s purse, and it was pitch-dark. The students and the Nanigen man sat huddled.
“I can’t tell if she means to help us or not,” Karen King said.
“She’s obviously terrified of Drake,” Peter said.
“Who wouldn’t be?” Amar said.
Rick Hutter sighed. “I told you Drake was a corporate slime. Nobody listened.”
“Shut up, damn you!” Karen yelled at him.
“Hey, please,” Amar said in a very calm voice. “Not now.”
“Sorry,” Karen said. Then she added, “But we’re not dealing with an ordinary slime. We’re dealing with a very sick man.” She fingered her knife. It was useless as a defense; it might not even break Drake’s skin.
There came a banging, thunderous noise, and the bag shook, and light suddenly glowed through the bag. The purse had been opened. Then, with a slamming noise, everything went dark again. They waited, wondering what would come next.
The students, Alyson Bender knew, had to be put back in the generator and restored to full size, and quickly. But she didn’t know how to operate the generator herself. The workday was long over, and almost all the employees had gone home, leaving Nanigen deserted.
She found Drake back in the animal room. He had finished talking with the police officers, and now he was searching the animal room carefully, looking into every corner and cabinet, peering into every cage.
He stared at her, his eyes hard. “Did you let them go?”
“No. I swear, Vin.”
“I’m going to have this lab cleaned tomorrow. The animals put to death, the whole room sterilized with gas, then washed with bleach.”
“That’s…that’s good, Vin.”
“We don’t have any choice.” He touched her arm. “Go home and get some rest. I’m going to stay here for a w
hile.”
She gave him a grateful look. Then she hurried into her office, picked up her purse, and headed outdoors. Mirasol had gone home; the reception area was empty. A fat moon drifted in stars dusting the sky, a beautiful night if only her mind hadn’t been in turmoil. She got into the BMW—it was a corporate car for her use. She put the purse on the seat next to her and sped off.
Vin Drake went into the deserted lobby, keeping himself in the shadows. When he heard Alyson’s car start and go down the street, he ran outdoors to the Bentley and started it. Where were her taillights? He got to the Farrington Highway. Left or right? He swung left: the way to Honolulu, the most likely way she’d go. He pulled out into traffic and accelerated, feeling his body pressed into the seat with a surge of power.
There it was, the red BMW, traveling fast. He dropped back, watching her taillights. Her car turned onto the entry ramp to the H-1 Freeway. The midnight-blue Bentley faded into the night: he was just another set of headlights behind her in the flow of traffic.
He had not been able to find the students. There was only one possibility: Alyson had taken them with her in her car. He couldn’t be completely sure of it, but his instincts told him so.
She might have to go. He certainly couldn’t trust her. That was obvious. The woman had lost her nerve. But it was getting complicated, all these people disappearing. Alyson Bender was Nanigen’s chief financial officer, and if she disappeared now, it would provoke a very thorough investigation.
He didn’t want that. An investigation of Nanigen would, sooner or later, turn up something he had done. It was inevitable. Enough time, enough checking…they would find out.
No, no, he didn’t want an investigation.
He began to realize he had made a terrible mistake. He couldn’t kill her. He couldn’t afford to kill her—at least not right now. He needed her on his side for a little while.
How could he get her on his side?
Alyson followed the freeway around Pearl Harbor, trying not to look at her purse on the seat. Maybe Vin was right. Maybe there was no choice. She exited into downtown Honolulu, not certain where to go. She drove to Waikiki. There, she went slowly along Kalakaua Avenue, caught in traffic. The crowds of tourists were thick, people out for the evening. Then she turned onto Diamond Head Road and circled past the Diamond Head Lighthouse. She would take the paper bag to a beach somewhere on the windward side of Oahu or maybe to the North Shore. She would drop the bag in the surf somewhere…no evidence…no survivors…
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