Dr. O

by Robert W. Walker

He was looking forward to a break. He was beginning to wonder if Thorpe's information on Ovierto was accurate or not. He had been told that a Sergeant Muro had been trying to get in touch with him, but he wasn't ready to deal with Robyn just yet.

  A couple of cleaned floors later, Joe Swisher was beginning to wonder if it hadn't all been a wild goose chase. Thorpe had been known to be wrong in the past. Then someone's footfalls began to approach in the quiet, upper corridors here, where the serious lab work was done and where Ibi Oliguerri and Elena Hogarth were working on something to do with macro-strings and curls in space, which meant absolutely nothing to Swisher. He thought it sounded something like Chef Boyardee microwave- able spaghetti.

  He had met Oliguerri only briefly, telling the self- assured black man who he was and why he was here, mainly because it was exactly what Thorpe didn't want him to do. Oliguerri wasn't in the least concerned, but Hogarth had become jumpy at the notion the police were in the building. Oliguerri said they had too much work to concern themselves with such nonsense. Dr. Elena Hogarth reminded him of the deaths of their colleagues in Atlanta. Swisher had wondered why Ovierto had targeted these people and asked them if they knew.

  "We can tell you nothing of what goes on in a madman's head," said the African. "It is like the villager who has all good shiny teeth, another villager will want the same teeth, even if he cannot possibly fit them into his head."

  Swisher frowned at the little parable, wondering if that was all there was to it, that Ovierto was simply jealous. "Men seem to be killing one another for less and less these days," he had said.

  Hogarth was shaken by the talk. "If we're going to work, doctor," she said to Oliguerri, "then let's have at it."

  "Is there any other exit from your" lab?" he asked.

  "There is a freight elevator at the back for samples," she said.

  Swisher thought she was pretty, in a pale, fragile way, but not at all his type. She realized he was staring, pushed her glasses up and dropped her own eyes. "Are you alone, or do you have help, officer?"

  "I've got the FBI behind me," he told her as much to reassure himself as her.

  "Then he is coming, isn't he?"

  "Like a train, ma'am, ahh, Doctor."

  "Thank you for your honesty. Until now, no one would answer my calls."

  "What about Donna Thorpe?"

  "I've been unable to get through to her."

  "In Nebraska, you know."

  "No, they said she was here, in Chicago. I thought you knew."

  "Sonofa —sorry, Dr. Hogarth. No, I didn't know." He had had to admit. They then closed their door on him, looking like a pair of animals hiding in a cave.

  And now footsteps were coming toward him, while he pretended to mop the floor, just below the lab where Hogarth and Oliguerri had remained for hours. He looked up, giving his broadest, dumbest smile to the guy in the Commonwealth Edison uniform. The badge said James Early, Electrical Engineer, CEC, but it could just as well be the man of a thousand disguises, Ovierto.

  He watched Early's eyes as he opened his mouth to speak. "You Joe Swisher?"

  "Who wants to know?"

  "Special Agent Jack Harris, FBI—"

  "Jesus."

  "—Chicago Bureau."

  "You guys crawling around the building now, too?"

  "I got a call earlier from a friend of yours."

  "Is that right? Thorpe send you?"

  "No, Thorpe did not send us."

  "Who called you then?"

  "Your partner."

  "Robyn Muro?"

  "That's right. Seems Thorpe isn't telling you everything she knows about Ovierto."

  "Hell, I knew that from the beginning."

  "I mean about the airport incident earlier today."

  "Airport incident?"

  "O'Hara, one security guard killed and a package left in a locker for Thorpe."

  "A package?"

  "Another agent, guy named Bateman. It was his head."

  "Christ. So, we know for sure he's here, in Chicago."

  "Now, I don't think Thorpe's thinking clearly anymore about this maniac, and she's not exactly being... ahhh..."

  "Straight with either of us?" Swisher was trying to determine if this guy was interested in moving up a peg on the old FBI ladder, or if he was for real.

  "That's it as I see it. She thinks this creep's some kinda superman or something, that he can smell us before he sees us. Anyway, there're four of us in the building and we're using these. Take one." He held out a two-way radio. "Just to keep in touch. Big place we have to cover here."

  "You've got to know that he's watching the place, if he's not already inside. He see you come in?"

  "Me and another guy came in a Comm Ed truck; two others came in a Coca-Cola truck, uniforms and all."

  "Well, thanks for filling me in, and thanks for the backup. What about Inspector Thorpe? Where's she?"

  "So far as I know she's back at HQ catching some sleep."

  "Sleeps like a baby, I'm sure."

  "Cold one, that's for sure."

  "Maybe she has to be."

  Harris bit his cheek and nodded, "Yeah, maybe. But I was a cop before I was FBI, and in my book, you don't keep secrets from your partners."

  Bucking for a promotion, Swisher decided, realizing the "partners" speech was bullshit with this guy. If he were involved in taking Dr. Maurice Ovierto out, Harris would get some gold stars stuck to his forehead. "Look, Swisher, I brought you up some coffee, too." He handed him a small coffee thermos, the remnants of the label still clinging to it.

  "Fresh, huh?" he asked.

  "I'm covering the East entranceway and the back stairways there. My other guys have the lower floors and the docks. You need anything, just buzz me, pal."

  "Sure, sure..."

  Swisher watched the tall, good-looking Jack Harris disappear. "Robyn, why am I blessed with you?" he asked the empty corridor, opening the coffee and pouring the hot liquid into the lid. From across the causeway, through the open space that would be a sheer fall of near fifty feet to the lobby, Harris waved from the elevator that took him away.

  Swisher was more grateful for the elevator than the coffee.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Argonne National Laboratories, Eola, Illinois

  Dr. Maurice Ovierto entered the front door of Fermilab with the guided tour, doing so for the second time, dressed now as a woman. He had taken great pains to locate Oliguerri and Hogarth, his two intended targets for this evening. The last tour began at five-thirty and ended at six-fifteen. He had taken great caution in putting his plan into effect. In the tour also was Deter Fomichs. Deter was a former asylum patient and a friend. He made eye contact with Deter to register how the other man was doing. He seemed calm and capable, but who knew for sure with a man like Deter. Ovierto had worked hard on the other man all day long, explaining to him how he could become a national hero if he could stop the infiltration of the giant Fermilab by an agent of a foreign government, a spy.

  The tour guide's voice droned on about how the space program at NASA had given Americans far- reaching, important discoveries about the atom and atom smashing.

  "If you would care to sit here, there will be a short film, explaining what exactly our scientists do here," said the guide.

  Ovierto had earlier taken note of all key exits, stairwells, and elevators, as well as doors closed to the public; he had watched the approach and entry of the trucks and deliveries made, and he had noted their schedules. On his previous visit he had remained for hours, just watching. He had particularly liked the timing of the Coca-Cola truck and had since learned that it arrived promptly at six o'clock and was gone by six-thirty-five. It might be useful.

  As the others viewed the film, Ovierto quietly left the little movie theater, leaving Deter on his own with orders to shoot anyone who came at him in any threatening way. He would be fine for at least the length of the film, Ovierto believed, some ten minutes, enough time to get to Oliguerri.

  Earli
er he had seen a Commonwealth Edison representative with uniform and hard hat, blueprints in his hands and a truck parked out back of the enormous facility. With those layouts of the building, Ovierto could gain even more information about the building. With a badge proclaiming that he was a man named James Early, he'd have no opposition. He went directly for a door marked Employees Only, where the Edison electrician had gone.

  The man on the other side looked over his specs rather casually when he saw who it was.

  "Lady, you can't come through this way... lady... you okay?"

  Ovierto, in wig and makeup, appeared to be faint and suddenly went to one knee. Early rushed to what he thought was a woman in distress when a screwdriver-sized hypodermic was suddenly twisting in his stomach. Snatched out, with Early staring at his attacker, the bloody tool suddenly bored into the electrical engineer's throat, cutting off his scream, toppling him over a catwalk. His body plummeted to the ground floor and was hidden among boilers that sent up a terrible racket.

  Ovierto was pleased. He'd have the uniform, badge, and keys without getting the clothing sullied. He climbed down the metal stairs toward the dead man, who had ingested enough poison to kill ten men. He tossed away his wig as he climbed down and tore at a handkerchief to wipe away his eye shadow, rouge and lipstick. This done, he bent over Early and began to strip him. It was going so well.

  Then he discovered the small two-way radio on Early's belt. It was not sending. Early was FBI. The building was crawling with FBI, alerted by Thorpe. Maybe even the Coca-Cola guys were FBI.

  "Well, now the wolfs in the fold," he said to Early, snatching his gun from inside his uniform. He searched for and found Jack Harris's ID and FBI badge as well. He then picked up the radio so as to better monitor the movements of the others. He wondered if Deter had gone nuts yet. It didn't seem so, not with the radio quiet.

  It would come soon, drawing them like flies to Deter. Poor Deter.

  He climbed back up to where Harris was, reading the building specs, and he studied them for some moments, memorizing what he needed and moving on.

  Inspector Donna Thorpe's helicopter flew over Fermilab, and she studied the details on the ground. The cars in the lot thinned out quickly now. The enormous Fermilab was a monument to nuclear physics, built by the U.S. Government; all its research was government-funded. From it had come an array of nuclear physics by-products and a better understanding of space and the universe. The huge circle at the rear of the building, the length of several football fields, appeared to be a giant racetrack; in fact it was the world's first nuclear "loop." Inside the accelerator loop, atoms were bombarded against one another and "smashed" to create infinitely smaller pieces of matter, the behavior and nature of which was carefully scrutinized and monitored by the sophisticated computers and analyzed by the geniuses employed here.

  From where she sat she could see both the industrial area and, in the distance, Fermilab Village, with its empty farmhouses and a grazing herd of protected buffalos milling about. She could see the Geodesic Dome, the Proton Area, the Master Substation, and the Meson Detector Building. She saw all roads leading in and out of Argonne National Laboratories, which was bordered by Kirk and Butterfield roads. All those entrances were now being blocked on orders.

  She had been unable to stop Harris and his three friends from interfering with Swisher and Ovierto, but she had him in the net now and that was what counted.

  She stared again at the accelerator, imagining the speed with which the atoms flew through the concrete-lined tunnel —the speed of light. For a moment she wondered if Dr. Maurice Ovierto's brain did not work like the atom smasher, ever moving in heats to destroy and reduce and reduce and reduce. It might be a fitting place to see him reduced to a sniveling, pleading pulp of flesh.

  The atom smasher was so large that it could not be seen in its entirety except from the air. Like her plan, she thought. So far, nothing untoward had happened.

  She tried to raise Harris again, but the man seemed to be deliberately ignoring her calls. He'd pay for his insubordination. She cursed him for his arrogance.

  "Take me to the top of the building," she ordered the pilot.

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Despite herself, she had to get inside... had to get close. She could smell Ovierto, another and even more arrogant bastard. He was here. So close it gave her goose bumps.

  The specs had shown the service elevator which he now approached. He had hoped to kidnap Oliguerri and Hogarth, string out their deaths, enjoy them. If he killed them here, it would be too quick, too painless. But the place was filthy with FBI agents. He may not have any choice in the matter. Still, the acid he'd brought for the pair to swallow would disintegrate their insides.

  He rode the elevator up and up to where Oliguerri's offices and lab could be found. He was grateful to Special Agent Jack Harris for having provided the specs.

  The elevator door opened on a lab, and from across the room they stared at him. He lifted a calming hand, telling them, "I'm Special Agent Jack Harris." He flashed the badge and ID, coming closer. "Just checking out this avenue... making sure... can't be too safe with this sicko, Ovierto."

  Something shaky in the woman's eye, he could see but not quite make out. She began backing toward the front offices. "You want to talk to Officer Swisher?" she was asking, going for the door.

  "No, no, that's all right."

  But it was too late. She was outside in the hallway. Oliguerri stood his ground, watching Ovierto smile and ask dumb questions. "What are you working on? High-level stuff, huh? Something to insure world peace, huh?"

  "Something of that nature, yes," said Oliguerri who didn't even see the capsule that Ovierto shoved down his throat, holding him like a vet holding a cat, rubbing his Adam's apple, making him swallow. He kicked Oliguerri viciously in the groin, doubling him over and then went for the woman, Hogarth.

  Swisher had let the buzz of the radio he'd put aside continue a third time before he picked it up and almost dropped it into the pail of water at his feet. He pressed the button and asked, "What is it?"

  "Harris has been killed, stripped of his clothes!"

  "Who is this?"

  "Dunbar, damnit. The killer's got Harris's clothes on!"

  At the same instant, Elena Hogarth came rushing toward Swisher, saying, "There is an agent Harris in the lab who wants to see you."

  Swisher's eyes must have told her the truth when he grabbed her roughly and pushed her to the ground, ripping out his .38 Police Special, and saying, "Stay down, stay down."

  "But Dr. Oliguerri is in there!"

  "Get to the elevator. Get as far from here as you can," he instructed her.

  She slithered along the freshly cleaned floor, reaching for the elevator button when she heard shots behind her, making her scream. She got up and raced for the stairwell. A bullet followed her through but missed her. She panted and started down when she heard a woman's voice call out, "This way!"

  In the lobby, on the main floor, there was more gunfire. Elena looked down through the maze of open concrete to see a pair of dead security guards. More shots were fired. She looked up at the woman who waved her toward the roof. "Dr. Hogarth, it's me, Donna Thorpe! I have a helicopter on the roof."

  She raced to join her on the roof. Thorpe settled her into the helicopter and ordered them to wait. She went back into the building and down the same steps. Someone was coming through the door. She steadied herself, taking her stance, holding her gun out firmly with both hands, ready to fire.

  Joe Swisher hardly had the strength to push through the heavy door, using his body weight to do so. He was a bloody mess, having taken two bullets, one in the chest and one in the face. He looked up at her, their eyes meeting moments before Swisher fell over the railing and to the lobby below, leaving a trail of blood along the concrete facings.

  "Bastard! Bastard!" she screamed and raced for the door, tearing it open onto a dark, empty hallway. In the middle of the floor was a mop and an overturned water
bucket. She scanned the dark shadows for any movement. Closer, closer, she moved, toward Oliguerri's lab. She yanked open a closet door, sending junk tumbling across the wet floor. Silence reigned again, when suddenly the elevator door across from her dinged and an overhead light went on. She aimed for the occupant.

  The doors opened on Robyn Muro who stared across at her. "Where's Joe?"

  She hadn't time to explain Swisher's whereabouts or his condition now. She turned and silently rushed toward the lab.

  "Where's Joe, damnit? They've got the maniac downstairs. He's dead."

  Thorpe turned and in the dark her face was creased down the middle with light, dividing her features like a mask. "No, Ovierto is up here. And... and he just killed your partner."

  "No! No!" Robyn was unwilling to believe it.

  "The stairs, through there," she indicated and moved away from Muro for the interior of the lab. Her eyes instantly went to Oliguerri, who was choking and spewing forth blood from his mouth. The man's huge, white eyes seemed to be popping from their sockets. He was in a bad way, but his wild eyes followed her, pleading for her to help him. He appeared to be paralyzed.

  She scanned the offices and the labs, looking through rows and rows of glass.

  Nothing. Silence and emptiness save for the pitiful leavings of a dying Oliguerri who begged in gibberish for help. Her eyes fell on the elevator doors. The light indicated it was at the basement. She had to get to a radio —the chopper.

  As she made her way back, passing Dr. Oliguerri, the dying man lunged toward her and trapped her ankle, pulling her to the floor, tugging and straining at her. She kicked out to free herself, shouting, "I'm going for help!"

  "Dow-leaf-me... dow..." He could not speak clearly. She shouted to Muro as loudly as she could, "Get medics up here, now! Now!"

  But she knew it was too late for Oliguerri... had known it when she entered the room. Dr. Ovierto left nothing halfway done... left no one half-dead. Whatever he'd done to Oliguerri, it was lethal. Still, she screamed for Muro's help.