"What you took from the lab." He threw the cigarette to the ground and crushed it with his toe.
The gesture was so familiar that she felt her heart slip into overdrive. Just when she'd convinced herself that she was being tricked, she started to doubt it. In the poor lighting of the tunnel, the man could easily be her dead husband.
"Listen, whoever you are, I didn't break into that lab. So there's nothing I can give back, because I didn't take anything." The sound of someone approaching came closer. She prayed that whoever it was would hurry. She took a step toward the man who claimed to be her husband. "Come into the light, Carter. Let me see you. It's been a long time. Nine years. Why did you let me think you were dead?"
"It was simpler that way, Eleanor. All of the attention was focused on you. Poor Eleanor, such a young widow. I was able to slip away and leave my past behind me."
Anger made her take two more steps forward. "But I was stuck with your past! You always were a coward."
The man laughed. "So righteous, my dear. Let's just say that I had some people very angry with me, and it was easier to go than to stay. You, on the other hand, had a perfect little record. You couldn't tell anything, because you didn't know anything." His tone grew nasty. "You were always so content to live in your world."
"Come into the light," she challenged him.
"Or what?"
The bravado of his stance and words tripled her pulse rate. If she'd ever doubted it before, she didn't now. Carter Wells stood before her, resurrected from his own grave.
"You jerk!" She rushed at him, not really knowing what she intended to do at all, only intent on seeing his face. He was laughing at her, the sound confident and ugly.
Just as she reached up her hand to brush the hat from his head, something struck her from behind. She found herself falling, falling, a million miles to the hard floor of the tunnel.
* * *
"DRAG HER over against the wall," someone said.
"She won't give me the film," the man in the hat replied. "She claims she doesn't have it. I told you the cat wasn't safe!"
"Shut up about the cat! They haven't found anything. She probably suspects, and that's why they're keeping the cat. But all she has is the cat, and we have her."
"Had the cat. Remember, it was gone when I took care of Rayburn."
"What the hell was he doing here, anyway?" the voice demanded. "She must have called him."
"He wouldn't tell me anything," the smoker said bitterly. "Not the first thing, except that she called him and was talking some gibberish about the past."
"And it was your bright idea that we could use the past to frighten her into giving back the cat."
"It may work yet. After today." He laughed softly. "She was really frightened. She didn't know if she was talking to a ghost, a dead man or a husband who'd managed to slip out and leave her holding the bag. None of the choices were very pleasant for her."
* * *
ELEANOR HEARD herself moan. She was being unceremoniously jerked up and dragged down the tunnel between two men. Her head lolled back, and she had to force her eyes to open. The lights revolved in a sickening dizziness.
"She's coming out of it," she heard someone say. Without any warning she was slapped on the side of the head. In a loud ringing of bells and total darkness, Eleanor again lost consciousness.
Chapter Thirteen
All sense of time had slipped away from her. There was only the hard floor and a sweet, cloying smell. The odor was disturbingly familiar. Eleanor kept her eyes closed and tried to remember where she'd smelled it before. Someplace bad. That was all she could pull together. She was afraid to open her eyes. The tiniest glimmer of light made her head throb and spin. She couldn't move her arms, and her legs felt weighted. Somewhere in the distance she could hear someone moving about.
What had happened? She'd been in the tunnel— with Carter Wells. He was a distinct presence, alive and mean in a way she hadn't remembered him. But who had struck her? Carter was standing in front of her and the blow had come from behind. There was a vague memory of footsteps. And she'd thought it was someone who could help her!
"Open your eyes, Eleanor," a voice commanded.
She knew that voice! She kept her eyes closed, pretending that she was asleep. The shock of a small electric charge on her leg made her jump with such suddenness that she felt both her stomach and head begin to spin.
"Don't pretend to be out when you aren't," Cal Vrenner alias Arnold Evans informed her. "We have rules here, and like them or not, you have to obey."
Looking into his icy eyes, Eleanor knew now why she hadn't been able to read his thoughts the first time she met him. There was nothing behind the eyes, no sense or emotion. He was a man without a shred of compassion or concern. The word "psychopath" marched before her eyes in bold red letters. She'd managed to get herself trapped by a psychopath.
"Remember me?" he asked. His smile was cruel and more than a little satisfied. "You didn't like my clinic, did you? I'll bet you never thought you'd be coming here to live."
Eleanor looked around, ignoring the spinning sensation that came every time she shifted her eyes. Whoever had hit her, and it was probably Evans, had done a bang-up job of it. The tiniest effort at concentration made her head throb. As far as she could tell, she was on the floor in the small back room of the clinic. The noise of stirring that came from behind her had to be the orangutan, unless Evans had obtained more research animals.
"Where's Peter?" Evans asked.
"Peter who?" She pretended to be woozy. "Can you release my hands?"
The pain of the shock was unexpected. She jumped and screamed, falling onto one shoulder with a painful thud. Her leg was burning where he'd used the shock gun on her again.
"Listen, you sadist…."
"We don't allow temper tantrums in here, Dr. Duncan. You'd better learn to control yourself."
Evans walked around her. "Now once again, where is Peter?"
"I don't know," she answered. She eyed the small gun he carried. It looked something like a stun gun, but perhaps not as powerful. Of course she couldn't begin to estimate the weapon's capacity, and certainly not in the hands of a man like Evans.
"I love my new toy," he said, holding it out for her. "My little pet over there— " he pointed toward the bars of a cage Eleanor could see "— is so afraid of it, she will do anything I tell her. Anything at all. Isn't that remarkable?"
Struggling back to a sitting position, Eleanor ignored him.
"Answer me!" he screamed. "When I ask a question, answer me!"
His face was red with anger, and Eleanor watched the jump of the pulse in his neck. He was beyond any reasoning, a man capable of anything.
"What are you teaching the ape?" she asked.
"Obedience. I am one of the most effective obedience trainers in the world. My attack dogs will kill anyone or anything on command." His eyes seemed to bore through her. "Even their owners. I've had more success in the field than any other scientist. Obedience is a fascinating arena, don't you agree?"
"Absolutely," she muttered, trying to keep her tone level. She couldn't afford to show the loathing and contempt she felt for the man in front of her. What she had to do was find some weakness, some method of making him release her.
"I guess it was your successful career that brought you to the attention of Charles Breck?" She tried to make the question sound flattering, but the words tasted like grit.
"Yes, and he's going to be delighted with my new idea." Evans looked at her and pointed. "You!"
"Me?" She couldn't help the arrow of fear that struck her heart. "What about me?"
"You're perfect. You're the one who's going to present the ape!" He grinned and slowly nodded his head. "Your beauty and the ape's cunning tricks. The whole room will be diverted. And then, should things go wrong, they'll have you to execute. How wonderful, don't you agree?"
Eleanor was too shocked to say anything. She had no idea what he was raving about, but
she clearly understood that it was something evil and that she did not want to be a part of it.
"Don't you agree?" he screamed at her. "Answer me when I talk to you! That stupid ape can't talk, but you can, and you're going to!"
"Yes, yes, it's wonderful," she replied. "What is it exactly that you want me to do?"
He ignored her question and walked to the cage. "Come!" he commanded. The small orangutan came toward him, her entire body radiating fear. "Come!" He slipped a chain onto her collar.
Working at the knots that held her hands, Eleanor watched in fascinated horror as Evans put the ape through a series of dance steps, curtsies and ingratiating behavior.
"Very nice, right?" he asked.
"Whatever you say." She couldn't afford to irritate him, for her sake and the ape's. "She's the perfect gift."
"Oh, she's so much more than that." Evans put away the ape and came back to Eleanor. He tugged at the rope that held her hands, making sure it was secure.
Eleanor gritted her teeth to keep from cursing him. She had to play along.
"How do you know Peter?" she asked.
"Well enough to know that he likes to interfere. I've kept my eye on him since I got back to Washington. We're old friends, you know, Peter and I. We go way back."
"To a fire, I believe," Eleanor said. She tried to sound impartial, hoping to draw Evans into some detail.
"Yes, a great conflagration. My work had to be destroyed, such a shame. But now that I have friends in high places, I'll be able to work again. Once the ape is trained and the coup is delivered, I won't ever have to hide and struggle again. I'll have a real laboratory with the best equipment."
Hearing him ramble on, Eleanor was taken with the change in his personality. When she'd first met him, he'd been quiet, observant, cold. Now he was too animated. Was it possible he was taking some type of drug? When it wore off, would she have a chance to escape?
"I deserve acclaim, and I'll have it soon," he finished.
"Of course," she said steadily. "What great trick is the orangutan going to do? Will she dance at a ball or reception?"
"Something like that." Evans was suddenly cagey. "I hear someone moving around outside."
"Dr. Evans, wait a moment," Eleanor said quickly. "Do you know my husband Carter Wells?"
"Ah, Carter," Evans said with the biggest smile he'd given all afternoon. "He's an old friend. Older even than Rayburn Smith. Yes, Carter and I go back a long way. Your husband hid me out after the fire, when I was desperate. I introduced him to some useful people."
"Carter did?" Code One Orange. Evans had to have been involved. And he acted as if Carter were really alive. Was it possible that Carter had helped him, and then the favor was returned?
"We spent a great deal of time together talking, Carter and I. I know many things about you, Dr. Duncan." He smiled. "Many things. Your husband could be a very entertaining man."
"I'll bet," Eleanor said, unable to hide her sarcasm any longer. "Do you think you might untie my hands? I've lost all feeling."
"I suppose. There's no way out of this lab. Not even if I were to die. Since your raid, we've improved the security system."
"I didn't raid this place," Eleanor told him once again. She grimaced as he finally freed the knots.
"No need to lie now. What we want to know is where the cat is. We simply must have him back, you see."
"I don't know where he is, I swear it." Eleanor rubbed her wrists. The feeling was coming back with a vengeance.
"The cat was seen in your apartment. And that wretched Caruso woman was there, too. There's no point denying your involvement. We just want the creature back."
"And then what?"
"You're going to take a little trip. With your interest in language, I should think Africa would be a fascinating continent. The Dark Continent," he said, his eyes glowing too brilliantly, Eleanor observed.
"Linguistics is the science of language. I don't know how things got so confused, Arnold," she said, trying for a personal touch. "I didn't raid the lab. I didn't take anything. I don't know what you're talking about. Carter got things confused when he tried to blame me." She had to turn the conversation back to Carter. Where was he and what role did he play? Evans talked all around the subject but never revealed anything.
"How do you explain the cat?" Evans smiled with forced tolerance, as if she were a stupid child.
When Evans circled her once more, she could see the tiny lines of new skin that ran down both sides of his face. Claw marks.
"You were in the library parking lot. You saw me with the cat, because you were the one who attacked me!" That was why he insisted she'd taken the cat! she realized.
"Pretty and smart," he said, laughing. "We lost all of the other cats but the black one. The most important one. I saw you put him in your coat, and I knew you were the one."
Eleanor thought it pointless to argue with him. He wasn't capable of changing his mind.
"I'll give back the cat under one condition."
"Where is he?" Evans pressed.
Eleanor felt her heart pounding. She couldn't risk saying that Familiar was at her apartment. What if Evans knew differently? "He's in a safe place."
"Is the capsule intact?"
Eleanor knew she had to take a risk. "I don't know. Peter was going to take care of it."
Evan's face flamed with relish. "That's so perfect. Peter has the plan, and I have to get it from him. He never even realized what it was." He stood up. "He always thought he was so much smarter than me. When he found out about the experiments, he was so superior-acting. But he was stupid. I did my research under his nose, and he didn't catch on all summer. And now at last we get to finish what we started so long ago. I tried to get— " He looked at Eleanor and shut his mouth.
"Can I see Carter?" she asked. She couldn't reveal the tremble of fear at the idea. Carter was alive! He'd been involved all along.
"Not today. He'll be by to see you. Don't worry about that. Until he comes, though, I have a carefully planned appointment." He waved the gun at her and began to push her through another door. She found herself in a small room that was little more than a cage.
"What is this?" she asked.
"My observation room. I can see everything you do. And pretty soon, I'll be able to exert some influence over what you think."
Tiny hairs rose on Eleanor's neck in fright. Evans was mad, but he was also intelligent. His whole obedience thing was focused toward more than making apes and dogs carry out his wishes. There was something else, and she had to find out what.
"I'll be back later," Evans said, closing the door. "I have a rendezvous with Peter Curry. Our meeting is long overdue."
"Wait a minute…." Eleanor never got a chance to finish. The door slammed with a bang and she heard the locks click into place. The terrible idea that she'd set Peter up was like something alive in her skin. What had she done? Was Peter aware of how demented Evans had become? Those were questions that gnawed at her as she paced the tiny confines of the prison.
The sound of low crying came again, and Eleanor turned slowly, trying to pinpoint its source. She couldn't be certain.
"Who's there?" she asked in a whisper.
The only answer was more childlike crying.
* * *
WELL, ELEANOR HAS gotten herself into a fine pickle this time. She's in there with Dr. Frankenstein, and that ain't going to be a pretty sight. First Zelda, now Eleanor. Do I have rotten luck or what?
These windows are about as useless as a screen door in a submarine. I can get up to them, but I can't really see inside, just vague blurs of motion. If he's hurt the dame! But I can't clutter my feline brain with such negative thoughts. I have to get in, and I have to get them out. It might even be easier with Eleanor to help. She can at least use her hands. Maybe it's a blessing that she's in there.
Oops! Here comes Vrenner, checking out the back door. He looks demented. Maybe I can just scoot inside. Nope! The door was too fast, and Dr
. Frankenstein locked it tight. What luck! They're on the inside and I'm on the outside. Back to the windows.
Eleanor is in the small back room. I can't see clearly, but I can see her moving around. She must be scared to death. Maybe I can get her attention.
Ouch! I might have broken my shoulder against the glass, but it's working. She's looking around. One more time! Eureka! She's looking at the window and waving me away. As if I don't know they're out to get me. She wants me to go away, but I won't. I have to figure out how to get in.
On the other hand, I could go and look for Dr. Doolittle. He could break in and get everyone out.
I don't see a sign of Zelda. She's probably getting some beauty rest, and I'll bet she deserves it. I can remember when he wouldn't let her sleep for days, shocking her and burning her, trying to make her cave in and do those terrible things to my fellow cats! But she fought against him. That Zelda! She used to cry like a child when she was alone. She never wanted to hurt anyone or anything. But I want Vrenner, and I'm going to get him.
Okay, I admit that I'm not going to get inside. I have to have some human help, and the faster I find Peter, the better off we are!
* * *
ELEANOR'S BREATH caught painfully in her throat. Familiar was in the window of the lab, sitting perched there as if he were posing for a portrait. There had been a distinct thud— Familiar hurling himself at the window to get her attention? She shook her head. The last place in the world the cat needed to be was at the Behavioral Institute. The cat and the capsule. Evans had as much as said it. So it was Familiar all along. She and Peter had been on the right track, but who would have thought that someone would implant information in a cat? But then again, an animal destined for experimentation and death would be the last place someone would look for contraband goods. She looked again at the window, thinking her eyes might have played a trick on her. But he was there, flesh and blood, and the sight gave her new hope.
Get Peter, she mouthed at him. "I must sound like Timmy on the old Lassie shows," she said aloud. But she went as close to the window as she could and mouthed the words to the cat once more. Familiar had somehow gotten back to the lab, and there was just a chance he could find Peter. If only she could write a note and slip it to him! Hell, if he could carry a capsule, he could carry a note.
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