Kiss Me While I sleep (37 page)

“You drive,” Swain said when they reached the van, taking the keys from his pocket and tossing them to her.

Her eyebrows went up. “You’re trusting me to drive?”

“A: I’m the boss and I’m the driven, not the driver. B: a van’s no fun to drive.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said drily. The van must handle as agilely as a beached whale for Lucas Swain to have willingly turned over the keys.

They were supposed to meet Damone Nervi at the complex at three pm. Swain had chosen that time because in the afternoon people are tired and less alert than they are in the morning. When they reached the complex, Lily couldn’t help looking at the small park where the gun battle had erupted just two weeks before. The incident had been mentioned in the news; then when no additional excitement was added by someone dying, it had been completely dropped the next day. She was pleased to see that even though it was a weekend, the cold weather had kept most people from enjoying the park. It was mostly deserted, except for the very occasional hardy soul walking a dog. The fewer people who were about, the better.

As they approached the gate where two guards waited, she coughed several times again, to roughen her voice. One guard held up his hand and she obligingly eased to a stop, then lowered her window. A blast of frigid air made her glad she was wearing the vest. “Monsieur Lucas Swain to see Monsieur Nervi.” Before she could ask, Swain handed over his international driver’s license for the guard to check. She fished out her new fake license and handed it over, as well.

“Fournier,” the guard said, reading the name off the license. They checked the names against a list, which, she noticed, had only the two names on it, so completing their task didn’t take very long.

“Go to the main entrance on the left,” the guard instructed, returning the licenses to them. “Park in the slot marked for visitors. I will call Monsieur Nervi and notify him of your arrival. Beside the door is a buzzer; press it and someone inside will release the lock for you to enter.”

Lily nodded as she slipped the license back into her pocket, and raised the van window to shut out the cold air. She coughed several more times, because she didn’t think she had sounded hoarse enough when talking to the guard. The more she coughed, the worse the cough sounded, as if her throat was getting into the spirit of things. It was already a little sore, so she needed to be careful not to overdo.

Two men stepped out of the entrance. One was Dr. Giordano. “That’s the doctor on the left,” she said to Swain. “The other man must be Damone Nervi.”

There was, in fact, a strong family resemblance, but where Rodrigo was a very good looking man, Damone Nervi was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen, though in no way was he effeminate. His looks were classic, from his thick black hair to his smooth olive-toned skin. He was tall and trim, elegantly dressed in a double-breasted charcoal gray suit that draped on him the way only the Italians could get a suit to fit. Dr. Giordano was smiling in welcome, but Damone’s face was set in an aloof, rather stern expression.

“Something’s off,” Lily murmured.

“How?” Swain asked.

“Supposedly we’re here at Damone’s insistence, so he shouldn’t look as if we’re as welcome as the plague.”

“An apt simile,” he observed. “Yeah, I see what you mean. The doctor’s smiling, Damone isn’t. Maybe he isn’t a smiley type of guy.”

Sometimes the most simple explanation was the best one, but Lily couldn’t shake her vague uneasiness. She parked the van in the appropriate slot and tried not to be obvious as she studied the two men.

Swain didn’t wait. He left the van and strode confidently to the entrance, where he gave both men a brisk handshake. His bearing had changed, Lily realized, the habitual lazy saunter had been replaced by a walk that said, “get out of my way.” Everything about his body language had subtly changed, and he looked like an aggressive, no-nonsense businessman.

According to their plan, she got out and went to the back of the van, opening the doors and getting out two clipboards that each held a thick sheaf of printed forms, plus two circuit testers that were totally useless for anything they were supposed to be doing but which Swain had decided looked impressive. They might even test a circuit or two, just to look as if they were doing something.

Laden with this paraphernalia, taking care she held everything as a man would hold it rather than clutching the clip-boards to her chest as women did, she approached the three men. “My associate, Charles Fournier,” Swain said, indicating her. “Damone Nervi, Dr. Giordano. The doctor has agreed to give us a tour, show us all the security measures in place in order to save time.”

Her hands were occupied to prevent her from shaking hands, so everyone contented themselves with nods and greetings. Dr. Giordano was still relaxed and welcoming; if anything, Damone’s expression had gotten more stern. Lily’s uneasiness grew in proportion. Why was Damone acting as if this “inspection” hadn’t been his idea from the beginning?

Damn.
Could all of this have been orchestrated simply to draw her into a trap, into a private building where anything could happen to her and no one would ever be the wiser? Was Rodrigo even more cunning than she’d imagined? She had to admit that if so, he’d merely borrowed a page from her own book and drawn her into the trap by not jumping at the first few chances to capture her. Taking her off the street would have been noticed, and while Rodrigo had the political capital to make an incident go away, why spend it when he could simply be patient and lure her into a place where no one would notice anything? For all she knew, the lab was empty of personnel and the vehicles in the parking lot were just window dressing.

If she had miscalculated, she had caused not only her own death but Swain’s also. She thought of all that laughter and zest for life being snuffed out, and went cold inside. The world would be a darker place without Lucas Swain in it If anything happened to him because of her-

But now Damone had turned away, and Dr. Giordano was chiding him for being so morose because his fiancée had cancelled a scheduled visit. “Perhaps you should visit her,” the doctor teased, slapping Damone on the back. “Women like it when we men come to them.”

“Perhaps tomorrow,” Damone said, shrugging and looking faintly sheepish.

Lily relaxed. Her imagination had been running away with her; Damone was simply in a bad mood because his girlfriend hadn’t visited.

Dr. Giordano pressed a series of numbers on a keypad at the door, and it buzzed open. “We used to each have a card which we slid through a scanner, but people were forever losing their cards and the security company decided a keypad would be more secure,” he said as he stepped inside and they followed.

“That’s true,” Swain said, “so long as no one gives the entry number to unauthorized people. However, I’ve been here two minutes, and I can already tell you that the number sequence for entry is six-nine-eight-three-one-five. You didn’t block the keypad with your body when you keyed in the number. Even worse, the keypad is tonal. I could hear it.” He pulled a tiny digital recorder from his pocket “I activated this when you started to unlock the door, just in case.” He pressed the
play
button and a series of six different-toned little beeps sounded. “With this, I could open the door even if I didn’t know what the numbers were.”

Dr. Giordano looked acutely embarrassed. “I assure you, I’m not usually so careless. I did not think I should be on guard against you.”

“You should be on guard against everyone,” Swain replied, really getting into his role. “And the keypad should be changed so you don’t hear the tones. That’s the real weakness.”

“Yes, I see.” Dr. Giordano pulled a notebook from the pocket of his lab coat and made a notation in it. “I will have this taken care of immediately.”

“Good. After the tour, there are two exercises I’d like to conduct, if I may. My associate and I will plant fake explosives in various parts of the complex, and we will see how long it takes any of the workers here to spot something they consider suspicious. If no one notices anything, I’d like to make an announcement about what we have done, and invite them to look around, and notify you whenever they spot anything out of the ordinary. That raises their awareness, first knowing that these packages were put in place without being noticed, and again by in effect teaching them where to look and what to look for. Lastly, I’d like to conduct a bomb-threat evacuation, to time how long it takes everyone to clear the buildings, see what routes they use, and possible alternate routes. This would really be best done when your workforce is at its maximum number, but today was the only day available, so we’ll work with what we have.”

Lily was impressed. Swain was doing a hell of an acting job. Not only that, she hadn’t known he had that tiny recorder. He must have acquired it while he was picking up the other electronics he thought they’d need.

“Of course, that’s brilliant,” Dr. Giordano said. “Now, if you’ll please follow me?”

To Lily’s consternation, Damone fell in step beside her while Swain walked beside Dr. Giordano. The last thing she wanted was one-on-one conversation with anyone. Because her hands were full, she couldn’t cover her mouth, but she turned her head into her shoulder and gave two hard coughs.

Swain looked back at her. “Charles, that cough is sounding worse. You should take something for it”

“Later,” she croaked, and for good measure coughed again.

“You are ill?” Damone inquired politely.

“A cough only, monsieur.”

“Perhaps you should wear a mask. Dr. Giordano is working with influenza viruses, and anyone who is already sick would be especially vulnerable.”

Dr. Giordano turned his head and said with concern, “No, no, we won’t enter that lab.”

“Do your workers often fall sick from the viruses and bacteria they’re working with?” Swain inquired.

“It happens, of course-so often that no one keeps records. But I am trying to develop a vaccine for a particularly virulent strain, and anyone who enters that lab must show no signs of illness, plus I instituted strict measures requiring the wearing of masks and gloves.”

It was good to know the doctor was taking care his bug didn’t spread to the general populace before the vaccine was available to make them millions of dollars, Lily thought. She stared at his back, at his well-shaped head. He seemed such a nice man, but he was the cause of it all. Because of him, Zia was dead.

Lately-since Swain-she had been able to sometimes think of Zia without the crippling pain of grief, with more a fond and sad remembrance. But looking at Dr. Giordano and knowing he was the reason she no longer had Zia, everything rushed back at her in full force. She clenched her jaw to keep from moaning aloud, and fought the burn of tears. It wouldn’t do for “Charles” to start weeping.

They had all-she and Averill and Tina-fretted because Zia seemed to catch every bug that went around. By the age of ten she had already had pneumonia twice. Whether her immune system had been weakened by the deprivation of her first few weeks of life, or she was just unlucky, didn’t matter. Every winter Zia had been ill several times, and she had always caught at least one summer cold that would inevitably turn into bronchitis. She would have been almost certain to catch such an influenza as Dr. Giordano was planning to unleash on the world, and what were the odds she would have been one of the unlucky ones who died?

In trying to stop that from happening, Averill and Tina had set in motion a train of events that had led to that very outcome anyway. The irony of it was bitter.

Hard on the heels of pain came a hot rush of hatred, so strong that she shook with it. She sucked in a harsh breath, trying to wrestle her emotions back under control before she did something stupid and blew everything.

Walking beside her, Damone gave her a curious look. Lily covered for herself by turning her head and giving another cough. She just hoped the latex on her jaw held up under all this stress. Even more, she hoped that Damone didn’t notice that she had a mustache, but not even a hint of a five o’clock shadow on her face.

They walked down a long hall and turned right. “This is my office,” Dr. Giordano said, indicating a door with his name lettered on it in gold, and another keypad entry. “Next to it is the main laboratory, which I would like to show you. It is where I do my most important work. Monsieur Fournier, you should perhaps remain outside.”

Lily nodded. Swain took one of the notebooks and circuit testers from her and said, “We won’t be long.” She leaned against the wall the way she’d seen men do, the picture of patience as the three men went into the laboratory. She was just glad Damone hadn’t chosen to remain with her.

They were out within ten minutes, Swain making notes. She hoped he’d used his trusty little recorder to get the tonal codes of the keypad when Dr. Giordano had entered it, because that time the doctor had been very careful to shield the keypad with his body when he was punching in the sequence. They would need to get into both the lab and the office to set charges.

“Charles,” Swain said absently, “I want you to check the GF modulator on the 365 BS detector in the doctor’s office.”

“Yes, sir,” Lily croaked, diligently writing down the gibberish. Slate had no idea what a GF modulator was, or if such a thing even existed, and the only BS she knew of was what was coming out of Swain’s mouth almost every time he opened it. It sounded impressive, though, and gave her an excuse for being in Dr. Giordano’s office.