Blood Pact

Chapter Eleven

Vicki lifted her face into the wind blowing in off Lake Ontario and remembered how this slab of stone jutting into the water had once been both refuge and inspiration. All through her teens, whenever life got too complicated and she couldn't see her way clear, she'd come to the park, clamber out on the rock, and the world would simplify down to the lake and the wind. The city at her back would disappear and life would be back in perspective. Winter or summer, good weather or bad, it hadn't mattered.
The lake still crashed rhythmically against the rock below her feet, and the wind still picked up the spray and threw it at her but, even together, they were no longer strong enough to uncomplicate the world. Tightening her arm on the bulk of her shoulder bag, she blocked out the pounding of the waves and listened for the crackle of paper; heard her mother's words read from the letter in her mother's voice.
I don't want to just disappear out of your life like your father did. I want us to have a chance to say goodbye.
She swiped at the water on her cheeks before turning and climbing back up the bank to where Celluci waited, more or less patiently, by the car.
The detour had given her nothing but damp sneakers and the certain knowledge that the only way out of the situation she found herself in was going to be the hard way.
So we concentrate on finding my mother.
We find her, we find Henry.
And then we'll...
... we'll...
She shoved viciously at her glasses, jamming the plastic bridge up into her forehead, ignoring the drops of water that spotted the lenses, refusing to acknowledge drops that were salt water not fresh and were on the inside of the lenses. Let's just concentrate on finding them. Then we'll worry about what we do next.
"Good morning, Mrs. Shaw. Is Dr. Burke in?"
"No, dear, I'm sorry, but you just missed her."
Vicki, who had been watching and waiting until she saw Dr. Burke hurry from the office, manufactured a frown.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
She shifted the expression to hopeful. "I need to talk to Donald Li about my mother and I'm finding it impossible to track him down around the campus. I was wondering if Dr. Burke could give me his home address."
Mrs. Shaw smiled up at her and pulled an overflowing rolodex forward. "You don't need to bother Dr. Burke about that, I've got Donald's address right here."
"Uh, Mrs. Shaw... " The young woman temporarily assigned to the office shot an uneasy glance from Vicki to her coworker. "Should you be giving that out? I mean that's private information and... "
"Don't worry about it, Ms. Grenier," Mrs. Shaw instructed firmly, flipping through the cards with practiced fingers, "this is Marjory Nelson's daughter."
"Yes, but... "
Vicki leaned forward and caught the temporary's eye. "I'm sure Donald won't mind," she said quietly.
Ms. Grenier opened her mouth, closed it, and decided she wasn't being paid enough to interfere with someone who'd just made it quietly clear that any opposition would be removed from the field on a stretcher if necessary.
Mrs. Shaw copied the address onto the back of a message form and handed it to Vicki. "Here you go, dear. Has there been any news from the police about your mother's body?"
"No." Vicki's fingers crushed the small square of pink paper. "Not yet."
"You'll let me know?"
"Yes." She didn't bother attempting a smile. "Thank you for this." It was probably fortunate that the outer office door had been designed in such a way that it couldn't be slammed.
"First to have her mother die and then to find that the body had been stolen." Mrs. Shaw sighed deeply and shook her head. "The poor girl was devastated."
Ms. Grenier made a silent but eloquent moue and bent back over her keyboard. As far as she was concerned, devastated might describe anything that got in that woman's way but it could hardly be applied to her emotional condition.
Celluci made no comment as Vicki slid into the passenger seat and slammed the car door. Although she'd insisted before going up that she could handle any sympathy expressed by her mother's ex-coworker, something had obviously gotten through. As nothing he could say would help, he merely started the engine and pulled carefully away from the curb.
"Make the next left," Vicki instructed tersely, yanking the seat belt into position then slamming it home. "We're heading for Elliot Street."
Three blocks later, she sighed deeply and said, "Odds are good that was a lot less trouble than breaking into the records office."
"Not to mention less illegal," Celluci pointed out dryly.
He got his reward in the quick flicker of a smile, there and gone so fast he would've missed it had he not been watching.
"Not to mention," Vicki agreed.
"Catherine." Dr. Burke turned to face the wall, cupping the mouthpiece of the receiver with her free hand. It wouldn't do to be overheard. "I thought I'd give you a quick call between meetings to see how those tests are going."
"Well, his leukocytes are really amazing. I've never seen white blood cells like these."
"Have you looked at any tissue samples?"
"Not yet. I thought you wanted the blood work done first. I've drawn another two vials as well as a sample of lymphatic fluid and, Doctor, his plasma cells are just as unique as the rest."
Dr. Burke ignored a gesturing colleague. They couldn't start the damned meeting without her anyway. "Unique in what way?"
"Well, I'm not an immunologist, but given a little time I may be able to... "
A sudden realization threw everything into sharp-edged relief. "Good lord, you might be able to develop a cure for AIDS." That would mean more than just a Nobel prize; an AIDS vaccine would practically net her a sainthood.
Catherine hesitated before replying. "Well, yes, I suppose that might be one result. I was thinking more along the lines of my bacteria and... "
"Think big, Catherine. Look, I've got to go now. Concentrate on the plasma cells, I think they're our best bet. Oh, for pity's sake, Rob, I'm coming." She hung up the phone and turned to the worried looking man hovering at her elbow. "What is your problem?"
"Uh, the meeting... "
"Oh, yes, the meeting. God forbid we shouldn't waste half our life in meetings!" She practically danced her way back across the hall. I've got a vampire and he's going to give me the world! An AIDS vaccine would be only the beginning.
As he followed her, Dr. Rob Fortin, associate professor of microbiology, found himself wishing he had an excuse to cut and run. When Aline Burke looked that cheerful, someone's ass was grass.
In the lab, Catherine stared at the phone for a moment, then somberly shook her head. "It's not like I don't have other things to do," she muttered.
Turning slightly, she shot a reassuring smile at number nine and number ten. She'd been shuffling them in and out of the one remaining isolation box all day as their physical needs had dictated but hadn't really been able to spend any quality time with them. "I'm not ignoring you," she said earnestly. "I'll just finish up this analysis for Dr. Burke and then we can get back to important things."
Donald, she could guiltlessly ignore for another twelve hours or so, but it wasn't fair to the others that all her time be taken up by Mr. Henry Fitzroy, vampire.
After all, he wasn't going anywhere.
The key had hardly entered the lock when the door to the next apartment opened and Mr. Delgado came out into the hall.
"Vicki, I thought it was you." He took a step toward her, the lines around his eyes deepening into worried grooves. "The police haven't found anything?"
"The police aren't exactly looking," Vicki told him tersely.
"Not looking? But... "
"The murder at the university has tied up their manpower," Celluci interjected. "They're doing what they can."
Mr. Delgado snorted. "Of course you'd say that, Mister Detective-Sergeant." He gestured at Vicki. "But she shouldn't have to be doing this. She shouldn't have to go out looking."
Vicki's fingers whitened around the key. "It's my responsibility, Mr. Delgado."
He spread his hands. "Why?"
"Because she's my mother."
"No." He shook his head. "She was your mother. But your mother isn't anymore. Your mother is dead. Finding her body won't bring your mother back to you."
Celluci watched a muscle jump in Vicki's jaw and waited for the explosion. To his surprise, it didn't come.
"You don't understand," she said through clenched teeth and moved swiftly into the apartment.
Celluci remained in the hallway a moment longer.
"I'm right. I watched her grow up." Mr. Delgado sighed, the deep, weary exhalation of an old man who'd seen more death than he cared to remember. "She thinks it's her fault her mother died and if she can just find the body it'll make amends."
"Is that such a bad thing?"
"Yes. Because it isn't her fault Majory died," Mr. Delgado pointed out, turned on his heel, and left Celluci standing alone in the hall.
He found Vicki sitting on the couch, staring down at her notes, all the lights in the apartment on even though it was barely mid-afternoon and the living room was far from dark.
"He doesn't know about Henry," she said without looking up.
"I know," Celluci agreed.
"And just because I've reacted to my mother's body being stolen by attempting to find it again, well, that doesn't mean I'm repressing anything. People grieve in different ways. Damn it, if you were in my situation, you'd be out looking for your mother's body."
"Granted."
"My mother's dead, Mike. I know that."
So you keep saying. But he closed his teeth on the words.
"And my mother isn't the fucking point anymore. We've got to find Henry before they turn him into... Christ!" She ripped off her glasses and rubbed at her eyes. "You think Donald Li's made a run for it?" she asked, somehow forcing the question to sound no different than it had on a hundred other occasions looking for a hundred other young men.
"I think that if a university student spends the night away from home it usually means he's gotten lucky." Celluci watched her closely but matched his tone to hers.
"On the other hand, if he was Tom Chen, he's probably aware we're looking for him and he's gone to ground. Maybe we should stake out his apartment."
"The little old lady on the first floor promised she'd call the moment he came home. My guess is she doesn't miss much."
"My guess is she doesn't miss anything." Her glasses back in place, Vicki scowled down at the pile of papers on the coffee table then jumped to her feet. "Mike, I can't just sit here. I'm going back to the university. I'm going keep poking around. Maybe I'll turn something up."
"What?"
"I don't know!" She charged toward the door and he had no choice but to get out of her way or be run down.
"Vicki? Before you go, can I ask you something?"
She stopped but didn't turn.
"Do you think you're responsible for your mother's death?"
He read the answer in the lines of her back, the sudden tension clearly visible even through shirt, sweater, and windbreaker.
"Vicki, it wasn't your fault when your father left and that didn't make your mother's life your responsibility."
He almost didn't recognize her voice when she answered. "When you love someone, they become your responsibility."
"Jesus H. Christ, Vicki! People aren't like puppies or kittens. Love isn't supposed to be that kind of a burden." He grabbed her shoulder and spun her around. Then wished he hadn't when he saw the look on her face. It was almost worse when that expression smoothed into one that told him nothing at all.
"If you are completely finished, Dr. Freud, you can get your god-damned hands off of me." A twist of her upper body, a step back, and she was free. "Now, are you going to help or are you going to sit around here all day with your psychoanalysis up your ass?"
She whirled, flung open the door, and stomped out into the hall before he had time to answer.
Well, Mr. Delgado. Celluci dragged both hands up through his hair and tried very hard not to grind the crowns off his teeth. When you're right, you're really right. Still, she asked for my help. Again. I suppose that's progress of sorts. Closing and locking the apartment behind him, he hurried to catch up. Mind you, I'd feel better about that if it wasn't so obvious that she now feels responsible for Mr. Henry fucking Fitzroy.
Dr. Burke acknowledged Mrs. Shaw's greeting but continued into her office without pausing. She couldn't decide what she hated more, bureaucracy itself or the sycophants that fawned around it. Why, she wondered, does it have to be so difficult to end a term? Just send the students home and hose down the blackboards.
The last thing that she needed, after not one but three meetings in which she valiantly attempted to impose logic onto rules and regulations, was to see Marjory Nelson's daughter wandering the halls of the Life Sciences building, peering through windows into labs and lecture halls and generally making a nuisance of herself. Watching the younger woman's progress from the anonymity of a shadowed recess, she'd very nearly called Security and had her escorted out. The presence of the Toronto police officer, whom she'd been introduced to briefly at the truncated funeral, changed her mind. Arbitrary actions were just the sort of thing that tended to make the police suspicious.
Besides, the chances of Vicki Nelson stumbling onto the lab, and her mother's body, were slim. First, she'd have to find the access passage into the old building. Then, she'd have to negotiate through the rabbit warren of halls that crossed and recrossed the hundred-year-old structure-halls that had occasionally, in the past, defeated freshmen armed with maps, to find the one room in use.
No, Vicki Nelson had no chance of finding her mother's body, but that didn't mean Dr. Burke liked seeing her hanging around.
Why the hell doesn't she just go home? She dropped into her chair and fanned the pile of messages on her desk. Without her prodding, the police would've back-burnered this before they'd even begun.
If only the coffin hadn't been opened; no one would have been the wiser.
If only Donald hadn't allowed Marjory Nelson to walk out of the lab and home.
If only the sight of the mother reanimated hadn't convinced the daughter that the answer lay at the university.
Vicki Nelson was an intelligent woman; even allowing for maternal prejudices, the facts spoke for themselves. Eventually, in her search for her mother, she'd stumble onto something that would jeopardize Dr. Burke's position. Dr. Burke had no intention of allowing that to happen.
Slowly, the Director of Life Sciences smiled. The incredible circumstance that had dropped a vampire into her hands had also given her an easy answer to the problem. "If Ms. Nelson wants to find her mother so badly," she murmured, tapping out the number for the lab, "maybe she should."
Catherine answered the phone on the third ring with a terse, "What is it, Doctor? I'm busy."
"How are the tests going?"
"Well, you want rather a lot done and... "
"Isn't Donald helping?"
"No, he... "
"Has he even been in today?"
"Well, no, he... "
"I don't want to hear his excuses, Catherine, I'll deal with him myself later." This wasn't the first time Donald had taken an unscheduled holiday, but it was time she put her foot down about it. "Have you run into anything this afternoon that might prevent us developing an AIDS vaccine?"
"Well, actually, I've observed that certain nonphagocytic leukocytes have a number of specialized functions on a cellular level that might possibly be developed into just that." She paused for a moment, then continued. "We'd have to practically drain Mr. Fitzroy to acquire a serum, though, and his pressure's already awfully low. I keep having to take new samples because even a minute amount of ultraviolet light destroys the cell structure."
"For pity's sake, Catherine, don't let any ultraviolet light fall on him. We can always replenish his blood... " The thought brought an interesting evisceral response that could possibly be explored later when they had more time. "... but if he loses cellular integrity, even your bacteria won't be able to rebuild him."
"I am aware of that, Doctor. I'm being very careful."
"Good. Now, then, since Mr. Fitzroy so fortuitously fell into our hands, I've altered our plans somewhat. Here's what we're going to do: run one final analysis on numbers nine and ten, no point in wasting data that might be useful later, then terminate them, strip them of all hardware, do the usual biopsies, and process both of them out through the medical morgue. We'll work up the standard paperwork on number nine, but someone's sure to recognize Marjory Nelson. I'll see to it that she can't be traced back to us, everyone will claim ignorance, there'll be a six days' wonder, and then we'll be safely able to continue with no threat of discovery."
She could hear breathing so she knew Catherine was still on the line, but moments passed and there was no response. "Catherine?"
"Terminate numbers nine and ten?"
"That's right. We don't need them anymore." She felt a triumphant smile spread across her face and made no effort to stop it. "We have captured a creature who in and of himself can unlock the Nobel door."
Catherine ignored the triumph. "But that'll kill them!"
"Don't be ridiculous, they're already dead."
"But, Dr. Burke... "
Dr. Burke sighed and moved her glasses up on her head so she could rub at her temples. "No buts, Catherine. They're becoming a liability. I was willing to overlook that when they were our best chance for success, but with Mr. Fitzroy under our control we have an unlimited potential to make scientific history." She softened her voice. Once again Catherine would have to be manipulated onto the most productive path. "If you can fuse the elements of Henry Fitzroy's blood into your bacteria, it will make everything we've done so far redundant. We're moving onto a new level of scientific discovery here."
"Yes, but... "
"Science moves forward, Catherine. You can't let yourself be trapped in the past. An opportunity like this doesn't come along every day." Now, that was an understatement, she mused as the triumphant smile returned. "You begin the termination. I'll be down as soon as I can. Sunset is at 7:47, see that Mr. Fitzroy is locked up tightly a good half an hour before then."
Sounding numb, Catherine murmured, "Yes, Dr. Burke," into the phone and hung up.
Shaking her head, Dr. Burke replaced the receiver. In a few days Catherine would be so immersed in new discoveries that she'd forget numbers nine and ten even existed as anything but collections of experimental data. Which, of course, she reminded herself acerbically, is all they are.
Catherine stared at the phone for a moment, turning Dr. Burke's words over and over in her head. Science had to keep going forward. It couldn't remain stuck in the past.
Science had to keep going forward.
She truly believed that.
The quest for knowledge, in and of itself, is of primary importance. Those were her own words, spoken to the doctor during her search for the funds and lab space necessary to develop her bacteria to their full potential. Dr. Burke had agreed and they'd taken the quest together.
Terminate numbers nine and ten.
She couldn't do it.
Dr. Burke was wrong. They were alive.
She wouldn't do it.
Taking a deep breath and smoothing the front of her lab coat, she turned. Sitting where she'd left them against the far wall, they were both watching her; almost as if they knew. They trusted her. She wasn't going to let them down.
Unfortunately, bundling them into the back of her van and disappearing into the sunset wasn't an option.
In order to keep them functional, she needed the lab. Dr. Burke, therefore, had to be made to change her mind.
... with Mr. Fitzroy under our control we have an unlimited potential to make scientific history.
Suppose Mr. Fitzroy was no longer under her control?
Brow furrowed in thought, Catherine crossed the room to the isolation box that held the quiescent vampire. Essentially, it was operating as nothing more than a containment unit with none of its specialized functions working. It wasn't even plugged in. Theoretically, it was mobile. In actuality, its weight made it difficult to move.
Catherine placed both hands against one end and shoved as hard as she could. Nothing. Bracing her feet against the wall, she shoved again, straining until her vision went red.
The isolation box jerked forward six inches and stopped when she did.
It had taken all three of them, her and Donald and Dr. Burke to move the empty boxes in. Catherine bowed her head over her folded arms, breath misting the cool metal, and admitted she couldn't move it out, not on her own.
Number nine stood and walked carefully forward, supporting himself once on the back of a chair as his left leg nearly folded beneath him. He had no way of knowing that inside the knee, tendons and ligaments were finally surrendering to rot.
He saw she was sad.
That was enough.
He stopped beside her and laid his hand on her shoulder.
Catherine turned at the touch and looked up. "If we hide the vampire," she said, "we'll have time to convince Dr. Burke that she's wrong."
There were many words number nine didn't understand, so he merely placed his palms where hers had been, and pushed.
The isolation box rumbled forward.
"Stop."
Number nine stopped pushing. The box moved a few inches farther, then ground to a halt under its own weight.
"Yes! We can do this together!" Catherine threw her arms around number nine in an impulsive hug, ignoring the way tissue compacted under her touch, ignoring the smell that had begun to rise.
Number nine struggled to recognize what he felt.
It was...
It was...
Then her arms were gone and it was lost.
Stepping back, Catherine glanced around the lab. "We can hide the vampire and the other isolation box as well. That way, Dr. Burke won't be able to hold you hostage for his return. The dialysis machine is portable and an IV drip can replace the nutrient pump for a few days. We'll take one of the computers with us just in case Dr. Burke takes too long to come to her senses. You shouldn't suffer from lack of input just because she's being stubborn."
Then she paused. "Oh, no. Donald." Reaching out, she patted the box that enclosed the body of the other grad student. "I can't unplug you, Donald, it's too soon. I'm sorry, but we'll have to leave you here." She sighed deeply. "I only hope that Dr. Burke will allow you to finish developing. She's just not thinking straight, Donald. I've had this feeling lately that all she wants is fame and money, that she doesn't care about the experiments. I care. I know you'll understand."
Checking her watch, she hurried back across the room to the computer terminal, copied the day's work onto a disk, and then scrubbed it from the main memory. "Just in case," she murmured, slipping the copy into her lab coat pocket. "I can't leave her a way out."
On her way back to where number nine waited patiently, she picked up the vampire's trench coat and the shirt she'd had to remove as well. She didn't have time to dress him again, but she spread them neatly over the body before closing the lid and latching it.
"This is going to take all of us. Number ten, come here."
Released from the compulsion to stay, she rose to her feet. "Come here" was not an implanted command so, although she knew what it meant, she moved toward the door.
She had something she had to do.
"Stop." Catherine shook her head and circled around number ten until she could look her in the face. "There's something the matter, isn't there? I wish you could tell me what it was, maybe I could help. But you can't tell me and, right now, we've all got problems."
Taking hold of one gray-green wrist, Catherine led Marjory Nelson's body over to stand beside the front end of the box, wrapped dark-tipped fingers around a metal handle, and said, "Hold."
The fingers tightened.
With number nine pushing and number ten obeying rapid orders to push or pull, the massive piece of equipment, and the body it contained, rumbled across the lab and out into the hall.
... you could tell me what it was...
... you could tell me...
She remembered talking.
If vampires exist... Dr. Burke scribbled a question mark in the margin of an application for summer research funds that had been handed in at absolutely the last minute... . and they very obviously do, then just think of what else might be out there. Demons. Werewolves. The Creature from the Black Lagoon. Even though her cheeks were beginning to ache, she couldn't control the spreading grin. Hadn't been able to control it all afternoon. Henry Fitzroy's blood will enable me to collect every accolade the scientific community possesses on a silver platter. In fact, they'll have to create new awards, just for me.
They would have to take precautions, of course. The legendary vampire had been accredited with a number of abilities that could be a threat. While many of them could be discounted out of hand, as he hadn't been able to get out of the isolation box before sunrise, the actual vampire appeared incapable of becoming mist, he was very strong; the dents he'd added to number nine's pattern on the inside of the lid testified to that. So it's probably best that he spend his nights locked in that box.
He'd have to be fed, of course, if only to replace the fluids Catherine removed during the day. Fortunately, there were a number of small tubes available that blood could be passed through.
And as for the granting of eternal life. Dr. Burke drummed her fingertips on the desk. Henry Fitzroy's identification seemed to indicate that he lived a reasonably normal life, even considering that the day was unquestionably denied him, and nothing but legend indicated that he'd lived any longer than the twenty-four years his driver's license allowed him. She'd have to discuss his history with him later, not that it mattered much. What point in living forever if forever had to be lived in hiding? Skulking about in the dark. Helpless in the day. Not, I think, for me.
After years of being anonymously responsible for keeping the infrastructure of science running, she wanted recognition. She'd spent long enough tucked away out of sight, tilting with bureaucracy while others garnered the glory.
One lifetime, properly appreciated, would be long enough. Conquering death had always been merely a means to an end and she had no more intention of becoming a blood-drinking creature of the night than she did of allowing her body to be used to create one of those shambling monstrosities she'd told Catherine to destroy.
Although, perhaps when Catherine has all the bugs worked out...
Resisting the temptation to begin composing her acceptance speech for Stockholm, Dr. Burke forced herself to concentrate on the grant application. When she'd dealt with this last bit of unavoidable paperwork, she'd be free to spend a few hours in the lab. She was actually looking forward to the unavoidable conversation with their captured vampire.
Half an hour later, a tentative knock at the office door brought her up out of a projected balance sheet that proved at least one of the department's professors had taken a course in economics, and not paid much attention.
"Come in."
Mrs. Shaw leaned into the room. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving now, Doctor."
"Is it as late as all that?"
The older woman smiled. "It's later. But Ms. Grenier and I pretty much cleared the backlog."
Dr. Burke nodded approvingly. "Good. Thank you for all the hard work." Appreciation made the best motivator regardless of where it was applied. "There'll be another stack out there tomorrow," she added, indicating the pile of folders on the corner of her desk.
"You can count on me, Doctor. Good night. Oh." The door, in the process of closing, opened again and Mrs. Shaw reappeared. "Marjory's daughter was around this morning. She wanted Donald Li's home address. I hope you don't mind."
"A little late now if I did, isn't it?" Somehow, she managed to keep the question light. "Did Ms. Nelson tell you why she wanted Donald's address?"
"She wanted to talk to him about her mother." Mrs. Shaw began to look worried at the expression on her employer's face. "I know it's against policy, but she is Marjory's daughter."
"Was Marjory's daughter," Dr. Burke pointed out dryly. "Nevermind, Mrs. Shaw." There was no point in getting annoyed so long after the fact. "If Donald doesn't want to talk to her, I'm sure he can take care of it himself."
"Thank you, Doctor. Good night."
Dr. Burke waited a moment, to be certain that this time the door would stay closed, then pulled the phone across the desk and tapped in Donald's number. After four rings, his answering machine came on with a trumpet fanfare and the message that "... autographed pictures are available for twenty dollars plus a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For personal dedications, add five dollars. Those actually wishing conversation with Mr. Li can leave a message after the tone and he'll get back to you the moment he has a break in his too, too busy schedule."
"This is Dr. Burke. If you're there, Donald, pick up."
Apparently, he wasn't there. After leaving instructions that she be called at his earliest opportunity, Dr. Burke hung up and shoved the phone away.
"He's probably spent the day avoiding that woman. At least he didn't lead her to the lab."
The lab...
A memory nibbled at the edge of conscious thought. Something to do with the lab. She leaned back in her chair and frowned up at the ceiling tiles. Something not quite right that the incredible discovery of the vampire had distracted her from. Something so normal...
... leaned back against number eight's box, allowing the soft vibration of machinery to soothe her jangled nerves.
Number eight no longer existed. The vampire was in number nine's box but both number nine and number ten had been sitting passively against the wall.
Who was in number eight's box?
Then a second memory surfaced.
Gathering up the contents of the wallet, she tossed them onto a pile of clothes draped over a nearby chair.
It suddenly got very hard to breathe.
"Oh, lord, no... "
They could hear the phone ringing from the hall. As could be expected under the circumstances, the key jammed.
Four rings. Five.
"Goddamnit!" Her mood not exactly sunny, Vicki backed up and slammed the bottom of her foot against the door just below the lock. The entire structure shuddered under the impact. When she grabbed the key again, it turned.
"Nothing like the Luke Sky walker method," Celluci muttered, racing for the phone.
Nine rings. Ten.
"Yes? Hello?"
"Good timing, Mike. I was just about to hang up."
Celluci mouthed "Dave Graham" at Vicki, jammed the receiver between ear and shoulder, and readied a pen. "What've you got for me?"
"I had to call in a couple of favors, you owe me for this, partner, but Humber College finally came through. Your boy was recommended to the course by a Dr. Dabir Rashid, Faculty of Medicine, Queen's University. And as a bonus, they threw in the information that he requested young Mr. Chen serve his four-week observation period at Hutchinson's."
"No mention of a Dr. Aline Burke?"
"Nary a word. How's Vicki?"
Good question. "Damned if I know."
"Like that, is it? You gotta remember that death affects different people different ways. I know when my uncle died, my aunt seemed almost relieved, handled the funeral like it was a family reunion. Two weeks later, blam. Completely fell apart. And my wife's cousin, he... "
"Dave."
"Yeah?"
"Later."
"Oh. Right. Listen, Cantree says to take as much time as you need for this. He said we'll manage to muddle through somehow without you."
"Nice of him."
"He's a saint. Let me know how it shakes down."
"You got it, buddy." He turned from hanging up the phone to find Vicki glaring at him. "Our Tom Chen got his recommendation from a Dr. Dabir Rashid, Faculty of Medicine, Queen's University. I don't suppose that could be an alias for Dr. Burke?"
"No. I met Dr. Rashid briefly yesterday." Vicki stomped across the room and threw herself down onto the couch. "He's a year older than God and isn't sure if he's coming or going. I assume he has tenure."
Celluci dropped a hip onto the telephone table and shrugged. "Easy to confuse, then, if you wanted him to do you a favor you didn't want traced."
"Exactly." Vicki spit the word out. "He probably thought he was recommending the Tom Chen who's actually studying medicine." She jabbed at her glasses. "From what I saw, if he even remembers giving it, he'll never remember who asked him to do it."
"Then we'll have to stimulate his memory."
Vicki snorted. "The shock would probably kill him."
"You never know. The recommendation included a request that Chen serve his four-week observation period at Hutchinson's, the more details, more chance one of them stuck."
"Yeah. Maybe." Snatching up a green brocade cushion, she threw it against the far wall. "Jesus, Mike; why isn't it ever easy?"
Another good question. "I don't know, Vicki, maybe... "
His voice trailed off as he watched all the color suddenly drain out of her face. "Vicki? What's wrong?"
"It's a four-week observation period." Her hands were shaking so violently she couldn't lace the fingers together, so she curled them into fists and pressed the fists hard against her thighs. "My mother was given six months to live." She had to force the words out through a throat closed tight. "They couldn't keep placing people in that funeral home." Why hadn't she seen it before? "My mother had to die during those four weeks." She turned her head and met Celluci's gaze square on. "Do you know what that means?"
He knew.
"My mother was murdered, Mike." Her voice became steel and ice. "And who was with my mother seconds before she died?"
He reached behind him and scooped up the phone. "I think we've got something Detective Fergusson will listen to now... "
"No." Vicki got slowly to her feet, her movements jerky and barely under control. "First, we've got to rescue Henry. Once he's safe, she's history. But not until."
She wasn't going to fail Henry the way she'd failed her mother.