Bacon’s eyes opened, and he did not move. Teddy plunged the short needle of the hypodermic into his carotid artery and pressed the plunger, then pulled it out and set it on the bedside table. This would only take a minute, he knew. When he had been at the CIA, they had tested the drug, first on animals, then on volunteers.
“It’s going to feel nice,” Teddy said. “You’ll feel warm all over, and you’ll be able to see and hear, but you won’t be able to move or speak. Don’t worry, it won’t kill you.” He pressed his fingers against the artery and felt for the pulse. He could feel its rapidity, then it slowed. It was done.
“You just lie quietly there for a minute,” Teddy said. “I’ll be ready for you shortly.” He left the paralyzed man and went into the bathroom. He switched on the light and looked around, checked the medicine cabinet. Then he saw what he wanted, standing in a drinking glass on top of the sink. He walked to the bathtub, closed the drain, and turned on the water, testing the warmth. He wanted it hot. Then he returned to the bedroom.
Bacon’s body was twitching a little as he tried and failed to move. Teddy removed the plastic cap from his pocket, capped the needle, and put the hypodermic into his pocket. Then he pulled back the covers?ied, exposing Bacon’s naked body, then took the man’s head in his hands and dragged him from the bed onto the floor. He took hold of Bacon’s wrists and dragged him into the bathroom, then he muscled the inert form into the bathtub.
“You’re going to have a nice hot bath,” Teddy said, “then you’re going to die.”
Bacon’s eyes swiveled and looked at him, seeming to open wider. “Lauren never knew what hit her when you fired that shot,” Teddy said, “but you’re going to know everything.” He went to the sink and took the straight razor from the glass on the sink. He had planned to use a kitchen knife, but this was much better. He returned to the bathtub and, in turn, made an incision in each of Bacon’s wrists, parallel with the forearm, then he dropped the hands back into the water.
“This is how you commit suicide with a razor,” Teddy said. “You don’t cut across the wrist, but along it. You bleed a lot more that way. Now, you have a couple of minutes before you lose consciousness. Use it to think about the stupid thing you did. Use it to think about that beautiful young woman whose life you took. Your autopsy will show that your cause of death was suicide by blood loss. They’ll never think to do a tox screen, and even if they do, it’s very unlikely that they’ll detect the drug I gave you. No one will ever know why you died but me, and whoever I choose to tell about it.
“Are you a Christian, Todd? I hope so, because then you’ll believe me when I tell you that you will wake up in hell, because you committed the sin of murder.”
Teddy sat by the tub for another couple of minutes, periodically checking Bacon’s pulse. Finally, his heart stopped. His body appeared to be afloat in a bathtub of tomato soup.
Teddy switched off the bathroom light and went back into the bedroom, scuffing the carpet to remove any sign of the body being dragged across the floor. He let himself out of the house, put on his shoes and booties, and walked back to the Toyota.
Half an hour later, Teddy pulled into the parking lot at Manassas Airport, still wearing his gloves and booties. He locked the Toyota and went inside through the back door, locking it behind him. He hung the car keys on the board at the rental counter, let himself out the front door onto the ramp, and locked the door behind him.
Back in the airplane, he retrieved his Apple AirBook. He had a strong signal from the FBO’s wireless network. He logged on to the CIA mainframe and sent a single e-mail, then he put away the computer, started the airplane, taxied to the runway, and took off to the south, not turning on his transponder. He flew low until he was sure he was out of Washington Center’s airspace, then he climbed to eight thousand feet, set the autopilot, and entered the code AVL into the GPS. He pressed the DIRECT button on the GPS, then the NAV button on the autopilot, and let it fly him toward Asheville Regional Airport, in North Carolina.
Now, flying through the smooth night air, the starry sky above him, the green landscape below, he allowed himself to weep for Lauren Cade, and what he had lost.
56
Holly woke up at six and slipped out of bed, leaving Stone still dead to the world. She showered and put on fresh clothes, stuffed the other things she had left at the hotel during Stone’s stay into her bag, then she tiptoed out of the suite and went down to her car.
The drive to Langley went? hotel quickly, since rush hour was not in full force, and back in her office she found a pastry in the kitchenette she shared with Lance Cabot, then made some coffee.
She took breakfast to her desk, switched on her computer, and while it booted, she shuffled through the mess in her in-box. She had some catching up to do, she reckoned, and she had to go and see the director at nine.
She had just stuffed a large bite of cheese Danish into her mouth when a message slowly materialized on her screen. This was not an ordinary e-mail, and she wondered who had sent it. She did not wonder for long.
Last night, your minion Todd Bacon, while trying to murder me, instead killed Lauren Cade, who was your friend. Apparently conscience-stricken, Bacon took his own life in the wee hours of this morning.
I will pay you the compliment of believing that you have honored our arrangement, that the attempt on my life was an act of Bacon’s own devising, without reference to you or Cabot, and I will conduct myself accordingly. Should you wish to reach me again, place an ad in the Arts section of the national edition of the New York Times, addressed to Wanderer.
Good luck to you.
Holly attempted to print the message, but when she touched a key, it gradually disintegrated and disappeared from the screen.
Lance looked in, his briefcase still in his hand. “Good morning.”
Holly was still staring at the screen and did not respond.
Lance stepped into the room, set down his briefcase, and took a seat across from her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’ve just had a communication from Teddy Fay,” she replied. “I tried to print it, but it disappeared.”
“And what did he have to say for himself?”
“Apparently, Todd Bacon went off the reservation last night and went after Teddy. He didn’t get him, but, as a result, Lauren Cade was collateral damage.”
“Good God,” Lance said, his face darkening. “Is Teddy going on another rampage?”
“No, he said he didn’t blame you or me, but I think he killed Todd and made it look like a suicide.”
“Thank heaven for small favors. Find out if he was telling the truth.” Lance picked up his briefcase and went to his own office.
Holly looked up Todd Bacon’s home number and called it. She got an answering machine. She tried his office extension and got voice mail. Maybe he was on his way in. It was nearly nine, so she went to the director’s office and was shown in immediately.
“Thank you for coming, Holly,” Kate Lee said, motioning her to a chair.
Holly sat down and prepared herself for a rebuke.
“I wanted to tell you that I think your idea of bringing Stone and Dino down here was exactly the right thing to do.”
Holly let out the breath she had been holding.
“Frankly, I had expected them to conclude that Brix murdered his wife before killing himself. I am astonished, of course, to see how this has played out, but I don’t want you to think that yo?ludu are in any way responsible for the events following Stone’s and Dino’s arrival.”