Paulie drummed his fingers on the table. “I don’t like this, man.”
“Just do it and get it over with. You’ve still got your beard. You put on those shades, dump the leather, get yourself a hooded sweatshirt—bam—you’re in and out and it’s a done deal. I’ll have you covered.”
“Oh, well, then,” Paulie said, letting the acid flow, “I don’t have a goddamn thing to worry about, do I?”
28
Seemed like an eon since John had slipped into the CVS.
He’d examined every Easter card at least twice, checked out all the chocolate eggs and baskets, and read the ingredients on all the over-the-counter medications.
He could have hung out at the magazine rack but that was too far toward the front. He needed to stay within earshot of the pharmacy counter.
All the reading was eye exercise and nothing more. None of the information penetrated. And if it had, he wouldn’t have been able to make sense of it. He was too keyed up to concentrate on anything except the names people gave at the prescription counter.
This is insane, he kept telling himself. Why am I doing this? I’m endangering Katie’s life just by being here.
Why was he here? He was never impulsive. His style was to take the long view. Get the facts, act if necessary, but otherwise stand ready and see how things played out—traits that made for a lousy surgeon but an excellent internist.
But what kind of father had that made him? Katie would have been spared so much if he’d acted sooner as he saw Mamie decompensating. But he’d loved Mamie. And he’d thought he could keep an eye on her. Wrong. He’d never dreamed she’d do what she did.
Maybe that was why he was lurking about this pharmacy. Maybe he’d learned that watchful waiting didn’t always cut it. Especially where Katie was involved.
No “maybe” that he wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. The waiting had reduced him to a trembling mass of raw nerves. He— And then a devastating thought struck him.
Snake knows what I look like. He has to. He’s been watching us, waiting for his chance to snatch Katie.
What if Snake had already spotted him and ducked back out, saying to hell with Vanduyne’s brat.
He nearly dropped the Easter egg coloring kit he was holding as a dull roar grew in his ears. Oh, Christ, what have I done? He had to get out of here. Maybe it wasn’t too late.
And then through the roar he heard the counter girl’s voice.
“Vanduyne? I’ll check.”
John grabbed the shelf to steady himself. It was him!
Snake was here! He was picking up the pills.
He fought the urge to peek over the display to get a look at him… but his need overwhelmed him. Just one look. He had to know what this bastard looked like.
He turned his head just enough to frame the prescription counter between a pair of Easter baskets atop the display. Two people stood there—an elderly, blue-haired woman, and a stocky guy in a hooded jogging suit. John doubted Snake was an old lady.
As he watched, the girl at the counter handed a white paper bag to the jogger. John noticed he was wearing gloves.
Snake… that was him. He could have been Elvis for all that was visible between the beard, the sunglasses, and the hood. But that was Snake. Had to be.
John felt his weakness of a moment ago fade as hammer blows of rage began to pound through him. The son of a bitch who’d kidnapped Katie was twenty feet away. If he could get his hands on him, even if only for a few minutes, he knew he could make him talk. Oh, yes, a couple of minutes with John and Mr. Snake would tell him everything… everything…
A small part of him was appalled at the savagery surging through him, but mostly he reveled in the fantasy. Which was all it was. Snake wouldn’t be working alone. Couldn’t be. He’d have at least one accomplice, maybe more. If John harmed so much as a hair on this guy’s head, the consequences to Katie could be horrific.
So was this all he could do? Stand here and watch this monster waltz out the door onto K Street and vanish into the afternoon? Christ, he ached for someone to turn to, someone who’d know what to do.
He wanted to call Bob Decker and ask him—kidnapping wasn’t Secret Service business, but Decker had to know a helluva lot more than John.
He watched the jogger take his change and head for the door. Before John could think it over, he found himself following him.
What am I doing? a voice screamed inside his head. Good question.
No heroics, he told himself. No chase. No cat and mouse. Just want to see where he’s going. I’ll stay way back, out of sight. He’ll never know I’m behind him. If he gets in a car and drives off, I want to see the color, make, and model, want to memorize the license plate. But that’s it. I’m not going to hop into my own car and trail him.
But if he walks, I will follow him. This particular drugstore was his choice. Why? Because he’s holding Katie nearby? If that’s the case, I want to know. I’ve got to know.
He followed the jogger out to the. sidewalk and watched him stroll toward 17th Street. The rage was still roiling within, the savage just under the skin struggling to break free, but John was keeping himself under control.
He gave the jogger thirty yards, then followed.
29
What the hell?
Snake stood across the street from the CVS and gaped at the guy who came out after Paulie.
He’d watched the drugstore for a while before Paulie arrived and saw no signs of surveillance. No signs of activity after Paulie went in. That would be the giveaway— if the place was wired for a trap, things would start happening when Paulie asked for the Vanduyne prescription.
But nothing. Paulie came out and took off on a prearranged route while Snake hung back and watched to see if anyone tailed him.
And goddamn, somebody did.
Vanduyne.
“Shit!” The word hissed through his clenched teeth. Was the guy stupid? What did he think he was doing?
And then Snake relaxed. If nothing else, Vanduyne’s presence proved that he hadn’t called in the Feds. No way they’d let him near that drugstore if they were involved. So… he was out here on his own. What a fucking cowboy. What was he going to do, follow Paulie home and rescue his little darling?
Fat chance.
Snake knew Paulie’s route would take him around Farragut Square, and then to the Farragut North Metro station.
He hurried to a bus stop at the top of the square and hung there until Paulie came by. He saw Paulie’s eyes flick his way but he gave no sign that he recognized Snake.
Fifteen seconds later, Vanduyne came by. His eyes were fixed straight ahead on Paulie’s back like he was the only other person on the street.
Snake got a good look at those eyes and didn’t like what he saw. He was going to have to do something about the doc. Now.
But what?
His mind racing furiously, he gave Vanduyne a few yards, then fell into step behind him. As planned, Paulie entered the Metro station. Vanduyne followed, and Snake brought up the rear. The rush hour hadn’t hit yet, so it was still fairly empty. As Vanduyne hung back, hugging a wall, watching Paulie buy a ticket. Snake came up close behind him.
He had to make his move now. And he had to be careful. No telling what kind of shape Vanduyne might be in—physically or emotionally. A guy who showed up at that drugstore could be capable of anything. He might go off like a screaming bomb. And the last thing Snake wanted was a scene in a downtown Metro station.
He reached out toward Vanduyne. Careful… careful…
30
John almost cried out when he felt the fingers close on the back of his neck and the voice whisper from somewhere behind his left ear.
“Freeze, asshole. Don’t even think about turning around. You see my face, you’re dead. And so’s your brat.” John reached out a wildly trembling hand and slapped it palm open against the nearby wall for support. To passersby they probably looked like a pair of friends, one sick, the other comforting him. If they only knew.