Finally she picked up the phone. Enough waiting. Time to make a call of her own. She dialed the FBI and asked for Gerry. After a moment on hold, the receptionist came back, "I'm sorry, but Special Agent Canney is not available now. Would you care to leave a message? " No, she wouldn't.
Gerry wasn't back yet? Could that be? She felt her anxiety level rising. The chart-lined walls around her seemed to lean over her, closing in.
Keep calm, she told herself. Everything's under control.
Quickly she dialed Senator Marsden's officer. When she asked how he was after the accident, Doris, the receptionist, said, "Oh, he's fine, Dr, Panzella. Want to speak to him? " Nonplussed, Gin mumbled something that vaguely resembled yes. "Gin, " the senator said without preamble, "I wish you could have been with me today. If ever there was an example of the need for the Guidelines act, it was the fiasco I witnessed this morning."
"Are you all right? " "Of course, I'm all right! There was never anything wrong with me. Yet they insisted on shoving me into this MRI machine and scanning my legs.
Everything happened so fast, I was squeezed into that tube before I was sure of what was going on and had a chance to protest."
"I'm sure they had good reason, " "They had no reason! Just trying to pad the bill! I'm curious.
"Maybe it was because you're a U. S. Senator, " she said, trying to mollify him. This was not what she wanted to talk about. "I'm sure they don't do that to everyone."
"Wait till I get the bill, " he said. "Just wait. Then they'll hear from me." Gin figured he'd have a long, long wait ''llh, did they find anything? ' she asked and then held her breath.
'"Find anything? Of course not! There wasn't anything to find!
Wasted half my morning because of a stupid hit-and run fender bender. ' Found nothing . . . hadn't they told him? Why not? What was going on?
Gin fumbled through the next minute of conversation, only half listening, replying with what she was sure were non sequiturs, and then somewhat less than gracefully ended the conversation.
Her mind spinning, she immediately called the FBI again, and again, Gerry was "nor available at this time ' She left her name and an urgenr message to call her as soon as possible.
And then she was up and moving. She had to get out, get some fresh air.
She hurried to her car and turned the heater on high. She was cold, but that wasn't why she was shivering. Dread settled around her like a tenebrous shroud.
Somewhere, somehow, something was terribly wrong.
The late afternoon had been endless. She'd taken a shower, fixed a sandwich that she didn't touch, tried to watch talk shows. She was going nuts.
When she hadn't heard from Gerry by half past six, Gin called his office again and was told he was gone for the day.
Why hadn't he called? Had he missed her message?
She called his home. He answered on the second ring.
"Gerry. Thank God! " "Gin. Hello." His voice sounded flat, lifeless.
"I've been trying to reach you all day. I've been going crazy here.
Didn't you get my message? " ""Going crazy, " he said. "That's a good one." A wave of cold formed at her center and spread outward. With the cordless phone tight against her ear, she stepped out of her bedroom and began pacing the front room.
"Gerry, what's wrong? " "What's wrong? Gin . . . " he sighed, then said nothing. The few silent seconds seemed to stretch into the night falling outside her bay window.
"Gin, there was nothing there. ' It wasn't a complete shock. Some part of her subconscious must have expected this but hadn't allowed her to face it directly. Now she had no choice.
Still, she couldn't accept it.
Her words came in a rush. "There had to be. Gerry, I saw it. Less than an hour before the surgery he had the trocar and an implant filled with TPD sitting on his desk ready to go. I left the recovery room for a few minutes, and when I returned there was a puncture wound on the senator's thigh. It was still bleeding."
"We had that puncture wound' checked in the hospital. It was little more than a scratch."
"Gerry, it, " "But it doesn't matter whether there was a scratch or a puncture in the skin, Gin, the fact remains that there wasn't anything under the skin.
The Mr I didn't pick up a single trace of a foreign body. Not in the right leg, and not in the left leg either, because we checked both of them. There's nothing under Marsden's skin but fat and muscle and bone.
No implant, no nothing! " "Gerry, that can't be. If it's not in the senator's leg then it's got to be somewhere else. I know, " "That's the trouble, Gin. You didn't know. And you don't know now. I thought you did. I never should have, " He cut himself off.
"Gerry, I'm so sorry. I was so sure. Why else would he have that implant out and ready to go just before the senator's surgery? " "I don't know, Gin." She sensed a growing edge to his voice. "You tell me. You're the only one who saw it . . . or that TPD stuff. ' "Do you think I imagined it? ' "I don't know what to think anymore. Look, I know I started you on this, but I must have been crazy, and I made you a little crazy too. I do know that Ketter and I are the big joke around the Bureau."
"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. Look, you sound tired.
When you and Martha come over we'll have some wine and you can relax while I, " "I don't think we'll be able to make it, Gin. Not tonight.
" Something in his voice made her sit down in the nearest chair. She bit her lip.
"Gerry, what's wrong? " "Wrong? Everything's wrong, Gin." She heard the hurt, the disappointment in his voice. "I'm really not very hungry. And to tell the truth, I don't think I'll be very good company tonight." Gin felt tears well in her eyes. "I feel terrible about this, Gerry.
" "That makes two of us. Maybe you've been working too hard, stretching yourself too thin. I shouldn't have got you wired on my little conspiracy theory. ' She felt as if she'd been punched. "You do think I imagined all this!
Did I imagine all those newspaper articles? " "I told you, Gin, I don't know what to think anymore. Maybe this isn't a good time for us to be discussing it. I know it's not a good time for me. I've got to get dinner for Martha. We'll talk some other time, okay? " '"Talking it out tonight might, " "The last thing I need is to talk about Duncan Lathram. Frankly, if I never hear his name again, it will be too soon.
What I need is to cool down and get this day over with. ' "You're sure? " "I'm truly sorry for begging off at the last minute like this, but trust me, it's for the best." She didn't want to hang up but sensed he didn't want to talk anymore.
'"Call me tomorrow? ' "Will do."
"All right. Good night."
"Good night, Gin." And then she hung up.
Bewildered, Gin sat and stared down at Kalorama Road.
"He thinks I'm crazy, " she whispered to the empty apartment. But she'd been so certain, so damn sure that Duncan had stuck an implant into Senator Marsden. She'd seen it lying on his desk just before the surgery. Why else would it have been there?
Unless . . .
Unless Duncan had been setting her up.
But how? He had no inkling of what she knew. She'd relocked his desk drawer, erased the FDA download from the computer. She'd left no trail.
No reason in the world for Duncan to suspect she had the vaguest due.
So why would he set her up?
Maybe he had'ntr. Maybe he'd tried to jab an implant into the senator's thigh but didn't have time to complete the job, leaving a skin wound but no implant.
And maybe he wasn't up to what she thought he was. Maybe she'd misinterpreted everything.
Was that possible? Could she have been that far off the mark?
And poor Gerry. He'd stuck his neck out on account of what she'd told him. Sounded as if he'd been damn near decapitated as a result. He had a right to be hurt and angry.