Look at Oliver, beaming like a starstruck Boy Scout. He can't tell a soul, yet he's totally gaga over the idea of his implants being used on the president of the United States.
Was she borrowing trouble? Even if Duncan wanted to try something, how could he with the Secret Service watching his every move?
But in the recovery room . . . would they be hovering over him there?
Probably not.
Why was she thinking this way? She had to stop. Yesterday she'd seen a side of Duncan she'd thought long gone. She'd promised herself to revamp her thinking. And she'd be succeeding, too, if not for that damn bottle of TPD. Was it still where she'd seen Duncan hide it?
Only one way to find out.
Now or never.
Gin wished she could call Gerry and talk to him about this, but look what happened last time she'd gone to him with a suspicion. Their relationship was stretched to the breaking point. Or maybe he'd already broken it off without her knowing it. He hadn't contacted her since Friday.
Duncan was out to lunch, Barbara was away from her desk. Gin slipped into Duncan's offLce and went directly to the bookshelves. She remembered it had been the far left section, top shelf. But the top shelf was too high to reach.
She looked around for a chair to stand on and spotted a small step stool over by the sink. How convenient. She'd never noticed one here before. Maybe because she'd never . .
L - been searching for something to stand on. She pulled it over and stepped up to where she was eye level with the top shelf.
She thought back to Sunday night, standing outside in the cold and spying on Duncan. The book had been short and fat, with a green binding.
And here it was, right in front of her. She wriggled it out and peered into the dark gap. Daylight from over her shoulder reflected off the glass of an all-too-familiar injection vial.
There it was, just inches away. But now what?
Why not just take it? a voice whispered. Take the damn bottle and rip off the stopper and pour the contents down a drain. Duncan might spend days, weeks wondering what happened to it, but so what? It'll be gone and you won't have to give it another thought.
Unless there were other vials of the stuff around.
But did that matter? This was the one she knew about. This was the one that had to go.
Gin was just reaching into the space when a voice cried out behind her.
"Jesus! " - She started and nearly lost her balance as she turned.
Barbara was standing in the center of the officer, her palm pressed between her breasts.
"You almost gave me a heart attack! " Barbara said. "Dr. Panzella, you've got to warn me when you're coming in here."
"Sorry, " Gin said. She hoped she didn't look as shaken and embarrassed as she felt.
"You weren't at your desk and I needed to look up something."
"Just make sure he knows you've been in here." '"What do you mean? " "He likes everything in its place. So if you're going to borrow anything, better check with him first, otherwise I'll hear about it."
This isn't going to work, Gin thought. She held up the green text.
"Okay, Barbara. Watch." With a small flourish, she slipped the book back into its space. "Voila. Right back where it belongs."
"Great.
He's such a stickler for detail, you know." Gin stepped down and slid the step stool back to its original position.
"That's what makes him a great surgeon. He sweats the details. " Barbara placed some papers on Duncan's desk and they left together.
Gin gave one worried backward glance at the green book on the top shelf. She'd have another chance at it tomorrow.
Unless Duncan moved it again.
Oh, no.
Duncan could feel all the warmth drain out of him as he watched the screen. He shuddered.
The videotape showed Gin entering the office at I2, 17 P. M. , dragging the step stool to the bookshelves, and pulling out the book where the TPD was hidden. There had been not the slightest hesitation.
She knew the shelf and the exact volume to remove.
But how did she know?
He felt an urge to step over to the shelf himself, it was only a few feet away, and check to see if she had taken the vial, but he could not move. He stood frozen, his eyes fixed on the screen.
He watched her peer into the space, saw her hand rise toward it, and then Barbara came in.
Thank God for Barbara.
Their voices were muted but he could make out Gin's excuse and Barbara's comments about his tidiness. And then the book was back in its place and they were leaving. But he saw Gin's wistful parting glance at the bookshelf.
She'd be back. Dammit, she'd be back.
He fast-forwarded through the rest of the tape, but Gin did not return.
That was a relief. He hit rewind and checked behind the book.
Yes, the vial was still there. But how, how had Gin known that he'd moved it?
She watched me.
Of course. She'd followed him to D. C. General yesterday. She'd probably been following him since the fiasco on Friday.
He turned around and stared through the plate-glass outer wall. If she'd been tailing him Sunday night, she could have crouched out there in the darkness among the shrubs and observed his every move.
With a start he realized that she could be out there right now, spying on him.
But no. Since their encounter in D. C. General yesterday, he'd been on guard, keeping careful watch in his rearview mirror, so much so that he'd nearly caused several accidents. No one had followed him anywhere today.
But why had she checked behind the book today and not yesterday? Had something happened today to rekindle her suspicions?
He fast-forwarded to where Barbara and Gin were leaving and paused on Gin's final backward glance. He read anxiety in her expression. No question something was making her apprehensive.
A thought jolted him, Could she know about the president?
Good Lord, if she'd found out about that, she might do something rash, something catastrophic.
He picked up the phone and jabbed in his brother's number. '"Oliver, he said immediately, "did Gin mention anything to you about our special case on Friday? " He took care not to identify the president on the phone.
"Wh-what do you mean? " The hesitation in Oliver's voice gave Duncan a terrible feeling.
"Does she have any idea who it is? " "Um, she knows. She guessed. " "How in the world, ? " "She recognized Dr. VanDuyne, then deduced that the men with him were Secret Service. From there it was two plus two, I guess." '"Did you confirm it? " '"Well, what else could I do? " '"Damn it, Oliver! Dammit to hell! " "Duncan, I swore her to secrecy.
You know you can trust Gin. Wasn't it better to confirm her suspicions than to have her go on wondering and asking questions? " '"Well, maybe." He reined in his anger at his brother. Oliver had no idea why it had been so important to keep Gin out of this. "When did this conversation take place? " "This morning. Maybe eleven or so.
Why? " "Nothing. I'll see you Thursday." He hung up and began to pace the room, pausing only to hit the REWIND button on the VCR.
Damn! Gin confirmed it through Oliver at eleven and an hour later she was here meddling with the TPD.
The chance of a lifetime. The president himself, the commander in chief of the kakistocracy, would be sleeping off his anesthesia right down the hall. The man who singlehandedly had resurrected the Guidelines bill, who had insisted on including medical ethics in its purview, and who would keep pushing relentlessly for the committee to get its foul job done.
So what? Duncan thought. He had nothing to do with it. Lisa's death.
Why not let him go and be satisfied with what I've done so far?
Because I can't. Not yet.
He was out of control and he knew it. He felt like a runaway train careening downhill. McCready had started it, and Duncan would finish it.