But how would he react when she told him Duncan was behind it all?
Oliver was so devoted to his older brother. Damn near worshiped him.
Would he be able to accept the idea that Duncan was hurting people?
Another thought, a shattering one, What if Oliver was involved? No. She couldn't buy that. Oliver was the straightest of straight.
arrows. He'd be crushed at the thought of his implants being used to harm instead of heal. And if he were involved in any way, he' d never have given her Dr. VanDuyne's name.
That was it. She'd present her case to Oliver, and once he was convinced, the two of them would go to Gerry or the Secret Service, or anyone who could stop Duncan.
She stood up quickly, then sat down again, suddenly weak. Maybe she should eat something first. No breakfast, no lunch. . . just a few Snickers bars. She was asking for trouble if she didn't pack in a few calories pretty soon.
She pulled out the room service menu and ordered a hamburger, fries, and a Coke, protein, complex carbs, and caffeine. That ought to keep her going for a while.
She stood up again, a little more deliberately this time, and made her way back to the bathroom. She redressed the incision with clean gauze and secured it again with the Ace wrap. Then she pulled on her sweatshirt and carefully slipped back into her jeans. She was looking pretty normal by the time room service knocked.
She glanced out the window as the waiter positioned the rolling cart and uncovered the food. The aroma set her mouth to watering. She hadn't realized how hungry she was. Dusk outside. She'd gobble down her food and wait until it was fully dark, then she'd hustle out to the curb, jump into the first waiting cab, and make a beeline for Oliver's house.
Oliver lived in the northwest extreme of the District. She'd been there once for a dinner party. A nice little ranch in a nice neighborhood, but not even close to the same class as Duncan's.
Probably didn't even have to wait until dark. Duncan was surely long gone by now.
Tracking down Gin's credit trail took a little longer than Gerry had expected. He'd had to call Mrs. Snedecker and ask her if she'd keep Martha a few hours longer and feed her dinner. He'd spoken to Martha to tell her that he'd be late and had been warmed by her cheery 'Okay.
' Good thing she liked Mrs. S.
The credit crace came through a few minutes later showing a charge to her Visa from the Tremont Hotel on K Street. K Street! Christ, he'd just been there! What was she doing in the Tremont? Hiding?
More baffled than ever, he got the number from information and asked the desk to connect him to Ms. Panzella. He let the phone ring a dozen times, almost hung up, then listened to at least half a dozen more rings.
Where the hell was she? If she'd already checked out, the desk wouldn't have connected him. Was she afraid to answer the phone?
Gerry grabbed his coat and headed out.
* * * d , .
I
. t As night shrouded the District in umbral gloom and the streetlights flared to life, setting the misty air aglow, Duncan decided to call it quits. Obviously she was nowhere about, most likely gone for hours.
Futile to dally here any longer.
But what next? Where next? He couldn't quit now. Too much hung in the balance. As he headed for his car, he made a last-ditch effort by experimenting with a little mental exercise.
If I were Gin, and I were still in the vicinity, where could I possibly be? Where could I have hidden this long?
He rolled the question through his mind as he walked along the north end of the square. He was turning down K Street when the marquee of the Tremont Hotel caught his eye.
He paused, shook his head, took a few more steps, then stopped at the curb and stared . He''d noticed it before, but . . .
Could she have rented a hotel room? Not likely. He could see the possibility of her running in there, renting a room, and using it as a safe place to meet with her FBI man. But obviously she hadn't done that, or else Agent Canney wouldn't have been wandering around Farragut Square like a lost soul a little while ago. And Duncan couldn't see Gin holing up there by herself all afternoon watching television.
But still . . . it was one place he hadn't checked out. It wouldn't take him long. What were a few more minutes added to all the time he'd already wasted?
He entered the lobby and strolled toward the registration desk. The young man behind the counter looked at him expectantly. Duncan debated how he should pose his questions about her, then realized that no decent hotel gave out guest room numbers.
He smiled at the desk man whose badge said Roy. "House Roy pointed to the far corner of the lobby. "Right over there, by the big fern, just past the elevators." Duncan nodded his thanks. He found the row of phones and dialed "O" on the nearest.
When the operator answered, he said, "Panzella room please, " and was startled when she thanked him and connected him.
Stunned, he listened to the phone ring, wondering what he was going to say. He realized he could say nothing. He couldn't let her know he'd found her.
He hung up and leaned against the wall.
She's here.
She'd probably been here all day. But what had she been doing all this time? And why had she registered under her own name? Such a dumb thing to do, and Gin was anything but dumb.
It didn't matter. None of it mattered except the fact that he'd found her. All he needed now was her room number. He glanced over at the registration desk. Roy was alone there. Would a hundred-dollar bill, ?
And then the revolving doors began to move and Special Agent Canney strode into the lobby. Startled, Duncan froze, his heart pounding.
No! Not when I'm so close!
He ducked behind the large fern and peered through the branches.
Canney was showing his ID to the desk man and talking fast. He looked agitated.
Apparently Gin had finally got in touch with him. But if so, why was he showing his ID?
What did it matter? Duncan realized that a solution had just presented itself. The elevators were only a few feet away. Canney would go up to Gin's room and bring her down, or perhaps call her to come down and meet him. Either way, she'd have to pass close to Duncan's position.
He removed the transducer from his pocket. She'd be in range She'd feel a twinge in her thigh, but that would be it. She'd probably get all the way to the FBBuilding before the TPD kicked in.
All he had to do was wait. He'd been waiting all day. He could wait a little longer.
"I want her room number, and I want the key, and I want them now! " Gerry said.
The desk man had called out the manager, Joel Heinrich, according to his name tag. A fussy little man with a thin mustache "I'm sure you need a warrant for that kind of search. I'm certainly not authorized to barge into a guest's room, " "Dr. Panzella has not been well lately, " Gerry said, improvising.
"She's not answering her phone. She may be unconscious." That got him.
"Sick? " The fussy manager evaporated. "You mean with something contagious? " Gerry lowered his voice and moved in for the kill. "We don't know. We hope not. Something went wrong at the lab. We want to find her and quarantine her with as little fuss as possible, if you know what I mean." Heinrich knew exactly what Gerry meant. He nodded curtly and reached for his phone. "Very well. Just let me check her room once." He punched in four numbers, listened for a moment, then hung up.
"She might simply have gone out to eat."
"Let's hope so, " Gerry said, but didn't mean it He wanted to find Gin and settle this mess.
"If that's the case, I'll wait down here for her return." Heinrich searched the key rack, selected one, then pointed across the lobby.
"I'll meet you by the elevators." A few minutes later they were on the fifth floor and Heinrich was knocking on the door to 532. Gerry hovered impatiently behind him, anxious to get in there, yet dreading what he might find.