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.
But so do I, dammit.
She wandered over to the kitchenette and saw the heads of broccoli sitting on the counter, waiting to be sliced up into flowerets. Enough for three or four. And she wasn't the least bit hungry.
I've really screwed things up, haven't I, she thought as she rerurned to the bay window and curled up on the seat.
The streetlights were on. She stared down at the passing singles and couples. She felt utterly alone, but she wasn't going to cry.
Gerry sat in his easy chair with Martha on his lap. He had his arms around her, holding her close and warm against him in her OshKosh corduroys while she read him a story. It was the Martha Canney variation of Madeline. She couldn't read just yet, but she'd heard the story so many times that she knew it almost word for word.
So did Gerry. So his mind drifted. It would have drifted no matter what Martha was reading. What a godawful, rotten day. If only . . .
Yeah. If only. He must have had a million if-onlys since this morning when the Mr I report had come back negative.
Damn! If only he hadn't rushed it, taken a little more time to check things out. But dammit, they couldn't take too much time Marsden was supposedly in danger.
Supposedly . . .
He'd bought into Gin's scenario completely. If only he'd been a little more skeptical.
He winced as he remembered the excruciating moment when he'd had to call Ketter and tell him that they'd come up empty-handed. The little operation that was to make them a couple of fair-haired. boys had left them the big jokes of the Bureau. And then Cavanaugh, one of the assistant directors, had called them into his office and dressed them down but good. Gerry couldn't remember ever feeling so embarrassed and humiliated. He'd wanted to crawl under a rock.
But the worst of it was that lost amid all the reprimands was the fact that the operation Gerry had designed and managed had gone off like clockwork. Everything as planned, on time and under budget. Marsden's car had been hit without damage to him, he'd been whisked off to the hospital, examined, and delivered back to. his office without the slightest hint that it had all been arranged.
At least the Bureau itself had been spared any public embarrassment.
Thank God for that.
But no one would remember his well-oiled operation. Only that there'd been no poison pill in the senator's leg, and that Gerry Canney had to be the most gullible agent in the Bureau.
But what hurt most was knowing that any hopes he'd had of moving up to SSA soon had been dashed but good.
He held Martha closer.
Looks like it's business as usual, kid, he thought glumly.
Catch-as-catch-can fatherhood for the foreseeable future.
"Daddy, you're squeezing too tight! ' "Sorry, honey. What happens to Madeline next? " "She has her operation."
"Tell me all about it." His mind drifted again. What about Gin?
What was going on inside her?
Where had she come up with that wild fantasy? From me, dammit. At least initially. But she'd pushed it a few steps further . . .
Marsden . . .
that triethylwhatever-it-was . . . and he'd bought into it on the strength of her conviction, on the basis of his faith in her . . .
Looking back, knowing now that it had been the proverbial wild-goose chase, he couldn't believe he'd got sucked in like that. But thinking about it, he guessed he had been primed to believe anything shady about the uppity Dr. Lathram.
He wished today had never happened.
Gerry suppressed a growl as he closed his eyes. He knew he was feeling sorry for himself. He hated self-pity. Tomorrow was a new day. He'd suck this mess in, chew it up, spit it out, and get back on the job.