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.
"Dr. Panzella) Dr. Panzella, this is the manager." No reply.
Please, God, nothing nasty, Gerry thought as Heinrich fitted the key into the lock. Please.
As soon as he heard the latch click, Gerry pushed past him and barged inside.
"Wait here." The lights were on. A half-eaten burger and fries swam in spilled cola on a rolling cart by the rumpled, empty bed.
"Gin? " He stepped into the bathroom. An iron fist slammed into his chest at the sight of the bloody razor blade by the sink. He stepped closer and the red in the tub caught his eye. He groaned. The porcelain was splattered up and down with blood.
Christ, what happened here?
He put a hand out and leaned against the wall for support as he dragged his gaze from the tub back to the sink counter. The bloody razor, and bottles of alcohol and peroxide as well, and a needle and thread . .
.
a bloody needle.
First some fantasy about the president having surgery, now . . .
this.
Whatever it was.
"Aw, Gin, " he whispered. "Gin, Gin, what have you done? " He stepped back into the other room and found Heinrich standing there, looking bewildered.
'"Is something wrong? Is she here? " Gerry brushed past him and checked the closet. Empty. A glance at the bed told him there wasn't room to hide under the box spring.
'"She's gone. ' He propelled Heinrich out into the hall.
I ' "Look. I want this room sealed. No one, no one, is to go in there.
Not housekeeping, not room service, not you, not anybody. Is that cl ear? " '"But why? " '"For the moment I'm treating it as a crime scene. So if that room is disturbed in the least, I'll have you up on charges of obstruction of justice and accessory after the fact. Do we understand each other? " '"Yes. Yes, certainly. ' Heinrich pulled the DO NOT DISTURB sign from inside the door and hung it on the outside knob. Then he closed the door and rattled it to make sure it was locked.
'"I'll leave word that 552 is off-limits until further notice. " "Good." Yeah, good. Fine. Heinrich knew what he had to do. But what was Gerry's next move? He was worried sick. What had she done to herself in that bathroom? And where was she now?
He had to find her. And soon. If it wasn't already too late.
Something's wrong.
Duncan was baffled and disappointed when Canney returned to the lobby without Gin, but then he noticed his grave expression and agitated manner and knew he hadn't found what he'd expected in Gin's room. Or had he found more than he'd expected?
Duncan wished he had a key to that room. What had Canney seen up there?
Just one look was all he asked.
"Any questions? " he heard Canney say to the manager. "You've got her description and you've got my card. Any one sees her, you call me right away. Clear? " The manager nodded and mumbled something that Duncan missed. It wasn't important. What mattered was that Gin wasn't here. She'd left without checking out. And Canney didn't expect her back soon, otherwise he'd be hanging around.
He watched Canney's departure, but stayed behind the fern a while longer, giving the agent plenty of time to reach his car. And giving himself time to plan his next move.
Gin was proving damnably unpredictable. He felt his nerves fraying with every passing hour that she remained out of reach. He wondered how much more of this he could take. . When had she rented the room?
How long had she been there? And where the hell was she now? Back in her apartment?
Duncan sighed. Where else could he look? He'd go back to Adams Morgan and check it out. If she wasn't there, he could see nothing else to do but go home and wait.
If he didn't find her soon, he'd have to change his plans for tomorrow.
And he did not want to do that.
J THURSDAY NIGHT GINA STUCK HER HEAD OUT THE WINDOW OF THE CAB and glanced nervously up and down Connecticut Avenue.
"Shouldn't it be here by now? " The cabby leaned against the fender by the open hood of his vehicle and puffed on a little cigar.
"I call in. He be along any minute. Any minute. You wait." She withdrew into the interior. She didn't want to stand out on the street in plain view. That was why she'd asked the driver to call her another cab. But maybe she should have risked hailing one. Dozens of cabs had passed. She'd be well on her way to Oliver's by now if she'd grabbed one.
But that call back at the hotel . . . her heart was still racing from the fright it had given her. She'd knocked over her Coke and nearly choked on a french fry when the phone had started ringing.
Maybe it had been an accident, a misdial, someone calling 533 or 432, and maybe it hadn't. Maybe it had been Duncan, God, she didn't want to think that. Or maybe it had been Gerry.
Maybe she'd never know.
Whatever its origin, the sudden jangle of the phone had completely unnerved her. She'd stared at it in horror for a few pounding heartbeats, thinking someone had found her, someone knew she was there, and then she'd bolted. No precautions, no stealth. She hadn't even waited for an elevatorX taking the stairs instead and limping through the lobby for the street.