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“Yes sir.”
Kuchin looked down at the photo. She was a very lovely woman. Too old and too white to be one of his sex units, but still attractive. He wondered how close she was to this man. He hoped it was close enough. Close enough to use her to get to him.
CHAPTER
77
SHAW EASED into a chair in the library. There was no fire in the fireplace; the day was warm, the skies tensing for a thunderstorm later. Reggie and Whit stood by the door. Professor Mallory, still holding the gun, sat down across from Shaw. Liza stood with one hand on the long table. Dominic and his injured arm leaned against a far wall. All their gazes were solely on Shaw.
“If you could keep that muzzle down until you intend to use it, I’d appreciate it,” said Shaw. “That gun has a grip safety and is known for having a touchy trigger pull.”
Mallory edged the muzzle down slightly.
Whit looked at Mallory. “What the hell does he mean about botulinum?”
Before Mallory could answer Reggie came forward, drew the syringe from her purse, and placed it on the table next to the professor.
As she stepped back Mallory looked down at it. “Long considered to be the most toxic poison in the world,” he said in a pedantic tone. “Though it has infinite medical uses, including cosmetic under the name Botox, of course.”
“You die fast, but in excruciating pain,” said Shaw, his gaze never wavering from the other man’s face.
“You would not have,” declared the professor. “You will note that that syringe has two solutions in separate compartments but with a semipermeable barrier. The additional element was a potent anesthesia. You would have been unconscious. Would have felt nothing.”
“As I died.”
“Well, yes,” conceded Mallory. “That was the point after all.”
“Miles!” exclaimed Liza. “What were you thinking? We don’t do that to innocent people.”
“Well, the easy answer to that is I didn’t know how innocent Mr. Shaw was, or, frankly, is. What I did know was that he had been told of our operation and plan with Fedir Kuchin. Allowing him to go free after that seemed problematic at best.”
“But to order his death?” said Reggie in an icy tone. “We’re not murderers—” She stopped, paled, and glanced away. Whit, Dominic, and Liza could not meet one another’s eyes. By their expressions they seemed to all be thinking the same thing.
Technically, we are murderers.
“It was a judgment call I made in the heat of battle,” snapped Mallory. “I did not make it lightly or without some misgivings.”
“Well, that makes me feel better,” said Shaw sarcastically. “But here I am alive and well.”
“Yes, well, sometimes plans go awry.”
“But let me tell you what’ll make me feel even better.”
Mallory and the others looked at one another. “What?” he said.
“Your putting that gun down. Before I have to do something about it.”
The two men stared at each other. As Reggie watched, she felt like what she was witnessing was two rams about to smack horns. Yet finally Mallory set the gun on the table next to him, its muzzle pointed harmlessly at a wall.
“Kuchin,” said Shaw. “He’s alive, and on the hunt.”
“Our cover was very good,” said Mallory.
“Very good won’t cut it. I read the report on the guy. A mental makeup like that often houses an obsession factor that goes far beyond all reason or predictability. We need to simply assume that he is looking for all of us and that he will find us at some point. When he does, what are you prepared to do about it?”
“Kill him,” answered Whit. “Which is what we should have done in the first place. In fact I could’ve put a bullet right in his brain if you hadn’t stopped me.”
“In all fairness, we also would’ve died if he hadn’t been there,” Reggie reminded him.
