Dark Matter. Greg Iles

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Dark Matter - Greg  Iles


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as she would a child.

      “I’m going to pull into the garage when I leave, so no one sees me take the box. If anyone asks you what I was doing here, tell them it was a sympathy visit. If they somehow overheard some of our conversation, just act like what you are. A distraught widow.”

      “What means distraught?”

      “Grief-stricken. Grieving.”

      She smiled bravely. “I no need to act this.”

      I laid my hands on her shoulders and squeezed, then spoke almost inaudibly. “In the FedEx letter Andy sent me, there was some white powder. Almost like sand. It’s in those plastic bags on the couch. Do you know anything about that?”

      Lu Li’s gaze went to the couch, and her face wrinkled in confusion. “No. Nothing.”

      “Did you drop it off at the FedEx box?”

      “Yes. How you know?”

      “It doesn’t matter.” I knew Lu Li had dropped off the envelope because I had been inside Fielding’s head during my last dream. I felt a sudden compulsion to get out of the house. “Rachel? The taxi?”

      “Any minute,” she said from behind me.

      “I want you to go into the garage,” I told Lu Li. “When you hear me tap the horn, open the door for me. After I pull in, close the door.”

      “Okay.” She left the room without a word.

      I picked up the Ziplocs, then led Rachel to the darkened living room, where wide windows looked onto the street. I dropped the Ziplocs on a chair, then sat on a sofa opposite the window to wait for the cab.

      “Is the taxi for me?” she whispered, sitting beside me.

      “Yes.”

      “But my car’s parked at your house.”

      “You don’t want to go back to my house. You can get it in the morning if you want to. I’d rather you take a taxi to work.”

      “Did I hear you tell Lu Li you’re going back to work tomorrow?”

      “If I don’t hear from the president tonight, I am.”

      “Why? If they killed Fielding, why won’t they kill you, too?”

      Her question gave me a perverse satisfaction. “It sounds like you’re buying into my delusion.”

      Her lips tightened, and I could see that she was genuinely afraid.

      “Look, if they really wanted to kill me, I’d be dead already. And if they decide to kill me before tomorrow, nothing will stop them. But I think they’re too worried about how the president would react to try that. If I’m alive tomorrow morning, it’s all right for me to go in.”

      Rachel sighed and rubbed her temples with her fingers.

      “I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I whispered. “If anyone questions you, tell as much truth as you can. You came to my house because I missed three sessions. I got a call from the wife of a friend who died today. She has no family here, so you offered to help console her. We calmed her down and walked her dog. That’s all you know.”

      She studied my face in the dim light. “This isn’t what I expected.”

      “I know. You really thought I was crazy.”

      She bit her lip, the gesture almost girlish. “I suppose I did. Part of me hoped I was wrong. But now I’m frightened. I know about psychiatric problems. This is something else.”

      I pulled her close and spoke into her ear. “I want you to forget it all. Unless something happens to me. Then you remember. Remember and scream to high heaven.” I pulled back and looked into her eyes. “I won’t be coming back to your office.”

      She stared at me as though I’d said, “We’re never going to see each other again,” which deep down was what I felt.

      “David—”

      “Here’s your taxi.” I stood as headlights rolled to a stop in front of the house, looking close to make sure there was a taxi light on the roof.

      She was shaking her head, almost helplessly.

      “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m going to be fine. You’ve helped a lot.”

      “I didn’t do a damned thing for you.”

      I pulled her out of sight of the window, then took the recorder from my pocket, removed the tape, and put it in her hand. “If you want to help, here’s your chance.” I started to send her on, then hesitated. “There is one more thing you could do.”

      “Tell me.”

      I pointed to the Ziploc bags on the chair. “Is there someone at Duke who could safely test that powder for infectious agents and poisons?”

      “Of course. There are guys over there who live for that kind of thing.”

      There was a slipcover on one of the sofa pillows. I took it off the pillow, then put the Ziplocs inside it and handed it to her. “Be very careful with those.”

      “You’re preaching to the choir.”

      I squeezed her arm. “Thank you. Now, go.”

      She didn’t go. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me gently on the lips. “Be careful. Please, please be careful.”

      As I stared, Rachel slid the slipcover under her blouse, then walked to the foyer. I heard the front door close softly. Through the front window I watched her get into the taxi. The cab pulled into Lu Li’s driveway, then backed out and rolled up Gimghoul Street.

      I went out to my car, pulled up to Fielding’s garage door, and tapped my horn. Lu Li opened the door from inside, then closed it behind me.

      She pulled open my passenger door and set her husband’s cardboard box on the front seat. I reached across it and gripped her wrist, my eyes boring into hers.

      “Tell me the truth, Lu Li. Do you know what they’re trying to build at Trinity?”

      After several seconds of eye contact, she nodded once.

      “Don’t ever tell anyone that,” I warned. “Never.”

      “Me Chinese, David. Know what can happen.”

      For an instant I flashed back to her standing silhouetted in the patio doors, a target awaiting an assassin.

      “Come with me,” I said suddenly. “Right now. Just get in with your dog and we’ll go. I’ll keep you safe.”

      A sad smile touched her lips. “You good man. Like Andrew. Don’t worry. I already make my own arrangements.”

      Arrangements? I couldn’t imagine what these might be. I didn’t think she knew anyone in the States. “What are they?”

      She shook her head. “Better you don’t know. Yes? I be okay.”

      For some reason, I believed her. The revelation that Lu Li had not been rendered helpless by her grief made me ask one more question.

      “In his letter, Andy told me that if anything happened to him, I should remember his pocket watch. What’s so special about that watch?”

      Lu Li studied my eyes for what seemed a long time. Then, in a nearly inaudible whisper, she said, “Not watch. Fob.”

      “Fob?”

      “Watch fob.”

      I closed my eyes and pictured Fielding’s watch. It was a scarred but precious heirloom, and at the end of its chain was a small, diamond-shaped crystal.

      “The crystal?” I asked.

      Lu Li smiled. “You smart man. You figure it out.”


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