Rachel Swenson clicked off her cell and ventured a cautious smile. I was sitting in the passenger seat, tugging at a bandage they’d put on my arm.
“Who was that?” I said.
“Just my clerk.”
“You have to get back?”
“Yes.”
A guard checked her tag number and waved us through the last set of gates marking off the quarantine zone.
“How did you get in here?” I said.
“Your friend, Ellen, called and told me you needed to get out. I know some people at the DOD. Explained I had someone who got stuck behind the fence.”
“Did they ask for a name?”
“They wanted one.”
“Thanks for getting me.”
“You can thank me by explaining Danielson.”
“He had a gun. Shot himself.”
“Was he in your apartment when I went in to get Mags?”
“He was.”
“So he could have taken me if he wanted. With the gun. A knife. Whatever.”
“If I knew he was there … ”
“You never would have let me go in. But you didn’t know. And I did go in.”
I’d put her in danger. And I swore I never would again. “I’m sorry, Rach.”
“Forget it.”
We drove in silence.
“Where are we headed?” she said.
I gestured vaguely. “Just drive north.”
She swung a left off Ogden onto Ashland. “The government doesn’t think you murdered him, Michael.”
“So they’re not looking for me anymore?”
“From what I understand, no.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I think they’d rather have you under their control but are too busy to worry about it.”
More silence.
“Who was on the phone just now?” I said.
“I told you. My clerk.”
There was a flaw in her voice—a cold, hard malignancy that found a home in my stomach.
“You sure about that?” I said.
“What does that mean?”
I pointed to an Osco parking lot. “Pull in.”
She turned into the empty lot. The drugstore was locked up tight. An increasing number of drugstores and grocery stores had threatened to shut down across the city. Either because they’d run low on inventory or didn’t want to deal with the panic buying.
“This place is closed,” Rachel said. “You need something?”
“No.”
“Then why did we stop?”
“Tell me about it.”
“About what?”
“Whatever’s bothering you.”
“Nothing’s bothering me.”
“That’s another lie.”
Her phone buzzed again. She reached, but I beat her to it. The caller ID window flashed RESTRICTED.
“Go ahead and answer,” she said. I tossed the phone into her lap, where it went silent.
“They knew you were down at Cook, Michael.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“Homeland.”
I nodded, as if the moment of her betrayal was one I’d expected.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why didn’t they just throw me in a cell?”
“I told you. They wanted you out.”
“But on a string. With you at the other end.”
Her phone buzzed a third time. Like a goddamn toothache knocking inside my jaw. She turned the thing off.
“What do they have on you?” I said.
She shook her head. I waited.
“CDA Labs.”
“What about them?” I said.
“I’m an investor. Got involved when it was just a start-up. Jon Stoddard was a friend. I believed in his work.”
“What do you know about CDA’s work?”
“I know they do genetic research.”
“They create bioweapons for the government.”
“If you’re asking if I knew that I had to divest when I came onto the bench, the answer is yes. The potential conflicts of interest were obvious.”
“But you didn’t?”
“Not really, no.”
“How much?”
“Jon talked about going public. Even my small stake would have meant millions. So I told the Justice Department I’d liquidated my holdings, but I hid them.”
“And now the feds are squeezing you?”
“They offered a way out.”
“You mean me.”
She stared at the lines in her hands. I thought about the cracks in our life. When I looked over, it was through a window. Her features scratched and dull. Sealed off from me forever.
“Are you recording this?” I said.
She shook her head.
“Are they following us?”
“They want to know where you’re going. What you’ve uncovered.”
I took out a piece of paper and scribbled down an address. “Fat Willy’s on Western. I’m supposed to meet Rita Alvarez, but she doesn’t know anything. Tell your pals I’m working a lead but wouldn’t tell you about it. Tell them I wanted to protect you.”
She nodded but didn’t look at me.
“That’s all I can give you.” I stuck the note on the dash and reached for the door handle. “Be careful.”
I started to leave. She touched my sleeve.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I waited.
“Do you really have an idea who might be behind the release?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Would you tell me if you did?”
“Don’t know that either.”
We lapsed back into silence.
“Can you handle Mags for a couple more days?” I finally said.
She nodded.
“Are you staying outside the city?”
“We’re fine, Michael.”
I opened the door and got out. Halfway across the lot, I wanted to turn around. And that scared me as much as anything.
Rachel picked up her phone and hit REDIAL.
“He’s headed to a place called Fat Willy’s. On Western Avenue.” A pause. “That’s right. Call me again and I swear to Christ I’ll go public and take you down with me.”
She threw her cell to the floor of the car, where it broke into a couple of pieces. Rachel wanted to cry, but there was nothing left inside. Instead, she kicked over the engine and pumped the gas, smoking her tires as she left the lot.