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It took Tim almost three hours to set himself up to begin constructing the deadly fork. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more he determined that a fork may not be able to carry as much poison as would be needed, so he decided that he would have to include a knife and possibly a spoon. The amount of thallium needed to be a fatal dose was a little tricky to gauge, but the good news (or, at least, the good news to Tim) was that thallium could be absorbed through the skin, which meant that perhaps Tim could cover the knife and spoon with enough poison to accomplish the mission. Pam had bought down her package of thallium, which was way more than he would need. Tim also considered using the arsenic as a kind of decoy. If the victim thought that he or she had been poisoned with arsenic, then perhaps the doctors would not check for thallium poisoning—at least, not until it was already too late. Tim also thought about using ricin, which would be almost guaranteed to work, but would also perhaps work too quickly, defeating the whole purpose of the assignment.
Tim was also able to find a number of hypodermic needles of various sizes. He labored to work these downs to the point where they were almost microscopic. If he could place these on the fork and spread poison around the pins, it just might work.
Using a large magnifying glass, Tim cut down two of the hypodermic needles until they were each less than a millimeter in diameter. Next, he drilled two extremely small holes for the needles and glued both into the fork. The general idea would be to fill the two needles with the poison, then cap them with a little bit of wax. Additional poison or poisons could be spread around the needles. The needles would barely break the skin, and the poison in them would provide enough moisture to activate the additional poison spread on the fork. This was all rather primitive, of course, but it would most likely do the job.
In order to test this, Tim took some Xylocaine and painted it on and around the needles. He then picked up the fork with his left hand as if he were eating and felt the two pins pierce his skin. Tim’s fingers began to feel numb, indicating that the trick had indeed worked. Happy with his progress, Tim decided to call it a night.
As Tim began to walk up the stairs, the basement door opened, and a large African American male began to descend. Tim stepped back down to the basement in order to allow the man to pass. “Hi there. My name is Tim. I’m doing some work here,” he offered.
“Yes sir, I am aware of who you are and what your purpose is,” the man replied, sounding neither friendly nor unfriendly. “My name is Darrel Murphy. I am responsible for security.”
Tim looked at Darrel a little more closely and realized that he had a striking resemblance to one of the Dominican men who picked Tim up at the airport. Tim considered asking Darrel about this for a second, but he was afraid he would be accused of racial profiling. “Yeah, we all look alike” was the response Tim feared, so he decided to let it drop and ask Pam about it later.
“Well, nice meeting you, Darrel,” Tim said.
Darrel was opening the gun safe. “You too, Mr. Hall. I’m sure we will see each other around.”
Tim had a feeling they would.
As Tim came upstairs, he noticed that the time on the clock was 8 p.m. Pam was sitting in the library reading a book, but got to her feet when she saw Tim. “I have dinner ready, but would you like a drink first?” she offered.
“Yes, a drink would be great, dear,” Tim answered. He’d placed a little too much emphasis on the last word, but Pam ignored it and made Tim his vodka tonic.
At that point the basement door opened, and Darrel came out. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Hall,” he said. “I will be on the grounds if you need me.”
“Thank you, Darrel. Let me know if you need anything,” Pam answered. She was always the perfect hostess, Tim thought once again. Even to the help.
“Any reason why you have this much security, Pam?” he asked.
“Oh, it’s not really that much. Darrel comes around a few times a week. I am rather isolated up here. Of course, if we have guests, we have more.”
What Pam meant by “guests” were the various types that the Agency needed to house temporarily. In other words, Pam’s home was what was also known as an Agency safe house, and Pam was known as a hostess. Occasionally, people in need would show up in the middle of the night, but that did not happen as much as it did back in the old days during the Cold War. In fact, it happened so infrequently that Tim had to wonder if he was the reason Darrel was even on duty. Perhaps Sebastian and Pam thought that he would change his mind about helping them and hightail it out of there.
“Pick up your drink and come into the dining room, Tim,” Pam ordered.
Tim got to his feet and followed Pam. The dining table was beautifully set with two candles lit. “Sit at the head of the table, dear,” Pam told him.
It was not lost on Tim that Pam’s “dear” wasn’t nearly as sarcastic as Tim’s had been earlier.
After he obeyed, Pam disappeared into the kitchen and came out again with a small roast beef surrounded by potatoes on a platter. “Why don’t you start carving, Tim?” she asked as she went back for two bowls of green vegetables and a bottle of a red wine. She filled her own and then Tim’s glass, turned on the classical radio station, and sat in a chair to the left of Tim’s.
“Mrs. Robinson, I think you’re trying to seduce me,” Tim joked, referring to a line in the film The Graduate.
“You would be so lucky,” was Pam’s response.
The meal was delicious, probably the best that Tim had enjoyed for several years. At least, for the years he’d been in Baltimore...which were becoming the elephant in the room. Tim still hadn’t asked Pam why she’d decided to desert him there.
Well, there was no time like the present. “So, tell me, Pam, why did—”
“Why did I leave you in Baltimore?” Pam interrupted.
Tim blinked. “Since you bring it up... Yes, why did you?”
“Did Sebastian tell you what happened in China?” Pam asked.
“He did, but I’m interested in your side of the story.” Tim knew that Pam would know that this was his big chance to trip her up. Tim seriously doubted that Pam would let that happen, but he thought he should give it a try anyhow.
Pam took a sip of her wine and gently dabbed her lips with her napkin. “The plan was for me to make a sexual advance on Ms. Lin, which I did, but instead of being receptive, which you said she would be—” Pam paused to collect herself. “Anyway, Ms. Lin slapped me across my face and produced a gun, which was unexpected. She aimed the gun at you and appeared to have every intention of shooting you. That’s when I pulled out my 9mm and shot her in the neck.”
“I have no memory of any of that,” Tim interjected.
“Yes, we know, Tim.” Pam now sounded discouraged.
“But why dump me in Baltimore?” Tim wanted to know.
“Because it was the safest option for you.” Pam picked up her wine glass and finished it in one gulp. “Agency management was furious, Tim. Some of the higher ups were apparently willing to disavow us and send us back to China to face prosecution for murder. However, cooler heads prevailed.”
“That usually does happen.”
Pam gave Tim her patented stare, which warned him that he was about to get it. “You know, Tim, I am not exactly happy being the fucking den mother to the idiots who come to this house for refuge,” she said, referring to her job operating the safe house. “I would probably be a Station Chief by now in a nice country like the UK or France, but instead I’m running a hotel for losers. Why do you think that is?”
Tim did not really want to know, but he knew that his wife was about to tell him anyway.
Pam didn’t disappoint him. “It’s because my husband miscalculated the situation in China some years ago,” she informed him. “But hey, guess what? He can’t remember shit.”
Pam got up and poured herself a shot of bourbon, drank it, and continued her rant. “But you know what? I am very fucking lucky I have what I have, and now I have a chance to redeem myself and maybe even redeem you in the process. That’s why I don’t need you to screw this one up.”
“Pam?” Tim answered softly after a pause. “Do we have dessert?”
Tim figured that the shot glass Pam threw at him missed by about a quarter of an inch. It didn’t break, but it did leave a dent in the dining room wall.
“Chocolate cake,” Pam said, walking back into the kitchen.
Pam cooled down dramatically after her rant. Both Tim and Pam ate cake and drank coffee with brandy after dinner while having a very enjoyable conversation. They talked about old friends, and Pam shared the latest Agency gossip. Tim was again surprised by how much he now remembered about his former work, but he was also concerned that he was becoming the man that he used to be again. Tim wasn’t sure that he liked that person. The fact that Tim had experienced a certain amount of satisfaction that afternoon when he discovered that he probably would be able to poison someone by simply giving them some tainted silverware bothered him. Why would that make someone happy?
This was what Tim was thinking about as he began to fall asleep when he heard his closet door slowly open. He watched as the figure of a woman quietly entered his room. Yes, it was Pam. Tim would have wondered if she’d entered his bedroom in order to murder him in his sleep, but he didn’t see any weapons.
Pam silently removed her nightgown and climbed into bed with Tim, putting her hand down the front of the sweatpants he was wearing. She pulled Tim’s pants off and began to kiss his belly button, then worked her way down from there.
“Oh my god, Pam,” Tim moaned as he released himself.
Pam came back up and kissed Tim passionately. “If we end up getting back together,” she whispered in his ear, “then that slut Mary Ann has to go.”
Tim placed his right hand between Pam’s legs and began to reciprocate. “This is all I need,” he thought to himself.