Текст книги "The Naked Edge"

Автор книги: David Morrell

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^{He heard an instructor shout, "When you catch your enemy from behind and pull back his head, don't try to slit his throat. You might cut your hand. Grab his chin and mouth so he can't scream. Yank his head back. Stab a kidney. That's the killing stroke. A kidney. Almost instant renal failure."}

^{Pausing outside a corrugated-metal shed, Raoul heard the clang of a hammer against metal. He had no idea why Bowie wanted to see him. His elation at having done well in the shooting house was replaced by confusion about the argument between Bowie and Ferguson and what it had to do with him .}

^{The hammer's angry clang became rapid and insistent. When Raoul mustered the resolve to knock, the noise abruptly stopped.}

^{"Come in."}

^{Chapter 4.}

^{According to the Bible, Cain had many descendants, one of whom was the first to forge iron. Carl enjoyed that idea, just as he enjoyed the notion that Hephaestus, the son of Zeus, was also supposed to have been the first to forge metal: the armorer of the gods. It was an interesting parallel, for Hephaestus's skill with a hammer and an anvil had an effect as terrible and long-lasting as Cain's murder of Abel. The Greek god's most ingenious creation was an elaborately engraved metal box that contained every evil and disease. The box was given to the seductress Pandora, and when she opened it, she released war, pestilence, famine, and a host of other darknesses. Only one evil did not escape before Pandora closed the box: cruel, seductive hope.}

^{Carl wore gloves, a canvas apron, and safety glasses. Through their dense lenses, he watched the burning coke in his forge, the thick strip of steel beginning to glow the requisite orange color while he worked the bellows. Heating the metal for exactly the right amount of time and at the necessary temperature, he used tongs to remove it from the forge and set it on his anvil. With his powerful right arm, he wielded a hammer, pounding the steel into submission, flattening, shaping. The forge's heat softened the metal, making it malleable, allowing him to impose his will upon it.}

^Clang!

^Aaron.

^Clang!

^Aaron.

^{Bittersweet memories seized him. The rhythmic high-pitched din of the hammer on the anvil sounded to him like ricochets, like screams of pain. He pounded harder, then sensed another sound and turned toward the door, where someone had knocked.}

^{"Come in."}

^{The door slowly opened. Raoul stepped apprehensively into shadows that were dissipated by the glow of the forge.}

^{"Come closer. I want to show you something," Carl said.}

^{Raoul did what he was told.}

^{"The knife I'm working on is named after the one the first Jim Bowie carried. You've made the connection? Bowie? The Bowie knife?"}

^{Raoul showed that he'd absorbed one of the lessons Carl had taught him–to admit what he didn't know. "I've never heard of it."}

^{"It's the most famous knife of all time. Bowie was a land speculator along the Mississippi. A knife fighter. An adventurer. He died with Crockett and Travis at the Alamo. In 1827, he used a knife to kill one man and wound another in what's known as the Sandbar Duel. Nobody's certain what Bowie's knife actually looked like. The one I'm making is based on a design from a movie called The Iron Mistress . Alan Ladd played Bowie. But the knife was the true star. It was later used in other movies, Walt Disney's Davy Crockett and John Wayne's The Alamo . When you see the beauty of the finished product, you won't be able to take your eyes off it. A whole generation of knife makers was inspired to take up the craft because of this knife."}

^{Carl remembered the first time he'd seen The Iron Mistress . The old knife maker had taped it off television and lent the video to Aaron and him. The start of the movie was boring: Alan Ladd in frilly clothes trying to make Virginia Mayo fall in love with him. He and Aaron had hooted at the television. But then Ladd went to a blacksmith and showed him a wooden model of a knife he wanted made. The blacksmith got all excited and said he had a piece of a meteorite that he would melt and add to the metal. The knife would have a bit of heaven, he said, and a bit of hell. In the next scene, the knife was finished. It flew through the air and stuck into a post. It had a long, wide blade, the elegant curving lines of which made Aaron and him shout, "Cool!" The handle was black wood with a brass cap. It had Bowie's name engraved in ivory and set into the handle. It had a silver guard and a brass strip on the back of the blade. The purpose of the brass strip baffled Aaron and him until they asked the old knife maker about it, and he explained that it protected the knife's owner during a fight. Since brass was softer that steel, it snagged an attacker's blade and kept the edge from slipping down the back of the knife and cutting whoever held it.}

^{Aaron and he watched the best parts of the movie again and again. There were all kinds of knife fights, especially one in a dark room during a lightning storm, blades flashing. A bit of heaven and a bit of hell. But then the movie itself went to hell when Alan Ladd felt guilty about all the men he'd killed and threw the Iron Mistress into the Mississippi.}

^{Carl came back from his memory. "Pay attention," he told Raoul. "The blade has to be carefully cooled."}

^{Raoul concentrated as Carl used tongs to set the long, wide strip into a metal container of olive oil. That had been one of the old knife maker's jokes–to use olive oil to cool metal and then pour the oil over a salad.}

^{But contrary to the way it was depicted in movies, Carl didn't put the glowing knife in tip first. Rather, he set the knife in lengthwise so that the oil didn't touch the back of the blade. The oil hissed.}

^{After a few moments, Carl lifted the knife slightly so that the oil cooled only the blade's edge. Vapor rose, the smell like a hot, oiled frying pan before a steak was added. After another few moments, Carl removed the knife and set it on the anvil.}

^{"People who don't know anything about forging think the entire knife has to be plunged into the liquid," Carl explained. "That could destroy the blade, because sudden cooling has only one purpose–to produce hardness in the metal. A blade that's been hardened one hundred percent shatters if you strike it against something. Instead, the cooling needs to be done in stages. Here, at the edge of the blade, I cooled it the longest because I want the edge to be hard enough to retain its sharpness. I cooled the middle of the blade for less time because I want it somewhat pliant as well as hard. And as for the back of the blade, I didn't subject it to any sudden cooling because I want it even more pliant."}

^"Pliant?"

^{"Capable of bending under stress."}

^{Carl paused, hoping Raoul would demonstrate his intelligence by asking the appropriate question.}

^{At last, he did. "I can understand why the blade needs to be hard to be sharp, but why does the back need to bend?"}

^{"In order to be certified a master, a knife maker must produce a blade that passes four tests. First, the blade must be sharp enough to cut through a one-inch free-hanging rope with a single stroke. Second, the blade must be hard and sharp enough to chop through a pair of two-by-fours. Third, it must still retain sufficient sharpness to shave hair off the knife maker's arm. Finally, it must be pliant enough to be placed in a vice and bent ninety degrees without snapping. The only way to meet all of these requirements is to cool different parts of the blade for different amounts of time. The hard edge supplies the sharpness. The pliant back supplies the give. Otherwise, the knife snaps."}

^{Raoul thought about it and nodded.}

^{"Can you be like this knife?" Carl asked.}

^{"I'll be anything you want me to be."}

^{Chapter 5.}

^{The door to the shed banged open. Raoul flew backward through the opening and landed hard on the packed earth. Carl stormed after him and kicked his side, sending him rolling.}

^{At the nearest firing range, students sensed the commotion and turned, seeing Carl kick Raoul again and roll him farther across the parade ground.}

^{"Nobody talks to me like that! Pack your stuff!" Carl shouted.}

^{Raoul came to a crouch, barely avoided another kick, and lurched toward one of the barracks.}

^{Carl stalked toward the students at the firing range.}

^{"Ferguson! You, too! I'm sick of your sloppiness! Get your stuff! I'm driving you and that other asshole out of here!"}

^"But–"

^{"Now!" Carl twisted Ferguson's pistol from his hand and shoved him away. "You said you wanted out? You're out !"}

^{"Do I keep the clothes you gave me?"}

^{"And the money! That was the deal, wasn't it? I honor my word, even if you don't honor yours ! Move! You and that other prick have five minutes!"}

^{As Ferguson ran toward the barracks, Carl turned in a fury toward a pickup truck in front of the administration building. He pulled keys from his pocket, started the truck, and made so fast a turn that dirt flew. He sped toward the barracks, made another sharp turn, and skidded to a stop, waiting for Ferguson and Raoul.}

^{Raoul got there first, holding his knapsack.}

^{"Get in the back, damn it!" Carl yelled.}

^{As Raoul climbed into the uncovered cargo space, Ferguson arrived with a duffel bag, breathing heavily.}

^{"Inside!" Carl commanded.}

^{Before Ferguson could shut the door behind him, Carl sped away, tearing up more dirt.}

^{" You're sure you got all your stuff? " Carl demanded. "I want to keep my part of the bargain!"}

^{"Quit trying to make me feel like a piece-of-shit quitter," Ferguson said.}

^{"Isn't that what you are ?"}

^{"Who wants to put up with the bugs and the heat and the fucking humidity?"}

^{"Obviously not you ."}

^{"And the snakes and the spiders and the damned rain most afternoons, and trying to sleep while those jerk-offs play those stupid video games. Bang, bang, bang. My ears haven't stopped ringing since I came here."}

^{"You knew from the get-go you were being paid to learn about guns."}

^{"I know about guns."}

^{"Yeah, right. I've seen the way you shoot."}

^{"And you didn't tell me I'd have to clean the damned guns after I shot them. And you didn't tell me I'd be humping heavy packs and crawling through swamps and . . . I might as well have joined the stupid army. Everybody telling me what to do. This is worse than when I was in the joint."}

^{"Not hardly." Carl stared at the scars on his hands.}

^{"And where the hell are we anyhow? How close to the nearest city? I want to get back to Chicago. Hang around with the guys. Find some action. Get laid. Man, that would be different."}

^{"Wanting sex too much is what got you in prison," Carl said. "Maybe you should stick with guns."}

^{"Just answer the question. How close is the nearest city?" Ferguson demanded}

^{"An hour. And it's not a city. It's a town."}

^{" What? Why didn't we fly out of here? That's how you brought me into this mess."}

^{"You're not worth the price of aviation fuel, buddy. You want to know a secret? You were part of a great experiment."}

^{"Living in a swamp? Some experiment."}

^{"About visualization."}

^{"Whatever that means."}

^{"First, I show you how to do something–shoot, use a knife, whatever. Then I make you close your eyes and repeatedly imagine doing what I showed you. I reinforce it by making you watch accurate movies of what I demonstrated, Hollywood stars doing things so smoothly you want to be those stars. Finally, I tell you to do what you imagined in the movie in your mind."}

^{The truck hit a bump. Carl heard it jostle Raoul in back.}

^{"The military discovered that, by using visualization, a four-week course could be reduced to three days," Carl said. "It's a form of self-hypnosis, reinforced by the video games."}

^{"Yeah? Well, I've been here three weeks . How come it didn't work on me ?"}

^{"Nobody's perfect. You want to know another secret? A long time ago, this used to be a plantation."}

^{"What's that got to do with anything? Drive faster."}

^{"Then the plantation went bust, and the owners tried to keep the land in the family, and finally a private foundation bought it as a nature preserve."}

^{"Tears, man. You're boring me to–"}

^{"Then the CIA took over the foundation and all this land."}

^"CIA?"

^{"Finally got your attention? Strictly speaking, not the CIA. It was a company that worked for a company that worked for the Company. They call it 'compartmentalizing the risk. Plausible deniability.'"}

^{"I call it yawning, man."}

^{"The whole point was to build a private airstrip that hardly anybody knew about. See, to fly what you'd call 'spies' into hot spots . . . in those days, Central America had a lot of those . . ."}

^{"Yawn, man."}

^{The truck hit another bump.}

^{"The CIA couldn't just pop their people onto a United jet and fly them to El Salvador or Nicaragua. They'd leave what's called a 'paper trail.'"}

^{"You know what I call it?" Ferguson made an obscene gesture.}

^{"So this company that worked for the Company made up its own airline and flew its people out of here straight across the Gulf to where the action was."}

^"Gulf?"

^{"Of Mexico."}

^{Ferguson looked interested. "We're near Mexico?"}

^{"But then times changed, and the hot spots moved to other countries, and the company that worked for the Company didn't have any more use for this place. Besides, it had started to attract attention, so they sold it to some drug smugglers they'd been working with."}

^{"Drug smugglers?" Now Ferguson was really interested.}

^{"Sure. The spy business is based on 'you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours,' the same as any other business. The spies had been working with the drug smugglers, getting tactical information from them, using them for cover, giving the spies an excuse to go in and out of various countries via secret airstrips. If you're a drug smuggler, nobody questions why you're so secretive. But if people think you're a spy , you're in trouble. So when it came time to get rid of the airstrip, it made sense to sell it to the smugglers, who were already using it. But eventually, the smugglers decided to switch locations, too, and the place was rotting until we bought it."}

^{"Yeah," Ferguson said. "Rotting. Step on it, would you?"}

^"Can't."

^{Carl drove slower.}

^{" What are you doing? "}

^{"Stopping to take a leak."}

^{"Man, can't you hold it till we get to town?"}

^{"You want me to hold it for an hour?" Carl gave him a "get real" look and steered to the side of the road. He stepped out and went down a slope to the edge of the swamp. Under deceptively attractive Spanish moss–it was always bug infested–he undid his fly and urinated into the algae-covered water.}

^{Ferguson banged the truck door open, stepped sullenly to the spongy earth, and walked to the water, fumbling at his fly.}

^{Carl finished relieving himself, shook lingering drops from his penis, pulled up his zipper, and asked Ferguson, "You want to make a bet?"}

^{Three shots roared. Crimson blossomed on Ferguson's shirt. Blood erupted from his face. He dropped on his back, thrashing.}

^{The shots echoed across the water.}

^{Carl turned toward where Raoul, on cue, had shot from the back of the truck. Under Carl's loose shirt, he had a Colt Commander .45. If Raoul had delayed, Carl would have drawn his pistol in a continuation of zipping up his fly, shooting both of them.}

^{Raoul looked pale. The darks of his eyes were huge. Obviously, despite all his bravado, he had never killed anyone before.}

^{Better distract him , Carl thought. "Very good, Mr. Ramirez. Two shots to the body and one to the head. Why were you taught that pattern?"}

^{Raoul had to switch to a different section of his thoughts. "Uh . . ." He looked confused. His need to seek approval became greater than the shock of his emotions. "Uh . . . The target might be wearing a Kevlar vest, so I also shot him in the head."}

^{"Your instructor explained that?"}

^{"No." Raoul continued to look confused. "I just figured that was the reason."}

^{"It is the reason. Your intuition is excellent. Did you do what I told you and sit with your head against the back window?"}

^"Yes."

^{"You heard what I said about the CIA?"}

^"Yes."

^{"Then you understand the necessity for what I ordered you to do. There are serious issues at stake that I'm not allowed to reveal to you. Not yet. But the target's lack of discipline would have made him talk about our camp. He would have destroyed us."}

^{Using his shoe, Carl shoved the body into the scummy water. Immediately, an alligator erupted, snapping at the head, jerking the body under the surface. A second alligator fought for the corpse's right leg. Blood swirled amid the green scum.}

^{"When I set up the camp," Carl explained, "I drove here once a day, urinated into the water, then threw raw steaks in. After a while, the alligators learned to identify food with the sound of the truck, my footsteps, and urine streaming into the water. Now those signals bring them here for dinner."}

^{The turmoil in the water subsided. After the frantic splashing of jaws and tails, birds again sang.}

^{Pleasing Carl, Raoul picked up his empty cartridges.}

^{"Get rid of his duffel bag," Carl said.}

^{Raoul took a chain from the back of the truck, shoved it into the bag, and hurled it into the water.}

^{"Quick. Sharp. Obedient," Carl said.}

^{Raoul's eyes brightened.}

^{"I'm going to pull you from the group," Carl decided.}

^{" No. What did I do wrong?"}

^{"The reverse. You and a select few are coming with me."}

^{"To do what?"}

^{"Hunt an old friend."}

^{Chapter 6.}

^{Waking slowly, Cavanaugh felt as exhausted as when he'd gone to sleep with Jamie next to him. He reached to put his arm around her, discovered that she wasn't there, and opened his eyes, focusing on where she sat at the cigarette-burned table in their seedy motel room's corner. She wore a T-shirt and boxer shorts, her brunette hair hanging over her shoulders. She didn't notice that he'd wakened, too preoccupied re-reading the documents Rutherford had given them.}

^{"You talked in your sleep," she said.}

^{So I'm wrong , he thought. She did notice I was awake.}

^{"Oh? What did I say?"}

^{"'How much wood could a woodchuck chuck?'"}

^{"Well, that's a relief. For a second, I was afraid I said another woman's name."}

^{"You did mumble something about 'Ramona'."}

^{"My third-grade math teacher." Cavanaugh pointed toward the documents. "Have you learned anything?"}

^{"Didn't you tell me Carl's father died from alcoholism? Liver disease?"}

^{"That's what Carl said in a phone call to me when I was still living at home."}

^{"According to this police report, his father stumbled while he was drunk, fell on a knife in the kitchen, and bled to death in the middle of the night."}

^{Numbed, Cavanaugh didn't react for a moment. He got out of bed, ignored the cold air on his bare legs, and went over to her. She indicated the bottom of a page.}

^{Cavanaugh read the passage and felt colder. "The police report says Carl found the body in the morning. Since he knew for certain how his father died, why did he tell me it was liver failure?"}

^{Jamie looked up. "You think Carl finally got tired of his father picking on him? He might have told you the cause of death was liver disease because that was an easy explanation. But bleeding to death from a knife wound . . . Knowing Carl's obsession with knives, you might have started wondering. How old were you when he made that phone call?"}

^{"I was still in high school. My senior year."}

^{"Young to start to be a killer."}

^{"If his father was his first," Cavanaugh said.}

^{The room became silent.}

^{"What do you mean?"}

^{"Thinking about those days, I suddenly remember things. But I'm seeing them in an entirely different way."}

^{" What things?"}

^{"Our neighbor had an Irish setter named Toby. My stepfather was too buttoned down to allow a pet in the house, but the neighbor didn't mind if I played with Toby, so I sort of had a dog. The summer before my senior year, the dog ran away. The neighbor phoned the pet shelter. No sign of the dog. Nobody ever found him. A couple of neighborhood cats ran away that summer, also."}

^{"Didn't anybody think there might be a pattern?"}

^{"If anybody did, I never heard about it. Anyway, there was a lot going on that summer. Carl's dad was fired. In August, the family needed to move. Meanwhile, I was excited about beginning my senior year at West High, and to tell the truth, Carl demanded I spend so much time with him that I was relieved to see him go."}

^{"So he practiced killing animals before he graduated to killing his father?"}

^{"Or maybe . . ."}

^{"What are you thinking?" Jamie asked.}

^{"Do you suppose Carl killed other people before he mustered enough rage to go after his father?"}

^{Chapter 7.}

^{"Nashville, Tennessee?" Rutherford asked.}

^{"That's where Carl's father took the family after losing his stock broker's job in Iowa City," Cavanaugh explained. "Can you arrange for someone to investigate a rash of missing animals or stabbings while Carl was there?"}

^{They sat at a corner table at a truck stop near Alexandria, Virginia. Cavanaugh and Rutherford drank coffee while Jamie dug into a cheese-and-ham omelet with hash browns.}

^{"Stabbings?" Rutherford frowned.}

^{"Homeless people. Drifters. Back-alley drunks. The sort of victims who wouldn't be missed and didn't look like they could defend themselves."}

^{"This guy sounds scarier and scarier," Rutherford said.}

^{"Maybe you should check Iowa City, too." Jamie looked up from her omelet. "And any other place Carl lived."}

^{"And where he was stationed in the military," Rutherford decided.}

^{"What about Ali Karim?" Cavanaugh asked. "Did you find anything?"}

^{"Still seems squeaky clean. But Global Protective Services lost another operator last night."}

^{Jamie set down her fork.}

^{"Frank Tamblyn," Rutherford said.}

^{"I know him." Cavanaugh's voice was stark. "A former Army Ranger. Eight years with GPS. Wife. Two children. Dependable, always ready to be the first operator out the door to check if it's okay for a client to leave a building."}

^{"Apparently, he loved to bowl."}

^{"Why is that important?"}

^{"Last night, he got in his car to drive to a bowling tournament. Afterward, around midnight, he returned to his car. He probably checked it for explosives. Not that it matters. When he got behind the steering wheel, a spring-loaded knife burst from under the dash and hit him in the groin. There weren't any trip wires, so he wouldn't have spotted the device. It was rigged to a vibration switch. Death was so rapid, the blade must have been coated with poison."}

^{Chapter 8.}

^{Greenwich Village, New York.}

^{Kim Lee stepped out of a martial-arts studio and turned left on Bleecker Street. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes intense after two hours of practicing aikido. She wore jeans and a blue sweater, and carried a gym bag. Around the corner, she came to a cafe that, on this not-yet-chilly October evening, still had tables on the sidewalk, although most of the customers were inside. She sat, ordered tea, removed a magazine from her bag, and settled back to read.}

^{But she seemed more interested in her surroundings than in her magazine. The tea came. She tasted a few sips, looked around again, reached under the table, detached something, concealed it within her magazine, and put the magazine in her bag. She paid for the tea and continued down the street, glancing behind her as she turned a corner. No one followed, and she soon fell into a comfortable pace, her cheeks no longer flushed.}

^{At her brownstone, she took the elevator to the third floor, unlocked her apartment, stepped in, closed the door, locked it, flicked the light switch, and turned toward the living room, only to freeze at the sight of Cavanaugh and Jamie.}

^{" How did you get in here? "}

^{"Picked the lock," Cavanaugh said. "Maybe you're like a physician who forgets to have a yearly medical exam or an accountant who's too busy to balance her own check book."}

^{"What are you talking about?"}

^{"For someone who works at a security company, you don't pay much attention to your personal security," Cavanaugh said. "You should phone GPS and order a technician to install an intruder-detection system."}

^{"Right. I'll do that just as soon as I call the police." Kim picked up the phone.}

^{"Good idea," Jamie said. "I'm sure they'll want to know what's in your gym bag."}

^{"Gym bag?"}

^{"Black-market prescription drugs. Probably OxyContin."}

^{Kim stared.}

^{"At the cafe, they were taped under the table you used," Jamie said.}

^{"This isn't funny." Kim scratched her arms.}

^{"With so many operators getting killed, aren't you worried about walking around in the open?"}

^{"Maybe if I were an operator. But there doesn't seem to be a bounty on computer specialists." Kim set down the phone. She picked up the gym bag and headed toward the bathroom.}

^{"Time for another pill?" Jamie asked.}

^{Kim didn't answer.}

^{"I'm told getting off Oxy is a nightmare," Cavanaugh said. "Or maintaining your addiction when you can't find any more doctors to write prescriptions for you and you need to turn to dealers."}

^{Cavanaugh gestured toward the living room, which was sparsely furnished, only a lamp, a canvas chair, and a small television, not even a rug.}

^{"Been selling things to feed your habit?"}

^{"Since we're being so candid, why don't I stop the charade of going into the bathroom?" The pupils of Kim's eyes were pinpoints.}

^{She opened the gym bag and took out a plastic bag that contained a fist-sized quantity of white pills. With a look of defiance, she put two in her mouth and chewed.}

^{Jamie frowned. "Why do you–"}

^{"The pills have a time-release coating so the body absorbs the painkiller over twelve hours," Cavanaugh explained. "If you just swallow them, you can't get a rush. You have to pulverize them and snort them."}

^{"Or chew them," Kim said. "What the hell do you want?"}

^{"GPS's assignment records," Cavanaugh said.}

^{Kim looked baffled.}

^{"You still haven't sold the computer in your bedroom," Cavanaugh told her, "so why don't you crank it up and get me some information I need?"}

^{" That's what this is all about? For God's sake, why didn't you just come to the office to do this?"}

^{"The last time I went to the office, I almost didn't leave it alive."}

^{"I could have given you the information over the phone."}

^{"Sure. But this way, I know the information hasn't been edited."}

^{"You still believe someone at GPS can't be trusted? Me? "}

^{"Distrust a drug addict? Perish the thought," Jamie said.}

^{"You know, lady," Kim said, "I don't need to take crap from the boss's wife." She turned toward Cavanaugh. "You want to fire me? Do it."}

^{"Just get into the GPS assignment records," Cavanaugh told her.}

^{Kim's cheeks looked flushed again. She went to the bedroom and turned on its light, revealing that there was only a mattress on the floor but that a lavish computer set-up occupied a desk in a corner. Cavanaugh went over to the window and closed the draperies against the thickening darkness.}

^{When Kim touched a button on the keyboard, the monitor came out of sleep mode. Jamie stood behind her while Kim sank into a chair, wincing slightly.}

^{"If you're in that much pain, maybe you need to ease off on your martial arts," Jamie suggested.}

^{"Can't give them up."}

^{"Just like Oxy," Jamie said.}

^{"You don't know. I tried detoxing. Last spring." Kim glanced toward Cavanaugh. "Supposedly, I was in the Caribbean on vacation. But I was right here. I vomited for a week. My bones ached. My heart raced. Hot and cold sweats. Wobbly legs. Twitching. And that was the fun part."}

^{"You tried it on your own?"}

^{"Had to. Would anybody at GPS have relied on me if word got out I'd checked myself into a detox clinic?"}

^{"Go ahead and check yourself into one now," Cavanaugh said. "Take advantage of our great medical plan."}

^{Kim avoided the subject, turning toward Jamie. "You know anything about computers?"}

^{"A little," Jamie lied. "I know the difference between a Big Mac and a Mac Apple."}

^{"Always thinking about food," Cavanaugh said.}

^{"You need to step away while I type in the security codes," Kim told her.}

^{"Don't think so. I co-own the company. I get to see everything."}

^{Kim looked questioningly at Cavanaugh.}

^{"I just made her vice-CEO," Cavanaugh explained.}

^{"Let's see those security codes," Jamie told her.}

^{Kim's fingers flew across the keyboard, an elegant blur that made Jamie nod in wonder as she watched information flash across the monitor.}

^{"This is brilliant." Jamie leaned forward, seeing security code after security code. "I never could have hacked this."}

^{"I hope to God not." Kim's fingers kept working the keyboard.}

^{"As you looked for more OxyContin," Cavanaugh said, "I don't suppose people ever offered you unlimited quantities in exchange for showing them the codes."}

^"No."

^{"Cross your heart?"}

^{"I guarantee it."}

^{"Hard to guarantee."}

^{"Not really."}

^{"How do you figure?"}

^{"If I had unlimited quantities of Oxy in exchange for giving the bad guys information . . ." Kim's fingers kept flying.}

^"Yes?"

^{"Would I be forced to humiliate myself by paying a cheesy drug dealer to stick that plastic bag to the bottom of that table? A lousy hundred pills? I can go through those in a week."}