chapter 25
Gabe cursed softly. “Out of the question.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I had any choice, damn it. The director is concerned about staff theft and I got wind of a wall-to-wall inspection to begin tomorrow afternoon. I can’t be caught with these files. Costello has spies among the staff.”
So much for smooth and easy, Summer thought grimly.
“Tell me exactly what you have for me.” Gabe’s voice was curt, impersonal. “It has to be damned important or this conversation is over.”
“I can tell you everything Costello wanted done and how much he paid to do it. You can bury the guy with these records.”
“I believe Costello’s already in jail.”
“Then my records will keep him there. I also have photographs of the people he sent to deal with me, so you’ll be able to track his organization. That’s got to be valuable.”
“Perhaps. How would we receive this information, Mr. Underhill?”
“I asked for a SEAL.” The scientist squinted at Gabe, trying to read his face. “I know they’re professionals and they’re trained to get the job done.”
“My background isn’t important.”
“To me, it is. Tell me, damn it.” Underhill was sweating, his voice jerky.
“You’ve got what you wanted,” Gabe said quietly.
Summer felt a little punch of surprise. So Gabe was a Navy SEAL. Senator Winslow had chosen his backup well.
“Good. But I repeat, you need to go in tonight. I’m being watched, and this inspection at the clinic means I have no more time to remove that information for you.”
“Why didn’t you move the files to a safer place?”
“I planned to, but I don’t trust my staff at home, and anything else local would have been too obvious. Last month we started new clinical trials on several products and I haven’t had time to leave Los Reyes, so the files stayed locked in my safe.”
Underhill tossed a rolled up paper on the bed. “Here’s the map of the clinic with your entrance and inside route marked. I need to know whether you’ll go tonight, Mr. Walker, because I’ll have preparations to make, and I’m due back for tests on a new drug for male pattern baldness.”
“Based on rats?” Gabe asked dryly.
“Mice. Then humans three months after that, if all goes well. Of course, I won’t be staying around for the results.”
Gabe crossed his arms, watching Underhill fidget. “This man Costello you mentioned won’t be happy to lose his prize pigeon. One day he might decide to come after you. What happens then?”
“I won’t give you names, but a small Asian government is desperate to acquire biotechnology for a toehold in the international market. I’m going to help them with that, in exchange for protection and a new identity.”
“Very neat. Singapore?”
“No comment. Are you in or out, Mr. Walker?”
“Sri Lanka?”
“No.” Underhill’s hands flashed to his face. “And forget asking me any other questions.”
Gabe shone the small light on Underhill’s face, and Summer saw beads of sweat dotting the man’s forehead. “I’m in,” Gabe said finally.
“Alone?”
“One other person.”
Underhill started to ask a question, then shrugged. “Fine. I’ll meet you at two o’clock this morning at the north end of the old market near the clinic.” He opened the slider, dodging the curtains. “You’d better be damned good, because we’ll have only one chance. If you fail tonight, I’ll destroy my evidence and make it appear to be a lab fire. Costello and his men are killers, and I’m taking no chances on a mistake.” The door closed with a soft hiss.
Gabe crossed the room and opened the door to the bathroom. “All clear. Did you hear him?”
“Enough. So you’re a SEAL.”
Gabe nodded.
“Do you believe him?”
“Not completely, but most of his story checks out. Just the same, we’re doing things my way, not his way.”
Summer rolled her shoulders, hit by a wave of exhaustion. “What now?”
Gabe flipped on the light. “You’re going to rest while I go over this map. We’ll also keep Underhill under surveillance, just in case his offer turns out to be a setup.”
“We?” Summer fought a yawn. “I don’t understand—”
There was a light scratch at the sliding door to the patio.
“Right on time.” Gabe flipped off the light again. “I told you we wouldn’t be down here alone.” He opened the door quietly, and when he stepped aside, a tall figure emerged into the darkness of the room. Without a word Gabe closed the door, pulled the curtains, and hit the lights.
Summer was surprised to see the same man who had installed the new security at Cara O’Connor’s house. Tonight he was wearing all black, and he looked more like Denzel Washington than ever.
“You saw Underhill?” Gabe asked him.
“I was waiting in the bushes when he came out. No one followed him, and I tracked him to his car to make sure no one was waiting there.”
“Underhill was lying about one thing,” Summer said carefully. “He knows more than he’s saying about Costello, and his actual destination is Sri Lanka.”
The new arrival frowned. “A hunch, Ms. Mulvaney?”
“Call me Summer. And it’s body analysis, not intuition. When you mentioned Sri Lanka, he covered his mouth with two fingers. He also locked his ankles and leaned back on the bed. It’s a classic gesture-cluster.”
“Want to try that again?” Gabe muttered.
“Gesture-clusters,” she said impatiently. “Grouped nonverbal communications that signify predictable attitudes. Underhill was showing a textbook stress posture reinforced by the concealment gesture of his hands covering his mouth. Since he was denying that he was going to Sri Lanka, there is a substantial chance he was really indicating the opposite.”
Their visitor raised an eyebrow. “I’ll pass that information on to the right parties.” The visitor held out his hand. “Izzy Teague. We didn’t meet properly before.” After they shook hands, he continued. “So what do you make of the rest of Underhill’s behavior?”
Summer reviewed Underhill’s conversation, focused on his gestures and body positions. “When he mentioned his drug research, he was facing Gabe directly, his head tilted the same angle as Gabe’s. These are fairly straightforward signs of openness and lack of stress.” Summer frowned. “The part about the lab fire was different. When he mentioned that, he brushed his nose. Taken alone, the gesture can be ambiguous, but with a stiff posture and averted eyes, I’d say that he was lying.”
“So he doesn’t plan to destroy the evidence in a fire?”
Summer sighed. “I’m an FBI agent, not a psychic, Mr. Teague.”
“Izzy, please. And you’re acting pretty damned close to one, from what I can see.”
“It’s behavior analysis, not trickery. All I know is that Underhill didn’t believe what he’d just said. Either he’ll keep the evidence or he’ll destroy it in a different way. I can’t say more without additional observation.”
“Hell.” Izzy sat on the bed and opened a sleek black briefcase. “I don’t know about you two, but right now I’m fifty-fifty for scrapping this whole mission.”
“Neither of you has to worry,” Gabe said quietly. “You’ll strictly be backup. I’m the only one going in. I gave Tate my word.”
“The senator wouldn’t expect you to walk into an ambush,” Izzy said flatly.
“I’m not going in blind or unprepared, despite Underhill’s suggestions. You’re going to check the clinic walls and find me a cold spot, Izzy.”
“Already done. I just finished shooting every foot of the exterior. There are cameras and motion detectors, but I managed to find you a few safe access points.”
“You’ve been busy.” Gabe checked his watch. “Here’s how we’re going to handle things tonight. With a little luck we’ll be long gone by daybreak, drinking coffee back in Carmel.”
At five minutes to one, well before Underhill’s planned meeting time, a rusting Taurus cruised the dark walls around Los Reyes Clinic.
From the front passenger seat, Izzy scanned the darkness through night-vision goggles. “No sign of Underhill or guards. What do you have, Gabe?”
Gabe continued his own survey. “Nada, but let’s take one more loop. Summer, slow down at the back wall, near the service entrance. If Underhill is here with hostiles, I want to know it.”
Summer nodded, following the elegant limestone wall that circled the clinic. A skilled driver, she was credentialed in both speed and evasive techniques, and she had already memorized the layout of the clinic. “Front guard gate coming up in twenty feet.” The warning gave the men time to close their eyes, so that the heavy lights near the entrance didn’t disturb their night-adapted vision. “Okay, we’re clear.”
The car purred on, passing two rows of adobe guesthouses for visiting patients. The high fences were screened by azalea and oleander, which hid a narrow border of electrified wire at the top of the wall.
“There’s part of the old market. Underhill expects you here.” Summer pointed to a small brick embankment. “That’s the drainage tunnel he marked on his map.”
“Forget the drainage tunnel.” Gabe adjusted the angle of his glasses. “I’ll be going in somewhere else.”
Summer laughed. “Score one for the visiting team. Remind me not to tangle with you.”
“I wouldn’t advise it,” Gabe said from behind his glasses. “We’re going to let Underhill think he’s got a sucker right in the palm of his sweaty hand.”
Suddenly Summer slowed. “Get down!”
The two men hit the floor as a black van approached. Through the back windows Summer made out several men dressed in dark uniforms. One of them was gesturing as he spoke on a shortwave radio.
“Police,” she said quietly.
“Armed?” Gabe’s voice came low, down behind her seat.
“Hard to say.” The van’s motor growled and without warning the driver pulled out in front of Summer. “Looks like four, maybe five men in back. I can’t see if—”
Suddenly, the van’s back door burst open.
Three brawny men in full combat uniforms jumped down from the van, running directly toward her.