Without turning, Ryland pulled open the drawer and stuck a hand inside. “Far as I know, they don’t give you bonuses for quitting,” he said. “But I shouldn’t complain, I made out better than my colleagues on the project.”

Kilburn swallowed. “Sounds like you’re putting a positive spin on a bad situation.”

“Not really. I’m still alive. That’s more than I can say for my friends. And unless Martineau escapes to some exotic island—”

“That’s not going to happen, Neil,” Cohen said emphatically.

“I wish I was as convinced,” Ryland said, pulling his hand back. “He’s an oily bastard, that one.”

“Neil,” Cohen snapped. Ryland’s hand stilled. Even Lopez stopped pouring the fourth drink. “You and I both know that Luc Martineau is dead.”

68 - Glen Mills, Pennsylvania

68

Glen Mills, Pennsylvania

Intense silence permeated the room. Lopez felt the weight of the Chivas bottle in her hand. She heard the sound of her own breathing.

“What makes you so sure?” Ryland asked.

“A couple of things,” Cohen said.

“Such as?” Ryland queried without turning around.

“For starters, how would Snider know I was a cop?” Cohen touched his lip. “Martineau and the others thought I was a doctor. You were the only one at SeptoMed who knew otherwise.”

“Wouldn’t be hard for him to find out,” Ryland said, his back still turned.

“Then there’s the expertise involved in synthesizing and packaging MRGAS into street drugs,” Cohen said slowly. “We checked. Martineau’s background didn’t extend to the kind of complex microbiology involved. That was your specialty.”

Ryland moved his head back and forth. “At least three others at SeptoMed knew enough to do the same.”

“And Snider’s ‘attempt’ on your life?” Cohen said.

Ryland raised his broken arm like a wing. “What about it?”

“Volvo or not, he was far too professional to screw that up.”

Another pause. “It’s all just wild speculation, Seth,” Ryland said.

“Ah, Neil, but the money,” Cohen said with an edge. “You can never hide the money.”

“What money?”

“The two million dollars. The FBI cracked your shell-game accounting,” Cohen bluffed. “We know you were the one blackmailing Martineau and Byington.”

Ryland didn’t respond.

Silence consumed the room again.

“Neil?” Cohen prodded.

Ryland struck so quickly that Lopez felt the fiberglass cast hit her in the ribs before she even registered the blur of movement. In the next instant the cast pulled her backward into his body, pinning her against him. Lopez struggled to free herself but froze the moment she felt the sharp blade pressing against her neck.

“Don’t!” Ryland yelled. Kilburn and Cohen stopped dead, halfway to her. “If you think after all this that I would even hesitate to …” Ryland let the unfinished threat dangle in the supercharged air.