Vaill kept a stony expression as he watched the rearview and punched the gas to be the last car through a yellow.

“No,” he said making a U-turn in what Lou hoped was the direction of Arbor General. “It means I’m putting my paranoid mistrust of you on the back burner until you give me reason not to.”

Chapter 40

CHAPTER 40

Government needs people to govern and so creates a subservient class upon which it can thrive and rule.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, A Secret Worth Keeping, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1939, P. 64

From the earliest days of their friendship, Lou had kept no secrets from his sponsor. That included the news about the secret life of eccentric Humphrey Miller, and Lou’s decision to help him open his subbasement lab. Now he wished he hadn’t said anything. Cap had enough to deal with without having that rug of hope pulled out from underneath him.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Lou was last in Cap’s isolation room, but there had been a noticeable change in the man. A change for the worse.

Lou and Vaill were together in the tiny antechamber. Both men had replaced their FBI caps and Windbreakers with the required safety garb. In spite of himself, Lou felt different swaggering around wearing the dark shades and displaying the iconic letters on his back. Special. Tough. Then he thought about the people Vaill and the other real agents had to deal with every day—people whose life or way of life often depended on killing them.

No thanks.

He checked Vaill over to make sure he was properly gowned before giving a strong pull against the negative pressure door. Vaill had wanted to wait outside, but Lou requested he come in. Like in the ER, it was always more motivating to put a face on the people one was dealing with, and he expressed that feeling to himself, then out loud.

This is the man you’ve heard so much about. This is the life we’re trying to save.

For an agent accustomed to clashing with dangerous criminals, Vaill seemed affected from the moment they opened the door to Cap’s room. Perhaps it was the purulent, blood-soaked bandages, perhaps the scent of pus that was hanging heavier than ever in the air.

“Are you all right?” Lou whispered to Vaill, soft enough not to rouse Cap, who was sleeping sonorously on his back, with a sudoku puzzle book splayed across his chest.

Vaill nodded. “Yeah, I just have a little thing about hospitals. Understandable considering I got out of one myself not too long ago. Believe it or not, it was my first time.”

Lou pointed to the rainbow scar.

“I imagine you’re in the minority of your profession to have made it that long.”

“Quick reflexes or incredible good luck. Probably both, combined with Kevlar vests.”