"Call it a high-tech time release capsule. Certain chemicals in here enter your bloodstream and settle in throughout your brain, where I can set them off with a push of any of these little buttons. Some of them will make you act loopy in any of a number of amusing ways; one of them will make you act wild; one pair will kill you dead."

He produced a stubby black remote transmitter and held it up for her to see. It reminded Alison of an ice-cream sandwich and had seven or eight cream-colored diamond-shaped control buttons lined up in two columns along one surface.

At last Griswold had done it. At last she knew for certain what was going on, even if she had no idea how the chemicals got to where they were intended, or who was blackmailing the man to administer them, or why. She searched desperately for some way—any way—she could get free, at least long enough to get word to Gabe about what was happening.

"Treat, give it up. Give it up and no one's the worse for what you've done. Give it up and I can tell people how you cooperated. You—"

"Okay, lady," he said, pinching her nostrils closed until they hurt, "I've heard enough. Big breaths, now."

He rested his massive hand against her chin, pried her mouth open, and jammed the business end of the inhaler between her teeth. Then he sealed the opening in place with his hand and waited until she breathed in to send a jet of mist into her throat and lungs.

Alison was in no condition to put up much resistance.

The first jolt of the stimulant tasted like rusty water, the second made her dizzy, and the third made her dizzier still. Griswold's grip tightened. Another spray, then another. Her heart was pounding, sending shock waves through her head. Acid jetted up into her throat and she struggled to swallow it again, rather than to aspirate it and have it scald the inside of her lungs.

Instead of opening up her bronchioles, the repeated dosing now seemed to send them into spasm, smothering her. Another dose and she knew her nervous system was going to explode into a full-blown, grand mal seizure. She managed one final glare at her nemesis, hoping that image of his face might stay with her into the hereafter. Then she closed her eyes tightly and waited to die.

CHAPTER 52

Any word about her?" Gabe asked.

Stoddard shook his head.

"Mark Fuller from Internal Affairs says it's too soon to be worried."

"That's nuts. Something's happened to her."

"He says tomorrow morning he'll start putting people on it."

"I don't want to wait any longer than that."

"First thing tomorrow. I'll check on it myself."

"Good enough. I hear you carry some weight around here."

"I'm counting on you to keep it that way. Now, what are we up against?"