Russell Andrews - Aphrodite

She gave him a thorough going-over-Billy rolled his eyes to show he wasn't hating the procedure-but only came up with the gun in the shoulder holster.

"Okay," Justin said. "Wanda's gun'll be in her purse. But she also tends to be a little devious. Check around her ankles-those pants are too baggy for her superb fashion sense."

Deena came up with two guns after searching the FBI agent: one in her purse and one in an ankle holster.

"Where's the kid?" Justin asked, and when Deena told him she was upstairs with Lizbeth happily watching television, he took the guns, emptied the bullets into a large Lalique bowl, and tossed them into a far corner of the room.

"How about you, Roger-you are Roger, right?"

"Ummm…yeah. Who are you?"

"Your boss's son. You carrying?"

"A gun?" Roger Mallone said. "Jesus, no. I've never even shot a gun."

"Give him a thrill," Justin said to Deena, "and check him out anyway."

She patted Roger down, came away empty-handed.

"This is a huge mistake, Jay," Wanda said.

"I know it might seem like that," Justin said. "But I'm out of options right now."

"What do you think you're doing?" the Providence police chief asked.

"Oh, I know what I'm doing, Billy. Have a seat, relax, and I'll explain everything. We're just going to have a little chat."

"No, we're not," Wanda Chinkle said. "I'm not having any kind of a conversation under these circumstances. Put your gun down and return our weapons, then I'll consider it."

"Oh, shut up, Wanda," Justin said. "Here's the deal. I'm not threatening you in any way, shape, or form. You're in no danger. I'm simply going to explain something to you. Tell you a little story. I didn't think you'd listen to me unless I coerced you into it. But I'm gambling big-time that you're going to believe me. When I'm done talking, you can tell me whether you do or not. I'll trust you to tell me the truth. If you don't believe me, if you still want to arrest me after you hear what I have to say, I'll tie the three of you up, take your bullets, and Deena and I will leave. That should give us half an hour or so as a head start. If you tell me you do believe me, I'll give you your guns back right here, bullets included. If you're lying, you'll be free to arrest us both. If you're telling the truth, then I'll explain to you what I want and I'll ask for your help."

"What about Johnny and Lizzie?' Billy asked. "Are they here under duress also?"

"They are. I threatened them in order to get my father to call the three of you."

"That's ridiculous," Jonathan said. "You did no such thing."

"Billy," Justin said, ignoring his father, "that's the story. This is totally against their advice and their will. I forced him to make the calls. Is that understood?"

"It is."

"My mother's upstairs in a hostage situation."

"I thought she was watching TV with a little girl," Wanda said.

"Well," Justin said, "there's hostages and there's hostages." Turning back to the chief of police, he said, "And you know, you are the only person in the world with the nerve to call my parents Johnny and Lizzie." After Billy shrugged cockily, Justin looked around the room. "So do you want to listen?"

"I'm scared shitless," Roger Mallone said. "I'll listen to anything you have to say."

Wanda and Billy exchanged glances.

"You owe me this conversation," Justin said to Wanda. "You know you do."

She nodded. Looked at Billy and nodded at him. He didn't nod back.

"I worked for you," Justin said to the Providence police chief. "You probably know me better than anyone in this room. Do you think I'm capable of doing the things I'm accused of?"

"I've been a cop a long time, Jay. You know what I think."

"That people are capable of anything."

"That's right."

"I asked you a question. What about me?"

"Okay," Billy DiPezio said, after a long silence. "I'm listening too."

So Justin began explaining.

He went slowly, occasionally referred to notes he'd made over the past couple of hours. He started with what he'd been doing since he'd left town. How Jimmy Leggett had taken him in as a small-town cop. Even told them about Brian and Gary's mocking nickname. He told them about the scream he heard on East End's Main Street, and then finding Susanna Morgan's body, and discovering Deena up on the roof. He told them about the obit in the East End Journal and the research he did on Bill Miller. His audience-silent, astonished-heard about the shots taken at them in the car, about breaking into Growth Industries and finding the phone machines, about the Ellis Institute and the Aker Institute and the string of old-age homes. He gave them the details of the conversation he'd had with Edward Marion, repeated the names he'd heard: Newberg, Kransten, and Aphrodite.

At that point in the story, Roger Mallone interrupted. "Are you talking about Douglas Kransten?" he asked.

Justin shook his head, to show that he didn't know. "Would it matter if I was?" He saw his father and Mallone exchange a glance.

"Yes, it would," Mallone said. "Kransten is one of the most influential people in the country. And one of the wealthiest."

"Does it make sense that he'd be connected to medical-research companies?"

"Yes, it does."

"Then let me finish my story and we'll get back to that."

As Justin picked up the thread from where he'd left off, he saw Mal-lone shaking his head in disbelief. But now he was reliving the events of the past few days. He listed the string of murders: Wallace Crabbe, Brian Meves, Ed Marion, Lewis Granger. He told them about Maura Greer's body being found in the bay and Agent Rollins taking over that case while sabotaging the investigation into Susanna's murder. He said that he was certain Rollins had murdered Marion-which made Wanda Chinkle's eyes narrow and her shoulders hunch defensively. Justin described the bomb under their car and the blond madman who said "Bye-bye." He told them about Rollins tapping Gary's phones and the disappearance of Helen Roag, and, finally, he said that the FBI was now tying him to the death of Maura Greer, someone he'd never even heard of until all this started happening.

It took Justin an hour and a half to go through every detail.

"Are you finished?" Wanda asked him.

"No," Justin said. "I've got an update. This was faxed to me a little while ago. I had someone hack into Marblehead phone-company records and Helen Roag's personal and business e-mail accounts."

"Jesus Christ," Wanda Chinkle said. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much time you can get for that kind of stunt?"

"Yes, I do. And can we cut out the editorializing, please? Believe me, if I'm brought up on charges, this is going to be low man on the totem pole."

"Excellent point," Wanda said. "How good was your hacker?"

"Good enough, Wanda."

She lowered her eyes to the ground. "The business e-mail account wasn't very helpful. Helen was careful. As near as I can tell, she was some kind of researcher for this Boston company, the Aker Institute. There's very little in her Aker correspondence other than standard corporate communications. But her personal account-here's where things get a little complicated. It looks like our Helen was feeding Aker's trade secrets to somebody. Actually, to two somebodies. My guy went back several months. At the beginning the e-mails were going to someone at the FBI. You want to handle this one, Wanda?"

"Goddammit," the Boston AIC said. "How'd you get those files?"

"I had to hire the best." Justin rubbed his chin, realized he hadn't shaved in several days. "You were Helen Roag's contact."

"Yes."

"Why was Helen reporting to the FBI?"

"I can't tell you that, Jay. Not right now. I need a little time to think about this."

"But she stopped corresponding with you."