F Wilson - Implant

And almost fell as black spots exploded in her vision and a diesel-engine roar filled her head. She went down on one knee and clung to the vanity until the room stopped swaying and spinning.

She pressed her forehead against the cool marble and gathered her strength.

Weak. She'd figured she'd be weak afterward, but not this bad. She reached for the other little bag she'd picked up in CVS and pulled out a package of Snickers bars. Good old Pasta had always suffered chocolate attacks in times of stress and hadn't been able to resist all that Halloween candy. Gin was glad she'd given in to her. She'd need some extra calories for healing, some glucose for energy. Another thing she knew she needed was fluids. After wolfing down three of the Snickers, she filled the glass by the sink with cold water and gulped it down. She washed down four more Tylenols with a second glassful.

She felt a little better, but no way ready for the road. She pushed herself to her feet and, keeping a hand on the wall for support, made her way to the bed. She turned off the TV as she passed.

She yanked down the covers and gingerly, gently, eased herself between the cool sheets. She shivered. Had to get some rest. She was safe now.

Just a nap for an hour or so, then she'd call Gerry. She had the implant. She could show him hard evidence now. He'd have to believe.

Every one would believe.

After she had some sleep . . .

THURSDAY AFTERNOON GERRY WAS BEGINNING TO FEEL A LITTLE FRANTIC.

He couldn't help it. He'd been to Gin's apartment earlier. He hadn't been able to find her car on the street. He got no response to his repeated knocks on the door, so he'd used the Electropick to let himself in and found the place deserted. No sign of a struggle, no note left, no indication that Gin hadn't made a routine departure this morning fully expecting to return at her usual time tonight.

He'd even called Lathram's surgicenter. The receptionist had said Gin wasn't there and wasn't expected in today. He thought he'd heard something in her voice, as if she wanted to say more, but that could have been wishful thinking.

He'd checked all eleven of the District's emergency rooms and even a few in northern Virginia and southern Maryland. No Gin Panzella or Jane Doe fitting her description had come through. Same with all the local police departments. No one named Panzella or anyone like her on the arrest records.

And then he'd remembered the accident over by Farragut , , , , , i, 0', '- , . , z. = Square. He'd placed a call to the D. C. Police and was hanging around his desk waiting for a call-back now. He didn't have much hope of help from them, but he wasn't ignoring any possibility.

The phone rang.

"Agent Canney? " said a nasal voice. "We have the ID on the vehicle in that one-car M.V.A you inquired about. Belongs to a Regina Panzella of Kalorama Road here in the District."

"Damn! " Gerry said. He should have checked this out hours ago. "And the report says she left the scene of the accident? " ""Driver abandoned vehicle, according to the report." '"Nothing else?

"Witnesses said she was female, dark hair, and was the sole occupant.

" That fit Gin.

"Okay. Thanks a lot."

"Any time" So where was she? She'd cracked up her car and run away.

Where to? It had rained most of the morning.

How far could she go on foot in the rain?

Gerry reached for his coat. Better go and inspect the scene. But nother thought occurred to him as he was leaving. He called down to the data center and told them to research the credit sources for Regina Panzella. Find out what credit cards she carried and see if she made any charges today, and where.

Who knew? Maybe she rented a car. Or bought a motorcycle. Who could tell what she was going to do next?

Gerry left for Farragut Square. Without knowing Gin's credit card number or even her card company, it would take a while. The information would be waiting when he got back.

He hoped he wouldn't need it.

* * * Duncan was exhausted, frustrated, angry, and not a little afraid.

But at least the rain had stopped.

That was about the only good thing Duncan could say about the afternoon. He stood on Seventeenth Street, on the edge of Farragut Square, and eyed the pedestrians. So many more now that it was getting late. Workers, released from their offices, were beginning to crowd the sidewalks. He lifted his gaze to the square's eponymous statue.

Appropriately enough, a seagull was squatting on its hat.

About time to give it up. He'd patrolled the area for hours on foot and in his car, ranging as far north as Scott Circle and as far south as the White House itself, and had found not a single trace of Gin.

It was fear that kept him from packing up and heading for home. Or for the hills.

What if Gin had managed to convince her FBI boyfriend that she carried an implant in her leg? And what if he'd been able to arrange its removal? The tables might have been turned on him this afternoon while he was wandering around. His role might already have changed from hunter to hunted.

He'd better find out.

Duncan glanced at his watch. Barbara still would be in the officer. He pulled out his cellular phone and called in.

"Did you find her? ' were the first words out of Barbara's mouth.

"No luck yet, " he said. "Just checking in. No word from Gin, I take it."

"Nothing, " Barbara said. "Someone called for her, but, " "Who?

" "That guy she's been seeing. Gerry Canney." Duncan stiffened. The FBI man? That didn't bode well.

"When did he call? " "Late this morning. He was looking for her. " '"You remembered what I told you, didn't you? " "Yes. I just said she wasn't here and wasn't expected in."

"Excellent. We need to protect Gin until we can find out what's wrong with her and get her some help.

" "I know. It's just that he sounded worried."

"We're all worried, Barbara." Especially me. "Any calls for me? " "A couple of people looking for appointments. Mr. Covington called to complain about your canceling all surgery this morning. He said his wife was hysterical.

" "She's had that nose for almost fifty years, she'll survive another week with it. No others? No visitors? " '"No. It's been pretty quiet." That was a relief. No calls or visits from any lawenforcement agencies looking for Dr. Lathram. A good indication that Gin had yet to convince anyone.

Maybe there was still time

Time for what? He couldn't see much use in patrolling this area any longer. He had to face it, Gin was gone. She'd hopped a cab, or sneaked into the Metro, or simply walked away. She could be in Virginia or Maryland by now. Or down at the FBBuilding. If she was still around here he would have seen her.

He reached into his pocket for the car keys and found the pager-transducer. Conflicting emotions swirled within him. If Gin walked past right now he'd use it on her, without hesitation, not out of malice but out of the most basic drive of all, self-preservation.

And yet . . . some small part of him was almost glad that she had eluded him.

He found his keys. Time to go. But whtere? Home to sit and wait for the ax to fall? Even if no one came to put the cuffs on him, his plans for the president tomorrow would have to be changed. He would simply do the surgery and forget about the implant. He would destroy the TPD, and then it would be Gin's word against his.

Except for that implant in her leg.

Damn, damn, damn! His options were becoming narrower with each passing hour.

As Duncan turned to head for his car, he saw a monotone sedan pass and pull into the curb a few dozen feet from him, stopping directly under a no-parking sign. A warning alarm rang in his brain, so he turned and crossed Seventeenth, keeping his face averred until he reached the other side. As he mingled with the thickening rush-hour crowd there, he glanced over his shoulder and saw a young, fair-haired man standing on the sidewalk, surveying the square. He seemed to be looking for someone.