Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

“You still pretend you weren’t part of that decision?”

“If I had been, I’m being punished for it now.” Carston stared morosely through the windshield.

“Would Deavers be shocked to learn that you were developing talent on the side?”

Carston was always quick. He pursed his lips and nodded as he talked it through. “For about half a second, then he’ll just be angry. He’s one hundred percent on board with the current program, but he knows my doubts have been increasing. No, he won’t be that surprised.”

“You don’t like how Pace gets things done? He seems like a pragmatic person, I thought you’d get along.”

“So you did put it together. I thought you might. But I’ll bet you never would have if Pace hadn’t overreacted in the first place. Machiavellianism doesn’t bother me – stupidity does. Mistakes happen, but Pace has a penchant for compounding one error with a second that’s worse. And then a third. He’s put us all in this mess.”

“What are you saying, Carston? That we’re on the same side? Everybody makes mistakes, like you said, but you shouldn’t rely on my gullibility again.”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, but it is what it is. I have nothing to gain from the current agenda. If Pace succeeds, Deavers’s star will rise. He’ll end up director of the CIA. My life’s work is already being dismantled. We’re more on the same side than you know.”

“If it makes you happy to say so. It doesn’t change the plan.”

“We go in together,” he mused. “You’re my secret protégée. I insist that you take over for Deavers’s butcher. It can work, up to that point. I don’t know what you think happens then.”

She tried to hide her flinch when Carston said the word butcher . So much depended on how much was left of Kevin.

“We’ll see,” she said, working to keep her voice smooth.

“No, don’t tell me. That’s smart. Just as long as you have a plan.”

She didn’t answer. Her plan wasn’t strong enough.

“Just out of curiosity,” she asked, trying to distract Carston from her reaction. “When did Dominic Haugen die?”

“Two weeks after the lab in Jammu was destroyed.”

She nodded. Then it was as she’d suspected. Barnaby had seen something and begun his preparations.

“I have an idea,” Carston volunteered.

“This should be good.”

“How do you feel about faking some injuries? A sling, maybe? We had a situation in Turkey nine days ago, got some good information from a quick-thinking corporal. Exactly the kind of person I would have been interested in recruiting, but the situation went dark. The corporal didn’t survive the hostile force’s rescue attempt. But maybe the information was actually acquired by my secret side project, who did make it out alive.”

She stared at him.

He held a hand up, as if in surrender. “Okay, we don’t have to do it my way. It was just an idea. Deavers knows the story; it would make my bringing you in feel anchored, less spur of the moment.”

“I think I can manage some injuries,” Alex said dryly.

They’d gone over the story a few times before they reached the rendezvous point, and he’d described the interrogation room in detail. It wasn’t a pretty picture, and she felt their chances for survival getting more bleak.

Carston pulled into the lot attached to the small municipal park and stopped the Bimmer next to the only other car in the lot, as directed. It gave Alex a start, even though she was expecting it, to see the big blond man waiting on the park bench.

This was the first test, and if Daniel didn’t pass, she was pulling the plug. Carston had surely seen the photos of Daniel on the news, no matter how separate he and Deavers had kept their operations. She watched Carston from the corner of her eye, assessing his reaction. His face was a blank.

“Who’s this?” he asked.

“Your new aide.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Cut the engine.”

Daniel got up and walked quickly toward them. Alex watched Carston for any change in expression as Daniel approached.

“I can’t watch you every second, Carston,” she said sweetly. “Pop the trunk.”

She and Carston waited in silence as Daniel moved the gear from the back of the sedan into the BMW’s cargo space. When he was done, he stood beside Carston’s door, waiting.

“Get out,” Alex said.

Slowly, always keeping his hands in view, Carston opened the door and stepped out. As Alex got out, she saw the way he was eyeing Daniel. She tried to appraise Daniel impartially. He was a large man and looked able to handle himself, even with the glasses and the extra paunch. It made sense under these circumstances that Carston would be cautious and probably frightened, though he hid it well.

As instructed, Daniel said nothing. He met Alex’s eyes only briefly and kept his expression neutral. His jaw jutted out just a bit, the way it had when he’d intimidated the drunk boys in Oklahoma City. It made him look dangerous, but also slightly more like Kevin. Had Carston seen photos of Kevin?

Daniel stopped beside the driver’s door, his arms loose at his sides, ready.

“Hands on the roof,” Alex ordered Carston. “Don’t move until I get back.”

Carston assumed the position of a suspect braced against a police car. He kept his head down, but Alex could tell he was examining what he could see of Daniel in the window’s reflection. There was no sign of recognition, but Alex couldn’t be sure if Carston was hiding his response. Alex was distracted by the way the parking-lot lights glinted off their bald heads in the same spots.

“This is Mr. Thomas,” she told Carston. “If you try to give me away, or escape, or hurt me, you’ll be dead in approximately two and a half seconds.”

A bead of sweat was forming at Carston’s temple. If he was faking that, she was truly impressed.

“I’m not going to do anything to endanger Livvy,” he snapped.

“Good. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go give myself some injuries.”

Daniel’s bright blue eyes flickered to her when she said the word injuries; he forced them back to Carston.

All her things were neatly stowed in the cargo hold of the BMW. She unzipped the first-aid duffel bag and rummaged around quickly till she found what she needed, then cut off a short section of gauze and tape. She grabbed her handbag and turned away, leaving the trunk open. The public restroom was just on the other side of the little playground. She walked quickly to the ladies’ room and turned on the lights.

There was no counter, and nothing had been cleaned in days, maybe weeks, so she kept the bag on her shoulder. She used the gritty powdered soap to scrub off Val’s lovely makeup job. It was better this way. The makeup was out of character, and the patch of fake skin would have been a red flag to anyone who looked closely. Her bruises and bandages would draw attention, obviously, but they would also make her less recognizable. People would be less likely to examine the face underneath.

She was happy to see the remnants of her black eyes, the yellow shape of the lingering bruise on her cheek. The glue job on her jaw was too amateur, but a normal person would keep it bandaged regardless.

There were no towels, just a broken air dryer. She used her T-shirt to dry her face, then taped the gauze to her jaw and ear, taking the extra seconds to do the job right, so it looked like a doctor had done it. Her black T-shirt and thick leggings worked – comfortable clothes were part of the job, and the lab coat in the trunk would give her the professional appearance she wanted.

As she walked back to the car in the encroaching darkness, she could hear Carston trying to engage Daniel, but Daniel was staring down at the man with his lips tightly closed.