Stephenie Meyer - The Chemist

Lindauer, who had insisted on being in the room, leaned furiously over the table. He jammed one finger into a slash wound that cut across a burn on Kevin’s chest. Kevin grunted and clenched his jaw.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Beach. The little girl is just a nice rest period for you. Get your strength back. I’ll return later, and then we’ll have some productive conversations.”

“Enough, Doctor, ” Alex snapped in a ringing tone. “I agreed to let you observe, but you will kindly step away from my subject now.”

Lindauer glanced at the mirror as if expecting backup. When he got only silence in response, he frowned sullenly and went to sit in the lone chair. Once he was down, he seemed to collapse a little, whether from exhaustion or disgrace, she couldn’t tell.

Alex turned her back on Lindauer and pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves. The small piece of metal she’d palmed in the process was invisible beneath the right glove.

She stepped to the edge of the table, gingerly clearing a swath in Lindauer’s mess with one foot.

“Hello, Mr. Beach. How are you feeling?”

“Good to go a few more rounds, sweetheart. Looks like somebody already had a nice time with you, eh? Hope it was fun for him.”

While he spit the words through his teeth, she began examining him, shining a small flashlight in his eyes and then assessing the veins in his arms and hands.

“A little dehydrated, I think,” she said. She looked directly at the mirror while she put his right hand back on the table, leaving the thin key under his palm. “I assumed there would be an IV in place. Could I get a pole, please? I have my own saline and needles.”

“I’ll bet you know your way around a pole,” Kevin said.

“No need to be crass, Mr. Beach. Now that I’m here, things will be much more civilized. I do apologize for the current conditions. This is all very unprofessional.” She sniffed scornfully, giving Lindauer her most cutting side-eye. He looked away.

“Honey, if this is the good-cop routine, sorry, but you’re not really my type.”

“I assure you, Mr. Beach, I am not the good cop. I am a specialist, and I should warn you now, I won’t play the same silly games this… interrogator” – the desire to use a less flattering word was clear in her inflection – “has wasted your time with. We’ll get down to business immediately.”

“Yeah, sugar, let’s get down to business, that’s what I’m talking about.” Kevin tried to keep his voice loud and his tone derisive, but she could see the effort it was costing him.

The door opened behind her. She watched in the mirror as the tall soldier brought in an IV pole. So far she’d seen only four others besides Deavers and Lindauer, but there were probably more hidden from view.

“Just put that at the head of the table, thank you,” she said without turning to look at him, voice dismissive. She bent to retrieve the syringe she wanted.

“You gonna dance for me now?” Kevin muttered.

She looked at Kevin coldly as she straightened. “This will be just a sample of what we’ll be doing tonight,” she told him as she circled the table. She placed the syringe by his head while she hung the saline bag and the tubing. The door closed, but she didn’t look away from Kevin. She examined his veins again, then chose his left arm. He didn’t resist. While she carefully inserted the needle, she tried to spy the key she’d given him, but it was nowhere in sight. She picked up the largest blade she could see on the floor and laid it next to his right arm. “You see, I don’t need such crude weapons; I have something better. I always think it’s fairer to let the subject understand what he’s up against before I go full strength. Let me know what you think.”

“I’ll tell you what I think, you -” Kevin launched into an avalanche of profanity that put all his previous creative descriptions to shame. The man had a talent.

“I appreciate your bravery, really, I do,” Alex said when he was done. She held the point of the syringe against the IV port. “But please know, it’s a wasted effort. Playtime is over.”

She stabbed the needle through the plastic and depressed the plunger.

The response was nearly immediate. She heard his breathing accelerate, and then he started shrieking.

Lindauer’s head snapped up. She could tell he’d never gotten a reaction like this from Kevin, despite his best efforts. She heard movement behind the glass as the audience edged closer, and the faint murmur of voices. She thought she could pick out a surprised tone, and it was gratifying. Though, honestly, it was all due to Kevin’s acting.

She knew how he would be feeling now as the strength raced through his veins and all the pain vanished. She’d used more than double the highest dose of Survive she’d ever used on herself, taking into account his greater mass and need. His screams were primal, almost triumphant. She hoped she was the only one to notice that nuance and that he’d remember that the damage done to his body was still very real, whether he felt it any longer or not.

She waited only five minutes – tapping her foot and watching him dispassionately – while he did his part, keeping his screams loud and constant. She wanted him to have as much time with the drugs in his system as possible. When they wore off, he would be incapacitated.

“There, Mr. Beach,” she said as she shot ordinary saline into the IV line. She gave him the cue he would need. “I think we understand each other now, so I can let this end. Shall we talk?”

Kevin took longer to recover than he should have, but then, he didn’t know her drugs. He pretended to come out of it slowly, and she was glad Daniel was standing close to Carston with the venom-coated ring ready. Only Carston would recognize the fraud.

Kevin was still breathing heavily after a minute, and he actually had tears streaming down the sides of his face. It was easy for her to forget he was an undercover professional, because she’d never seen him in the field, but she should have known he would nail this performance.

“Well, Mr. Beach, what now? Shall we continue to full strength, or would you like to talk first?”

He turned to stare at her, his eyes wide with convincing fear.

“Who are you?” he whispered.

“A specialist, as I told you. I believe the gentleman ” – sarcastically, with a nod toward Lindauer – “had some questions for you?”

“If I talk,” he said, still in a whisper, “do you go away?”

“Of course, Mr. Beach. I am merely a means to an end. Once you have satisfied my employers, you will never have to see me again.”

Lindauer was openly gaping now, but Alex was worried. They had to keep moving forward, but at the same time, would anyone believe Kevin could fold so easily?

Kevin moaned and closed his eyes. “They won’t believe me,” he said.

She wasn’t sure how, but she thought his right handcuff was no longer locked to his wrist. There was just the tiniest misalignment of the two halves of the bracelet. She didn’t think anyone could see it but her.

“I’ll believe you, if you tell me the truth. Just tell me what you want to say.”

“I did have help… but… I can’t…”

She took his hand in hers, as if she were soothing him. She felt the key drop into her palm.

“You can tell me. But please don’t try to buy time. I have little patience.”

She patted his hand, then walked around his head to examine the IV line.

“No,” he mumbled weakly. “I won’t.”

“All right, then,” she said, “what do you want to tell me?” She dropped her hand onto his left, inserting the key between his fingers.

“I had help… from a traitor on the inside.”