“Yes, immediately. Quickly now!” he urged.
She nodded and turned, then scurried out of the room.
“Very clever, Doc. You had a trigger word and she’s called them already, I’d guess. She better hope they don’t get here before I leave.”
Strong leaned forward and handed him the file. “This is all I have.”
It was thick, perhaps a quarter of an inch. “You got all of this from him in a few weeks?”
“He’s… a complicated man.” MacMillan’s case had been fascinating. Now Strong could only wish he’d never heard of him.
“Good, good.” Van Kamp rose. “Here.” He tossed the glass vial to Strong. It pirouetted, turning end over end as it flew through the air.
Strong snatched at it. He bobbled it twice, the glass vial dropping, heading towards the hardwood coffee table. Strong snatched at it again, his fingers grasping glass, a wave of relief spreading across his face.
Van Kamp walked to the door. “Now, if I were you, I’d get yourself to a hospital, mate, see if they can figure out what I gave you.”
Strong stared at him. “What?!”
“Yeah, well, they can’t give you an antidote if you don’t know what the poison is. You should have bargained for that instead of the vial.”
“But… but you said…”
“I never lie, mate. I said I’d give you the vial, and I said you need an antidote or you’ll die. I never said the vial was the antidote.”
Strong’s heart was pumping now, pounding in his chest as fear began to set in. It had become hard to swallow.
“You… Fuck…”
“Now I’m going to go have a word with your lady up front, yeah? Problem is she’s seen my face. I noticed you had active security, so she’s going to show me how I access the recording. Then, I’m going to kill her, too. But she doesn’t have anything I need and I’m not getting paid, so I’ll make it quick.”
“You… Gahk!” Strong grabbed at his own throat out of reflex, tilting his head back, the sensation of swallowing his own tongue settling in. “Please…” he managed. “I have a family… a daughter…”
Van Kamp’s shoulders barely registered a shrug. “Eh. Not my problem, mate. But… nice meeting you, I suppose. In the end, I guess making me wait got you ten more minutes alive, so… not a bad decision in the end. The rest? Well… you can’t win them all.”
He left through the door he’d used to enter.
Strong tried to whip out his phone. Halfway from his pocket, he lost all sensation in his right arm and hand, the phone falling to the floor beside his chair.
From the lobby, he heard Jenny shriek. He tried to move, to rise so that he could help her. But his legs wouldn’t work. Nothing would.
He felt his breathing labor. He wanted to look around, call out for help, scream, fight for his life.
But it had already been taken from him.
24BAKERSFIELD, CALIFORNIA
Bob wiled away the remainder of the evening with a book, a thriller about the environment that was badly out of date but engagingly written.
He slept soundly.
But before the alarm clock could wake him at six thirty the next morning, a fist pounded on the door three times.
He got up and pulled on his jeans from the day before.
Bob checked the window from behind the curtain.
Officers Jeb Fowler and David Czernowitz were both in full uniform.
After retrieving his blue golf shirt from the day prior and putting it on, he fished his wallet out of his jacket pocket and took out the needle-thin set of lockpicks. He gripped them in his left hand, between his ring and middle fingers.
He opened the door.
“Mr. Richmond, as you are already aware, I am Officer Fowler of the Bakersfield Police Department, and this my partner, Officer Czernowitz. We have a warrant for your arrest, sir. We’ve received a complaint that we believe to be accurate that you did on the nineteenth of September unlawfully assault Mr. Vernon James Kopec of Bakersfield. I am going to restrain you now. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back.”
On cue, his partner’s hand drifted to just above his holster.
Bob sighed deeply and turned around. He held his hands together in fists, holding the lockpick tightly. “You know darn well this is bullshit,” he said. “There are stores and traffic cams along Nineteenth Street. This won’t stick, and I’ll be out by tomorrow… Wednesday at the latest.”
“You have the right to remain silent,” Fowler intoned. He slapped the cuffs on Bob’s wrists and closed them. His partner began to pat Bob down. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”
“He’s clean,” Czernowitz said.
“Officer Fowler,” Bob asked, “does anyone ever wish to speak with you?”
“Hardy har har. That’s what I heard about you—”
“I’m a funny man. Yeah, so people keep reminding me. I think your friend Tommy Kopec said the same thing.”
