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scandal since Watergate. And with his face splashed all over the media, just how long would he last until somebody put a bullet through his head? Even if he was put in a witness protection program, they'd still get him. If he had to go underground, the last people he'd want to know was the government. The only option was the boy's doctor. |
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Earlier he had called the man to say he had information about Matthew Hazzard's condition. He did not specify, nor did he identify himself. The doctor tried to press him for information, but he said he'd be in at eleven o'clock, then hung up. It would be a short visit during which he would unload all he could recall of Project Black Flag, the science, the monstrous consequences, the wanton disposal and, now, a deadly coverup. He'd name names, show him the obituaries, even his old project notes. And the warning that this was a high-level coverup that might extend to the Hazzard family. Once he'd done all that, he would disappear forever. |
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It was a little after ten and he was lying on his back under the van held up in the rear by the wheeljack. It would take him only a few minutes to clamp up the new tailpipe. He was just fitting the bolts in place when he heard a car approach. He rolled back out. A maroon sedan with Rhode Island plates had pulled up, and a tall, thin-faced man in a powder blue sport coat approached. |
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Jack stiffened. He lowered his hand so that it rested against the snub-nosed .38 that filled his right pocket. "Who wants to know?" |
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The man handed him a card. There were only three fingers on his hand. But no scars of shiny skin to indicate an accident or burn. "My name is Jerry Mars. I'm a private investigator." |
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The man's face was vaguely familiar. "What can I do for you?" |
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"Well . . ." he said, looking around to say it was private, "my business is rather confidential." |
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"This'll have to do," Jack said, meaning the tar-top driveway. |
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The man made an exaggerated nod of conciliation. "No problem." |
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Except for the cars rolling by, nobody was in sight. The man removed a newspaper and held it up. The photo of Marcus Wiley stared at Jerry. "You might have seen the article." He reached into his briefcase, but before he could remove what he was going for, Jack had out his gun. |
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