The driver shot him a resentful look. “This thing doesn’t have wings, you know.”

Rye huffed a laugh. “Yeah, I know. But I’ve got a twenty in my pocket that can be yours on top of the fare, plus the expected fifteen percent, if you stopping bitching and drive. But don’t take the exit to the main terminals. Take the one just before it.”

Brynn said, “Back way?”

“Back alley.”

“What’s there?”

“Lots of porn.”

Chapter 22

8:58 p.m.

Delores ended the call with a decisive tap on her phone screen. “They missed them by minutes.”

Nate, still seated at the desk where she had assigned him a place, ran his hand over the top of his head. Richard gripped the rolled armrests of the easy chair in which he sat, an evident attempt to keep himself from flying into a rage.

Only by an act of will did Delores keep her voice steady as she recounted for them everything Goliad had told her. “According to him, they must have used an emergency exit. It’s the only way they could have gotten out of the building unseen. He doesn’t know if they left the premises on foot, or if they have transportation now, but either way, they disappeared. He’s spent the past twenty minutes cruising through the complex in search of them.”

“Did you give Goliad her home address?”

“He’s on his way there now. But she would be a fool to go home, and she’s no fool, which has become all too obvious.” She turned to Nate. “How could you have let her out of your sight before checking the box to be certain that the vial was in there?”

“She didn’t sneak the drug while I was with her,” he exclaimed. “Blame your two watchdogs. They were with her for hours. You should be castigating them, not me.”

Delores hugged her elbows, running her hands over her upper arms in agitation. To a large extent, Nate was right, but she’d be damned before admitting it. Besides, who was he to correct her? He was getting way above himself.

“Well,” she said, “we can be glad we made that preemptive strike. The girl is hundreds of miles away, surrounded by media and medical personnel. Dr. O’Neal can’t get to her. But we must get to Dr. O’Neal.” She checked her wristwatch. “Need I remind anyone that we now have less than twenty-four hours to start the infusion?”

She went to Richard’s chair, bent over the back of it, and hugged him from behind. “We’ve been under shorter deadlines, darling.” She kissed the top of his head, then turned to Nate. “What was the pharmacologist’s last stand on sneaking another vial?”

“He’s unbending. The offer of more money didn’t faze him. And, he, uh, raised another sticking point.” He left the desk, went to the bar, and helped himself to three fingers of their best scotch.

Delores said, “Well?”

Nate shifted his gaze to Richard, who sat contained, but rather like a volcano building up pressure before an eruption. Delores recognized the signs. Nate did not. He faced Richard squarely.

“During our last conversation, the pharmacologist used the word ‘transparency.’ More than once.”

“In what context?” Richard asked.

“The upcoming Senate committee hearing. I believe it’s scheduled for week after next?” He sipped his drink, cleared his throat. “The opioid crisis has created a rush—many fear a dangerous rush—to put treatment drugs on the market. This has placed the commissioner of the FDA and the heads of several pharmaceutical companies in the hot seat to defend their haste. You’re sitting on that committee, Richard, as an outspoken critic of the accelerated testing, and as a banner carrier for enforcing stricter regulations.”

“You’re telling me things I already know, Nate,” he said. “And the crisis I’m most concerned about tonight is the one taking place in this sitting room.” To emphasize the last four words, he made stabbing motions toward the floor with his index finger.

“I understand, of course,” Nate said. “But, you’ve been advocating a ‘clamp-down’ on the sponsors of experimental drugs, especially those covered by the Orphan Drug Act. You’re quoted as saying it’s not ‘cost effective’ to spend millions on developing a drug when relatively few patients will benefit from it. As you know, GX-42 falls into that category.”

He paused to let all that sink in, although Delores had gotten his point, and so had Richard.

Nate swirled the scotch in his glass. “This has created a moral dilemma for the pharmacologist. He’s conflicted over providing it to you, when you’re on a soapbox demanding budget cuts that would curtail its testing. To paraphrase him, it’s like you want to squeak in under the wire before limitations, heatedly endorsed by you, are implemented.”

Richard’s fingers turned white with tension around the armrest. “To a man of integrity, as, according to you, this scientist is, I can see where that might create a moral dilemma.”

“Well, then—”

“But you have no integrity, Nate.” He leveled his fiercest glare on him. “How dare you take the high ground. Do not speak to me about moral dilemmas, or transparency. In short, do not fuck with me again.”

Those reverberating words were punctuated by a buzzer, signaling someone at the estate entrance gate. “Media, no doubt,” Delores said. “Trying to follow up today’s story about that girl. The housekeeper will take care of it.”

She picked up her gold lighter and fiddled with it, turning it end on end as she began to pace. “For the time being, let’s assume that the pharmacologist is a lost cause. Where would Brynn O’Neal have gone, Nate?”

“I—”

“Excuse me, Senator, Mrs. Hunt.” The housekeeper was standing in the open doorway. “A Deputy Don Rawlins is at the gate. He says it’s important that he see you.”

Nate covered his face with both hands. “Don’t these clowns ever give up?”

Delores spun around to confront him, demanding, “What could they want with us?”

“I have no idea,” Nate said. “When they saw me out of the parking garage, they were eating humble pie for wasting my time.”

Turning to the housekeeper, Delores said, “Tell them that we’ve retired—”

Richard cut her off. “Let them in.” The housekeeper withdrew to carry out the order. Richard said to Nate and Delores, “Information is power. Let’s see what they have to say. Maybe they’ve uncovered something useful to us about Dr. O’Neal or the pilot.”

Nate downed his scotch. Delores checked her hair and lipstick in the wall mirror and was standing in her “senator’s wife pose”—feet in fourth position, hands clasped at her waist—when the housekeeper led the two officers into the sitting room.

“Gentlemen,” Delores said, smiling. “Excuse our informality. We weren’t expecting company. Other than our dear friend Nate Lambert, whom I understand you’ve met.”

Hats in hands, they introduced themselves by name and politely shook hands with her and Richard. “An honor, sir,” Rawlins said. He looked over at Nate. “Doctor.”

Wilson’s greeting was equally uncordial toward Nate.

Turning on the charm, Delores motioned the two officers into chairs and played hostess. “I know from Nate that you’ve had an awfully long day. It can’t have been much of a Thanksgiving for either of you. Would you care for something? I can offer you all the leftover turkey sandwiches you can eat.”

They smiled as expected, but declined the sandwiches as well as an offer of pie. “Just coffee, please,” she said to the housekeeper. “I think we could all do with that.” She perched on the arm of Richard’s chair and placed her hand on his shoulder. “I think the senator and I are missing a link here. What brings you?”

Richard said, “You know my stance on supporting law enforcement officers. How can we help you?”

Wilson took the lead and consulted a note he’d made on his cell phone. “We have a Georgia license plate number we’d like confirmed as being registered to Mrs. Hunt. Black Mercedes.” He read off the number.

Delores looked at Richard, and he at her, and then both turned to the deputies. She said, “I have no idea.”

“Nor do I,” Richard said. “We’re not personally responsible for the upkeep of the automobiles we own and use, either here or in Washington.”

“This car was in Howardville this morning.”

“Oh! Then that must’ve been the car Goliad drove up there,” she said.

“Goliad have a last name?”

She laughed. “I’m sure he does, but I’ve only ever known him by the single name. I’m sure his full name is in our employee files.”

“I’d like to have his full name when you can get it for me, please.”

“Of course. He’s signed off for the night, but I can get it to you first thing tomorrow.”

“Did he get a parking ticket in your town?” Richard asked with his most diplomatic smile. “If you’re here to collect the fine, I’m happy to pay.”

Wilson forced a laugh. The other one, who in Delores’s opinion had a pugnacious face, didn’t crack a smile.