A/N: Thanks so much for the kind comments! It's good to be back visiting with Mr. Rippner and Miss Reisert, even if they're not mine (something I never remember to say: the characters portrayed herein are the copyrighted property of others, I'm making no money from this, etc.). And even if, I suspect, I'm having a much better time than they are. At least for now. Heh.
*****
A muscle began to twitch in Lisa's jaw. "Why is Jackson dying, Mr. Leon?"
Ah. Ah. I like that. Inquisitive but not accusing. You might well have demanded "What have you done to him?" Part of your management training--?
"Polite relationships are productive relationships, Matthew."
I love this. First names now, is it--?
"You can call me Lisa. You already have, Matthew." Lisa's heart was thudding in her chest. In the background on the other end, she could hear Rippner-- she had to assume it was Rippner-- making terrible sounds: choking, gasping. A rustling, as of a body writhing on a plastic sheet--
So I have. Leon chuckled. He left her hanging for five lengthy, silent seconds. I've poisoned him, Lisa.
Lisa leaned against Rippner's desk. "Is there an antidote, Matthew?"
"Matt." Please.
"Matt. Is there an antidote?"
Don't you want to know why...?
She could feel tears starting in her eyes. Frustration, an awful fear-- "I'm more interested in helping him."
Ah. Honesty. Did he give you the speech, Lise?-- May I call you "Lise"--?-- You know: how he never lies, why he never lies, blah blah blah--?
"There is an antidote, isn't there, Matt? Or we wouldn't be having this conversation. Right? You could simply sit and watch him die, and I would leave for my convention and never know what happened to him."
Leon's tone was genuinely admiring: Smart girl.
"I have my moments." Her jaw was beginning to shake; she had to fight to sound calm. "What can I do to help him?"
A little experiment. Two options.
"What are they?"
There's a Fed Ex package outside Rippner's door. At least I hope there is. You know how it is: sometimes you pay for one-hour service and the bastards screw you over--
"What's in the package, Matt?"
Two things. One: the address at which you'll find a certain dumpster. Inside the dumpster is a plastic baggie containing a key. The key opens a train-terminal locker-- cheesy, yes, I know. Inside the locker is a duffel containing one hundred thousand dollars in unmarked bills. You'll have to hurry, though: the trash service that empties that dumpster will be by before noon, and it's-- let's see-- eleven twenty-four now. You take the key; you take the money; you forget you ever met Jackson Rippner. Sound good, Lise--? It sounds good to me.
"What else is in the package, Matt?"
A small black box. There's a hypodermic inside it.
The shaking was beginning to spread through Lisa's torso, her arms and legs. She could no longer hear Rippner moving. A tear broke free and ran down her right cheek; she caught it savagely with the heel of her hand.
"What's in the hypo, Matt? Tell me, please."
If you look even half as collected as you sound, Lisa, my God-- I'd hate to play poker with you.
"Is the antidote in the hypo?"
Mmmm-- She could imagine him lounging back in a chair, leaning casually into a doorframe, smiling (however he looked: all she could picture was an archetypical leer). At that moment, when he as much as purred into the phone, Lisa had never hated anyone so much in her life. That came as a shock: Rippner threatening her father that double handful of months back had nothing on this monster, right here, right now.
A third of it is, Leon said, finally.
"Where are the other two thirds?"
I have one right here.
"And the other one?"
It's in you.
Bastard--! Rippner's voice, a raw snarl. Lisa started in shock at the sound of it. Leon laughed--
And there you thought you'd be stoic 'til the end. That's the first bet you lose today, Jack.
"What do I do?" Lisa asked.
Wait, Lise-- Just a moment-- From Leon's end, she could hear footsteps, crinkling. Then a muffled thud, a sharp gasp-- There. Better, Jack--? Consider that one settled, shall we?
"What do I do?" Lisa asked again. She left Rippner's study, crossed the apartment to the front door, the locking panel. No need to re-check the note he'd left; rattled or not, she had a head for numbers. She keyed the clearing code while she waited for Leon to stop kicking Rippner, beating him, whatever the hell he was doing.
The door opened. Just outside, on the black-and-white-tiled floor of the foyer, was a Fed Ex one-hour-service box. She looked around, then picked it up. It was very light. She was closing the door again when Leon said:
You don't really want to do this.
"Maybe I won't," Lisa said casually. Her hand shaking, she took a paring knife from the block near the kitchen sink; she set the box on the counter, slit the sealing tape. "Tell me what it is."
The antidote-- the third in the hypo-- needs to interact with human blood plasma. You inject yourself with the contents of the hypo; I give you my address; you come here. And by the time you arrive, your part of the antidote-- the part by then running through your veins-- will be ready to mix with the third of the antidote I have with me. It will take the contents of the hypo a minimum of fifteen minutes to react usefully with your blood. No less than that. Do you understand?
Lisa opened the Fed Ex package. Inside were two things. The first was a slip of paper bearing a typed address. The second was a small hard-sided black box about the size and shape of an eyeglasses case. She opened it. Inside, strapped against gray felt, was a capped hypodermic.
"Yes, I understand." She glanced about for a pen, found one resting on a blank notepad near the refrigerator. "Give me your address, Matt."
I have to warn you about the contents of that hypo, Lise--
"Your address, please."
His tone was jokingly serious, a little sing-song, lyrical: Side effects may include, but may not be limited to, extreme dizziness, drowsiness, and muscle cramps. It is not recommended that you drive or operate heavy machinery while under the influence of this or any other--
"Matt--"
You have thirty-seven minutes to get here. The playfulness had left Leon's voice. After that, poor Jackson will be too far gone. Nasty stuff, what he's been given. Here: I'm only going to say this once--
-- and Lisa wrote out the address as he quoted it to her.
Not that you'll use it, Leon added. Take the money, Lisa; enjoy your life. Goodbye.
Just before the connection terminated, she heard Rippner again--
Lisa, don't--
-- and the line went dead.
*****
Don't what--?
Lisa looked at her watch. Eleven thirty-three.
Don't try to help me? Don't believe him?
Three times she made and unmade a tight fist of her left hand. She tapped the inside of her left elbow as she'd seen the nurse in the bloodmobile do, to wake a vein.
That's the first bet you lose today, Jack, Leon had said.
The first.
Was she the second...?
Did the hypo in fact contain her own share of the poison Leon had given Rippner?
"No." She said it firmly, out loud. Leon would want Rippner to know if she were dead; given the timetable Leon had set, Rippner would be unable to know: he'd be dead well before she was. Or before Leon would have a chance to verify her death.
Eleven thirty-four. Thirty-six minutes to go.
She had Leon's address. He wouldn't have lied about it: he didn't intend to mislead her by sending her off-course. No, he was running on ego: he wanted Rippner to know that she wouldn't come. The driving directions were simple enough, the distance reasonable. If she kept her head, she could be at Leon's place in less than twenty minutes. And then--
What was she doing? She had no guarantee, none whatsoever, that Leon would provide the third part of the antidote. He might have lied to her, if not to Rippner: Rippner might be dead before she got there. Or Leon might kill her in front of him. He might do other things to her first--
She shuddered.
Lisa, don't--
Lisa took a deep breath, slowly released it. Then she jetted the air from the hypo and injected the contents into her left arm.