"I'm not dead," Shane growled from the couch. "I can hear you."
Steve exchanged a look with John. They had thought they were whispering quietly enough that Shane would not hear them. Steve shrugged and said, "Sorry, dude."
"Apology accepted," Shane said, sounding irritated. He was sprawled on the couch in the library, his eyes closed. "Just please stop asking one another if I need a doctor. If I need one, I'll tell you."
John walked over to the couch. "You know we're just worried about you, partner. That was a lot of running, and you pushed yourself."
Shane sat up and grimaced. "I'm not an invalid." He looked over at Steve. "Look, enough about me. What's on the next disk?"
They had already gone through two of the disks, having dragged Eve's computer from her bedroom and set it up in the library. There was little on the disks about Lawrence that they did not already know, other than that the ISA's search of the destroyed Mauritius compound had turned up several charred bodies in the wreckage. The ISA suspected they had been test subjects.
Steve was getting frustrated at the lack of useful information considering what they had just gone through. They had risked a lot to break into the ISA field office and had barely escaped. Shane had assured him that the field director would cover up the break-up. After leaving the office, they had returned to the motel and freed their captives. Shane had warned that if the field director did not respond to calls quickly, the break-in would be reported to Tarrington and other ISA higher-ups. Before letting them go, John had instructed the field director to claim he had ordered a test of the office's security.
So far, the cops had not raided Shane's, so maybe that had worked. But Steve had spent a lifetime looking over his shoulder and he was not going to let down his guard now.
John finished putting the disk in and opened the first file. It was the first audio recording they had copied and Steve could not avoid feeling chilled as he heard Lawrence Alamain's voice.
"Who's the other dude?" Steve asked.
"Ivan Marais," Shane said. "Lawrence's right-hand. You probably don't recognize him, but you spent about a half-hour listening to him through a wall at Lawrence's house."
Steve remembered breaking into Lawrence and waiting for someone to leave the office. That explained why the voice sounded a little familiar. They all listened as Lawrence and this Ivan guy discussed potential buyers.
"Who are some of these guys?" Steve asked. "I get Iran, Qaddafi, the IRA and Hezbollah, but I've never heard of some of these others."
Shane filled in the gaps. "The 'Tigers' is probably a reference to the Tamil terrorists in Sri Lanka, the 'ETA' are Basque separatists in Spain,'al-Qaeda' is a fairly new Islamacist group, and 'Shining Path' is a communist group in Peru. It looks like Lawrence is casting a wide net. The more potential buyers of his toxin, the higher the price. That weapon in some of those hands. . . ."
As Shane's voice tapered off, Steve got the picture. Alamain was willing to sell his poison to the highest bidder, without regard to how it might be used.
They listened further but there was nothing else informative on the recording. Steve stomped his feet, growing even more impatient. "There's got to be something about Salem on there."
"We just have to keep listening," Shane said. He sounded like he was half-asleep.
John watched Shane with a concerned look on his face. "Maybe we should finish this tomorrow," he said. When Shane scowled at him, John just sighed. "Okay. . . . Here's the next file."
Once again, they heard Lawrence's voice, but then it seemed to cut out.
"Dammit, what did he say?" John asked. They could tell Lawrence had something, but the words were muffled, as if he might be talking to himself. John stopped the audio playback and restarted it.
Steve listened closely, catching the word "Salem," but little else.
"I think he said something about being under our noses," John said. "I couldn't make it out completely."
"We already knew that," Shane pointed out. He had sat up and was listening closely. "If he's testing the toxin here, he'll want to be close."
"But where?" Steve asked sharply. "He's got to have a hideout somewhere."
Steve felt silly for even saying that. They all already knew Lawrence would need a hideout. It was just his frustration talking. The recordings were their only real hope for finding out where Lawrence planned to hide and, so far, they revealed nothing. The room fell silent as that recording ended and John opened another file. The voices came through clearly, indicating that they were closer to the bug than in the other recordings.
"Ah, Doctor," came Lawrence's voice.
The response was in heavily accented English. "We have made significant progress, Herr Alamain. The testing goes much better with the new test subjects."
"All I care about is whether the testing is successful," Lawrence said. "And if the toxin will be effective by my deadline." There was a pause before Lawrence probed further. "It will be lethal by my deadline, won't it?"
The doctor sounded nervous. "I . . . ."
"Won't it?" Lawrence asked, though it was as much a command as a question. "December 1 is my deadline."
"Of course, Herr Alamain. If this new formulation works, it will be just a week or two. Well before December."
They could hear Lawrence chuckle. "That would be best. My plans for the demonstration are already underway."
John stopped the recording and they all looked at one another. It was the first week of December. The deadline had already passed. John shook his head. "If Alamain's on the move-"
"-then the toxin's lethal," Shane finished.
"Great," Steve muttered. "So we still know nothing about his plans."
Shane shook his head. "Not true. We already knew he planned to show off the toxin in Salem. Now we have a timetable."
"What timetable?" Steve asked.
"Lawrence wouldn't be talking to so many buyers if he doesn't have the auction date set." Shane pursed his lips and closed his eyes. For a moment, Steve wondered if he was going to fall asleep, but then Shane opened his eyes again and said, "He wanted the toxin lethal by the first of December, which means he has a definite time frame for his great demonstration. You have to figure he needs a little time between the toxin is lethal and when he releases it, but that could be any time after the first."
And it's already December, Steve thought. He looked at Shane. "So you're saying he could release that stuff any day now?"
Shane did not have to answer.
"We have to tell people," Steve said. "Jack can have a story in tomorrow's Spectator."
"No!" Shane and John both said in unison.
"What do you mean 'no'?" Steve said. Were they serious? Lawrence could kill hundreds of people in Salem.
Shane sighed. "I know it's hard for you, Steve, but we can't go public with this. It will start a panic and Lawrence will just move his demonstration elsewhere."
"But you're talking about Salem," Steve insisted. "Our families and friends are here."
"And we'll protect them," Shane said, sounding completely certain. "Right now, Salem is the best-prepared city in the country for this. Carly's stockpiling the antidote and is on watch for any reports of suspicious symptoms."
Steve scowled. He looked at John, who appeared troubled, and then asked, "And if that antidote doesn't work?"
"The hope is that we never need to use it," Shane said. "We can still find Lawrence. But if we start a panic, he could go anywhere and they'd have no chance once that toxin's released."
"But you're talking about our families and friends," Steve repeated. Before Shane could respond, he raised his hands. "I know. . . I know. . . . Those families in other places are important too." Steve knew Shane's philosophy, but he still did not agree with it.
There was a long silence before John stepped toward Steve. He hesitated, as if he were thinking, then said, "We . . . we have to do it like this. I know it's hard . . . for you, but our best shot at stopping him is keeping Lawrence in Salem." To Steve's ears, John did not sound like he particularly believed what he was saying.
Steve hated the idea, but he remembered that he had agreed to follow Shane on this. "Fine," Steve said. "I won't say anything."
Shane's eyes locked on Steve's. "Steve, we're going to do everything we can to make sure Lawrence Alamain doesn't hurt anyone we care about. Our families will be safe." He ran a hand over his eyes and turned to John. "How many more files are there?"
"Just some background stuff," John said. "No more audio."
"Damn. . . ." Shane shook his head. "If only we had more time in there."
John shook his head. "I doubt there was much more to find, partner. It looks like the ISA doesn't have much more than we do."
"So now the question is where would Lawrence go once he gets here," Shane said. "He has to know his old house is out of the question. That old house the Jencon people were using for their plots burned down."
"And the old Jencon refinery site was taken over by the bank and sold," John said.
That came as news to Steve. "When did that happen?"
"Last June, right?" John looked to Shane for confirmation. "Yeah, I think it was around June. After Bo blew up the refinery, they discussed rebuilding, but then, I guess, Lawrence cratered the idea as part of his good-will efforts in Salem. I guess they just stopped paying on it."
"So who bought it from the bank?" Steve asked. Shane and John both shook their heads. That made Steve think. Maybe they should look into it. He gathered Lawrence was either in jail or in trial at the time, so it was long odds that he was involved in the refinery sale. But it still couldn't hurt to check into the sale. He would call Jack in the morning and see what he could turn up.
While Steve was thinking, Shane's attention must have turned to John, because he asked, "Hey, are you okay?"
Steve looked over and saw that John had walked over to the mantle and was looking at some of the Brady family photographs. He turned back.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
Something about the way he said it made Steve doubt it was sincere. Perhaps it was the way they had talked about protecting their families had made John think about the Bradys.
"I'd . . . I'd better get home or Isabella's going to send out the National Guard." John looked at Steve and then at Shane. "We'll touch base tomorrow."