"c222" - читать интересную книгу автора (Burt Andrew - Noontide Night)

12:16 P.M., Monday, February 21, 2000
Manukau, New Zealand

Queen Street was swarming with lunch crowd. Smells of fish and fresh coffee intermingled in the cafe where Axton's brother suggested they meet. Desiree took the proffered vial of poison from Stefan Axton while he sipped his tea with the other hand. The label read "cig." "This isn't fatal, right?" she confirmed. She didn't want to kill anyone. "Ciguatera is very, very rarely fatal. One time in a thousand perhaps. But it will debilitate your friends for many days in a most unpleasant way. Possibly months." He smiled pixieshly. "I think you'll be very pleased. Or as my father would say, most appropriately at this moment, 'So I went to the angel and told him to give me the little scroll; and he said to me, "Take it and eat; it will be bitter to your stomach, but sweet as honey in your mouth."'" Desiree resisted saying how much it irritated her when his brother spewed biblical quotes; Stefan's voice was at least genuine. Instead, she quickly prayed she was right that if the puppetmasters grew ill the puppets would fall to the floor. "So how soon does it act?" "Could be within minutes of ingestion, or as much as a day, but usually within two to six hours. Most people acquire it by eating tainted fish for dinner, and thus wake up with... symptoms... in the middle of the night." "I have to put this in fish? I don't know how often they have fish brought in." "Oh no no, you can put it on anything. Just inject this into their steak, or baked potato, or a tiny drop in their beer. In fact, it's a pretty robust little toxin. Can't break it down by cooking or freezing, it doesn't emit any odor or flavor. People who acquire it in the, ah, usual way typically say 'but it was the best fish I ever ate.' It's actually quite a common ailment around here. Hard to test for. They'll never even suspect it was deliberate." But come midnight Desiree wasn't so confident. She dared not hint even to Matty what she had stashed in her panties, and once inside left the vial in her basement hiding place for hours while she stole precious cuddling time with Jeremy not once, but twice. "Oh, my darling baby, what should I do?" she whispered into his blanketed ear. She rocked back and forth. She'd found the necessary syringe easily enough, and had "duct walked" through the kitchen twice. It would be terribly easy. The Strong mostly hibernated at night, leaving no goons in the kitchen. Even when they were preparing breakfasts, she'd noticed on prior days, they had the "cooks" distribute the food to the hostages, leaving the kitchen again mostly empty. There was no rush. She could work up her courage any time. Any time now. And that was her problem. The idea thrilled her, seeing all those scums doubling over in pain, or whatever nasty evils Stefan had been coy about. But the terror of doing it... Another pang of conscience seized her. What if it was fatal? No, he'd specifically said it wasn't. Maybe she should find a library in the hospital and look this up. But that would be suspicious, an engineer rifling through medical texts. She paced around the hospital, oblivious she'd dropped the pretext of hunting ducts. She visited Jeremy a third time, around three a.m. He was colicky and fussy. She comforted him, and his crying subsided, but not his cough. Damn! She knew she should have let him sleep. She shouldn't have woken him before, and certainly not so often. She'd needed courage; how dare she try to get it from her son. She laid him back in his incubator and fetched a doctor. Dr. Wiltshire soothed her. "Don't worry, Ms. Hyland" she said. "Babies get this way. We'll keep our eyes on 'im." Desiree sighed shakily as she paced the floors again. She had so much mothering to learn. That bolstered her resolve to poison the terrorists' food. They were stealing her life. Okay, Desiree. What was it Morgan always said? Buck up. She gritted her teeth and went to retrieve the liberating vial.

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Chapter 22.2

12:16 P.M., Monday, February 21, 2000
Manukau, New Zealand

Queen Street was swarming with lunch crowd. Smells of fish and fresh coffee intermingled in the cafe where Axton's brother suggested they meet. Desiree took the proffered vial of poison from Stefan Axton while he sipped his tea with the other hand. The label read "cig." "This isn't fatal, right?" she confirmed. She didn't want to kill anyone. "Ciguatera is very, very rarely fatal. One time in a thousand perhaps. But it will debilitate your friends for many days in a most unpleasant way. Possibly months." He smiled pixieshly. "I think you'll be very pleased. Or as my father would say, most appropriately at this moment, 'So I went to the angel and told him to give me the little scroll; and he said to me, "Take it and eat; it will be bitter to your stomach, but sweet as honey in your mouth."'" Desiree resisted saying how much it irritated her when his brother spewed biblical quotes; Stefan's voice was at least genuine. Instead, she quickly prayed she was right that if the puppetmasters grew ill the puppets would fall to the floor. "So how soon does it act?" "Could be within minutes of ingestion, or as much as a day, but usually within two to six hours. Most people acquire it by eating tainted fish for dinner, and thus wake up with... symptoms... in the middle of the night." "I have to put this in fish? I don't know how often they have fish brought in." "Oh no no, you can put it on anything. Just inject this into their steak, or baked potato, or a tiny drop in their beer. In fact, it's a pretty robust little toxin. Can't break it down by cooking or freezing, it doesn't emit any odor or flavor. People who acquire it in the, ah, usual way typically say 'but it was the best fish I ever ate.' It's actually quite a common ailment around here. Hard to test for. They'll never even suspect it was deliberate." But come midnight Desiree wasn't so confident. She dared not hint even to Matty what she had stashed in her panties, and once inside left the vial in her basement hiding place for hours while she stole precious cuddling time with Jeremy not once, but twice. "Oh, my darling baby, what should I do?" she whispered into his blanketed ear. She rocked back and forth. She'd found the necessary syringe easily enough, and had "duct walked" through the kitchen twice. It would be terribly easy. The Strong mostly hibernated at night, leaving no goons in the kitchen. Even when they were preparing breakfasts, she'd noticed on prior days, they had the "cooks" distribute the food to the hostages, leaving the kitchen again mostly empty. There was no rush. She could work up her courage any time. Any time now. And that was her problem. The idea thrilled her, seeing all those scums doubling over in pain, or whatever nasty evils Stefan had been coy about. But the terror of doing it... Another pang of conscience seized her. What if it was fatal? No, he'd specifically said it wasn't. Maybe she should find a library in the hospital and look this up. But that would be suspicious, an engineer rifling through medical texts. She paced around the hospital, oblivious she'd dropped the pretext of hunting ducts. She visited Jeremy a third time, around three a.m. He was colicky and fussy. She comforted him, and his crying subsided, but not his cough. Damn! She knew she should have let him sleep. She shouldn't have woken him before, and certainly not so often. She'd needed courage; how dare she try to get it from her son. She laid him back in his incubator and fetched a doctor. Dr. Wiltshire soothed her. "Don't worry, Ms. Hyland" she said. "Babies get this way. We'll keep our eyes on 'im." Desiree sighed shakily as she paced the floors again. She had so much mothering to learn. That bolstered her resolve to poison the terrorists' food. They were stealing her life. Okay, Desiree. What was it Morgan always said? Buck up. She gritted her teeth and went to retrieve the liberating vial.


back | next home