Bloodline by F. Paul Wilson

a hundred yards away from the other cars when he saw Bethlehem step out of the food court.
    "Down!"
    Levy ducked as they raced past. Bethlehem didn't so much as glance in their direction as he hurried back toward his car.
    As Jack pulled into the southbound traffic, he said, "Okay, we're clear now."
    Levy straightened and stared at him. "Who are you?"
    "Never mind that. What's Jerry Bethlehem have against you?"
    "Jerry Bethlehem? That wasn't—" And then suddenly he clammed.
    Wasn't Bethlehem? That meant Levy knew his attacker and knew him as someone else.
    Will the real Jerry Bethlehem please stand up?
    "Well, if he wasn't Jerry Bethlehem, who was he?"
    Levy ran a shaking hand over his face. "I don't know."
    "You're a lousy liar. Do you or don't you know Jerry Bethlehem?"
    "Never heard of him."
    Another lie.
    Levy turned toward him. "But never mind this Bethlehem or whoever he is. Who are you and why did you—?"
    "Pluck you from the slavering jaws of death? Name's John Robertson. I'm a private investigator. I've been trying to talk to you for two days now but you keep ducking me. Why is that, Doctor Levy?"
    "I remember. You called my office today. Look, I'm sorry, but I'm very busy lately and—"'
    "I also called your house last night—and no, I'm not the guy who's been hanging up on you. That was most likely your friend Bethlehem."
    "He's not my friend! I—"
    Jack watched out of the corner of his eye as he asked, "Ever hear of a guy named Gerhard—Michael Gerhard?"
    "No. Never."
    The sudden stiffening of Levy's posture said otherwise.
    "He's dead. Murdered."
    Further stiffening. His voice dropped to a whisper. "My God! That's… awful. I mean, it's awful for anyone to be murdered, but what's this got to do with me?"
    "Because there's a chance Bethlehem did it and I think you were going to end up the same way."
    Jack then proceeded to describe the scene in Gerhard's bathroom and the man's ordeal before he drowned.
    "But-but what makes you think it was him—this Bethlehem?"
    "Because Gerhard was hired—just as I was—to investigate him. And I found your name connected to Bethlehem in Gerhard's files. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to add that up."
    Levy slumped in his seat. "What… what did I ever do to him to make him want to…?"
    For once he seemed sincere. Question was: Who was the him he was referring to?
    "Only he knows that—and maybe you do too. But I think you'd better do something to keep him from trying again."
    "What?"
    "I don't suppose you've got your cell phone."
    "No. He took it."
    Jack pulled his out and handed it across.
    "Use mine. Call the cops. Tell them you were abducted and escaped from an old-model Buick Riviera car headed south on the Thruway."
    "But surely he'll have ditched the car by now."
    "Why? There's a pretty damn good chance he thinks you're still in the trunk and he's finalizing his plans for you as he drives."
    Levy took the phone, then handed it back.
    "No. Thanks, but no."
    "You've gotta be kidding!"
    "Sorry. I can't."
    "Why the hell not?"
    'Tin…"
    He paused and Jack could hear the falsificator start to bubble.
    "You're what?"
    "I'm involved in some sensitive research—federally funded research. I can't have police involved in my activities."
    "So instead of pressing charges you're just going to sit back and wait for him to try again?"
    "No, I'll have federal authorities look into the matter. They'll take care of it."
    "By federal you mean the DoD?"
    Levy's head snapped around. "What did you say?"
    "You heard me."
    He turned and stared out the side window. "Please take me back to my car. Or if you can't do that—"
    "I'll take you back."
    The Bronxville exit was coming up. Jack could get off there and swing onto the northbound side.
    Or he could pull off onto a deserted country road—no shortage of those near Rathburg—and put the screws to Levy until he came across with something straight about Bethlehem.
    Because that guy was a bad actor. Jack was now ninety-nine percent