control his stomach failed. Sickness swept over him in a humiliating tide, wrenching his muscles. His head pounded more fiercely with each gasped retch.
* * * *
Dangerous Ground: Old Poison
77
“This is a goddamned, unbelievable screwup of near- mythic proportions,” Assistant Director Cooper snarled.
It was the most pleasant thing Cooper had said so far, and it indicated he was finally cooling down.
Will nodded curtly. That had been the extent of his participation for most of his meeting with Cooper.
“If MacAllister believed himself to be in some kind of danger—”
“He didn't.”
At Cooper's look of irritable inquiry, Will said, “He'd have told me, yes, but more to the point, Taylor wouldn't ever believe there was a threat he couldn't handle.”
Cooper snorted, but he couldn't argue with that.
“Well, he obviously perceived there was some threat, because he sent off a sheet of Japanese writing and a cardboard box with wrapping paper to the FBI lab.”
Will swallowed and managed to say unemotionally, “Did they come up with anything?”
“It wasn't a high-priority request at the time.” Cooper sighed. “We should know something soon.”
“Would it be possible for me to see MacAllister's file as it relates to his posting in Japan?”
Cooper was scowling again. “Certainly not. Anyway, LAPD is taking point on this for now.”
“Until the G-men take it over?”
“Don't remind me.” Cooper scrutinized Will. “You think this ties back to MacAllister's first posting?”
“I think it's possible. There's certainly a Japanese theme to these threats.”
“That was, what? Ten years ago?”
“Eight, I think.” Will apologized silently to his missing partner. “He doesn't talk about it, but I can't think of any other connection. He likes Japanese food, but I doubt if that's the key.”
“I can't grant you access to your partner's personnel file, Brandt.”
Will nodded.
78
Josh Lanyon
“I'll look at the file myself. If I find anything…” Cooper let it trail. “Meantime, I'm instructing you to give your full cooperation to LAPD. And I mean that, Brandt. Full cooperation.”
* * * *
“Wake up.”
Bright pain beneath his ribs. His right side. He needed to be careful of his right side—
Taylor bit off a groan. A firework display seemed to be going on inside his head. His brain pounded sickeningly with each pulse of flashing bright light. He pried his eyes open. An indistinct figure stood over him. Was the light bad or was it his vision? Or both?
“Wake up.”
The voice was cold, level. It was followed by another spike of pain in his side as a foot landed solidly beneath the ribs. He bit off his cry and rolled away—tried to, anyway. There was a rope around his ankles and another around his wrists.
He was on the ground. No, a floor. A cement floor. An interior. It was chilly, and it smelled weird. Like fish. Like the ocean.
Taylor began to remember. He had been at Will's. His car wouldn't start. Then it came to him: Varga getting hit. Jesus. In the chest.
“Varga?” His voice sounded like gravel.
“She's dead. Thanks to you.”
No. It wasn't—that couldn't… He shook his head. A very bad idea.
“Why the hell did you have to choose today to ride together?”
A woman's voice from down a long, echoing tunnel. She seemed to expect an answer.
Taylor mumbled, “Car wouldn't start.”
“Of course your goddamned car wouldn't start,” ranted the voice. “That was the point. If you'd just walked out the door at the time you always do, everything would have been fine. But you had to try and play tricks. And now another person has died because of you .”
He tried to place her. She seemed to know him, so he must know her, right? Nothing was familiar about her. The voice wasn't familiar. He tried to peer up at her through his sticky Dangerous Ground: Old Poison
79
eyelashes. Nothing. Nothing she said made any sense. She went rambling on about Varga and how he'd
* * * *
Dangerous Ground: Old Poison
77
“This is a goddamned, unbelievable screwup of near- mythic proportions,” Assistant Director Cooper snarled.
It was the most pleasant thing Cooper had said so far, and it indicated he was finally cooling down.
Will nodded curtly. That had been the extent of his participation for most of his meeting with Cooper.
“If MacAllister believed himself to be in some kind of danger—”
“He didn't.”
At Cooper's look of irritable inquiry, Will said, “He'd have told me, yes, but more to the point, Taylor wouldn't ever believe there was a threat he couldn't handle.”
Cooper snorted, but he couldn't argue with that.
“Well, he obviously perceived there was some threat, because he sent off a sheet of Japanese writing and a cardboard box with wrapping paper to the FBI lab.”
Will swallowed and managed to say unemotionally, “Did they come up with anything?”
“It wasn't a high-priority request at the time.” Cooper sighed. “We should know something soon.”
“Would it be possible for me to see MacAllister's file as it relates to his posting in Japan?”
Cooper was scowling again. “Certainly not. Anyway, LAPD is taking point on this for now.”
“Until the G-men take it over?”
“Don't remind me.” Cooper scrutinized Will. “You think this ties back to MacAllister's first posting?”
“I think it's possible. There's certainly a Japanese theme to these threats.”
“That was, what? Ten years ago?”
“Eight, I think.” Will apologized silently to his missing partner. “He doesn't talk about it, but I can't think of any other connection. He likes Japanese food, but I doubt if that's the key.”
“I can't grant you access to your partner's personnel file, Brandt.”
Will nodded.
78
Josh Lanyon
“I'll look at the file myself. If I find anything…” Cooper let it trail. “Meantime, I'm instructing you to give your full cooperation to LAPD. And I mean that, Brandt. Full cooperation.”
* * * *
“Wake up.”
Bright pain beneath his ribs. His right side. He needed to be careful of his right side—
Taylor bit off a groan. A firework display seemed to be going on inside his head. His brain pounded sickeningly with each pulse of flashing bright light. He pried his eyes open. An indistinct figure stood over him. Was the light bad or was it his vision? Or both?
“Wake up.”
The voice was cold, level. It was followed by another spike of pain in his side as a foot landed solidly beneath the ribs. He bit off his cry and rolled away—tried to, anyway. There was a rope around his ankles and another around his wrists.
He was on the ground. No, a floor. A cement floor. An interior. It was chilly, and it smelled weird. Like fish. Like the ocean.
Taylor began to remember. He had been at Will's. His car wouldn't start. Then it came to him: Varga getting hit. Jesus. In the chest.
“Varga?” His voice sounded like gravel.
“She's dead. Thanks to you.”
No. It wasn't—that couldn't… He shook his head. A very bad idea.
“Why the hell did you have to choose today to ride together?”
A woman's voice from down a long, echoing tunnel. She seemed to expect an answer.
Taylor mumbled, “Car wouldn't start.”
“Of course your goddamned car wouldn't start,” ranted the voice. “That was the point. If you'd just walked out the door at the time you always do, everything would have been fine. But you had to try and play tricks. And now another person has died because of you .”
He tried to place her. She seemed to know him, so he must know her, right? Nothing was familiar about her. The voice wasn't familiar. He tried to peer up at her through his sticky Dangerous Ground: Old Poison
79
eyelashes. Nothing. Nothing she said made any sense. She went rambling on about Varga and how he'd
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