motorcycle leathers, the same ones she had worn when she saved his life in Italy, her long blond hair flowing around her face. Two women, Dawn and Gurt: one his wife, one he wished had been. Both gone from his life.
He shook his head as though he could scatter the memories.
"Mr. Reilly?"
Louis was standing outside a door with Yadish's name etched on the glass pane.
Louis fumbled in his pockets and produced a ring of keys. He tried one. The click of a dead bolt signaled that he had found the right one, and he pushed the door open, ushering Lang inside. The room resembled the lab in Atlanta, except it was slightly smaller, and racks of test tubes and beakers flanking Bunsen burners occupied two long counters, instead of electronic equipment. Another difference was that this room looked as though Yadish might return at any moment.
At the end of one counter, in front of a long-legged stool on casters, was a cloth-bound ledger, the sort of thing Lang would have expected to see in any company's accounting department before computers made paper all but obsolete. From where he stood Lang could see that a number of pages had been torn out.
Thumbing through the pages, he asked, "Did Dr. Yadish keep notes here as well as electronically?"
Louis was standing in front of a computer on the other counter. "I do not know."
Lang left the book where it was to look over Louis's shoulder as the computer hummed to life. "The ledger is a journal of sorts. I can't read the language, but the last date's less than a week ago."
Louis left the machine to boot up and viewed the open pages. "A list of purchases—nitrate of mercury, two hundred milligrams, sodium phosphate, and so on. I would suppose he kept an account of the chemicals he used."
Both men returned to the blank blue screen.
Louis tapped a series of keys and frowned. "Nothing."
Lang could see that. "Did the professor have a password, perhaps?"
Louis was still pecking away. "He may have, but we are getting nothing. It is as if the hard drive is blank."
Or gone or erased.
"Did he have any special place to put things, a particular drawer, a file cabinet?"
Louis nodded and pulled the stool behind him as he went to the far wall, where a row of cabinets crowned two industrial sinks. "Steady me, please?"
Lang held the stool as the Belgian climbed up to kneel on its seat. He opened the cabinets to reveal rows of labeled opaque jars. He moved one or two before asking Lang to push him farther to his left.
"Eureka," he said with a smile, removing a container in each hand.
Behind the row of vessels Lang could see the black face of a safe built into the wall. "Swell. I don't suppose you know the combination?"
Louis's grin widened. "No need." He handed Lang several of the containers to put aside. He held one up, however, rotating it so Lang could see a series of four numbers on the back. "Dr. Yadish could never remember, so he wrote it down. I saw him take this down to open the safe."
Thirty seconds later the door swung open. From below the cabinet where Lang stood he could see nothing in it.
"Why keep an empty safe?" he asked rhetorically.
"Not empty." Louis reached into the safe and held up two letter-sized envelopes.
He handed them to Lang and climbed off the stool. Lang opened the first. Inside was a grainy white powder similar to the traces streaked across the counter in Dr. Lewis's lab. The second contained the same.
Lang wondered if Detective Morse had gotten the test results back from the state crime lab yet. If only the stuff hadn't vanished in the APD's property room, the evidence locker that seemed to have a leak bigger than the Titanic's.
He'd call Morse as soon as—
He heard the door behind him shut.
"I'll take that, Mr. Reilly."
Lang turned slowly. Leather Jacket and another man stood just inside the door. Each held an automatic obscured by a silencer.
He heard Louis's surprised intake of air, something between a gasp and a grunt.
Lang mentally kicked himself.
He shook his head as though he could scatter the memories.
"Mr. Reilly?"
Louis was standing outside a door with Yadish's name etched on the glass pane.
Louis fumbled in his pockets and produced a ring of keys. He tried one. The click of a dead bolt signaled that he had found the right one, and he pushed the door open, ushering Lang inside. The room resembled the lab in Atlanta, except it was slightly smaller, and racks of test tubes and beakers flanking Bunsen burners occupied two long counters, instead of electronic equipment. Another difference was that this room looked as though Yadish might return at any moment.
At the end of one counter, in front of a long-legged stool on casters, was a cloth-bound ledger, the sort of thing Lang would have expected to see in any company's accounting department before computers made paper all but obsolete. From where he stood Lang could see that a number of pages had been torn out.
Thumbing through the pages, he asked, "Did Dr. Yadish keep notes here as well as electronically?"
Louis was standing in front of a computer on the other counter. "I do not know."
Lang left the book where it was to look over Louis's shoulder as the computer hummed to life. "The ledger is a journal of sorts. I can't read the language, but the last date's less than a week ago."
Louis left the machine to boot up and viewed the open pages. "A list of purchases—nitrate of mercury, two hundred milligrams, sodium phosphate, and so on. I would suppose he kept an account of the chemicals he used."
Both men returned to the blank blue screen.
Louis tapped a series of keys and frowned. "Nothing."
Lang could see that. "Did the professor have a password, perhaps?"
Louis was still pecking away. "He may have, but we are getting nothing. It is as if the hard drive is blank."
Or gone or erased.
"Did he have any special place to put things, a particular drawer, a file cabinet?"
Louis nodded and pulled the stool behind him as he went to the far wall, where a row of cabinets crowned two industrial sinks. "Steady me, please?"
Lang held the stool as the Belgian climbed up to kneel on its seat. He opened the cabinets to reveal rows of labeled opaque jars. He moved one or two before asking Lang to push him farther to his left.
"Eureka," he said with a smile, removing a container in each hand.
Behind the row of vessels Lang could see the black face of a safe built into the wall. "Swell. I don't suppose you know the combination?"
Louis's grin widened. "No need." He handed Lang several of the containers to put aside. He held one up, however, rotating it so Lang could see a series of four numbers on the back. "Dr. Yadish could never remember, so he wrote it down. I saw him take this down to open the safe."
Thirty seconds later the door swung open. From below the cabinet where Lang stood he could see nothing in it.
"Why keep an empty safe?" he asked rhetorically.
"Not empty." Louis reached into the safe and held up two letter-sized envelopes.
He handed them to Lang and climbed off the stool. Lang opened the first. Inside was a grainy white powder similar to the traces streaked across the counter in Dr. Lewis's lab. The second contained the same.
Lang wondered if Detective Morse had gotten the test results back from the state crime lab yet. If only the stuff hadn't vanished in the APD's property room, the evidence locker that seemed to have a leak bigger than the Titanic's.
He'd call Morse as soon as—
He heard the door behind him shut.
"I'll take that, Mr. Reilly."
Lang turned slowly. Leather Jacket and another man stood just inside the door. Each held an automatic obscured by a silencer.
He heard Louis's surprised intake of air, something between a gasp and a grunt.
Lang mentally kicked himself.
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