Page 89 of Dead Drift

“Don’t you understand? My creation is a thing of beauty.”

“Beauty?” Declan laughed. “Are you serious?” He looked to Luke. “Is he serious?”

Luke swallowed. “I’m afraid he is.” At least that’s how Bedan saw it.

“You’re clearly missing the intricacy of what I created, of what no one before was able to accomplish in a working manner.”

“Anthrax,” Declan said. “And . . . ?”

They wanted Bedan to confirm what they discovered in his notes, to be certain it was in fact plutonium that he’d mixed in.

Bedan’s lips twitched, trying to smother a smile. “Why do you think there’s anything else?”

“Because we found a page of your notes you left behind at the first warehouse.”

“And you understood them? Interesting.” Bedan pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Those notes indicate you mixed something radioactive with the anthrax,” Luke said.

Declan looked over at him, eyes wide.

“You are a smart one, Agent Beck. I like you.”

He most definitely wasn’t taking that as a compliment. Interesting that the man didn’t know his real name. Luke wasn’t about to fill him in on the truth. He hoped Ebeid was under that same impression.

“What is it?” Luke pressed, wanting Bedan to clearly state that he’d used plutonium. They needed to be one hundred percent sure what specific threat they were facing, so they could properly combat it.

“Oh, you know a scientist can never give up the details of his masterpiece—not until it’s been patented.”

Patented? He wanted to patent a biological weapon of mass destruction? Bedan was beyond mad. Though considering his lineage . . .

“The more you give us, the more we can help you,” Declan said.

“Help?” Bedan laughed. “Is that what you call it? Well, thank you . . . Agent Grey, is it? But I don’t need your help.” He lifted a hand to adjust his glasses. “I’ve got this covered.”

A shot of warning ricocheted through Luke as Bedan’s eyes shifted to a look of glorious resignation. He grabbed Declan and yanked him toward the door. “Get out now!”

The guard waiting outside rushed in as Luke and Declan ran out.

“No!” Luke yelled as the door swung shut behind him.

“What on earth?” Declan asked, spinning around to grasp the doorknob.

Luke stilled his hand as they looked through the vertical glass pane in the door to see Bedan and the guard convulsing on the floor, both foaming at their mouths.

“We’ve got to help him,” Declan said, his gaze fixed on the dying guard.

“We’re too late, and you need to call hazmat.”

Declan did so, then turned to Luke. “How’d you know Bedan was about to do that?”

“I just had a very bad feeling.”

Declan rubbed his head. “I can’t believe we lost another man and our biggest lead.”

And Ebeid’s whereabouts. Or so he thought. After hazmat entered the room and determined Bedan had released sarin gas via an ingenious, albeit disturbing, deployment device on his glasses, they quarantined the room. But when they replayed the video footage, Luke saw Bedan scrawl something on the steno pad they’d given him at the start.

He leaned in, narrowing his eyes on the image. “Stop,” he told the tech. “Zoom in on that pad.”