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“No,” Lily said briefly. “Hurry!”
As they went out the door, for Dr. Giordano’s benefit she said, “I have to get something from the van,” and ran for the vehicle.
Evidently taking her action as something they themselves were supposed to do, those lab workers who drove instead of taking the train began running for their own vehicles. The guards at the gate, seeing this unusual activity, stepped out of their little building with their hands on the butts of their weapons, leaving them still holstered but ready to draw on a second’s notice.
Lily started the van and rapidly backed it out of the parking space. Dr. Giordano gave her a startled look, but Swain said something and distracted him by pointing at what the workers were doing, at the same time walking at a fast clip to a safer distance and urging Dr. Giordano along with him.
She pulled the van between Swain and the guards, blocking their view but also positioned in such a way that it gave them some protection from the coming blast. As she got out, she heard Swain say, “Is that everyone, do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Dr. Giordano replied. “Not many were working today, but as to how many—?” He shrugged.
“You should always know, otherwise how can you get a head count?” Swain asked reasonably, and, to Lily’s surprise, turned and handed the remote control to her.
“You do the honors,” he said.
She had watched him test the device, and he’d explained to her how it worked, but why was he deviating from the plan? She didn’t have time to ask, because Dr. Giordano was already looking puzzled. Before he could ask questions or become alarmed, she activated the device. A little green light glowed, showing it was on, and she pressed the button that sent the radio signal to the detonators.
There was a sort of deep, muffled whoomph; then all hell broke loose.
Parts of the complex blew up and out, the percussion of the blast hitting them like a blow. Black smoke and fire billowed, and a dark cloud of debris arced overhead. People screamed, ducking and protecting themselves as best they could. Flying glass pierced several people like arrows. One man went down under a chunk of the debris that rained down
on them like rocks thrown by a giant.
Dr. Giordano turned to Swain with an expression of horor on his face. Lily reached down for her weapon, but Swain already had his hand inside his coveralls. He pulled out the big H & K, shoved it directly against Dr. Giordano’s chest, and pulled the trigger twice. Dr. Giordano slumped to the ground, already dead.
Moving swiftly, Swain pushed Lily toward the van. She climbed into the driver’s seat, but he kept pushing, so she clambered over into the passenger’s seat, and he took the place behind the wheel. The engine was still running. He slammed the door, put the vehicle in gear, and started it rolling forward as one of the guards ran past them. The other was on the phone in their little building, shouting frantically into the receiver. He was still on the phone when they went out the gate.
Damone was in Rodrigo’s office when the phone rang. Rodrigo answered it, and his olive complexion turned a strange ashen color.
Damone got to his feet. “What is it?” he asked when Rodrigo hung up.
Rodrigo’s head was bowed, his shoulders slumped. “The laboratory has been destroyed,” he said hoarsely. “Explosives. Vincenzo is dead.” Slowly he raised his head, horror dawning in his eyes. “He was killed by the security consultants you took into the complex.”
Damone took several deep breaths. Then, very quietly, he said, “I couldn’t let you release that virus.”
“ ‘couldn’t’—?” Rodrigo blinked rapidly, trying to make the words mean something else. But they remained the same, and Damone stood there with a very calm expression. “You—you knew what they were going to do?”
“I paid them to do it.”
Rodrigo felt as if the world had shifted on its axis, that nothing he had thought was real had any substance. In a blinding moment of clarity, he knew. “You were behind the first explosion. You hired the Joubrans!”
“Unfortunately, Vincenzo was able to duplicate his work, so I had to take more drastic measures.”
“Because of you, Papa is dead!” Rodrigo roared, surging to his feet and reaching for the weapon that was always in the desk drawer.
Damone was faster, his own weapon much closer to hand. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger three times, putting two holes in Rodrigo’s chest and an insurance shot to the head. His brother sprawled over the desk, then crashed to the floor, overturning the wastebasket.
Damone let his hand drop to his side, and a tear rolled down his face.
It had come to this, from events he had set in motion back in August. He sucked in a deep breath and wiped his eyes. The road to hell was truly paved with good intentions. All he had wanted was for that virus to be destroyed. He couldn’t let his father go through with his plans to release it.
Giselle, his wonderful, brave, fragile Giselle, would never have survived if she had contracted the influenza. She had had a kidney transplant just the year before, and had to take drugs that suppressed her immune system, and even the vaccine could not have saved her. She had been reluctant to accept his proposal because she couldn’t give him children, and she knew how important family was to Italians in general, but he had eventually convinced her. He loved her more than he could express, more than he could explain even to himself. For her, he had taken steps to destroy the virus.
He had never thought his father would discover who had set the first explosion, and he’d been heartsick when he learned the Joubrans and their daughter had been executed, as a lesson to those who would cross Salvatore Nervi.
But the Joubrans had had a friend, this Lily Mansfield, and their deaths had sent her on a quest for vengeance that put his papa in the grave.
She had been the perfect choice to complete the Joubrans’ mission. With George Blanc’s help—Damone had almost panicked when she demanded a meeting, but an urgent call to Blanc had persuaded him to appear in Damone’s place—he had devised a plan to get her and her friend inside the complex.
