But he didn't want to sell himself too cheaply.

"Give me double what the lady's paying and it's a deal."

Levy nodded. "I believe we can handle that—as long as you hold up your end of the bargain."

"No problem there." But Jack saw a major hitch. "Might have a little problem taking back what I already told her."

Levy stiffened. "What's that?"

"That Gerhard's dead and Bethlehem could be the perp."

Did that sound detectivey enough?

"You didn't!" he said, bolting from his chair. "How could you be so stupid?"

Jack gave him an angry look. "Hey, watch it. I was doing what she was paying me to do. And now I'll do what you're paying me to do."

"Which is?"

"I'll tell her I checked out where Bethlehem was at the time of Gerhard's death and that he has an alibi."

Jack hadn't bought the alibi yet, but, not a bad plan. It might allay Christy's fears while saving her life.

"Just do whatever is necessary to keep her from exposing Bolton—for her sake as well as yours."

"When do I get paid?"

"I'll mail you a check tomorrow."

Jack shook his head. "Uh-uh. No way I want a paper trail between us. Cash."

"We cant do cash. We have to account for expenses."

"Cash or I walk away from this whole thing. Then you'll have to deal with the next dick Pickering hires."

"All right, all right! Cash it is. Now leave me alone. I've said too much already."

"Not nearly, but I can take a hint." He rose from his seat. "I'll be back to pick it up tomorrow."

"Not here! I don't want you near my home ever again."

"Your office then. Makes no difference to me."

"Not my office either."

Jack hid his disappointment. He'd wanted a look inside Creighton.

"Why not?"

"It's not a good place for private transactions."

Private… Jack realized that Creighton was probably lousy with bugs and security cameras. He remembered Levy's RF detector and figured he was worried his own place might be bugged.

"Where then?"

Levy thought a few seconds. "The shopping mall. We can meet in front of the A&P, say, around five-thirty."

Jack had one more question, so he pulled a Columbo—started for the foyer, then turned at the door to face Levy again.

"What makes Bolton so special?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Why's he still out there after kidnapping one of his handlers?"

"He's unique, and that's all I can say."

"Is it in his blood?"

Levy frowned. "Blood?"

"You know—his genes?"

"The nature-versus-nurture argument in regard to criminal behavior has been going on since before Darwin's day."

"Who's winning?"

"The nature argument—as it should. I am a geneticist, after all."

"So you believe people are born bad."

That condescending smile again. "We're all born bad—some just badder than others."

Helluva worldview.

Genetics, ay? Jack remembered what he'd seen on the notepad in Gerhard's office and decided to see if his next question would wipe that smile off Levy's face.

"So as a geneticist you've probably heard of oDNA."

The smile vanished. "Wh-whal? What did you say?"

"Little-oh, big D, big N, big A—oDNA."

"Where did you hear of that—of such a thing?"

Jack winked. "I'm a crack detective."

Levy recovered a little. "You must mean crack-head detective. There is no such thing. Forget about it."

"You mean if I do some heavy research I'll come up empty?"

"Exactly. But if you do stumble upon anything, let me know. I'd be very interested to read whatever you find. Now if you'll excuse me…" He guided Jack toward the door. "I have other matters to attend to."

Jack noticed how Levy's hand shook when he reached for the knob.

"Sure thing. Be seeing you."

Oh yeah, doc. Count on that.

12

Aaron closed the door and leaned against it, exhausted. The stress of this project alone was wearing him out, and this detective, this man calling himself John Robertson, was making it worse.

Where the hell had he heard of oDN A? Only a handful of people besides him and Julia, all with top security clearances, were privy to it. Every mention of it—and there hadn't been many—had been expunged from public and private records.

So where had…?

Gerhard must have told him.

But he'd said Gerhard was dead when he found him…

Just last night, Aaron had concluded that someone had tapped into his home computer. He assumed it had been Gerhard. His own damn fault, really. Last year he'd succumbed to the alluring convenience of a home wireless network. His daughter wanted it—everybody was doing it—and after a while the idea of sitting down with his laptop and surfing the Internet from any room in the house had proven too seductive.

He'd been able to set up the network—firewall and all—in a matter of hours, and it had been a great convenience. But last night he'd discovered that a few old documents on his hard drive had been recently accessed. It hadn't been him, and he was sure it wasn't his wife or daughter.

That left someone from outside. If Gerhard had the means to breach the firewall, all he'd have had to do was sneak to the side of the house with a wireless-enabled laptop and tap into the network.

The good news was that Aaron had a habit of turning off his computer before turning in, otherwise Gerhard would have had all night to wander through his files.

That had been the end of the Levy wireless network.

As for this detective, he'd worry later about how he'd heard of oDNA.

He peeked out the sidelight and watched Robertson get into his car. Had he bought the story about Bolton's alibi? Flimsy at best, but no way to disprove it. As he drove off Aaron tried to get a look at his license plate but couldn't make out the numbers. He remained at the sidelight, watching the yard after Robertson's taillights disappeared.

Bolton could be out there. He shuddered at the thought. Damn it, he wished the man were back behind bars. He didn't care what Julia said, or what warnings or threats she'd issued to Bolton, he was a loose cannon, primed and ready to fire.

Aaron wanted to see the therapy succeed as much as Julia did. Well, almost as much. Nobody had more invested in D-287, time and careerwise, than Julia. But he wanted someone other than Jeremy Bolton to be the guinea pig. He'd been overruled, however, and he couldn't risk doing anything to jeopardize the clinical trial. At least not directly.

But indirectly…

Robertson or whoever he really was… he struck him as someone as foolish as Gerhard, someone who would keep poking his nose where it didn't belong.

Which wouldn't be a bad thing if Aaron could guide him in a useful direction, one that would trip him into exposing Bolton's identity and ending the trial. Robertson could act as a stalking horse of sorts. And if he wound up exposing Bolton, the resultant shit storm would focus on him, leaving Aaron watching safely from the sidelines.

Yes… this had possibilities.