The Dark Remains - Mark Anthony [85]
Travis’s head throbbed. “I don’t understand. What does this doctor have to do with Beltan?”
“Actually, nothing.” Deirdre turned so she could face Travis, her black-leather jacket creaking. “As far as we can tell, Dr. Chandra had the misfortune to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“You mean he got in the way,” Travis said, and a sickness filled him. “He got in the way of the people who took Beltan, and they disposed of him.”
“What was the cause of death?” Grace said, her haunted eyes belying the clinical tone of her question.
Farr took a photograph from the folder and handed it to her. It showed a swollen lump on the doctor’s forearm, marked by a pair of tiny holes.
Grace frowned, tucking a lock of ash-blond hair behind one ear. “I don’t understand. This looks like some sort of insect bite. Maybe a spider.”
Farr took the photograph and returned it to the file. “Your diagnosis is correct, Dr. Beckett. The initial autopsy performed this morning suggests that the spider bite introduced a highly potent neurotoxin into Dr. Chandra’s bloodstream. He was dead within ten seconds of being bitten.”
“No.” Grace crossed her arms over her sweater, even though it was warm in the vehicle. “That’s not possible. I remember reading about this in my toxicology class in med school. The venom of some spiders can be fatal, but none of them can kill a man that quickly. Not even a small man like Chandra.”
Farr slipped the folder back into a briefcase. “Your old professor may need to revise his course curriculum, Dr. Beckett.” He opened a small cabinet set into the side of the limousine. “Can I offer anyone some gin?”
Travis hated gin. He nodded. Farr handed him a glass, then made another drink for Grace, but she held it in her hand without seeming to notice its weight or coldness. Travis raised his own glass, held his breath, and drank.
“So who did it?” Grace said. “Who took him?”
Farr met her eyes. “There is only one organization I know of who would use murder to gain an otherworldly specimen.”
Grace turned on him, speaking with a sudden vehemence that shocked them all.
“He’s not a specimen, Mr. Farr. He’s a man. His name is Beltan of Calavan. He’s a knight of a royal house. He likes to drink beer and tell bad jokes, and he is kind and strong and courageous. He doesn’t deserve to be treated like a lab rat. Not by anyone.”
And what’s more, I love him, Travis almost said. But he had never uttered those words aloud. And if anyone should ever hear them for the first time, it should be Beltan.
Farr regarded Grace for a silent moment, then gave a crisp nod. “Of course. You must forgive me, Dr. Beckett. Sometimes I can be impersonal with regard to people I do not know. The mind of a scientist. I think you can understand.”
Grace looked out the window and said nothing.
“So it was Duratek,” Travis said, more to himself than to the others. “But how did they know Beltan was at the hospital? As far as we know, they don’t even know we’re in Denver.”
“They do now, Travis,” Deirdre said, her eyes serious above high cheekbones. “At least, we have to assume they do. We don’t dare underestimate them.”
“The police,” Grace murmured. She turned back from the window and met the questioning stares of the Seekers. “I think the police are looking for me. A patrol car nearly stopped us this morning, on our way to the museum.”
Farr rubbed his chin. “That would fit. Duratek often works in association with law enforcement. On the surface, at least, they appear law-abiding.”
A bitter smile twisted Grace’s lips. “While I, on the other hand, am a dangerous criminal.”
“I know this might be difficult for you to believe, Dr. Beckett,” Farr said, “but it is actually a good sign that the police are searching for you. It means Duratek knows you’re in the city, but not your exact location. The hospital is one place where they might expect