Chapter 36 #2
Dan shivered. “There can only be one explanation. The delivery boy was going to bring the pathogen. But between Winter hiding the bag yesterday morning and today, they’ve discovered we’re onto them. The bag is still there because it’s now redundant.”
Sam paled. “So they must have another nebulizer. Or at least a backup plan.”
Dan nodded. “And if we assume they’re in contact with the delivery boy, they’ve already put that plan into action.”
“Where does that leave us?” Gary looked as though he was about to throw up.
“Watching for the knights, that’s where. Because unless we can find them, we don’t have a clue what’s going on.” Nathan scraped his fingers through his hair, his customary cool no longer in evidence. “And we still have no idea who is going to deliver the pathogen—or how.”
4:55 p.m.
Dan was beginning to think the day was turning into a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
There’d been few spectators out of their seats during the first half, and every time one ventured into view, his heart thumped and he couldn’t breathe. Then they’d stopped to buy something to eat or visit a restroom and gone back to their seat.
No sign of the knights, if they were even there.
The nonexistent pathogen had changed the game plan. Only now Dan had no idea what game they were playing anymore.
Forty minutes into the game, the whistle had blown for halftime, and the spectators poured out of their seats, heading for the concession stands and the restrooms. There were signs that tempers were running high; the Sharks had yet to score, and their fans were having to bear the brunt of taunts from the WP fans.
What gripped his heart, however, was the same feeling he’d experienced in Provincetown: the knowledge that he was being watched.
At first he told himself he was imagining it, that his nerves had gotten the better of him.
The feeling came and went, and each time it did, his unease ebbed and flowed with it.
He’d scanned the people filling the area where he stood, but hadn’t spotted either Winter or Powell.
As more people squeezed into the space, the likelihood of seeing the knights grew more improbable, until…
“You’re sure?” Beside him, Nathan frowned. “When was this? … Wait—you lost him?” He raised his eyes heavenward. “I don’t care about some angry spectator. Find him. Fast.”
“What’s happened?” Judging by Gary’s hunched shoulders and pained expression, he was feeling as useless as Dan.
“One of Bosman’s men spotted Powell just after the halftime whistle, dressed in a Sharks shirt.
At least, they thought it was him. He was on the lower-level concourse.
Then Powell bumped into some woman, knocked her bag to the ground, and she let rip.
Before Bosman’s guy could get over to him, Powell picked her bag up, handed it over, and got another mouthful of abuse for his trouble before he disappeared into the crowd.
They went after him, but said it was as if he’d turned into smoke and vanished. ”
“How long until the game starts again?” Dan asked.
“Five minutes? Maybe a little more?” Nathan scowled. “This is so fucked up. I’ve got everyone watching for two men in a crowd of thousands, a missing pathogen. So much for staking out the restrooms.”
A thought trickled through Dan’s head. “The restroom where Bianca discovered the nebulizer….”
“What about it?”
“Was it a male or female restroom?”
Nathan stilled. “Female. Poppy, Taylor, and Bianca were checking out all the female restrooms.”
Dan nodded. “Which tells us one thing.”
Nathan’s slow nod told him he’d arrived at the same conclusion. The delivery boy was in fact a delivery girl.
And as for that feeling of eyes boring into him?
It was gone.
5:00 p.m.
Nathan sighed. “Looks like they’re getting ready for the second half.”
Already the space around them had emptied. Nathan’s operatives had reported in that they hadn’t seen either of the knights and no one carrying a bag similar to the one that contained the nebulizer.
We’ve failed.
There was a hollowness in Dan’s chest that somehow managed to feel heavy, and he was bone tired. From the stadium came the sound of a whistle.
And that’s it. No one around until the end of the game.
The end.
“There is an alternative theory,” he murmured.
Gary, Sam, and Nathan gazed at him inquiringly.
“They could be waiting until the end of the match. We’ve assumed they’d do it during halftime, but think about it. Thousands of people flooding out of here, everyone trying to reach home or their hotel or wherever.” He shrugged. “It’s just another crowd, right?”
“At the moment, it’s the only viable theory we have,” Nathan confessed, his face brightening a little.
And now that the pressure was off, Dan became aware of another kind of pressure.
He squirmed. “I’m sorry, but I really need to visit a restroom.”
“TMI,” Sam said with a smirk.
“Don’t go to the nearest restroom,” Gary told him. “I was in that one, and it’s pretty horrendous. Try the next one farther along.”
“And keep your mic switched on,” Nathan added. “In case I need to reach you in a hurry.”
Dan arched his eyebrows. “Would it be okay if I switched it on after I’m done?”
Nathan managed the first smile Dan had seen since morning. “Okay, fine. I don’t really want to listen to you doing… whatever you’re doing. But wash your hands before you touch the mic, all right?”
Dan bit back the response that was on the tip of his tongue: Yes, Dad.
He squeezed Gary’s arm. “While I’m gone, could you maybe find me something to eat? I haven’t been hungry all day, but my stomach just rumbled.”
“I can do that.”
Dan smiled, then walked off in the direction of the restroom. There were no more spectators, only the sound of their roars and cheers drifting through the walkways.
He pushed open the door to the restroom and went over to the urinal. All the stall doors were closed, and there was no one to be seen.
Gary had been correct. This one was a mess too. Dan relieved his bladder, and it wasn’t until he’d finished that he realized he’d been in such a hurry, he’d left the mic on.
Nathan will just have to pull up his big boy pants. I’m sure listening to me take a leak won’t kill him.
Dan washed his hands and grabbed a couple of paper towels from the dispenser. He gazed at it, assessing its size. Sam had been right: it was the perfect hiding place.
Behind him, a stall door creaked open, and before he had a chance to see who exited it, something small and hard poked him in the middle of his back.
“You’re a long way from Boston, Mr. Porter. Provincetown too, if it comes to that.”