“What the hell are you doing here?” the man snarled. His hair fell across his forehead, making him snap his head back to keep it out of his eyes.
It was that gesture more than anything else that made Jack recognize the man. It was Richard, the head tech from the Manhattan General’s lab.
“Answer me!” Richard demanded.
Jack raised his hands higher, hoping the gesture might satisfy Richard, while his mind desperately sought some reasonable explanation of why he was there. But none came to mind. Under the circumstances Jack couldn’t even think of anything clever to say.
Jack kept his eyes riveted to the gun barrel, which had moved to within three feet of his nose. He noticed the tip trembled, suggesting that Richard was not only angry but also acutely agitated. In Jack’s mind such a combination was particularly dangerous.
“If you don’t answer me I’m going to shoot you right now,” Richard hissed.
“I’m a medical examiner,” Jack blurted out. “I’m investigating.”
“Bull!” Richard snapped. “Medical examiners don’t go busting into people’s apartments.”
“I didn’t break in,” Jack explained. “The window was open.”
“Shut up,” Richard said. “It’s all the same. You’re trespassing and meddling.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “Couldn’t we just talk about this?”
“Were you the one who sent me that fake package?” Richard demanded.
“What package?” Jack asked innocently.
Richard’s eyes left Jack’s, and they swept down to Jack’s feet and then back up to his face. “You’ve even got on a fake deliveryman outfit. That took thought and effort.”
“What are you talking about?” Jack asked. “I dress like this all the time when I’m not at the morgue.”
“Bull!” Richard repeated. He pointed toward one of the couches with the gun. “Sit down!” he yelled.
“All right already,” Jack said. “You only have to ask nicely.” The initial shock was passing and his wits were returning. He sat where Richard indicated Richard backed up to the gun cabinet without taking his eyes off Jack.
He groped for keys in his pocket and then tried to get the gun cabinet open without looking at what he was doing. “Can I give you a hand?” Jack asked.
“Shut up!” Richard yelled. Even his hand with the key was shaking.
When he got the glazed door open, he reached in and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.
“Now, that’s a handy item to have around,” Jack said.
Handcuffs in hand, Richard started back toward Jack, keeping the gun pointed at his face.
“I tell you what,” Jack said. “Why don’t we call the police. I’ll confess, and they can take me away. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Shut up,” Richard ordered. He then motioned for Jack to get to his feet.
Jack complied and lifted his hands again.
“Move!” Richard said, motioning toward the main part of the lab.
Jack backed up. He was afraid to take his eyes off the gun. Richard kept coming toward him, the handcuffs dangling from his left hand.
“Over by the column,” Richard snapped.
Jack did as he was instructed. He stood against the column. It was about fifteen inches in diameter.
“Face it,” Richard commanded.
Jack turned around.
“Reach around it with your hands and grasp them together,” Richard said.
When he did what Richard had insisted, Jack felt the handcuffs snap over each wrist. He was now locked to the column. “Mind if I sit down?” Jack asked.
Richard didn’t bother to answer. He hurried back into the living area. Jack lowered himself to the floor. The most comfortable position was embracing the column with his legs wrapped around it as well as his arms.
Jack could hear Richard dialing a telephone. Jack considered yelling for help when Richard started his conversation, but quickly scrapped the idea as suicidal, considering how nervous Richard was acting. Besides, whomever Richard was calling probably wouldn’t care about Jack’s plight.
“Jack Stapleton is here!” Richard blurted without preamble. “I caught him in my goddamn bathroom. He knows about Frazer Labs and he’s been snooping around in here. I’m sure of it. Just like Beth Holderness at the lab.”
The hairs on the back of Jack’s neck rose up when he heard Richard mention Beth’s name.