WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

talked to me about it?”

“Yeah. We’re making sure your people understand that they must not talk of

anything they’ve seen here tonight, not even to their own wives. We’re citing

the appropriate federal laws to every man, ‘cause we want to be sure they

understand the fines and prison terms.”

“Threatening me with jail again?” Walt asked, but there was no humor in his

voice, as there had been when they’d spoken days ago in the garage of St.

Joseph’s Hospital after seeing Tracy Keeshan.

Lem was depressed not only by the deputy’s death but by the wedge that this case

was driving between him and Walt. “I don’t want anyone in jail. That’s why I

want to be sure they grasp the consequences—”

Scowling, Walt said, “Come with me.”

Lem followed him outside, to a patrol car in front of the house.

They sat in the front seat, Walt behind the steering wheel, with the doors

closed. “Roll up the windows, so we’ll have total privacy.”

Lem protested that they’d suffocate in this heat without ventilation. But even

in the dim light, he saw the purity and volatility of Walt’s anger, and he

realized his position was that of a man standing in gasoline while holding a

burning candle. He rolled up his window.

“Okay,” Walt said. “We’re alone. Not NSA District Director and Sheriff. Just old

friends. Buddies. So tell me all about it.”

“Walt, damn it, I can’t.”

“Tell me now, and I’ll stay off the case. I won’t interfere.”

“You’ll stay off the case anyway. You have to.”

“Damned if I do,” Walt said angrily. “I can walk right down the road to those

jackals.” The car faced out of Bordeaux Ridge, toward the sawhorses where

reporters waited, and Walt pointed at them through the dusty windshield. “I can

tell them that Banodyne Laboratories was working on some defense project that

got out of hand, tell them that someone or something strange escaped from those

labs in spite of the security, and now it’s loose, killing people.”

“You do that,” Lem said, “you wouldn’t just wind up in jail. You’d lose your

job, ruin your whole career.”

“I don’t think so. In court I’d claim I had to choose between breaching the

national security and betraying the trust of the people who elected me to office

in this county. I’d claim that, in a time of crisis like this, I had to put

local public safety above the concerns of the Defense bureaucrats in Washington.

I’m confident just about any jury would vindicate me. I’d stay out of jail, and

in the next election I’d win by even more votes than I got the last time.”

“Shit,” Lem said because he knew Walt was correct.

“If you tell me about it now, if you convince me that your people are better

able to handle the situation than mine, then I’ll step out of your way. But if

you won’t tell me, I’ll blow it wide open.”

“I’d be breaking my oath. I’d be putting my neck in the noose.”

“No one’ll ever know you told me.”

“Yeah? Well then, Walt, for Christ’s sake, why put me in such an awkward

position just to satisfy your curiosity?”

Walt looked stung. “It’s not as petty as that, damn you. It’s not just

curiosity.”

“Then what is it?”

“One of my men is dead!”

Leaning his head back against the seat, Lem closed his eyes and sighed. Walt had

to know why he was required to forswear vengeance for the killing of one of his

own men. His sense of duty and honor would not allow him to back off without at

least that much. His was not exactly an unreasonable position.

“Do I go down there, talk to the reporters?” Walt asked quietly. Lem opened his

eyes, wiped a hand across his damp face. The interior of the car was

uncomfortably warm, muggy. He wanted to roll down his window. But now and then

men walked past on their way in or out of the house, and he really could not

risk anyone overhearing what he was going to tell Walt. “You were right to focus

on Banodyne. For a few years they’ve been doing defense-related research.”

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