WATCHERS by Dean R. Koontz

local departments.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that it’s astonishing to have six murders of upstanding citizens in

one day. This is Orange County, after all, not L.A. And it’s even more

astonishing that all six deaths are related to urgent matters of national

security. So it arouses my curiosity. I start checking into the backgrounds of

these people, looking for something that links them—”

“Walt, for Christ’s sake!”

“—and I discover they all work—or did work—for something called Banodyne

Laboratories.”

Lem was not angry. He couldn’t get angry with Walt—they were tighter than

brothers—but the big man’s canniness was maddening right now. Lem said, “Listen,

you’ve no right to conduct an investigation.”

“I’m sheriff, remember?”

“But none of these murders—except Dalberg here—falls into your jurisdiction to

begin with,” Lem said. “And even if it did . . . once the NSA steps in, you’ve

no right to continue. In fact, you’re expressly forbidden by law to continue.”

Ignoring him, Walt said, “So I look up Banodyne, see what kind of work they do,

and I discover they’re into genetic engineering, recombinant

DNA—”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“There’s no indication Banodyne’s at work on defense projects, but that doesn’t

mean anything. Could be blind contracts, projects so secret that the funding

doesn’t even appear on public record.”

“Jesus,” Lem said irritably. “Don’t you understand how damn mean we can get when

we’ve got national security laws on our side?”

“Just speculating now,” Walt said.

“You’ll speculate your honky ass right into a prison cell.”

“Now, Lemuel, let’s not have an ugly racial confrontation here.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Yeah, and you’re repeating yourself. Anyway, I did some heavy thinking, and I

figure the murders of these people who work at Banodyne must be connected

somehow to the manhunt the Marines conducted on Wednesday and Thursday. And to

the murder of Wesley Dalberg.”

“There’s no similarity between Dalberg’s murder and the others.”

“Of course there’s not. Wasn’t the same killer. I can see that. The Yarbecks,

the Hudstons, and Weatherby were hit by a pro, while poor Wes Dalberg was torn

to pieces. Still, there’s a connection, by God, or you wouldn’t be interested,

and the connection must be Banodyne.”

The sun was sinking. Shadows pooled and thickened.

Walt said, “Here’s what I figure: they were working on some new bug at Banodyne,

a genetically altered germ, and it got loose, contaminated some-

one, but it didn’t just make him sick. What it did was severely damage his

brain, turn him into a savage or something—”

“An updated Dr. Jekyll for the high-tech age?” Lem interrupted sarcastically.

“—so he slipped out of the lab before anyone knew what happened to him, fled

into the foothills, came here, attacked Dalberg.”

“You watch a lot of bad horror movies or what?”

“As for Yarbeck and the others, maybe they were eliminated ‘cause they knew what

happened and were so scared about the consequences that they intended to go

public.”

Off in the dusky canyon, a soft, ululant howl arose. Probably just a coyote. Lem

wanted to get out of there, away from the forest. But he felt that he had to

deal with Walt Gaines, deflect the sheriff from these lines of inquiry and

consideration.

“Let me get this straight, Walt. Are you saying the United States government had

its own scientists killed to shut them up?”

Walt frowned, knowing how unlikely—if not downright impossible—his scenario was.

Lem said, “Is life really just a Ludlum novel? Killed our own people? Is it

National Paranoia Month or something? Do you really believe that crap?”

“No,” Walt admitted.

“And how could Dalberg’s killer be a contaminated scientist with brain damage? I

mean, Christ, you yourself said it was some animal that killed Dalberg,

something with claws, sharp teeth.”

“Okay, okay, so I don’t have it figured. Not all of it, anyway. But I’m sure

it’s all tied in with Banodyne somehow. I’m not entirely on the wrong track-am

I?”

“Yes, you are,” Lem said. “Entirely.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Lem felt bad about lying to Walt and manipulating him, but he did it

anyway. “I shouldn’t even tell you that you’re chasing after false spoor, but as

a friend I guess I owe you something.”

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