Timothy Smythe heard the sound of gla.s.s breaking, followed by vigorous cursing. He looked up from the medical report he was reading in his office.

"Is there a problem?" he called out.

n.o.body answered.

Suddenly concerned, he stood up and hurried out of his office. Chemical spills in this place could quickly become dangerous. He jogged through the narrow green corridors of the laboratory.

He discovered Mark Woods kneeling on the floor of one of the supply closets. He was using rubber gloves and paper towels to collect the broken fragments of a jar.

"What's going on?" Smythe said. "What did you spill?"

"Nothing serious, sir," Woods kept his head down. "I got it under control."

Smythe sniffed the air. "It smells like glue. Ethyl acetate?"

"Yes, sir. I already turned all the vents on. I'll have it cleaned up in a minute."

"d.a.m.n it, man! You have to be more careful. There are some nasty substances in here."

"I know!" Woods finally looked up. "It was a mistake, sir. The bottle was right at the edge of the shelf and I b.u.mped it." He had bags under his eyes, and his hair needed to be brushed.

Smythe had a general dislike for contractors like Woods. They were always worrying about the next big pay day instead of long-term commitments. As far as Smythe was concerned, contractors were just mercenaries in nice shirts. He didn't understand why a proud and honorable inst.i.tution like the Army employed so many.

He had a particular problem with contractors working on cla.s.sified research projects, where trust and integrity were so vital. The break-in two nights ago had made him even more sensitive to security concerns. Everybody in the laboratory was still jumpy, and there was lingering suspicion that somebody on the inside had a.s.sisted the intruders.

"You look like h.e.l.l," Smythe said.

"I didn't get much sleep last night."

"What's wrong?"

An odd expression flashed on Woods' face, as if he were guilty or afraid. Smythe wasn't sure what it meant.

"Just insomnia, sir. I'm still bothered by what happened here the other night."

"Why?" Smythe said. "You weren't involved."

"I saw the damage and I heard the rumors. I should go back to my motel before I break something else. I need a nap."

"No." Smythe shook his head. "There is a hospital full of patients who are depending on us for their lives. People are dying as we speak. Tired is no excuse for dereliction of duty. I'm ordering you to stay."

Woods stood up. "I don't report to you, sir. You can't give me orders."

"I'm an officer and a doctor, and you're just a civilian technician. Officially, I'm not your boss, but I can still make your life miserable, so do as I say."

"Yes, sir," Woods said. He added an angry salute.

"Now finish cleaning up this mess and get back to work. We're not paying you to screw around." Smythe walked away.

Chapter Four.

Aaron sat in the small lobby of the Green Vines Hotel. The furniture was made of wrought iron, and the hard seats weren't comfortable. A dusty, fake tree stood in the corner. Faded pictures of sunlit vineyards were hung on the walls, and they failed to make the room more inviting.

It was also cold. A portable electric heater rattled in the corner, but it produced more noise than heat. Every time somebody opened the door, a fresh blast of brisk air washed over Aaron and raised goose b.u.mps on his skin. A big cup of steaming hot coffee was his only source of comfort.

He had a laptop computer on the table in front of him, and the display was oriented so anybody who entered the hotel could see it easily. He was playing online poker, badly, but that didn't matter. The point was to have a game going.

His bulky gray phone rang, and he quickly answered it. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Woods just arrived," Marina said. "He's parking now. He'll be in the lobby in a minute or two."

Aaron checked his watch, which showed 6 PM. "Right on schedule. I'm ready." He put his phone away.

He went back to his poker game. He hated the online experience. The best part of gambling was watching the other guy sweat, and anonymous card play just wasn't interesting to him. He also believed some of the players were cheating. Worse yet, he didn't know how to cheat. This is a game for suckers, he thought.

Woods walked through the door, sending another blast of frigid air at Aaron. He tried not to shiver.

Woods stopped to look at the screen. Aaron immediately placed a stupid thousand dollar bet, already knowing he would lose the money.

"Whoa," Woods said.

He stood there while Aaron played out the hand to its expected conclusion.

"d.a.m.n," Aaron said.

"You only had a pair of threes," Woods said. "What did you expect?"

Aaron looked up. Woods had bags under his bloodshot eyes, and his mouth hung slightly open. Clearly, he needed sleep. Aaron guessed he had spent all night thinking about Marina's bribery offer.

"I was trying to bluff," Aaron said. "Obviously, it didn't work too well. Do you play poker?"

Woods nodded. "Sure. All the time."

"I'm tuning up for a big game tonight with some old friends."

"How big?"

"Fifty dollar ante. Five hundred dollar max bet."

"That can get expensive if you lose." Woods was more alert now.

"To be honest, I'm expecting to lose. I'm not really a poker expert."

"Then why play?"

"Because I love hanging out with my friends," Aaron said. "We tell jokes and drink fine booze. n.o.body takes it too seriously."

Woods moved a little closer. "You're staying at this hotel?"

"I'm a regional sales manager, and I pretty much live in hotels. What about you?"

"I'm stuck here for the duration of a contract. I don't know when I'll go home."

"I didn't get your name."

"Mark Woods."

Aaron put out his hand. "Joseph Drake of Quick Click Auto Parts. Glad to meet you." They shook hands. "Now I'd better get back to my game before they kick me out." He turned to his laptop.

Woods just stood silently instead of leaving.

The fish is hooked, Aaron thought. He played another hand. He intentionally bet big and lost again.

He looked back at Woods. "Can I help you?"

"I'll just watch." Woods scratched the stubble on his chin. "If you don't mind."

"Then give me some tips. I'm getting creamed."

"Sure." Woods moved closer and leaned over the laptop with an eager expression.

The next hand began with two cards dealt to each player. These were known as the "hole" cards and were kept secret from the other players.

"An ace and a five," Woods said. "Not bad. I always like an ace in the hole."

"Should I make a big bet?"

"Just wait. You'll have plenty of chances to bet."

"But I want to scare them," Aaron said.

Woods shook his head. "n.o.body is scared of you right now. Just pa.s.s."

Aaron pa.s.sed.

The next three cards were called the "flop." All the players shared these cards and could use them to construct their final hand.

"Another five," Woods said. "Nice."

"Can I bet now?" Aaron said.

"Sure, but a low pair probably won't win when the table is so crowded. Go easy."

Aaron bet three hundred dollars. Woods shook his head as if frustrated. Two players folded, but the remaining three pushed the bet up to five hundred.

"They think you're a born loser," Woods said. "You have to make them respect you. Poker is a game of respect."

"I know that much," Aaron said.

The "turn" card was dealt, and like the flop, this one was shared between players.

"No help there," Woods said. "I estimate you have less than a fifty percent chance of winning."

One of the other players bet two hundred dollars. Aaron immediately clicked the "fold" b.u.t.ton.

"Why did you give up?" Woods said.

"You just told me I was going to lose."

"That's not what I said. I estimated a probability."

Aaron was playing like an idiot on purpose. He hoped Woods was too tired to realize what was really happening, and so far that seemed to be the case. After watching three more hands, Woods finally asked the question Aaron was waiting to hear.

"I was wondering," Woods said. "Could I play with you and your friends tonight?"

Reel in the fish slowly, Aaron thought. "I don't know." He frowned. "You seem like a nice guy, but I don't think my buddies want me to invite a stranger to the party. It's a tight group."

"Please. I live in Virginia, and I don't know anybody here. It's been tough for me. I could really use some fun."

"How are you going to pay for chips? The buy-in is five grand, and we don't take personal checks. You'll have to bring cash. I'm not trying to be an a.s.shole but we don't know you. You're credit is no good."

Woods gnawed his lip. "I have cash."

Aaron wanted to smile but kept a straight face. The fish is in the net. "That much? Really?"

"Sure."

"You're not a drug dealer, are you?"

"No," Woods said sharply. "Nothing like that. I always keep plenty of cash when I'm on the road. You never know what can happen."

The lie was delivered better than Aaron had expected with only a slight blush and eye twitch. He knew Woods was planning to use the cash roll that Marina had conveniently given to him last night.

Aaron nodded. "That's true. OK. I'll call my friends to make sure they're cool with this. Show up with the money and a positive att.i.tude. I can't promise you'll get to play. My friends don't trust outsiders much."

"I understand. Thanks." Woods smiled. "Where and when?"

"This hotel, room 512. Eight PM."

"Got it."