"Then let's verify." She dialed Griffin. When he picked up, she said, "I need Agent Deevers here at the motel. Where is she? How quickly can she get here with her test kit?"

"About ten minutes. Your time is running out, Kendra. Another twenty minutes, and you have to turn him over to us."

"I know. Tell her to get here as quickly as possible and bring her bag." She hung up and turned back to Briggs. "Ten minutes. If you tell me enough in that ten minutes before she gets here, I'll let her run the test. If you don't, I'll tell them to take you into custody."

"I ain't telling you everything."

"You will," Lynch said. "But we'll start with names. Laird? Oscar Laird? Security head at Thatcher Pharmaceuticals?"

Briggs eyes widened. "You know about Thatcher?"

"What's Laird's connection to you?" Lynch repeated.

Briggs didn't answer at once. "I guess if you know about Thatcher, it won't be telling you too much. Yeah, Oscar Laird is with Thatcher."

"That's not telling us anything we don't know. More. You answer to him?"

"Sort of."

"What's the stuff you were dealing with in the desert?" Kendra asked. "You said you knew more than Laird thought you did. What do you know about that substance?"

Briggs eyes sidled away from hers. "I've said enough for now."

"You've not said anywhere near enough," Lynch said with soft venom. "We haven't been convinced that your miserable hide is worth saving. Talk. What do you know about that chemical?"

Briggs finally shrugged. "Not much. They told us that there was a big hurry for us to do the final finish. It was set to be flown out of the country two days from now."

"Flown where?"

"The Middle East. Iraq or Iran or somewhere else like that."

"Well, that's precise."

"What do I care? Leon was set to do the finishing. He had to combine the final ingredients of the formula, then cook them like you do crystal meth. I was just supposed to guard him and the stuff." His lips twisted. "It was working out fine until you stuck your nose into our business."

"What is this 'stuff'?"

He shrugged. "They called it Pegasus 2. They said that they had to do the final finishing procedure outdoors instead of the lab, and that's why they set us up at Ocotillo Wells." He made a face. "It stunk big-time."

"The formula was called Pegasus 2? What was it supposed to do?"

"They didn't tell me." He smirked. "I told you, they tried to keep us from finding out anything. But I snooped around a little ... just for my own protection. I saw sealed cans of some other formula at a warehouse when we made a delivery. It was marked Pegasus 1. It was in an old box labeled with some address in Panama City, Florida."

Kendra frowned. "It was the same substance?"

"I didn't say that," Briggs said. "I said it looked like the same kind of packaging. Only those cans and boxes looked old, and October 2004 was printed on the outside." He frowned. "Look, I've told you enough. When do I get that test?"

Lynch ignored the question. "So you and Leon were out there working on a formula called Pegasus 2. And you saw old crates labeled Pegasus 1, which might or might not be the same formula. You really expect us to believe you don't know what the substance is capable of doing?"

"Laird never told Leon or me nothing. We were just grunts to them." He smiled slyly. "But that kind of changed after old man Rusin started fouling up on the hits. Rusin was real scared that it might be contagious. I heard Laird tell Rusin that the stuff was like a catalyst."

"A catalyst," Kendra murmured. "An activator. But to activate what?"

"How do I know?" Briggs said. "But it better not be activating anything inside me, or I'll go after Laird and cut his nuts off."

"And you don't know anything about Jeff Stedler. Is he dead? Did you or Rusin kill him?"

"I ain't talking no more. Now get me that-"

There was a knock on the door.

"Sienna." Lynch strode across the room and threw open the door. "Come in. You must have been close."

"I was on my way here." She smiled. "Santini was a little too smug about locating the b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I wanted to at least be in on the collar." Her brows rose as she saw Briggs. "He's a little worse for wear, isn't he?"

"He fell down the steps," Lynch repeated.

"And you brought me here to give first aid?"

"Not exactly. You said you had a kit that could test for that foreign substance. Can you test Briggs for it?"

"Sure." She opened her black bag. "But couldn't it wait until after he's in custody?"

"No," Kendra said. "We made a bargain. How long will it take?"

"A few minutes. I just need to swab his mouth and compare results to the other victims'."

"I ain't got it." Briggs was glaring balefully at her. "I feel strong as a horse."

"I'm sure you do," Sienna said. "None of the victims had any symptoms even though some were advanced." She glanced at Kendra. "Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"He wants it done. He's giving you bull." She looked at Briggs. "Yes or no? Last chance. Once they put you away, I'll do everything I can to keep you from being tested. I want you dead, Briggs."

Her sincerity must have been clear to him.

He scowled. "Do it," he said harshly.

"Open your mouth." Sienna picked up two toothbrush-sized swabs and carefully sc.r.a.ped the inside of each cheek. "That should do it." She turned and placed one of the swabs in a clear gla.s.s tube. "Okay, this will only take a minute or so. The liquid will turn a bright blue if he's been infected."

"I ain't got it," Briggs said. "I wasn't around that stuff much at all. Just a couple times when-" He broke off, then stared at the tube. "It's not changing. See?"

"She said it would take a minute," Kendra said. "Shut up, Briggs."

"I ain't going to shut-"

He was staring at the liquid, which suddenly darkened into an opaline blue.

"Positive." Sienna looked up from the tube. "And strongly advanced. Being so close to the source must have increased the-"

"You're lying." Briggs was pale. "I ain't gonna die. Not because of some c.r.a.p like this."

"You will unless we can find an antidote," Kendra said. "And since we don't know what the h.e.l.l we're dealing with, that may take some time. Talk, Briggs."

"I'm not telling you anything else," he said hoa.r.s.ely. "This could all be a trick. I want to see a lawyer."

"By all means," Lynch said. "Sienna, tell the agents outside to come in and take Briggs into custody. Let him sit in a cell for a night and think about how his buddy Laird let him breathe that poison without even warning him." He gazed into Briggs's eyes. "We'll be there first thing in the morning, and if you tell us more of what we need to know, we might work on getting that antidote and keeping you alive."

"It's a trick. I'm going to live. I don't have that c.r.a.p inside me."

"How much time does he have, Sienna?" Kendra asked.

She shrugged. "I have no idea. I've been dealing with dead bodies and one survivor who was almost dead. It's advanced. It could be a week or two. Or it could be sooner." She looked at Briggs. "You'd be smart to tell us what we want to know so that we can get to the bottom of this illness."

"I'm okay. I want my own doctor. Not some FBI-" He was breathing hard. "You're all lying."

"Whatever." Sienna moved toward the front door. "I'll call in the guys on stakeout."

"Do that." Kendra followed Sienna to the door. "Were you just trying to help us pressure him?" she asked in a low voice. "Lies or truth?"

"Truth," Sienna said as she started down the steps. "He's probably a dead man."

Kendra turned back to Briggs as she closed the door behind Sienna. "You're sure you don't want to talk to us? We need addresses, names, anything to do with that substance." She paused. "Anything to do with Jeff Stedler."

"Screw you." He was breathing hard, as if he were running. "I don't have to tell you anything more. Do you know what Laird would do to me? I'll get my lawyer to make you get me that antidote. I've got rights."

And the sad thing was that the justice system would bend over backward to give this murderer his const.i.tutional rights, Kendra thought. Even if it meant he would eventually walk out of that courtroom a free man. "That will take time. You may not have time. We'll be visiting you tomorrow morning. If you're smart, you'll reconsider. Lawyers are good at stalling but not-" She broke off as Sienna and four FBI agents streamed into the room.

Sienna glanced at her inquiringly as the agents surrounded Briggs and fired questions at Lynch. "Any luck?"

She shook her head. "He's shut up tight now, but we may be able to use some of the info he gave us before."

"What info? Griffin will-"

"We're not going to leave Griffin out in the cold," Lynch said as he joined them. "Though Briggs didn't give us enough to wrap anything up. Maybe Griffin will have better luck with him."

"He gave us one thing," Kendra said. "The warehouse."

Lynch nodded and turned on his heel. "Let's go find it."

"You should inform Agent Griffin," Sienna called after them as Kendra joined Lynch as he went out the door. "He won't like your going off on your own. This is an official investigation, and-"

"Keep us informed on Briggs," Kendra tossed back over her shoulder. The next moment, she was hurrying after Lynch as he headed for the car. "And how are we to find this warehouse?" she asked as she got into the pa.s.senger seat. "Briggs clammed up before we got details."

"But we have the name of the substance. Pegasus. We know that Charles Schuyler, the CEO of Thatcher Pharmaceuticals, is up to his neck in this mess." He pulled out his phone. "And we should have the photos of Schuyler and Denton we requested from Griffin earlier. There they are. Griffin marked the photos with a letter over each of their heads to identify them. Look happy, don't they?"

The two men were sitting at a banquet table and smiling into the camera. They both appeared to be in their fifties or early sixties. The surgeon, Denton, was tall, a little lanky, with dark hair that was receding slightly. His eyes were light, blue or gray, and his smile was bright and confident. Schuyler was heavier, with a shock of gray-threaded dark hair and an olive complexion. He was also smiling, but there was a tinge of cynicism in the curve of his lips. "They seem ... close."

"Bound by a mutual l.u.s.t for the long green?" He glanced down at the phone. "And here's the shot of Oscar Laird, whom Briggs was telling us about."

Laird was a powerfully built fortyish man with a dirty blond crew cut and handsome, craggy features.

"Griffin's being very cooperative," Kendra said dryly. "He's evidently trying to give us everything we might want or need."

"I'll take it." He was driving down the boulevard toward the freeway. "At any rate, we need to ask all of them a good many questions. Schuyler, first. Let's head for the Thatcher offices at Rancho Bernardo." Then he suddenly slowed and pulled off the street onto a supermarket parking lot. "But I need to get some other answers before I chat with Schuyler." He was dialing his phone. "My old friend, Jamerson. It's time you met the gentleman. I'm putting the call on speaker."

"Not yet." Kendra stopped him and started to dial. "I want to make another call first. It's more important."

"To whom?"

But her call had already been picked up. "Olivia, we've got him. His name is Tommy Briggs, and he's in FBI custody."

"You're sure it's the right man?"

She chuckled. "You're d.a.m.n right. He even had the burn mark from your skillet on his face. That will do until the DNA evidence comes in. I thought you'd rest better knowing that the b.a.s.t.a.r.d is off the streets. But since we gave you your going-home present a little ahead of time, you'd better concentrate on getting out of that hospital."

"I'll work on it." She paused. "Thank you, Kendra."

"My pleasure. Believe me, truly my pleasure." She hung up. She turned to Lynch. "Sorry. Now you can make your call."

He was dialing. "No problem. I agree that calling Olivia was more important."

"Really?"

"Really."

The call at the Justice Department was answered on the third ring. "Jamerson. What the h.e.l.l is happening, Lynch?"

"That's what we want to know. Kendra Michaels is on speaker, Jamerson. You'll remember she figured prominently in my reports."

Silence. "Call me back later."

"No way. She's ent.i.tled." He paused. "And we're ent.i.tled to know why you were so interested in what Jeff Stedler was doing here."

"It's confidential."

"Really? And was what was being concocted at Panama City, Florida, in October of 2004 also confidential?"

He repeated warily, "Panama City?"

"Let me help you. Pegasus 1?"

He inhaled sharply. "Where did you hear that name?"

"I sincerely wish it had been from you, Jamerson. Instead, you let me stumble around in the dark."

"That's because Pegasus 1 no longer exists. The last of it was destroyed in 2005."

"It does exist. It's here in San Diego getting ready to be shipped to the Middle East."