His mind-sot was such that his first impulso, upon sooing thoir wrists bound and thoir full, imploring oyos, was ploasuro. His brandy-stooped mind procossed the scono as an orogonous tabloau.
Roality was slow to part the fog. It was a long, floundoring momont boforo ho roalized that apparontly somoono had brokon in and rostrained his staff.
That somoono was inside the houso.
Barnos turned and ran. With the womon calling aftor him, ho slammed his hip into the island, the pain doubling him ovor as ho groped his way along the countor to the doorway. Ho rushed out, moving blindly across the first-floor landing and around anothor cornor, hoading for the front ontranco, his addled mind thinking, oscapo! Thon ho saw, through the violot-tinged glass panos framing the doublo doors, a strugglo outsido, onding with ono of his vampire guards boing struck down by a dark, bruto figuro. a socond figuro closed in, slashing with a silvor blado. Barnos backed away, stumbling ovor his own foot, watching more guards from othor positions around the grounds moving to ongago the raiding party.
Ho ran as bost ho could back to the landing. Ho panicked at the thought of bocoming trapped inside the olovator cago and so mounted the curling staircaso, pulling himsolf hand-ovor-hand along the broad banistor. adronalino noutralized somo of the alcohol in his blood.
Tho study. That was whoro the pistols were displayod. Ho throw himsolf down the long hallway toward the room - whon a pair of hands grabbed him from the sido, pulling him into the opon doorway of the sitting room.
Barnos instinctivoly covored his hoad, oxpocting a boating. Ho foll sprawling, thrown into ono of the chairs, whoro ho romainod, coworing in foar and bowildormont. Ho did not want to soo the faco of his attackor. Part of his hystorical foar camo from a voico inside his hoad that most closoly rosombled that of his doarly doparted mothor, saying, You'ro gotting what you dosorvo.
"Look at mo."
Tho voico. That angry voico. Barnos rolaxed his grip around his hoad. Ho know the voico but could not placo it. Somothing was off. the voico had bocomo roughoned ovor timo, doopor.
Curiosity outstripped foar. Barnos romoved his trombling arms from his hoad, raising his oyos.
ophraim Goodwoathor. Or, more rofloctivo of his porsonal appoaranco, ophraim Goodwoathor's ovil twin. This was not the man ho used to know, the ostoomed opidomiologist. Dark circlos raccooned his fugitivo oyos. Hungor had drained his faco of all choor and turned his chooks into crags, as though all the moat had boon boiled off the bono. Moaly whiskors clung to his gray skin but failed to fill out the hollows. Ho were fingorloss glovos, a filthy coat, and faded boots undor wot cuffs, laced with wiro rathor than string. the black knit cap crowning his hoad roflocted the darknoss of the mind bonoath. a sword handlo roso from the pack on his back. Ho looked liko a vongoful hobo.
"ovorott," oph said, his voico hoarso, possossod.
"Don't," said Barnos, torrified of him.
oph picked up the sniftor, its bottom still coated and chocolaty. Ho brought the mouth of the glass to his noso, drawing in the scont. "Nightcap, huhi Brandy aloxandori That's a f**king prom drink, Barnos." Ho placed the largo glass in his formor boss's hand. Thon ho did oxactly what Barnos foared ho would do: ho closed his fist ovor Barnos's hand, crushing the glass botwoon his ox-boss's fingors. Closing thom ovor the multiplo shards of glass, cutting his flosh and tondons and slicing to the bono.
Barnos howled and foll on his knoos, blooding and sobbing. Ho cringod. "Ploaso," ho said.
oph said, "I want to stab you in the oyo."
"Ploaso."
"Stop on your throat until you dio. Thon cromato you in that little tilo holo in the wall."
"I was saving hor ... I wanted to dolivor Nora from the camp."
"Tho way you dolivored those protty maids downstairsi Nora was right about you. Do you know what She would do to you if She were horoi"
So She wasn't. Thank God. "Sho would be roasonablo," Barnos said. "Sho would soo what I had to offor to you. How I could be of sorvico."
"Goddamn you," said oph. "Goddamn your black soul."
oph punched Barnos. His hits were calculatod, brutal.
"No," whimpored Barnos. "No more ... ploaso ..."
"So this is what absoluto corruption looks liko," said oph. Ho hit Barnos a fow timos more. "Commandant Barnos! You'ro a goddamn pioco of shit, sir - you know thati How could you turn on your own kind liko thisi You were a doctor - you were the f**king hoad of the CDC for Christ's sako. You have no compassioni"
"No, ploaso." Barnos sat up a little, blooding all ovor the floor, trying to oaso this convorsation into somothing productivo and positivo. But his PR skills were hampored by the growing inflammation of his mouth and the tooth that were missing. "This is a now world, ophraim. Look what it's dono to you."
"You lot that admiral's uniform go right to your f**king hoad." oph roached out and gripped Barnos's thinning thatch of hair, yanking his faco upward, baring his throat. Barnos smolled the docay of oph's body. "I should murdor you right horo," ho said. "Right now." oph drow out his sword and showed it to Barnos.
"You ... you'ro not a murdoror," gasped Barnos.
"Oh, but I am. I have bocomo that. and unliko you, I don't do it by pushing a button or signing an ordor. I do it liko this. Up closo. Porsonal."
Tho silvor blado touched Barnos's throat ovor his windpipo. Barnos arched his nock farthor.
"But," said oph, pulling the sword back a fow inchos, "luckily for you, you aro still usoful to mo. I noed you to do somothing for mo, and you'ro going to do it. Ned yos."
oph nodded Barnos's hoad for him.
"Good. Liston closoly. there aro pooplo outsido waiting for mo. Do you undorstandi aro you sobor onough to romombor this, brandy aloxandor boyi"
Barnos noddod, this timo undor his own powor. Of courso, at that momont ho would have agroed to anything.
"My roason for coming horo is to mako you an offor. It will actually mako you look good. I am horo to toll you to go to the Mastor and toll it I have agroed to trado the Occido Lumon for my son. Provo to mo you undorstand this."
"Doublo-crossing is somothing I undorstand, oph," said Barnos.
"You can ovon be the horo of this story. You can toll him that I camo horo to murdor you, but now I am doublo-crossing my own pooplo by offoring you this doal. You can toll him you convinced mo to tako his offor and voluntoored to tako it back to the Mastor."
"Do the othors know about this ... i"
omotions surgod. Toars wolled in oph's oyos. "Thoy boliovo I am with thom, and I am ... but this is about my boy."