Тесс Герритсен - Whistleblower стр 12.

Victor lunged for the door, slammed against the closing bar, and dashed into the stairwell.

His footsteps echoed against the concrete as he pounded down the stairs. By the time he heard Miss Redfern scramble after him into the stairwell, hed already reached the first floor and was pushing through the last door to freedom.

Mr. Holland! yelled Miss Redfern.

Even as he dashed across the parking lot, he could still hear Miss Redferns outraged voice echoing in his ears.

Eight blocks away he turned into a K Mart, and within ten minutes had bought a shirt, blue jeans, underwear, socks and a pair of size-twelve tennis shoes, all of which he paid for with his credit card. He tossed Lennys old clothes into a trash can.

Before emerging back outside, he peered through the store window at the street. It seemed like a perfectly normal mid-December morning in a small town, shoppers strolling beneath a tacky garland of Christmas decorations, a half-dozen cars waiting patiently at a red light. He was just about to step out the door when he spotted the police car creeping down the road. Immediately he ducked behind an undressed mannequin and watched through the nude plastic limbs as the police car made its way slowly past the K Mart and continued in the direction of the hospital. They were obviously searching for someone. Was he the one they wanted?

He couldnt afford to risk a stroll down Main Street. There was no way of knowing who else besides Polowski was involved in the double cross.

It took him at least an hour on foot to reach the outskirts of town, and by then he was so weak and wobbly he could barely stand. The surge of adrenaline that had sent him dashing from the hospital was at last petering out. Too tired to take another step, he sank onto a boulder at the side of the highway and halfheartedly held out his thumb. To his immense relief, the next vehicle to come along-a pickup truck loaded with firewood-pulled over. Victor climbed in and collapsed gratefully on the seat.

The driver spat out the window, then squinted at Victor from beneath an Agway Seeds cap. Goin far?

Just a few miles. Oak Hill Road.

Yep. I go right past it. The driver pulled back onto the road. The truck spewed black exhaust as they roared down the highway, country music blaring from the radio.

Through the plucked strains of guitar music, Victor heard a sound that made him sit up sharply. A siren. Whipping his head around, he saw a patrol car zooming up fast behind them. Thats it, thought Victor. Theyve found me. Theyre going to stop this truck and arrest me

But for what? For walking away from the hospital? For insulting Miss Redfern? Or had Polowski fabricated some charge against him?

With a sense of impending doom, he waited for the patrol car to overtake them and start flashing its signal to pull over. In fact, he was so certain they would be pulled over that when the police car sped right past them and roared off down the highway, he could only stare ahead in amazement.

Must be some kinda trouble, his companion said blandly, nodding at the rapidly vanishing police car.

Victor managed to clear his throat. Trouble?

Yep. Dont get much of a chance to use that siren of theirs but when they do, boy oh boy, do they go to town with it.

With his heart hammering against his ribs, Victor sat back and forced himself to calm down. He had nothing to worry about. The police werent after him, they were busy with some other concern. He wondered what sort of small-town catastrophe could warrant blaring sirens. Probably nothing more exciting than a few kids out on a joyride.

By the time they reached the turnoff to Oak Hill Road, Victors pulse had settled back to normal. He thanked the driver, climbed out, and began the trek to Catherine Weavers house. It was a long walk, and the road wound through a forest of pines. Every so often hed pass a mailbox along the road and, peering through the trees, would spot a house. Catherines address was coming up fast.

What on earth should he say to her? Up till now hed concentrated only on reaching her house. Now that he was almost there, he had to come up with some reasonable explanation for why hed dragged himself out of a hospital bed and trudged all this way to see her. A simple thanks for saving my life just wouldnt do it. He had to find out if she had the film canister. But she, of course, would want to know why the damn thing was so important.

You could tell her the truth.

No, forget that. He could imagine her reaction if he were to launch into his wild tale about viruses and dead scientists and double-crossing FBI agents. The FBI is out to get you? I see. And who else is after you, Mr. Holland? It was so absurdly paranoid he almost felt like laughing. No, he couldnt tell her any of it or hed end up right back in a hospital, and this time in a ward that would make Miss Redferns Three East look like paradise.

She didnt need to know any of it. In fact, she was better off ignorant. The woman had saved his life, and the last thing he wanted to do was put her in any danger. The film was all he wanted from her. After today, shed never see him again.