Тесс Герритсен - Whistleblower стр 22.

Suddenly aware that she was watching him, he looked up and met her gaze. Slowly his smile faded. They both went very still, as though seeing, in each others eyes, something they had not noticed before. The voices on the television seemed to fade into a far-off dimension. She felt his fingers trace lightly down her cheek. It was only a touch, but it left her shivering.

She asked, softly, What happens now, Victor? Where do we go from here?

We have several choices.

Such as?

I have friends in Palo Alto. We could turn to them.

Or?

Or we could stay right where we are. For a while.

Right where we are. In this room, on this bed. She wouldnt mind that. Not at all.

She felt herself leaning toward him, drawn by a force against which she could offer no resistance. Both his hands came up to cradle her face, such large hands, but so infinitely gentle. She closed her eyes, knowing that this kiss, too, would be a gentle one.

And it was. This wasnt a kiss driven by fear or desperation. This was a quiet melting together of warmth, of souls. She swayed against him, felt his arms circle behind her to pull her inescapably close. It was a dangerous moment. She could feel herself tottering on the edge of total surrender to this man she scarcely knew. Already, her arms had found their way around his neck and her hands were roaming through the silver-streaked thickness of his hair.

His kisses dropped to her neck, exploring all the tender rises and hollows of her throat. All the needs that had lain dormant these past few years, all the hungers and desires, seemed to stir inside her, awakening at his touch.

And then, in an instant, the magic slipped away. At first she didnt understand why he suddenly pulled back. He sat bolt upright. The expression on his face was one of frozen astonishment. Bewildered, she followed his gaze and saw that he was focused on the television set behind her. She turned to see what had captured his attention.

A disturbingly familiar face stared back from the screen. She recognized the Viratek logo at the top, the straight-ahead gaze of the man in the photo. Why on earth would they be broadcasting Victor Hollands ID badge?

Sought on charges of industrial espionage. Evidence now links Dr. Holland to the death of a fellow Viratek researcher, Dr. Gerald Martinique. Investigators fear the suspect has already sold extensive research data to a European competitor

Neither one of them seemed able to move from the bed. They could only stare in disbelief at the newscaster with the Ken doll haircut. The station switched to a commercial break, raisins dancing crazily on a field, proclaiming the wonders of California sunshine. The lilting music was unbearable.

Victor rose to his feet and flicked off the television.

Slowly he turned to look at her. The silence between them grew agonizing.

Its not true, he said quietly. None of it.

She tried to read those unfathomable green eyes, wanting desperately to believe him. The taste of his kisses were still warm on her lips. The kisses of a con artist? Is this just another lie? Has everything youve told me been nothing but lies? Who and what are you, Victor Holland?

She glanced sideways, at the telephone on the bedside stand. It was so close. One call to the police, thats all it would take to end this nightmare.

Its a frame-up, he said. Virateks releasing false information.

Why?

To corner me. What easier way to find me than to have the police help them?

She edged toward the phone.

Dont, Cathy.

She froze, startled by the threat in his voice.

He saw the instant fear in her eyes. Gently he said, Please. Dont call. I wont hurt you. I promise you can walk right out that door if you want. But first listen to me. Let me tell you what happened. Give me a chance.

His gaze was steady and absolutely believable. And he was right beside her, ready to stop her from making a move. Or to break her arm, if need be. She had no other choice. Nodding, she settled back down on the bed.

He began to pace, his feet tracing a path in the dull green carpet.

Its all some-some incredible lie, he said. Its crazy to think Id kill him. Jerry Martinique and I were the best of friends. We both worked at Viratek. I was in vaccine development, he was a microbiologist. His specialty was viral studies. Genome research.

You mean-like chromosomes?

The viral equivalent. Anyway, Jerry and I, we helped each other through some bad times. Hed gone through a painful divorce and I He paused, his voice dropping. I lost my wife three years ago. To leukemia.

So hed been married. Somehow it surprised her. He seemed like the sort of man who was far too independent to have ever said, I do.

About two months ago, he continued, Jerry was transferred to a new research department. Viratek had been awarded a grant for some defense project. It was top security-Jerry couldnt talk about it. But I could see he was bothered by something that was going on in that lab. All hed say to me was, They dont understand the danger. They dont know what theyre getting into. Jerrys field was the alteration of viral genes. So I assume the project had something to do with viruses as weapons. Jerry was fully aware that those weapons are outlawed by international agreement.