Drug of Choice

“The effects of our treatment wore off,” Blood said. “We knew it was happening. We watched you change for the last few weeks. We knew that eventually you would do this, and we were prepared for it.”

“Prepared?”

“Yes. In fact, we’ve been counting on you to make your escape, and to act in a bizarre fashion. Which, naturally, you did. We needed that for legal reasons.”

“What reasons?”

Blood sighed. “Poor Roger. You never will understand, will you? We needed this final evidence in order to certify you insane.”

Harvey Blood sat back in his chair and looked steadily at Clark… “The corporation is overextended,” he said. “Now do you understand?”

Clark sat down. “No.”

“We had very good initial success, with some viruses which we sold to the government. Then we developed the drug, and put it to use in the resort. Another success. We grew bolder — began branching out, working on a wide variety of projects. We accepted contracts from a number of companies. Contracts, Roger, which we have been unable to fill.”

Clark frowned.

“In fact,” Blood said, “we began to find ourselves in great financial trouble. So much trouble, that our good projects — the ones that were panning out, the ones that promised success, the ones like Glow Girl — couldn’t be properly funded. Glow Girl was initially planned for a million. Yesterday, we found that we had only eighty thousand available for it. It’s embarrassing, Roger. Very embarrassing. Half our projects aren’t working out, and the others we can’t finance.” Clark glanced at his watch. “How much time?” Harvey Blood asked mildly. Clark said nothing.

“Oh, there’s no point in trying to hide it. We know what’s happening. For example,” he said, “I just got a call from the police. They notified me that the LA Memorial Hospital had just been robbed. A peculiar robbery — some ether and some oxygen. Now who would take ether and oxygen, Roger?”

Clark felt everything sliding away from him, his plans, his preparations, all of it disappearing into some awful master plan.

“I’ve been a fool,” he said. There were ten minutes left.

23. FOOLS WALK OUT

“Not a fool, Roger,” Harvey Blood said. “Just nearsighted. You mustn’t let it depress you. It could have happened to anybody. Speaking for the corporation, I must say we are all very pleased at the way you’ve worked out. You’ve been a great help to us, a great help. And now, when you destroy this building, you will have performed an invaluable service. We can’t thank you enough.”

There was still time, Clark thought, to go back and pull the plug. Still time to call it off…

“The fact is,” Blood continued, “that we’ve removed all our notes and data from the building. We did it four days ago, because we knew you’d make your move soon. Assuming you are an efficient deviser of homemade bombs — and ether and oxygen should be efficient enough — we can expect this entire building to be demolished. Think what that will mean: no building, no labs, nothing. Obviously we cannot complete our contractual obligations. Obviously, the insurance clauses which cover such contracts will be invoked. And obviously, the insurance on this building itself — five million dollars, and a little more — will go far toward financing our viable projects. So you see, it will all work out nicely.”

Clark found his voice at last. “And me?”

“Well, I admit you pose a problem. You’re quite mad. You’ve attacked a girl, you escaped from my care and flew around the Caribbean, and now you escaped again, threatening friends and acquaintances. And to climax it all, you destroy a corporation. Quite mad. I have no doubt that the courts will find you homicidal and destructive in the extreme, and will want to institutionalize you in a state hospital.”

“I see. But I’ll—”

“Talk? You will indeed. And that is why you pose a problem.”

“You’re going to kill me.”

“Well, not immediately, Roger. Not immediately.”

Clark stood up. “You have it all worked out,” he said. “You’ve always had it worked out, from the very beginning.”

“We like to think so,” Blood said.

Silently, Clark removed the syringe from his pocket and set it on the desk. The pink liquid was clearly visible.

“Have you thought about this?” he asked.

Harvey Blood did not move. His face was expressionless as he stared at the syringe.

“Roger, you’re being foolish.”

“I think I’m finally being smart.”

“Roger, there’s no need—”

“I disagree.” Clark picked up the syringe and held it to the light, squeezing the plunger slightly so that the air bubbles were pushed out. A fine stream of liquid shot into the air. “Roger, that’s a large dose—”

Blood was reaching into the desk drawer. In a swift movement, Clark came around the desk, shoved the drawer shut with his knee. Blood screamed.

Clark jabbed the needle into Blood’s arm, right through his clothing. He felt it enter the skin and muscle; he squeezed out the contents.

Blood did not move. His mouth fell open in horror, and he clutched his arm.