Free Deadly Code by Lin Anderson

she apologised.
    Phillips looked mollified, but only slightly.
    'A Dr MacAulay did come here from America some years ago to work for us.'
    She finished his sentence again. 'At Porton Down.'
    'Yes. However, Dr MacAulay left our employ soon after arriving . . . through ill health.' His lip curled in distaste. 'We lost touch with him for a variety of reasons.'
    'Incompetence being one of them?'
    The polite mask was slipping. Behind it was something rather different.
    'Look' she explained, 'I've just arrived back from Los Angeles. My head feels as though I've been travelling the wrong way round the world for twelve hours so I probably have jet lag. Could you just tell me why I'm here?'
    She had to sit down. Her legs felt like water. She made for the nearest chair.
    'Dr MacLeod.'
    Her name, Rhona decided, seemed to be acquiring a threadbare status. Either that, or she was going deaf. Phillips' mouth was moving but she had no idea what he was saying.
    She wondered for a moment if this was a dream. She decided she didn't care anyway. In fact, she felt positively relaxed about it all, even when she felt the cold splash of whisky on her legs and heard the crystal smash on the fancy marble floor.

Chapter 11
     
    Spike had been at the corner when he spotted the police car and ambulance parked outside the jazz club.
    The ambulance could be for anybody, he told himself. One of the old cleaning women had probably had a heart attack. Or with a bit of luck, that bastard of a doorman that hadn't let him in to watch Esther sing. But the ambulance wasn't there for either of them. Spike knew it wasn't.
    He pushed the sleeping baby towards the club, ignoring the drumming of his heart and the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.
    Two medics were emerging from the entrance. Between them Esther stumbled forward, her face confused and distraught. One of the medics was telling her to get in the back of the ambulance, everything would be alright, she mustn't worry.
    A howl of fear jammed itself in Spike's throat and he stopped dead, even though the ambulance doors were swinging shut and Esther was disappearing inside.
    A lorry thundered past, waking up the baby. It started yelling. Spike shushed it, his brain trying desperately to engage, to think of something that would stop the ambulance taking Esther away, knowing it was already too late. The van doors were shut by the time Spike's voice escaped his clenched throat.
    'Esther!'
    He started to run and the baby's cries suddenly changed to glee, as the buggy jumped the cracks in the pavement, bouncing up and down. The ambulance was forcing its way into the line of traffic, light flashing.
    Fuck!
    The man coming out of the entrance jumped back to avoid the buggy, landing heavily on the toes of the policeman who was just behind him. Spike remembered this guy, smiling down at him from the stage, the cat that got the cream, introducing Esther like he was responsible for her great voice. Well, the bold Sean McGuire didn't look so happy now.
    ‘What the hell's going on?' The policeman forgot his crushed toes and followed Sean's intent stare.
    Spike didn't like the interest he was getting. He bent over the baby, who had returned to crying, pulled the sobbing bundle from the pram and held it close, shielding his face with the coloured hat. He desperately wanted to ask what had happened. Whatever it was, it looked like McGuire was getting the blame. Spike tried not to be too glad about that. With McGuire lifted, he had little chance of finding out where they'd taken Esther. He watched in silence as McGuire was directed into the back of the police car.
    As luck would have it, the doorman came out as Spike was persuading the baby back into the buggy.
    ‘Heh!'
    A good doorman never forgets a face, especially a troublemaker's face. The doorman remembered Spike.
    'What do you want, son?'
    'Where have they taken Esther?'
    The doorman looked at the baby. You could guess what he was thinking. The wean must be the