Free The Demon Pool by Richard B. Dwyer

when we are not there on weekends. On top of
what we lose not dancing, they fine us. I don’t think I can afford that.”
    “I have a little extra money put away. I can
handle the extra expense.” So much for the cheap trip.
    “I’ll call the hotel,” Bruce continued, “Let them
know we’re staying longer. My flight leaves at 8:23 tonight. I can pick you up
around six?”
    “Six is fine, Lover.” Kat’s voice held promise.
“After you’re done in Atlanta, we’ll make this a special weekend. See you at
six.”
    ***
    Baalzaric was almost giddy with anticipation. Kat would
take the Viper to Naples tonight. He did not know exactly how it would happen,
but tonight, he would take the first step toward freedom from the accursed
pool.
    ***
    The line disconnected and Bruce hung up the phone.
He closed his eyes. Kat had called him “ lover” again. He liked the way
she said the word. He let it dwell in his mind. Lover. Kat’s lover .
    His spirit embraced the concept, tasted its
sweetness, held it, caressed it. Kat’s lover .
    It seemed to Bruce to be a perfect fit.

chapter ten
    The stretch of I-75 south of Tampa and north of Naples
provided the perfect piece of South Florida highway for “flying close to the
ground.” The Corvette ate up the miles, while the premium sound system cranked
out what Jefferson Briggs called his “driving music.” A custom CD of
hard-driving, classic, southern rock and roll. The Ozark Mountain Daredevils
jammed out their classic rock hit, “If You Wanna Get to Heaven.” He had been
working almost too hard, and tonight he and Kimberly would raise a little hell.
    The radar detector’s sensors swept the road ahead.
The 638 horsepower, hand-assembled, LS9 motor that powered his Corvette purred
like a contented kitten. A supercharged, high performance monster, the LS9 went
from zero to sixty in a hair over three seconds.
    Briggs was feeling good. His presentation to the
governor and his staff last week on the value of a new stem cell research initiative
had gone well, and the technology entrepreneur of the year award had iced the
cake.
    Briggs had spent months putting together the best
genetic research team in the nation. He had positioned Advanced Genetic
Technologies to put Florida years ahead of the other major genetic and stem
cell research centers. With its aging population, Briggs believed that Florida
was ripe to support research that would extend the geriatric generation’s
golden years. He believed that he had the ultimate political and social winner.
    Briggs convinced the governor’s staff to back the
new stem cell research initiative, and its hefty billion-dollar cost, by
emphasizing the benefit of a healthy population of long-living taxpayers. He
had shown them statistics validating a return on investment, of more than
fifteen to one.
    It would not matter what party was in power once
the initiative passed. That kind of return appealed to both parties equally and
the first one hundred million dollars would go to Advanced Genetic
Technologies. Once that funding was in place, Briggs would take the company
public and give Bill Gates a run for his money. AGT would be the Microsoft of
the genetics research universe. Everybody wins in this game. Especially me.
    He had worked long, hard hours, month after
month, with few breaks. This trip was his first real getaway in close to a
year. Work had put a strain on his relationship with Kimberly, but he would
make it up to her over the next couple of days.
    He looked over at her as she dozed fitfully in
the passenger seat. He anticipated a little piece of heaven in Naples. Briggs
felt at the top of his game. King of the world.
    Until a Dodge Viper blew past him like he was
standing still.
    “Son of a bitch!”
    A surge of testosterone-driven adrenalin coursed
through his veins and he pulled himself taller, as much as one could in a
Corvette. The digital speedometer said he was doing an even one hundred miles
per hour, though it felt no