Page 83 of Smoky Lake

“I can help you!” Gil shouted. “You could be in danger!”

“Just go back! Lachlan needs you! So does Ani!”

What the fuck did that mean?

Victor was trying to scare him, that was all. Make him run back to town. But he’d just texted with Lachlan, and Ani was with Sergeant Thomson.

Whatever Victor was up to, he wasn’t going to let him get away with it. The hell with that. Gil raced back to the four-wheeler and gunned it toward the trailhead.

Why would Victor have to protect his research from Gil? It made no sense. Nothing about Victor’s actions was adding up.

By the time Gil reached the gutted structure that had been the Smoky Lake Institute, he had scratches all over his face and hands from the alder branches along the trail.

“Victor!” he yelled. No point in trying to sneak up on the guy on a four-wheeler. Those things were noisy. He climbed off and strode around to the back. The missile had hit the front of the building, but the back was relatively intact, and the garden untouched. The kale was leafier than ever. Amazing how nature just carried on.

He took a few more steps forward. “Victor, are you here? Tell me what’s going on. I can help.”

“Stop where you are.”

He spun around at the sound of Victor’s shaky voice. The scientist stood just outside the back door, which opened onto a basement-type room partially dug into the slope. Gil knew there was cold storage in there, with a generator providing the power, but wasn’t sure it was still functioning. Victor had exchanged his backpack for a zippered, insulated cooler with shoulder straps.

He lifted his arm and Gil saw, with a quick shock, that he held a Glock 22.

“Victor,” Gil said softly. “What are you doing?”

“I need you to go away. Just go away. Like I said, go back to Lachlan. Go back to Ani. Just go.”

Gil heard despair and desperation in his voice. “But why? Come on. I know you’re not going to shoot me.”

“I don’t want to! You know me, I don’t choose violence. But I will if I have to. Please don’t make me. All you have to do is go away.”

“Okay. Okay.” Gil flattened his hands in a calming gesture. “I hear you. I want to get shot even less than you want to shoot me.” Maybe some humor would bring Victor back to his senses. “I’ll go away.”

“Good.” Victor gave a sob of relief and shoved a shank of curly hair off his face. “That’s smart. Lachlan always said you were just as smart as him, in your own way.”

“Really, he said that?” Gil figured anything to keep Victor talking would be good. “He thinks the world of you too. He just told me to watch you. Why is he worried?”

“Leave Lachlan out of this. Just go.” He waved the gun again.

“I’m going. I’m going.” Gil took a step backwards, then another one. But he knew he’d hit on a soft spot of Victor’s—Lachlan. Other scientists respected and revered Lachlan.“You know what Lachlan says about you? He says you’re like Indiana Jones crossed with John Muir. He thinks someone should make a movie about you.”

Victor’s hand shook so hard that he brought up his other one to steady it. “Just go,” he choked.

Watch Victor. It had definitely been a warning. Too bad Lachlan hadn’t offered more specifics.

“Whatever’s going on, it’s not going to take Lachlan long to put it all together. You know how he is. He likes to believe the best about people, but he is a scientist. In the end it’s all about the evidence. Did you cross a line, Victor? Other than the ones I know about, filching a virus sample, going outside your grant, injecting people without their knowledge. Are you…”

As he spoke, some pieces fell into place and formed a terrible picture.

“Are you selling your research to someone? To whoever wants to weaponize the virus?”

“Stop! Just stop! I’ll shoot you!”

Shocking them both, Victor did shoot—into the ground a few yards from Gil’s feet. The report echoed through the woods and across the lake. Crows croaked and Gil heard the flap of wings behind him.

“Oh fuck,” Victor muttered. He stared at the gun in his hand as if he’d never seen it before. “I didn’t mean to do that. Oh shit. I’m sorry, Gil. You have to go. They’re?—”

Unlike Victor, Gil wasn’t fazed by the sound of gunfire. He’d be a pretty terrible security agent if he was. Even though his pulse raced, he held his ground.

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