"Just at this time," I repeated grimly. No way. You've got to give them credit, I suppose; it was an intricate plan, carried off flawlessly.
    "Nonetheless, there is nothing in the paperwork that would lead me to believe anything untoward happened, were you not to look over the coincidences involved."
    "When was that patient shipped in?" Scott asked.
    "An interesting point. The patient was checked in on the fourteenth, transferred out on the seventeenth. That was shortly after the unfortunate incident with Vincent."
    "Transferred in from? And to?"
    "Who's the assigning doctor?" Lucky wanted to know.
    "I'm sure it was all perfectly legitimate, I've checked it over. They thought they had better facilities there, the patient proved extremely unruly over the course of three days, he was transferred out."
    "And in the meantime, they'd ordered a supply of this chemical," I concluded. I didn't think of it until now, but this means that I don't have Ellis on my conscience after all. This was planned out well in advance, was already in motion by the time I spoke to him.
    "Precisely."
    "Who ordered it?" Scott asked.
    Albert riffled through his notes. "Dr. Mary Elizabeth Lanigan."
    "Where's the company that this chemical is made?" Lucky asked.
    "They're located in New Hampshire, but I'm not entirely sure that that's worthwhile," Albert added cautiously. "It is a common pharmaceutical for certain cases."
    "I'd be more interested to see what we can find on this doctor," the robot opined.
    "Lanigan was also, interestingly enough, the one who supervised his transfer there, and his transfer out. She was supposed to be in charge of the case for all of its 72 hours."
    "She ever have any contact with Felix?" I asked.
    "She would have to, Felix has been at the institution for three years now, or four."
    "When did she come on staff there?" Scott inquired.
    "Six years ago. Previous to that she had been doing her internship out at William and Mary for a year and a half."
    No California connection. Darn.
    "Where did she grow up?" Lucky asked, probably thinking along the same lines I had been.
    "I don't have that information," Albert apologized. "There was only so much research that I could cobble together."
    "Good job," she reassured him.
    "But she would seem to be our link, although I'm afraid that it be something as easy as someone bribing her."
    "That would be more than we've got now," I shrugged.
    "So we bribe her again," Lucky grinned.
    "How ruthless do you believe these people are?" Albert asked me.
    "Well, we know they've killed three people." Probably a lot more than that, though I'm pretty sure we'll never be able to pin that plane crash on them.
    "If they think she'll talk, they'll kill her," our ex-Mafioso stated flatly.
    "If they think she'll talk, she would already be dead, would have been right after the transfer was over," Albert objected.
    "Then she won't talk."
    "Either she won't talk or she doesn't have anything to say," Scott corrected. "If somebody bribed her, gave her say ten thousand dollars to make sure this person comes here and have the following chemicals ordered...."
    "...And then transfer him out," Albert finished. "She probably even justified it to herself that the patient wouldn't get hurt, there was at most a 96-hour lapse in his care."
    "I don't suppose anybody here has access to bank records?" Scott asked.
    "I could get them," Lucky offered.
    "What, break into the bank?"
    "I've done it before."
    "We don't want to know," I muttered.
    "Look, you don't want to know or you do want to know, stop asking about my past if you don't want to hear it," she snapped. I ignored her. She's under a lot of stress. Scott was trying to look at Albert's notes, which were of course in French.
    "Do you have a copy for people who haven't extended their database?"
    "I'll see what I can do."
    Lucky's comment had jogged my memory. "Oh, just to keep all of us on the same page where all of our various problems are concerned, I told Travis almost everything. That's the ex-boyfriend that you were remarking on the other day. Since he may be in danger, I thought it was best for him to know at least a little bit about it. So we can add another one to our circle of people who know." I don't know who the hell I think I'm kidding, that circle has over a dozen members now. Sooner or later it'll come out.
    "He already knew, or he was already in danger. Doesn't matter either direction," Scott shrugged liquidly.
    "He can get out of town now if he wants to." I wish he would, I don't need anything else to worry about.
    "Needle?" Albert said suddenly. "What is in that box?" He was looking at the small pile of possessions in the corner, the box marked "evidence."
    "Lies," I answered shortly. "And a gun."
    "A gun?" Lucky's interest was caught.
    "The one the Blood Board had."
    She gave me a horrified look. "You kept it?"
    "Well, yeah."
    "You have a gun that can kill only you, and you keep it."
    "Call it a souvenir."
    "I call it suicide."
    "Yes?" I ignored her and prodded Albert, who was wearing an odd expression.
    "Just a thought," he dismissed.
    "Which was?" Scott asked.
    "Nothing I can corroborate at the moment. With your permission, may I view those lies?"
    "You may do whatever you like to them." God knows I haven't been getting anywhere with them. Maybe someone else's perspective is needed.
    Lucky tried to get us back on track. "So we have no plan of action, we have no one to question, we think that the Easter Bunny is behind all this...."
    "Have we investigated Miss Shapiro's background?" Hans asked.
    "Yes. She was a journalist."
    "Well...."
    The general line rang. Scott, having a slight advantage in response time due to the fact that his phone is part of his body, got it.
    "Hello?"
    "This is Winters. Javelin's gone."
    "Javelin's gone?"
    "Fuck!" Lucky snarled under her breath. I surprised myself by hurting my hand rather badly on the wall. I knew this was going to happen. They had him under guard. What had gone wrong? Scott repeated Winters' half of the conversation aloud for our benefit.
    "Gone. Poof, empty cell, blood all over the place."

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