Part 46 (1/2)

John's mind raced. He slowed the car down to the speed limit. Getting pulled over now would be bad. What could he do? What had happened so suddenly? He drove past the exit he'd usually take to his apartment. They'd be there for him now. He drove past the school. They'd look for him at cla.s.s.

Casey was shot. Casey may have been killed. Visgrath had Grace and Henry. They'd kidnapped Grace and Henry! John's breath came in short breaths. He pulled off the highway, found the first parking lot.

Dare he go to the police? What would he say? Grauptham House was a billion-dollar company. They had a security force. They had weapons. They used their money to buy secrecy. What could he do against them? He had no allies.

What could he do?

His eyes found the familiar logo of his bank across the street. That was one thing he did have. Money. His bank account had swollen with cash in the past few months and was still high even after the purchase of all the equipment for the lab.

It was time to make a withdrawal. He drove across the street and entered the bank.

The cas.h.i.+er looked at John oddly.

”Gold? You want gold?” she said.

”Can I withdraw everything as gold?” John said again.

”We don't have... At least I don't think we have...,” she said. ”Let me check.”

The cas.h.i.+er-Molly according to her nameplate-entered another office. Through the window, John saw her point him out to another woman, presumably Molly's manager.

”Sir,” the manager said when she emerged from the office, ”you want to withdraw your five hundred and fifteen thousand dollars and receive it in gold?”

”Yes, please.” John was feeling a little nervous suddenly. ”Yes, and quickly.”

The manager took a calculator and tapped it for a moment. ”Sir, we don't have forty kilograms of gold here.”

”How much do you have then?”

”Just a few coins.”

”I'll take what you have, then,” John said. ”And the rest in cash.”

”Sir?”

”Cash.”

”Yes..., sir. Wouldn't you rather have a cas.h.i.+er's check?”

”No, cash. And can I see your phone book?”

John paged through the book, looking for metal dealers. If he was going to carry forty kilos of gold, he'd prefer not to do it in coins. They'd jingle a lot. Ideally, he'd prefer gold wire or foil, which he could wear easily on his body. He found a coin shop nearby.

The bankers managed to find sixty thousand dollars in American Eagle coins of a.s.sorted weights between one-tenth and one troy ounce. The seven kilograms couldn't go in his pockets. He'd need a backpack. He jotted down a sporting supply store's address near the coin dealer.

John left the bank with a satchel of cash and coins. He felt conspicuous, and he guessed he was, carrying a heavy bag from a bank. All the customers behind him in line watched him leave.

The coin dealer had no wire, only more coins, but the man knew where John could get some bullion bricks. He did have a few thousand more coins to sell John, as well as rolls sized for the gold coins.

”Most people don't roll these,” the deater said. ”They keep them for display.”

”I'm keeping them for an investment.”

The man shrugged. ”You'll get better return from a good bond fund.”

”Not where I'm going.”

At the sporting goods store, he bought a huge camping backpack, a hunting knife, a switchblade, and a first-aid kit. He looked at the display cases of guns but chose against it. John remembered the sickening thunk of the crowbar on a skull. He would have to use his wits to beat Visgrath.

His next stop was an electronics store.

”IMCAL 212 boards?” the shop man said. He opened a catalog. ”We've got one. In our store at the Chaney Mall.”

”One?” John asked. ”I need... more.” Several thousand more.

”That's all we have,” the clerk said. ”Cutting-edge stuff.”

”Where do you order them from?”

He turned over the catalog. It was from an electronics supply firm in Detroit.

”Can I have that number?”

”Sure.”

”Can I see your phone book?”

”I wrote the number down.”

”This is for something else.”

The clerk handed the book over. John paged through to the listing of hospitals. His stomach had been churning as he'd made preparations. He needed to know how Casey was.

The closest hospital to the factory was Ardenwald. He wrote the number down next to the number for the supply firm. There was a pay phone on the sidewalk outside the shop. He dialed the hospital.

”I'm calling about a Casey Nicholson. Was she admitted?”

There was a pause while the woman looked. ”I don't see that name here.”

”She just came in, a gunshot wound.”

”Oh, her. That paperwork hasn't come through yet.”

”I'm her boyfriend. Can you tell me how she is? It's important.”