This chapter includes Prompt 9 - A close space has to be shared by two people who don't like each other.

"You recommend this man, and now after I've met him, given him the assignment and paid him, you tell me there may be a problem?"

"I've done a lot of business with him over the years, but I may have underestimated his code of conduct."

"Code- what the hell, Regan, he's a killer for hire. What code?"

"The one that's forcing my hand. I've made additional arrangements, the cost for which, I will bear. You just carry on as planned."

"So why did you call and upset me if I'm to just carry on?"

"In case, Sanford. In case. You should have the whole picture."

"Then give it to me, Regan."

Doc sighed, gathered himself and laid out his plan.

******

Paula stared hard at Chase. His words felt leaden in her chest, and she was fighting the fact that they may be true. But why was he telling her this? Did he honestly want to help her?

"Why are you telling me all this? It's just a story isn't it? Something like the cat and the mouse game you're playing? A sadistic joke to get you in the mood for what you say you have to do?"

"Believe me, Paula, I don't need to 'get in a mood'. What I do is just another day at the office. The difference here is, your uncle deceived me, and I don't take deception well."

She sniffed and picked up the coffee pot, pouring herself another cup.

"Now I'm expected to believe killers have standards - some kind of moral code?"

"You'd be surprised. Although your attitude is having me consider setting it aside." His smile turned to a stony glare.

"Oh, really. Well, let me tell you-"

"No, let me tell you. I met with your uncle, and because of his adamant position in this case, I left him with some unexpected doubt about my dedication. That meeting has set other wheels in motion and now, not only are you a target, but I have placed one on my own back."

"Yes, well I'd say it serves you right. I don't believe the government would go about killing its own citizens."

"You arrogant little . . . I should have just done the job in the first place."

The venom in the statement gave her shivers, and she worried that her attitude may trigger a change in her situation. The man was detestable - yet here she was, still alive.

"What did you mean when you said, the work you did for him was government sanctioned?"

"Exactly that. Your uncle works for the CIA, and what he teaches is TECHINT all right. Training dozens of eager students as future black programme specialists."

"What is TECHINT?" Her face wrinkled, and he hesitated, admiring the effect.

"Technical intelligence. Sophisticated methods of spying and gathering information. It's nothing new, just far more advanced than it was. I've done several jobs for him over as many years, and now I can see why the targets were who they were."

"You- you've killed that many people?" Paula clutched her purse and began sliding out of the booth.

"It's what I do. The problem now is, why you? Getting a drug passed can't be the reason the government would want you dead. What else do you know or do at Rytex?"

"It seems you have a problem, one I'm no longer interested in being a part of, so, I'll say thank you for the coffee and say goodbye."

"You aren't going anywhere, Paula, except with me. And don't start up again or I'll show you how I operate without my code."

"You can't threaten me here in a public place."

"I just did. And you'd be wise to pay attention." He took out his wallet and dropped some bills on the table. "We're leaving - and don't make a fuss."

******

John Semple sat at the desk working on his disassembled firearm. He hummed while he used the bore rod to clean the barrel, and finally an application of gun oil, then reassembled, tested, and set it back in the protective chamois. John was always careful with his gun, it was his livelihood after all.

He carried a beer to the bed, lay down to read through the notes he had gleaned on Dane Chase. It wasn't often the target became one of his own, and he wasn't about to take any chances. Dane Chase had a very enviable reputation in the dark world of murder for hire. A reputation that would soon transfer to John once he finished the assignment.

He took a pull on the beer bottle and swallowed, laughing at the thought. Not only Chase, but a bonus that included the very, very attractive Miss Paula Regan. Chase would definitely be first, he felt he would need more time with the woman - hmm, yeah - more time.

His phone chimed, erasing his thoughts and he checked the caller before answering.

"Semple."

"They've gone to ground. You need to be active immediately."

"Any clues?"

"None, but my niece won't make it easy, so there might be some little waves you can follow."

"Okay, Doc. I'm on it."

"Remember our timeline, John. There are only two days left."

******

Paula stood rigidly in Dane's grasp while he registered them into the hotel. She had resisted the entire time since the diner, and her arm was sore from all her struggling. The threats of violence, not only to herself, but anyone else who happened to be near, forced her to keep silent and behave.

"You're a horrible bully. You don't really expect me to stay in this room with you?"

"Believe me, the feeling is mutual, but we don't have the luxury of time to find other arrangements."

"Why, what's preventing us from-"

"You don't get it, do you? I was supposed to kill you, lady, and make it look like suicide. I didn't do it . . ." His tone was harsh, matching his glare.

The pause froze her expression as she took in his words.

"Now we are both targets for the same reasons - Rytex and your uncle. And I want to know about Rytex."

Paula sat on the edge of the bed. It was unbelievable her company would go so far as to have her killed! And condoned by her uncle!

"Tell me about the drug. I know it's supposed to help or cure Alzheimer's or-"

"No. Alzheimer's can't be cured. Our drug could benefit certain phases of many neurocognitive diseases. It can act on neurotransmitters, increase molecular levels and cellular energy. It can cause dendrites - branches of nerve cells - to grow-"

"Yeah, okay, okay. What about the side effects? That's what concerned you, right?"

"They are too many to name. In any given situation a patient might experience a whole range of disorders. One thing they could all have in common is anxiety, aggressiveness, mania . . . oh, God . . ."

"That's three things - what?"

"When I was leaving the building today I saw two military men being escorted in. They seemed very upset that I had seen them." She gaped at him. "That could be it. If what you say about my uncle is correct, it could mean they are creating this for the government - and I witnessed the military in our offices."

Chase nodded, and he rubbed his chin. "That could be the real reason they want you eliminated. Rytex has something going with the military and that usually means some kind of weapon."

"It's possible. DARPA has been brain mapping for ages, looking for ways to manipulate the brain - even to read thoughts." She stood up, hand over her mouth. "Our drug . . .!"

"What's DARPA?"

"Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency."

"Another CIA black programme." Chase said.

"Possibly. What do we do now?" Her thoughts were switching sides suddenly.

He laced his fingers and bent them until they cracked. "Wait and watch - carefully. Something must be taking place in three days . . . two now . . . something they needed that drug for."

"And they needed it legitimized for use so they could keep their fingers clean."

"That's pretty astute, Miss Regan. Makes a lot of sense. Just don't get too comfortable yet."

"Comfortable! Here?" She studied the room and realized suddenly that it was a single - one bed - one bath.

"Yeah, here. You can have the chair, I need a good rest."

"WHAT? If you think for a minute-"

"Put a sock in it." Even with the sparks flying between them, he couldn't help but grin at her face.