"I'm talking about the vampire who almost bled you dry and the werewolf who f.u.c.ked you while the vampire drained you. Both were sent by Henry Morretti." I shook my head, my expression one of mock sadness. "Seems Morretti thought you'd reached the end of your usefulness."

"Look, as I've already said-"

"Fine." I thrust to my feet. "I'll just go make that phone call, then."

I was almost out of the treatment room when she said, "No, wait."

I turned and crossed my arms. "Why should I, when you apparently don't know what I'm talking about?"

She waved a hand, the motion elegance itself. "If what you're saying is true about the vamp and the wolf, why, then, did you save me?"

"Because I'm investigating the death of your husband, and it would be hard to question you if you were dead."

"But you wouldn't mind me being dead otherwise, if your tone is anything to go by."

"Totally wouldn't mind, but that's beside the point."

"At least you're honest." Her brief smile held very little in the way of amus.e.m.e.nt. "Are you a cop?"

"No. Personally, I would rather avoid involving the cops at the moment. I'm thinking you might want to, too."

"Possibly." She pursed her lips. "And just to put things straight, I didn't go to bed with either a vamp or a wolf."

"Perhaps not knowingly, but you must have let that vamp into the house. He couldn't have crossed the threshold uninvited."

"I let a plumber in-" She paused. "Guess I need to check credentials a little closer, huh?"

"If you're going to keep playing with pond sc.u.m like the sindicati, then, yeah, that might be wise."

"The sindicati pay in good, clean cash and, for a subcontractor like myself, they're a viable business option."

"Except when they believe you have come to the end of your usefulness to them."

She frowned. "That's what I don't understand. This is not the first time I've worked for them, and I'm very good at what I do. I cannot understand why they would wish to end my services in such a permanent manner."

I didn't really understand it, either, but then, I wasn't a vampire crime boss. "Did the sindicati order the hit on Professor Wilson?"

We already knew it was the red cloaks who'd killed him, but it never hurt to double-check.

"No. Why would they? They needed him alive to keep working on his research, as he hadn't pinned down all the enzymes that are apparently responsible for a human becoming a vampire."

So much for Jackson's theory that the red-cloaked figure had been nothing but a ruse. "Are you sure? Because another professor who was undertaking research similar to your husband's was murdered this week, and it seems very likely it was ordered by the sindicati."

"Perhaps it was, but I do not know or care about the sindicati or their plans for other researchers. My job was to keep tabs on Wilson and his research, and that's precisely what I did."

"And ethics be d.a.m.ned?"

She shrugged. "Men and women have been using s.e.x to get what they want for eons. I merely use it to get information for my clients." Her smile was cool. "And trust me, the men I bed get the better end of the deal. They have me at their beck and call."

"But afterward, they're left behind to take the blame."

"If they live," she murmured. "Not all of them do."

Which made me wonder just how many other "husbands" she'd had and how many of them were still alive today. I had a bad feeling there was a whole lot more dirt swept under this woman's carpet than what we'd already uncovered.

"So how do you get the information? Pillow talk, or by breaking into his computer and copying his files?"

"Nothing so cra.s.s. I'm a telepath with a photographic memory. I might not understand what I steal, but I never forget it."

A handy talent for a thief to have. "How do you get the information to the sindicati?"

She smiled again. A blond-haired shark with perfect white teeth. "You came here wanting information in exchange for saving my life. Why don't we make a deal?"

"What, saving your life isn't enough?"

"Well, no, because I need to be alive for you to get your information. Therefore, I have leverage and you do not."

"And contacting the sindicati isn't a good enough form of leverage in your eyes?"

"Oh, it's a great form of leverage, but there is one major problem. You can't get reception here in the hospital, and the minute you leave, I'm gone. You'd lose not only me, but any additional information I might hold."

All of which was true, d.a.m.n it. I eyed her warily. "What sort of deal?"

"In return for answering your questions, I want your help in removing myself from the sindicati's reach."

"I'm thinking there's probably not going to be many areas in Australia that meet that criteria." And maybe very few overseas.

"I agree, which is why I intend to flee overseas once I'm out of this state. I have pa.s.sports and clothing at a safe place ready to go. All I need is transport there and then on to the airport."

"A deal that certainly gives you more than it gives me."

"Unless, of course, the information I might have also includes a hard drive containing not only every sc.r.a.p of information I stole from Wilson, but every detail of anyone I ever dealt with in the sindicati."

I blinked and her shark smile got bigger.

"It always pays to have some form of backup plan."

"So why don't you use said backup to exchange for your freedom?"

"Because, as you said, they have obviously-for whatever reason-decided it is safer to be rid of me than use me again. Therefore, they will merely agree to the exchange and then kill me anyway." She raised an eyebrow. "I am fully aware of what my employers are capable of. Do we have a deal?"

I hesitated, but I had no real choice and we both knew it. Not if I wanted the answers that might well be hidden somewhere in those files. Besides, given Morretti was currently off-limits investigation-wise, it couldn't hurt to have a secondary option in the sindicati to chase down and question.

"Okay. Deal."

She held out her hand. "Shake on it."

I leaned forward and clasped her hands. Electricity buzzed across my senses, and I smiled. "Sorry, but I'm one of those people who can't be read telepathically."

"Well, d.a.m.n." She didn't seem too put out, however. She pushed upright in the bed and pressed the buzzer for the nurse. "Let's get out of here first; then we'll play twenty questions."

I raised my eyebrows. "I doubt they'll release you that quickly."

"They can't actually stop me. Besides, we both know that my only chance to escape unscathed is in the next few hours. Once the sindicati realize what has happened to their a.s.sa.s.sins, more will be unleashed."

Undoubtedly. The nurse came in, and for the next half hour, Amanda argued her case about being released. Eventually, the hospital staff gave up and brought in an Against Medical Advice form for her to sign. She did so, then, still in her hospital gown and wearing my coat, followed me into the parking lot.

"Right," I said, starting Jackson's truck. "Where to?"

"Southern Cross Station."

I raised my eyebrows. "You hid pa.s.sports and clothes at a train station?"

"Best place," she said. "And close to public transport should I need a quick escape."

At least she wouldn't be escaping quickly in her current getup. Not when she wanted to avoid notice, anyway.

"Okay," I said, once we were headed into the city. "Time to start upholding your end of the deal. What have you been told about Wilson's death?"

She shrugged. "Not much. The police simply said a man in a red-hooded cloak all but sliced him to pieces."

"And his body? Has it been released by the coroner yet?" If it had been, then maybe Jackson could use his contact again and get us the coroner's report. It might not help, but it couldn't hurt, either.

"No, it hasn't, simply because there was no body."

I blinked. "What?"

"There was no body." Her expression was amused. This time, the emotion was real. "The thug in the red cloak took his body with him when he ran off."

"But that makes no sense."

Why kill him in broad daylight and then s.n.a.t.c.h his body? Were the red cloaks making some kind of statement? Or was there something else going on? Something that was far bigger than this investigation-bigger, maybe, than even Sam realized?

I had a bad feeling that might be the case.

And was it possible, I thought with a chill, that they'd s.n.a.t.c.hed Wilson's body to ensure they had him when he came to?

Sam had said the red plague virus was spread through either cuts or bites, which meant that if Wilson hadn't been killed, he would have been infected. So what if the virus reacted to death the same way sharing the blood of a vampire reacted in the human body? That is, on death, it put them into a coma while the body made the change from one form to the other?

Maybe he'd merely looked dead. Maybe he'd simply slipped into a form of suspended animation while he went through the change to becoming something more than human.

If that was the case, then one of the men who'd been employed by the government to find a cure for the red plague virus was now under the control of the red plague victims themselves.

And while that was a scary thought, an even scarier one was, if that was the case, then there had to be someone behind these things, controlling them. The red cloaks I'd seen hadn't seemed intelligent enough to do anything more than hunt and kill; nor had they appeared to want to do anything more than that. So either there was more to the cloaks than first appeared, or there was something deeper going on.

Either way, with Baltimore dead and his research in the hands of G.o.d knew who, Wilson was the only one left who had any hope of finding a cure anytime soon. Sure, other people could pick up the pieces, try to replicate and move on, but the reality was, it could take them years to even get back to where Wilson and Baltimore were.

But why would the red cloaks-or whoever was behind them, if there was someone behind them-want to control any possible vaccine? Did they hope to use the cure for themselves, or was there a more nefarious plan? I very much suspected the latter, though I wasn't entirely sure why.

"Given witnesses said he used talonlike fingernails to rip Wilson up," Amanda commented, drawing me from my thoughts, "maybe they simply took the body to prevent any possible DNA evidence from being found. That's what the cops appeared to think, anyway. They seemed pretty certain they'd find his body dumped somewhere in the sewer system."

I wished them luck with the search, because I seriously doubted they would find anything beyond rubbish, rats, and the occasional dead animal. "Did Wilson seem on edge before his death? Had there been any break-ins at either the research foundation or at your house?"

She shook her head. "Why?"

"Just trying to uncover any links between the two murders we're investigating." I tapped the wheel for several seconds. "What about friends? Did he confide in anyone besides you? Was there anyone new in his life, someone perhaps he was reluctant to talk about?"

"A lover, you mean?" Her expression was amused. "No, there was no one like that. It's rather hard to keep such things secret from a telepath."

Undoubtedly. I glanced in the mirror and noticed a white Ford following us. Nothing unusual given white Fords were a dime a dozen on the roads these days, but there had been one parked down from Amanda's, and after everything that had happened recently, I was a little wary of coincidences. I flicked on the blinker and went into the left lane. The Ford remained where it was.

I slowed as the lights ahead changed to red. "Did the police mention anything about Wilson's research notes?"

"No, but I know they're missing. I had a visit from Denny Rosen two days after Wilson's death." She pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. "Shame this has all gone down as it has. He might very well have been my next target."

"Once Wilson was finished with, you mean?"

"Oh no." Her expression was amused. "During. Wilson is work. Rosen, as head of a major research foundation, would have been a delightful-and undoubtedly profitable-sideline."

"You really don't have any morals, do you?"

She snorted. "You should check out Denny Rosen if you really want someone untroubled by morals. That man has not gotten where he is by playing nicely, let me tell you."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning, while Rosen Pharmaceuticals might have held a government contract for research on that d.a.m.n virus, he wasn't above sharing the information in order to line his own pockets."

I frowned. "Why would Rosen risk doing something that could destroy not only a very lucrative contract, but possibly his own company?"

"Greed," she replied. "It's a huge motivator. Especially when you're heavily in debt."

"And Rosen is?"

She nodded. "To the tune of nearly a million dollars. Apparently, he has a very nasty gambling problem-he's the type who would bet on two flies walking up a wall if the odds were good enough."

"And you discovered all this in the brief time he came to see you?"

"Of course." Her smile was fleeting but smug. "Rosen may be very adept at hiding his problems from government scrutiny, but-as I have said-I'm very good at what I do. And I don't always have to f.u.c.k them to do it. Rosen, unlike Wilson, is an easy read."

Which made me wonder why the government wasn't working on some sort of device to prevent the minds of people in such important positions being read. Or maybe they were and, like the red plague virus, it just wasn't common knowledge.

I glanced in the rearview mirror again. The white Ford wasn't visible, but that niggling sense of unease refused to abate.

"Have you any idea who Rosen is indebted to?"

Amanda frowned. "That I couldn't quite catch, as he was trying not to worry about it." She waved a hand. "But it was a long, t.i.tled name that had something to do with a rat."

"Not Marcus Radcliffe the third?"