“I gave it to her over the phone last night, but not within hearing of—”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Nate. We can stop dancing around it, can’t we? She fucking stole it!”

Delores stood up, went over to the bar, and splashed whiskey from a decanter into a glass. She shot it, then poured another, and carried it over to Richard.

“He probably shouldn’t be—”

“Shut up, Nate.”

With a nod of thanks, Richard took the glass from her and drank the scotch with only slightly more temperance than she had, then set the empty glass on the coffee table.

“We all know what happened,” he said. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?” He looked first to Delores and caught her lighting a cigarette. In view of the crisis, he didn’t rebuke her. “Where is Goliad?” he asked.

“Once the box was delivered, I dismissed him for the night.” She gave Nate a scathing look. “Little knowing that his services would be required again so soon.”

Nate leaped to his own defense. “You two can’t blame me for this.”

Delores arched a penciled brow. “Blame you? I want to draw and quarter you.”

“The blame lies entirely with Brynn.”

“Like hell it does. I told you not to trust her. You didn’t listen.”

“I wouldn’t have sent her up there last night, had I known then what I’ve learned since.”

She propped a hand on her hip and tilted her head. “Well?”

“Criminality runs in her family. Her father has a long record.”

Richard looked at him through narrowed eyes. “This woman worked with you, she treated your patients alongside you.”

“Yes, but—”

“She treated me!” Richard’s voice vibrated with restrained wrath. “And you allowed that, knowing nothing of her background?”

“Her credentials were impeccable. It never occurred to me to check her family tree. Clearly a mistake.”

“Clearly a catastrophe,” Delores said.

Richard stood up and rounded the sofa. He braced his hands on the back of it as he would a podium and lowered his head. Delores remained quiet, not wanting to break his concentration. When Nate seemed about to, she shot him a look that muted him.

Eventually Richard raised his head. “It’s not catastrophic until the life span of the drug expires. We’ve got a bit over twenty-four hours to find Dr. O’Neal and retrieve it.”

Delores flew into action. “I’ll call Goliad. You,” she said, pointing her cigarette at Nate, “start writing down any places Dr. O’Neal might have gone when she left you. Is she in contact with her outlaw father?”

“I wouldn’t imagine that—”

“Don’t imagine, Nate. Find out. In the meantime, call that pharmacologist and tell him to mix another dose. The weather has cleared. We’ll send our jet for it.”

“He won’t do it, Delores.”

“Offer him more money.”

“It’s not a matter of money.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” she said. “Tell me another.”

Nate gave a stubborn shake of his head. “He’s a scientist. He’s motivated by positive lab results, and actually feels corrupted for taking money to mix the one dose. What money he did accept will go toward covering the cost of the components. The only way he would agree to make more would be with the company’s authorization for an FDA compassion exemption. We would have to go through the proper channels and apply.”

“Do it.”

“I would have already, Delores, except that you were adamant about anonymity. These clinical tests are meticulously documented. There’s no way I can keep Richard’s name out of it.”

“No,” Richard said without taking even a moment to consider it. “If it gets out that I’m terminally ill, it would empower every enemy I have in Washington.”

“Perhaps enough hush money would buy confidentiality,” Nate ventured.

Richard scoffed at that. “What planet are you on? I’m in public life. Fodder for the media. Anybody along the chain would leak this tidbit in a heartbeat. You would probably sell the story to the tabloids yourself.”

Nate drew himself up to his full height and gave the hem of his European suit jacket a tug. “I’ll overlook that insult because you’re my patient, you’ve suffered a disappointment, and you’re overwrought.”

He paused as though waiting for Richard to apologize. When he didn’t, he continued. “I advise you not to dismiss the suggestion out of hand. Your name on the application would add considerable cachet.”

“No.”

Delores said, “Richard—”

“No, Del.”

She turned to Nate. “Richard has spoken. Sweeten the pot. Your laboratory friend might not be quite as high-minded as you believe. You can use the desk there.”

Nate did as told and got on his phone.

Richard retreated into the bedroom. Delores ground out her cigarette and followed him. He said, “Close the door.”

He took one of the matching overstuffed chairs in front of the window overlooking their private terrace and the landscaped grounds beyond. She took the other. Seeming to be deep in thought, he drummed his fingers on the padded armrest.