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human relationships, and she had made a point of studying this man especially
carefully. She knew all his moods, and she knew when he had something to
hide.
He intended to turn against her. Finally. Tonight. The betrayal was oozing
from him, and she could almost taste the reek of it in the air.
"You struck out, Dawn," Grom said brusquely.
"I gained some measure of his confidence. We have another date planned for
tomorrow."
"A lot could happen before tomorrow. Did you happen to notice that we're in a
bad fix? We need some damage control, and we need it now. If those misfits
really are federal agents-and I know they are-they're going to make things
even worse."
"Maybe you shouldn't have led them here."
It was the kind of tart remark that would make Greg Grom fly off at the
handle-or at least break out in an uncomfortable sweat that would start him
scratching his itching palms and shifting in his seat.
He just sat there, looking at her.
"I don't appreciate you speaking to me in that way," he said finally in a low
voice.
"And I don't appreciate you screwing things up for us," she said even more
quietly, and she saw the anger blossom in his eyes. Had she overdone it? She
couldn't be acquiescent. She couldn't risk letting on that she knew what he
was about to do.
She and Greg Grom had been a team in a high-stakes poker game, but they were
about to play the most important hand of all, and it was against each other.
He knew it. She knew it. But he didn't know she knew it. Martin came to the
table. He was the only waiter who worked Cafe Amore, ever. The less staff, the
better the quality control. He flourished a small tray and placed their drinks
before them. Stoli and tonic with a twist for President Grom. White wine for
Summens.
"Minister Summens," Martin said apologetically, "Gerhard has suggested a
change of entree. The mahimahi is off."
Of course it is, Dawn Summens thought. Steamed white fish would not disguise
the taste. "What does he suggest, Martin?"
"A flavorful pasta Puttanesca, Minister."
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"A little spicier than I am in the mood for tonight," Summens said
thoughtfully, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Grom fidget. "But sure.
I'll have the Puttanesca."
Martin nodded and left. Grom's shoulders slumped slightly with relief.
"Back in a flash," she announced to Grom. She strolled to the ladies' room,
carrying her purse. Locking the door behind her, she stared into the mirror
and considered the huge risk she was about to take. She could let her guard
down when she was alone, and what she saw in the mirror was the face of a
young woman. Smart. Pretty. Ambitious. The young woman in the mirror had a
long life left ahead of her. The only way she could guarantee that long life
was to leave now. Climb out the bathroom window and get off the island fast.
Get away from Greg Grom and start fresh elsewhere.
Or she could go through with this, and take the huge risk. If she gambled, and
she lost, then the woman in the mirror would be gone forever. Dawn Summens
would no longer exist. There would be only a soulless puppet in the hands of
puppet master Greg Grom.
But if she gambled and won...
Then she would hold the strings to Greg Grom and to all of Union Island. And
Union Island was only the launch pad.
She had her sights set high.
Without further contemplation she opened her clutch purse and yanked out the
black inner liner, then opened the small protective case hidden there. She
snapped it open and twisted the lid off the bottle of charcoal capsules,
upended the bottle into her mouth. She swallowed them all, washing them down
with cupped handfuls of water from the faucet. That was a total of thirty-five
charcoal capsules, each 260 milligrams, for a total of 8.32 grams or double a
normal maximum supplemental dose. But would it be enough to absorb the GUTX
that would surely contaminate the pasta Puttanesca she was about to eat?
Next she withdrew three prepared, sealed syringes and packets of alcohol
wipes. She pulled up her skirt and swabbed a spot on her thigh, then jabbed in
the first needle.
She was too preoccupied to even feel it. Would this work? Would it save her?
She yanked out the needle, sterilized a second skin patch, and jabbed in the
second syringe, squirting the contents into her leg. The first two syringes
contained neostigmine and edrophonium, both of which were used to restore
muscular strength in victims of intoxication by tetrodotoxin.
Hopefully she wouldn't even need it. Hopefully the charcoal would absorb most
or all of it before it got into her system. But she just didn't know.
The third syringe contained 4-aninopyridine, a nondepolarizing neuromuscular
blocking agent. It was used in the treatment of multiple sclerosis, and it had
been shown to reverse tetrodotoxin toxicity in some animal experiments. She
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