Read Online Lethal Exposure by Kevin J. Anderson, Doug Beason - Free Book Online

National Accelerator Laboratory
    In the open-air lobby of Wilson Hall, Paige led Craig past a Foucoult pendulum on display, dangling from the rafters and sweeping through its delicate arc as the Earth rotated. Late lunch dishes clattered in the cafeteria; most of the tables were empty except for a few groups of scientists engaged in low discussions, seeking an area free of secretaries and telephones. She pushed the button for the elevator, and they both waited.
    The fourth floor had an open, spacious feel, with cubicle-divided work areas for grad students and temporary hires. As they walked down the carpeted hall, Craig saw homey touches on each cubicle, plastic action figures of monsters and cartoon characters, yellowed comic-strip clippings; one wall was completely covered with outrageous tabloid headlines.
    Paige flicked her blue eyes from name plate to number, trying to find her way. Clearly, she hadn’t had occasion to visit Georg Dumenco before.
    When they reached his office, though, the Ukrainian scientist was there in person, despite his radiation exposure. Dumenco looked up, startled, as he sifted through a whirlwind of papers and printouts on his desk. File drawers were opened and ransacked, and his bloodshot eyes looked wild.
    “Dr. Dumenco, what are you doing here?” Craig asked.
    “This is my office,” Dumenco answered indignantly. He swallowed hard, then held onto the edge of his desk for support.
    “You’re supposed to be in the hospital,” Paige said.
    “I need my work, the results from my last test run. My graduate student Bretti isn’t here. He’s supposed to be on vacation, but I can’t reach him . . . he’s on a fishing trip somewhere, out of touch—and I don’t know how he files his records.” With an angry gesture, Dumenco slapped a pile of old memos and unopened mail on the floor.
    Craig went forward to grasp his arm. “You drove here by yourself? I need to take you back to Trish—uh, I mean, Dr. LeCroix.” Paige’s eyes widened as she made the connection, but she didn’t say anything.
    Dumenco shook off Craig’s grip and unsteadily drew himself up. “I am dying from radiation exposure, sir. My body is falling apart rapidly, and very soon I won’t be able to stand. I must use every moment of clarity left to me. Once I get back into that hospital bed, I know I’ll never leave.” He drew a thick breath. “This may be the last time I’ll set foot in my office—and I need my papers so I can keep . . . occupied.”
    Craig gripped the decidedly unsteady scientist, and Paige helped usher Dumenco out of his office. “I’ll get you everything you need. We’ll go through your files and find the printouts from your last test run.”
    “I’m driving you back to the hospital,” Craig said, tolerating no argument. Dumenco seemed ready to resist until Craig added, “I need you to stay alive long enough to help me solve this case.”
    On the drive from Fermilab toward the Fox River Medical Center, Craig watched Dumenco brood in the car. The dying scientist longingly stared at the lab buildings, the low ring that marked the underground particle accelerator, the small restless herd of buffalo behind their rickety fences.
    Craig used their private time to discuss the case. The Ukrainian looked at him with watery, glassy eyes that were bleary and pinkish from thousands of tiny hemorrhages. Inside his body, the damage had already been done—cells were dying in droves, his internal organs were failing; soon his thought processes would also suffer, making him delusional or incoherent.
    The worst part was that the great scientist knew it would happen.
    “Now then, sir, let us discuss this case,” Dumenco said. He tried to smile through cracked lips. “You put me in a difficult position. I have very little time left to complete my work, or to help you solve my murder. Which do you believe is more important—progress, or revenge?”
    “I’d call it justice , rather than