Watchers

federal laws to every man, ‘cause we want to be sure they understand the fines and prison terms.”
    “Threatening me with jail again?” Walt asked, but there was no humor in his voice, as there had been when they’d spoken days ago in the garage of St. Joseph’s Hospital after seeing Tracy Keeshan.
    Lem was depressed not only by the deputy’s death but by the wedge that this case was driving between him and Walt. “I don’t want anyone in jail. That’s why I want to be sure they grasp the consequences—”
    Scowling, Walt said, “Come with me.”
    Lem followed him outside, to a patrol car in front of the house.
    They sat in the front seat, Walt behind the steering wheel, with the doors closed. “Roll up the windows, so we’ll have total privacy.”
    Lem protested that they’d suffocate in this heat without ventilation. But even in the dim light, he saw the purity and volatility of Walt’s anger, and he realized his position was that of a man standing in gasoline while holding a burning candle. He rolled up his window.
    “Okay,” Walt said. “We’re alone. Not NSA District Director and Sheriff. Just old friends. Buddies. So tell me all about it.”
    “Walt, damn it, I can’t.”
    “Tell me now, and I’ll stay off the case. I won’t interfere.”
    “You’ll stay off the case anyway. You have to.”
    “Damned if I do,” Walt said angrily. “I can walk right down the road to those jackals.” The car faced out of Bordeaux Ridge, toward the sawhorses where reporters waited, and Walt pointed at them through the dusty windshield. “I can tell them that Banodyne Laboratories was working on some defense project that got out of hand, tell them that someone or something strange escaped from those labs in spite of the security, and now it’s loose, killing people.”
    “You do that,” Lem said, “you wouldn’t just wind up in jail. You’d lose your job, ruin your whole career.”
    “I don’t think so. In court I’d claim I had to choose between breaching the national security and betraying the trust of the people who elected me to office in this county. I’d claim that, in a time of crisis like this, I had to put local public safety above the concerns of the Defense bureaucrats in Washington. I’m confident just about any jury would vindicate me. I’d stay out of jail, and in the next election I’d win by even more votes than I got the last time.”
    “Shit,” Lem said because he knew Walt was correct.
    “If you tell me about it now, if you convince me that your people are better
    able to handle the situation than mine, then I’ll step out of your way. But if you won’t tell me, I’ll blow it wide open.”
    “I’d be breaking my oath. I’d be putting my neck in the noose.”
    “No one’ll ever know you told me.”
    “Yeah? Well then, Walt, for Christ’s sake, why put me in such an awkward position just to satisfy your curiosity?”
    Walt looked stung. “It’s not as petty as that, damn you. It’s not just curiosity.”
    “Then what is it?”
    “One of my men is dead!”
    Leaning his head back against the seat, Lem closed his eyes and sighed. Walt had to know why he was required to forswear vengeance for the killing of one of his own men. His sense of duty and honor would not allow him to back off without at least that much. His was not exactly an unreasonable position.
    “Do I go down there, talk to the reporters?” Walt asked quietly. Lem opened his eyes, wiped a hand across his damp face. The interior of the car was uncomfortably warm, muggy. He wanted to roll down his window. But now and then men walked past on their way in or out of the house, and he really could not risk anyone overhearing what he was going to tell Walt. “You were right to focus on Banodyne. For a few years they’ve been doing defense-related research.”
    “Biological warfare?” Walt asked. “Using recombinant DNA to make nasty new viruses?”
    “Maybe that, too,” Lem said. “But germ warfare doesn’t have anything to do with this case, and I’m only going to tell you about the research that’s related to our problems here.”
    The windows were fogging. Walt started the car. There was no air conditioning, and the fog on the windows continued to spread, but even the vague, moist, warm breeze from the vents was welcome.
    Lem said, “They were working on several research programs under the heading of the Francis Project. Named for Saint Francis of Assisi.”
    Blinking in surprise,