But that girl…Jesus, she was hot. Hot, hot…

Why the hell, he thought, wasn’t Karen calling him back?

“Hey,” Vasco said. “Looky look. It’s that BioGen guy. Walking around like he has nothing to do.”

“I see him,” Dolly said. She was about a block ahead of him.

“Nope, never mind.”

Tolman and the Russian girl walked right past the BioGen guy, who did nothing but flip open his phone and dial. What was his name? Diehl. Vasco had heard something about him. Started a company on his wife’s dough, and now maybe she was in control of their marriage. Something like that. Rich broad, old Eastern family, lots of money. Those broads could wear the pants.

“Restaurant,” Dolly said. “They’re going in that Terrazo place.”

Il Terrazzo Antico was a two-story restaurant with glassed-in balconies. The d?cor was whorehouse modern, gilded everything. Pillars, ceiling, walls: every surface covered with decoration. Made Vasco jumpy just to look at it.

The couple walked in, right past the reservation desk, heading for a side table. And at the table, Vasco saw a heavyset guy who looked like a thug, dark-skinned and heavy-browed, and the thug was looking at the Russian girl and practically licking his lips.

Tolman marched right up to the table and spoke to the dark-skinned man. The guy looked puzzled. He didn’t invite them to sit. Vasco thought, Something’s wrong. The Russian girl had stepped back a pace.

At that moment a flash went off. Dolly had snapped a picture. The Tolman kid looked, took it all in, and bolted.

“Shit, Dolly!”

Vasco started running after Tolman, who was heading deeper into the restaurant. A waiter held up his hands. “Sir, excuse me-”

Vasco knocked him flat, kept right on going. Tolman was ahead, moving slower than he might, because he was trying not to shake his precious wine bottle. But he didn’t know where he was going anymore. He didn’t know the restaurant; he was just running. Whang through swinging doors, into the kitchen, Vasco right after him. Everybody was yelling at them, and some of the cooks were waving knives, but Tolman pushed on, apparently convinced there was some sort of rear entrance to the kitchen.

There wasn’t. He was trapped. He looked around wildly. Vasco slowed. He flashed one of his badges, in an official-looking wallet. “Citizen’s arrest,” he said. Tolman cowered back by two walk-in freezers and a narrow door with a slim vertical window. Tolman went through the narrow door and it closed behind him.

A light blinked by the door.

It was a service elevator.

Shit. “Where does this go?”

“Second floor.”

“Anywhere else?”

“No, just second floor.”

Vasco pressed his earpiece. “Dolly?”

“I’m on it,” she said. He heard her panting, as she ran up stairs.

Vasco positioned himself in front of the elevator door and waited. He pressed the button to bring the elevator down.

“I’m at the elevator now,” Dolly said. “I saw him; he went back down.”

“That’s a tiny elevator,” Vasco said.

“I know.”

“If he’s really got liquid nitrogen with him, he shouldn’t be in there.” A couple of years back, Vasco had chased a fugitive into a laboratory-supply warehouse. The guy had nearly suffocated after he locked himself in a closet.

The elevator came down. As soon as it stopped, Vasco yanked the handle to open it, but Tolman must have pushed an emergency switch, because the door wouldn’t open. Vasco could see the wine sack on the floor. The velvet had been pushed down to reveal the stainless steel rim of the dewar.

And the top was off. White steam around the opening.

Through the glass, Tolman stared at him, wild-eyed. “Come out, son,” Vasco said. “Don’t be foolish.”

Tolman shook his head.

“It’s dangerous,” Vasco said. “You know it’s dangerous.”

But the kid pushed a button, and the elevator started back up.

Vasco had a bad feeling.

The kid knew, all right. He knew exactly what he was doing.

“He’s up here, ”Dolly said, standing on the second floor. “But the door won’t open. No, he’s going down again.”

“Go back to the table,” Vasco said to her. “Let him go.”

She realized at once what he was talking about. She hurried back down the plush red velvet staircase to the ground floor. She was not surprised to see that the table where the thuggish man had sat was now empty. No thug. No beautiful Russian girl. Just a hundred-dollar bill tucked under a glass. He’d paid in cash, of course.

And vanished

Vasco was now surrounded by three hotel security guys, all talking at once. Standing half a head above them he yelled for quiet. “One thing,” he said. “How do we get the elevator open?”

“He must have hit the override.”

“How do we get it open?”

“We have to kill the power to it.”

“Will that open it?”

“No, but then we can wedge it open, once it’s stopped.”

“How long will that take?”

“Maybe ten, fifteen minutes. Doesn’t matter, this guy isn’t going anyplace.”

“Yes, he is,” Vasco said.

The security guy laughed. “Where the hell can he go?”

The elevator came down again. Tolman was on his knees, holding the glass door shut.

“Get up,” Vasco said. “Get up, get up. Come on, son, it’s not worth it, stand up!”

Suddenly, Tolman’s eyes rolled up into his head and he fell onto his back. The elevator started to rise.

“What the hell?” one of the security men said. “Who is he, anyway?”

Ah shit, Vasco thought.

The kid had pushed some override that had jammed the elevator circuits. It took them forty minutes to get the doors open and haul him out. He was long since dead, of course. The instant he fell, he was immersed in 100 percent nitrogen atmosphere, from the liquid nitrogen that was streaming from the dewar. Because nitrogen was heavier than air, it progressively filled the elevator from the bottom up. Once the kid flopped on his back, he was already unconscious, and he would have died within a minute.

The security guys wanted to know what was in the dewar, which was no longer smoking. Vasco got some gloves and pulled out the long metal stick. There was nothing there, just a series of empty clips where the embryos should have been. The embryos had been removed.

“You mean to say he killed himself?” one of the security men said.

“That’s right,” Vasco said. “He worked in an embryology lab. He knew about the danger of liquid nitrogen in a confined space.” Nitrogen caused more laboratory fatalities than any other chemical. Half the people who died were trying to rescue co-workers who had collapsed in confined spaces.

“It was his way out of a bad situation,” Vasco said.

Later, driving home with him, Dolly said, “So what happened to the embryos?”

Vasco shook his head. “No idea. The kid never got them.”

“You think the girl took them? Before she went to his room?”

“Somebody took them.” Vasco sighed. “The hotel doesn’t know her?”

“They reviewed security cameras. They don’t know her.”

“And her student status?”

“University had her as a student last year. She didn’t enroll this year.”

“So she’s vanished.”

“Yeah,” Dolly said. “Her, the dark-skinned guy, the embryos. Everything vanished.”

“I’d like to know how all this goes together,” Vasco said.

“Maybe it doesn’t,” Dolly said.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Vasco said. Up ahead, he saw the neon of a roadhouse in the desert. He pulled over. He needed a drink.