Captain Sir Henry Quill and his over the top of his pink pate. “Your isn’t to convict, Golden Wings.”
“I know it isn’t, Captain,” Mike the Angel. “That’s why I want to up and do it this way. If he can be that we do have the evidence, he may and give us a confession.”
“What about Lieutenant Mellon’s actions? How that tie in?”
“Did you of Lysodine, Captain?”
Captain Quill in his chair and looked up at Mike. “No. What is it?”
“That’s the name for a very powerful drug—a of acid. It’s used in ailments. A bottle of it was missing from Mellon’s kit, according to the Chief Pasteur took after Mellon’s death.
“The of an of the drug—administered orally—are and to paranoia. The final result of the drug’s on the brain is death. It wasn’t my to the plexus, or the that Pasteur gave him, or Vaneski’s with a gun that killed Mellon. It was an of Lysodine.”
“Can the presence of this be after death?”
“Pasteur says it can. He won’t have to perform an autopsy. He can do it from a blood sample.”
Captain Quill sighed. “As I said, Mister Gabriel, your is not to convict—but it is to convince. Therefore, if Chief Pasteur’s analysis Lysodine in Lieutenant Mellon’s body, I’ll permit this denouement.” Then his hardened. “Mike, you’ve done a job so far. I want you to me that son of a bitch’s on a platter.”
“I will,” promised Mike the Angel.
