by Laura Acton
“You got a point, Winds. We go through in smaller groups. Patch can wrap Ripsaw’s wound well, and hide it under the sweats,” Blaze recommended.
Patch shook his head. “Ripsaw is in no shape to walk even if his leg could support his weight, which it can’t.”
“Any creative ideas for getting him past customs?” Blaze requested.
A long-ago memory crossed Mike’s mind. “How about we splash him with a bit of alcohol? Winds can push him in a wheelchair and claim his buddy is too hung-over to stand.”
Winds chuckled. “Creative, but don’t think that will work.”
“It will if you flash cash and throw on a pair of sunglasses.” Worked for me several times, but then again, I was drunk and not a wanted man.
Anastasia disagreed. “No. Remember, the customs officer we bribed is in jail now. I doubt anyone else will be willing to risk taking cash with so much scrutiny. Instead of drunk, how about sick. That way the IV can stay in.”
Patch contemplated the idea. “That might work. He is running a fever. The wheelchair is a better option than crutches too. Doubt he can manage them well in his weakened state. Wish Blondie could go at the same time.”
“Perhaps he can. If Anastasia works her makeup magic,” Winds suggested recalling how different she and Mike appeared when they returned in the wee hours of the morning.
His gut twisted as Blaze stated, “Our priority is Dom’s daughters. Putting Blondie on their flight is too risky. Their safety comes first. Besides—”
Cutting off Blaze, Patch declared, “Blondie’s system is too compromised to add any chemicals … even temporary hair coloring. I won’t risk him in that way. And, until I analyze his biofluid, I can’t tell you how much longer I need to do the peritoneal dialysis, or if he needs more bentonite. As much as I want him in a doctor’s care, we can’t move him this afternoon.” Patch stood. “In fact, I’m heading back now to do the test.”
“I’ll come with you and bring broth for Ripsaw and breakfast for Mason.” Anastasia rose and went to the stove to ladle out a bowl of chicken bouillon the sisters prepared for them. She served up a goodly portion of eggs and two thick slices of bread with butter before putting all on a tray and following Patch.
Sacred Heart Abbey – Unit’s Room – 0720 Hours
Anastasia and Patch entered to find Ripsaw dozing, and Brody encouraging Mason to eat some breakfast as he fed Blondie ice chips. “Mason, we brought food for you,” Anastasia said as she set the tray on the long table and took a seat herself.
Rising to go to the table, Mason felt awful eating in front of Blondie, but he understood it was in everyone’s best interest if he kept up his strength and health … as Brody lectured him about a few minutes ago.
As he strode towards Blondie, Patch said, “Sorry, nothing for you yet. You must be starving, but I must analyze your output to determine how much diquat is in your system before I allow you anything more than a spoonful or two of ice. Gotta be careful not to overload your GI tract. You’re peeing now, so your kidneys are functioning, but …”
“Hungry, but I would rather not puke anymore. Besides, my stomach still feels like someone lit a bonfire,” Dan said.
“Fair warning, you might be drinking additional bentonite.” Patch pulled up the file on how to test the bodily fluid for diquat concentration and began reading to make sure he did this right.
“Wonderful,” Dan groused sarcastically.
Brody patted Dan on the shoulder. “You’re beating the odds again. What’s a little more dirt?”
“You drink the crap and then say that to me.”
“Okay. You got it. If you need to drink more, I’ll take the first sip,” Brody offered.
Dan shook his head. “You’re crazy.”
“Not as crazy as you.” Brody grinned, happy Danny seemed to be experiencing a reprieve from the agony. He started on corny jokes, “Why did Mozart kill his chicken?”
“He wanted fried chicken?” Dan guessed.
“No. ‘Cause he kept saying Bach, Bach, Bach, Bach.”
“That’s terrible.” Dan rolled his eyes. “And the cleanest joke ever out of your mouth. What’s gotten into you?”
“Well, we are in an abbey. Why did the cookie have Patch examine him?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“Because he felt crummy.”
Patch chuckled as he retrieved the supplies and took the items to a little table the nuns brought in to hold the water basin. The sisters helped out by providing him a bottle of herbicide containing diquat, empty, clean and clear medicine bottles he could use for testing vesicles, and sodium bicarbonate, ordinary baking soda from the kitchen. Luckily, he procured sodium dithionite powder at Hope Clinic. Obviously, from its presence in their pharmacy, Dan was not the first to experience Panin’s special cordial.
The other methodology he read used sodium hydroxide which is caustic, so this process would be safer. Realizing he needed non-poisoned urine for his control sample, he said, “Who can give me some piss?”
Brody laughed. “Didn’t you get your fill earlier?”
“Funny man. Don’t quit your day job. What I mean is, I need unaffected pee to prepare a control specimen.”
“Ripsaw went before he dozed off,” Brody said.
Before Patch could turn down its use, not sure if the morphine would affect the reaction, Mason stopped eating and sheepishly remarked, “Guess I’m too efficient, emptied the container right before Patch came back.”
“I’ll donate to the cause.” Brody stood. “What do you want me to pee in?”
Searching around for something to use Patch spied an empty saline bag. That’ll work nicely. He picked it up and cut a slit long enough for Brody to use but left the hanger intact … he would need both hands. “Use this,” he said as he handed over the plastic bag.
Brody eyed the makeshift urinal as he went to the back-corner for privacy, although Anastasia averted her eyes. “You sure this is large enough?”
Keeping it light, Patch answered with a question, “The bag or the slit? Both are sufficient.”
Brody started to retort, but not wanting to miss, imagining the razzing he would receive about his aim being off, he concentrated on producing what Patch required. After handing the improvised urinal back, he grinned. “Can’t say I never gave you anything now.” Returning to Danny, he said, “What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?”
Attempting to hide his increasing pain, Dan answered, “Frostbite.”
“Hey, you got one. Okay, how about this one. What’s a bear with no teeth called?”
“Mason.” Dan winked at Mason who chuckled.
“Good answer but wrong. A gummy bear.” Brody kept up a litany of groan-worthy jokes and puns to help distract Danny when he noted his furrowed brows. Patch needed him awake in case consuming bentonite was necessary so Dan couldn’t have more pain meds at the moment.
Patch first prepared a control sample, filling a glass tube with Brody’s urine, needing to ascertain for himself the hue of the control when it contained diquat. He poured in a measured amount of the herbicide to simulate a high dose. Next, he added a gram of sodium bicarbonate. He waited two minutes then added the sodium dithionite. He observed the immediate color change.
The positive control turned dark green, almost black. Patch shuddered as he viewed the contents. Such a small amount, yet so deadly. He dreaded the thought of Blondie’s sample turning even a medium shade of green because his chance of survival from diquat poisoning dropped to almost nothing.
He wished there was a method to assess the quantity of tetrodotoxin too, but there was not one he could do in the field without equipment. But the medic realized its presence became moot after the twenty-four-hour mark, the toxin was now out of his system, the diquat, however, another story.
Patch re-centered his thoughts to focus on the problem at hand. He must be thorough since he had never performed testing like this before. Fortunately, Brody supplied sufficien
t urine to repeat the analysis and still have an ample portion remaining. When he replicated the result, he decided to experiment with different diquat amounts to identify the range of hues from clear to dark hunter green. This way he could give the doctors an idea of how much diquat Blondie passed which would assist in his treatment.
After labeling thirteen bottles with numbers, he filled eleven with the unadulterated pee from Brody. Ten diluted herbicide controls, the eleventh would serve as his negative control. The remaining two were set aside to be used to test urine from Dan. Diluting diquat with saline Patch created decreasing concentrations of diquat and added each to their designated vial making notes as he went.
One by one, to ensure he didn’t mess up, Patch repeated the testing process cognizant of the thirty-minute color-stability window. He would need these vials for comparison.
Anastasia noted Patch’s intense concentration but smiled as she listened to Brody telling Dan jokes, trying to make him laugh. When Ripsaw stirred and opened his eyes, she picked up the chicken stock and ambled over to him. Sitting on the chair next to his bed, she teased, “Shall I feed you?”
One of Brody’s corny puns about why teddy bears are never hungry made Ripsaw grin as he said, “Yeah, I’m no teddy bear. I’m not stuffed. I’m starving.”
She spooned in some soup, before she quipped, “Well, you’re cute and cuddly like a stuffed bear.”
Her comment caught him off guard, and Ripsaw choked and spat out the broth. “I’m not.”
Dabbing at his wetted shirt with a napkin, Anastasia said, “Look what you did. You just had your bath and now need another one.”
Ripsaw waggled his brows suggestively. “I’m game if you wanna give me a sponge bath.”
“You’re gonna have to dream about that one.” She graced him with twinkling eyes and a sly smile.
She continued to feed him, and when the bowl was empty, Ripsaw said, “Thanks. Can I have a cup of coffee?”
“No,” Mason called out. “Patch said water or broth only, no coffee or tea.”
Rising, Anastasia thought tea sounded good. “I’m going back to the kitchen. Would you like more?”
“No thanks. I’m stuffed now.” Ripsaw shut his eyes, more tired than full. The conversation and eating wiped him out more than he wanted to admit.
Anastasia leaned over and kissed his cheek. “Rest well, teddy bear.”
A grin played on Ripsaw’s face as he slipped into a light doze.
“Anyone need anything?” Anastasia strolled to the door after receiving only shakes of the head. She wandered out reflecting on Dan’s actions in the club and the consequences. He suffered greatly due to his scheme to act arrogant. It saved him from blackening his already wounded soul but nearly cost him his life. Mike warned them Savelievich was underhanded, dangerous, and would not let a slight go unpunished. And boy, oh boy, what a punishment.
Now Anastasia understood why they protected Blondie. Men like Dan only came along once in a millennium. Kind and beautiful of heart but a skilled warrior too … an earthbound archangel. He risked his soul and life to vanquish evil and rescue innocents. She decided Dan needed a whole squad of guardian angels to safeguard him and the unit fit the bill perfectly. Their actions told her they would always take care of Dan, as he would them. Custodes de Innocentio … genuine Guardians of the Innocent.
Sacred Heart Abbey – Kitchen – 0730 Hours
The remaining group sat in silence for several minutes after Patch and Anastasia left then began to work on the finer details of the plan and the items they would need to procure to successfully exfil. Blaze summed up the last part of their discussion, “Our two-part exfil appears to be workable. Though the key part rests on Mike’s ability to fly an amphibious plane. Can you?”
Mike held Blaze’s gaze. “No, the critical piece is, how the hell are we going to transport Mason and Dan to the waterfront and commandeer some sort of craft without drawing attention? Mason’s a beacon and Blondie, like Ripsaw, can’t walk. Plus, this is a shipping port with limited recreational watercraft. And I’m certain the politsia are crawling around the harbor like all exit points.”
Unsure if Mike meant he couldn’t handle one, Winds asked, “So, are you qualified to pilot a seaplane or not?”
“If it has wings I can fly it. Finding a ship is the issue,” Mike reasserted.
Dom scratched his head as he mentally ran through his contacts. He couldn’t think of any who might assist in procuring a vessel, an aircraft yes, a water vessel no. Stealing one appeared to be their only option, but Mike was right, doing so would be risky since few pleasure boats existed. The missing craft would be spotted quickly, putting them all in jeopardy.
Blaze proposed, “Brody and I will recon the marina tomorrow and search for an easy mark.”
“Still leaves us with how we move Blondie and Mason,” Winds said.
At the sound of a male voice clearing his throat each of them turned with defenses going up immediately. Only women and kids should be here.
“Ahem.” Andrei stepped back a few paces at the intensity of the glares directed at him. “Hi. I’m Andrei. Sorry to disturb you I was only coming to pour Elsa a glass of milk.”
Mike noted the man possessed blue eyes almost the shade of Dan’s and William’s, and coppery hair which matched his own. This is why Elsa touched my hair. He smiled. “You must be Elsa’s father.”
“Yes, I am. My daughter spun me quite a harrowing tale of her rescue. Thank you all,” Andrei said as he headed for the fridge to obtain the milk.
Blaze pronounced, “We are not here. Do you understand? It would put the nuns in an execrable position if it ever comes out we sought refuge here.”
Andrei stopped and turned back to the men. “I understand. I used to live in Makhachkala. Born and raised in this city, but I immigrated to Canada about nine years ago. Though, I still remember how things work around here … those in power have not changed much … still corrupt.
“The fact you saved Elsa and returned my wife’s sister to us seals my lips forever. We are eternally in your debt.”
“There is no debt to repay,” Blaze stated.
Andrei walked to the table and gazed at each man for several seconds. “I respectfully disagree. You are likely unaware, but the politsia refused to believe my son when he flat out told them someone stole Elsa from the beach. He described the man, and they still didn’t believe him.
“Yesterday’s newspaper showed a picture of the man who took her. A Boris Antonovich. He was found dead in an apartment with a gang member. I am not entirely sure why you went into the den of iniquity, but I thank God and believe He sent you to save my Sunshine and Tatiana’s little sister, Natia.
“I also believe the Lord guided me to enter this kitchen at the exact moment I did. You require a pleasure boat, and I can help. I have one you can use.”
Blaze, Dom, and Mike all shook their heads, and Dom spoke what the three men thought. “No. We will not put you or your family in jeopardy.”
Having listened, Winds was curious. “What kind of boat?”
“I rented a Ferretti 670 yacht for my family to stay on during our visit. We only came to the abbey seeking the nuns’ help when my wife collapsed after Elsa was taken. The sisters of Sacred Heart aided me when my parents died so I knew they would be more helpful than a hospital.”
“Sorry I digress. Anyways, the Ferretti sleeps nine including the crew berth and is rented for another month. We planned to go deep sea fishing for several weeks. So, the yacht is fully stocked and ready,” Andrei shared.
A useful thought from his past came to Mike. “This deep-sea trip would require you to hire help so you and your wife can relax and enjoy fishing.”
Andrei nodded. “Yes, I intended to give Tatiana a break from cooking.”
Turning to Dom, Mike said, “I still like the idea of Mason in a nun’s habit, but if we disguise him as a grizzled fisherman he’ll fit in with the dock workers. As for Dan, with his coloring, he can p
ass for Andrei’s relative. We can trim his hair, and if we outfit him right and douse him in alcohol, he can be a drunk family member.”
Winds snickered. “What is it with you and dousing people with alcohol? First Ripsaw and now Blondie.”
“That’s on a need to know basis.” Enjoying the comradery and feeling less like an outsider Mike chuckled.
“What? Is it classified?” Winds bantered back, relieving stress now that they developed a potential solution for sneaking Ripsaw, Mason, and Blondie out.
“Something like that,” Mike replied.
“Give it up. Spill the story. Are you a former alcoholic or something?” Winds countered with a teasing smile.
“Tricks of the trade,” Mike responded when Winds hit too close to home. He would never reveal how self-indulgently he behaved before General Broderick rescued him and helped him find real purpose in life.
Ignoring the repartee, Blaze rolled the scenario around in his head giving it serious consideration. “That might work.”
Dom shook his head. “No. This is too risky for Andrei and his family.” He played many scenarios in his mind. “I have a better idea. We use your yacht, but you, your wife, and kids fly to France with my daughters and me.”
Andrei’s expression became resolute. “No. I will not leave Natia here. We have no paperwork for her … no birth certificate, no passport. I planned to go to the Canadian Embassy and ask for help. She is in this country illegally, regardless of how she entered. Many of the authorities here are corrupt, and she might end up in prison if they link her to the bordello.”
Arriving in the kitchen to procure tea, Anastasia overheard Dom’s and Andrei’s statements. An idea swiftly formed. “Natia can pass for me if we obtain blue contacts, dye her hair, and modify my passport picture. Dom, perhaps you might help them with the legalities once they are in France.”
