by Grant Pies
He jogged back to the warehouse, ripped one of the drawers from the desk, and turned it upside down. Sheets of unpaid bills fluttered to the ground, covering the blood stain on the concrete. He dumped out the contents of a second drawer.
The framed picture of Jake and his family clattered to the floor. Carter picked it up and stared at it. In that moment, he felt something. Part of it was guilt for taking Jake away from his family, guilt for leaving his wife and daughter without a husband and father. But Carter was familiar with guilt. There was something else. Something less familiar. Envy.
Not envy for Jake’s family, at least not necessarily. He envied the lengths Jake Dawson was willing to go for these two women. He was willing to kidnap and likely murder for them. He held their lives above even his own. That was something Carter never had, never thought he would have. And for that he envied the dead man in the back of his van.
He set the framed picture back on the desk and moved the sheets of paper around, soaking up as much blood as he could, then dragged the mattress to cover what remained of the blood stain.
Before he left, he stood in the doorway and stared at the mini fridge in the corner. He thought of the medicines inside for Jake’s daughter, Elizabeth Dawson. If Jake had the meds already, did that mean she’d had her transplant? And how long did she have before her meds ran out? He could only assume Accenture wouldn’t hold up their end of the deal now that Jake was gone.
As he closed the door of the warehouse behind him, he saw a car in the distance. He darted from the doorway and crouched behind the dumpster out front. From here his van seemed obstructed from view.
The car drove straight to the warehouse. Carter ducked behind Jake Dawson’s van, then circled the dumpster to stay out of view. He settled at the corner of the warehouse, stayed low, and peeked around the corner sparingly, just enough to catch a glance of what was going on. The car parked. Dust wafted up from its tires skidding on the gravel. The door opened and Detective Shaker stepped out. From what Carter could tell, he was alone.
Shaker stepped inside the warehouse office. Carter stood and peered through a dirty window to see Shaker standing in the middle of the room, moving the papers and garbage on the floor around with his foot. Then he took out his phone and dialed a number.
After a short pause, he said, “Nothing here. It’s a mess.” Shaker rubbed his hand over his buzz cut and stretched his neck from side to side. “…I know…” There was a long pause. “…The doc? At the ER … I’ll handle that.” He paced the room in a circle, listening to whoever was on the other end. “Send someone over here to get the van. Last thing we need is some beat cop poking his nose around here.” Then he hung up. Throwing a look of disapproval around the office, he shook his head and left.
Carter pressed his back against the wall, waiting until he couldn’t hear Shaker’s car anymore. He jogged back to the van with Jake Dawson and drove until he found an empty parking lot to leave the van in. He ripped a piece of the sheet off, stuffed it into the gas tank, and lit it on fire. On foot now, a black plume of smoke rose behind him from the burning van. After a few more minutes, an explosion boomed in the distance, then more smoke rose up. He hoped the fire would burn for a long time, long enough to incinerate any evidence. Burn his fingerprints, his DNA, and Jake Dawson’s body.
After he jogged long enough so he couldn’t be tied to the location of the burning van, Carter flagged down a taxi. Sitting in the back, his heart still beat rapidly, and the neckline of his shirt was soaked in sweat.
He stepped through the automatic doors of the emergency room. Standing in the waiting area, he looked through the glass partition for Olivia. He saw her curled hair first, then his ears focused and found her voice. He waved to catch her attention. Olivia made her way over and told the triage nurse to buzz Carter in.
“Is she any better?” he asked.
Olivia shook her head. “Still asleep.”
“Did you call her parents?”
She nodded. “Left messages with them both. Did you take care of it?” Olivia spoke softly and looked over her shoulder.
“It’s done. Have you seen Detective Shaker?”
“Not for an hour or so. His partner is around here somewhere.” She glanced around.
“No, no, no. You need to stay away from them. Especially Shaker. And don’t leave this hospital. Not until it’s safe.”
“Safe?”
The two of them made their way to a more secluded hallway of the ER.
“Yeah, safe. Shaker showed up at the warehouse—"
“Did he find the body?” Olivia dropped her voice on the word ‘body’, almost only mouthing it.
“No.” Carter shook his head. “I had already moved it, but he was on the phone, talking to someone about us, like he was keeping an eye on you.”
“Keeping an eye on me?”
“We should have known it wouldn’t end with the two men they sent after us.” Carter rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head from side to side.
“Well where will it bloody end? Me tied up in another warehouse?” Olivia scrunched her face and narrowed her gaze on Carter.
“I won’t let that happen. It’s safer here in public. Try to stay with other people … nurses, security, whoever.”
Olivia shook her head and let out an agitated breath.
“It’s not like last time they came for us,” Carter said firmly. “This time we are ready.”
“Oh, bloody hell. Ready? I don’t want to be ready, I want to be safe!” Olivia muttered, pressing her hand on her forehead and running it up into her hair. She pressed her back against the wall.
“You’re safe … as long as you stay here.”
“Oh, well let me just move in here!” she snapped. “I can eat all my meals at the cafeteria, sleep in the ICU. I can even shower where they clean off the bums that come in here piss drunk!”
Carter held his hands out, facing Olivia, trying to calm her down. “It won’t be that long. I’ll fix this.”
“Oh, you bloody better fix this! I stuck my neck out for you, and this is what I get!”
“I’m sorry,” Carter said quietly.
“I’ve only known you a few days, and it seems you do nothing but apologize for the shit you dragged me into!”
“I’m sor – I – I shouldn’t have called you. I should have left it alone.”
“What and bled out in the middle of the street?” Olivia motioned towards his stomach.
“It’s just … you’re right, you’ve only known me for a few days, and I’ve only brought you problems. But I’ve only known you for a few days, and all you’ve done is help. You’ve only brought solutions. You’ve brought calm to my life. A touch of sanity.”
Olivia sighed and clenched her jaw. “Well that’s a relationship for you isn’t it? Give and take. Just right now, you’re the only one taking.”
“And you’re the one giving,” Carter said. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“Make it up to me by fixing this, finding these people.” Olivia held out sheets of paper, still warm from the printer.
“What’s this?”
“Speaking of me giving and you taking,” she said, “I looked into Wave Therapeutics while you were gone.”
“Olivia, you don’t need to do me any favors. You’ve already—"
“It isn’t a favor, it’s self-preservation at this point.” She breathed shakily and looked around, like someone could come at her from any angle.
“Anything of interest?” Carter flipped through the papers. There were pages from a website and financial records of some sort.
“They’re into all sorts of biotechnology.” Carter glanced up from the pages and saw her nervously looking around. This was her second home, and it was invaded. He was the Trojan Horse that let this into her life. Regret wasn’t a strong enough word at this point.
“Cloning, gene editing, cranial implants, stem cells. And that’s just what’s listed on their site,” she said. “T
he company has donated money to the hospital, so I was able to look at some of their financial records. The largest shareholder of Wave Therapeutics is Accenture.”
“Figures.”
Two paramedics rushed past them, and Olivia jumped out of the way. She pressed her hand on her chest, trying to settle her heartbeat. Carter thought about gripping her shoulder or placing a hand on her back, but decided against it.
“Donations to the hospital weren’t the only charitable venture they took part in. They have several clinics in Haiti.”
“Yeah, I’ve read about those. A person like Blair could own two-thirds of the government officials in Haiti.”
“They also have a youth program—"
“Wave Education,” Carter interrupted. “They paid for Rose to go to St. Mary’s. They put her right where they wanted her. Orchestrated her entire life.”
Carter wondered if any part of Rose’s life from conception on wasn’t planned out by someone else, if some part of her existence wasn’t directed by William Blair.
“One of the hospital’s donor records had an address for Wave Therapeutics,” Olivia continued. “It’s an office across town.” She pointed at an address at the bottom of one of the sheets she gave Carter.
“Without you,” Carter nodded and looked Olivia in the eye, “I wouldn’t be here. Literally. But I also wouldn’t be where I am in this case without you. I think you may have missed your calling as a detective.”
“Will … I know you only wanted to help Rose … I saw that from the first time you mentioned her. And maybe I wanted to help you, so you could help them. But now, after this night…” She shook her head. “Any help you get from me is coming from a selfish place. And I’m not ashamed to say that.”
Olivia didn’t smile. She didn’t try to soften the blow. Carter imagined this was the attitude she had when she had to deliver bad news, businesslike and leaving no room for interpretation.
“You’ll keep an eye on her?” Carter nodded towards Rose’s room.
“She’s Sheffield’s patient, but I’ll have a sticky beak every once in a while.”
“Call her parents again. They need to be here.”
“Okay,” Olivia said. “I’d say be careful, but I think I’ve given you that talk enough over the last few days.”
“I’ll be careful, and I’m not coming back until I know they’re not coming after you anymore. I promise.”
Carter stepped towards the door and gripped the doorknob.
“Hang on one second,” Olivia said, holding up a single finger. She fished her hands in the deep pockets of her scrubs, and pulled out a pill bottle. “Here. Pain meds.”
Even when she was pissed she couldn’t stop being a doctor. Carter gripped the bottle and dumped two pills out into his hand. He tossed them back and swallowed deep.
“If you get there – uh – when you get there,” Olivia said as Carter swallowed again, forcing the pills down, “look for any vials marked CRISPR, MIDAS, or PAX2. Grab as much as you can. Rose is in bad shape, and … well if there’s any chance of saving her, that’s it.”
“Got it,” Carter said. He stood in silence, wanting to say something that might make this seem less formal. But there was nothing. He simply nodded and gave Olivia a short, quick smile. “Thanks,” he said one last time before leaving out the back door of the emergency room.
Kotov Syndrome
Wave Therapeutics was a two-story facility just outside the Chicago city limits. Carter had a taxi drop him off blocks away. Now, he walked with a backpack slung over his shoulder, filled with supplies he’d taken from the van before leaving it behind—extra ammunition, his cracked cell phone, and a roll of silver duct tape. The gun he took off Jake Dawson’s body was shoved into the back of his waistband, the cold metal brushing against his bare skin. He gripped a second gun at his side, the one from the man he killed in the motel room.
Carter walked through the morning air. In the distance, the sun barely showed through the thick fog. Soon, morning rush hour traffic would hum through the streets, but now it was quiet. He walked towards the building, his feet clapping against the black asphalt, splashing in shallow puddles.
He approached the back of the building with caution. Two men stood guard at the back door, wearing uniforms that weren’t military but were made to look like it. Camouflage with some sort of patch sewn on the sleeve.
One man saw Carter and nudged the other. They stepped forward and let their hands rest on pistols holstered at their thighs. Carter held his gun at his side, slightly behind his leg, but not completely hidden.
“Don’t move!” Carter shouted, not breaking stride as he lifted his arm and pointed the gun at the man on the left. At the same time pulled the other gun out from his waistband and pointed it at the second man.
He never slowed down, never intended to. He figured there was only one way to come at this, and he had made his mind up long before.
The two guards gripped their guns, but didn’t pull them out of the holsters. At this point it was too late. Carter knew it. They knew it.
“Turn around!” Carter walked a few more steps until he was right on top of the two men. “Turn around!” The guards look at one another, then turned around. “Hands up!”
Carter kicked one of the men behind the knees, dropping him to the ground, then pushing him towards the wall. The other man flinched as his partner toppled over, and Carter kicked his legs next.
“I don’t know what you think this place is, sir,” one guard spoke up. “But—”
“I know exactly what this place is,” Carter interrupted, stuffing one of his guns back into his waistband and freeing up a hand. “Give me your hands,” he said to one of the men. “And don’t you fucking move,” he said to the other, trying to sound as convincingly dangerous as possible. He wrapped duct tape around the men’s wrists and ankles.
Pointing his gun at the men, Carter ripped a keycard from one guard’s belt. “Will this get me in?” The guard nodded. “What’s inside? How many men?” He drew the man’s gun from its holster, popped the magazine out, pulled the slide back to eject the round that was in the chamber, then dropped the weapon and extra clip in his backpack.
“Guards?” the man asked.
“Everything – guards, scientists, patients.” Carter took the other guard’s security card as well, making sure that if they got loose they couldn’t come in the building after him.
“Probably fifteen guards. Five doctors. Maybe a couple patients.”
“All the guards armed?” Carter asked. The man nodded. “Where are the patients?”
“Second floor.”
“And the research?”
“They have labs on both floors.”
“Alright.” Carter finished wrapping tape around the second guard’s ankles. “I’m gonna give you both the benefit of the doubt and assume you don’t really know what you’re protecting here. Maybe this was just a job for you. Maybe it’s just your way of helping out a family member. If that’s true, and you make your way out of that tape, then you’ll want to just run. Get as far from this place as possible. Count yourself lucky you still have the chance to get out of this.”
Carter swiped the security card and pulled the door open. Inside it was cold, sterile like a hospital. One guard stood across an empty room, hands behind his back and shoulders pushed back.
“On the ground!” Carter yelled, catching him by surprise. He looked down at the gun strapped around his thigh but slowly raised his arms out to his side, knowing he had no choice. “I said on the ground!”
The man kneeled and placed his hands behind his head. Carter circled wide around him until he was behind the man. He reached down and pulled the gun from the man’s holster. A Glock 22, .40 caliber, the same as the guns carried by the guards outside. Not wanting to weigh himself down, Carter dropped the magazine out and threw it in his bag, tossing the gun across the floor.
“Where’s Blair?” Carter asked, standing behind the man.
“Who?” The man didn’t move, not twisting to look at Carter, not loosening his hands behind his head.
“Don’t play dumb.”
A bank of circuit breakers was on the wall to Carter’s left, a storage closet on his right. In front of Carter, where the guard was standing, were double doors.
“I’m going through these doors. I’m gonna find someone else to ask. The man who helps me gets to live. Do you want to be the man that helps me?”
Carter pressed the barrel of his gun against the back of the man’s head. He wondered if he would do it. If the man refused, would he really pull the trigger?
“Upstairs,” the man said. Carter exhaled, realizing for the first time he was holding his breath. “Northwest part of the building.”
“My partner? Sam? What about him?” Carter asked, hoping this guard could give him all the information he needed, saving him from having to threaten someone else with death, saving him from having to actually decide what to do with a noncompliant guard.
“Who?”
“A man in his late thirties. Probably brought him in here a few days ago.”
“I – I – don’t know. Haven’t seen anyone that doesn’t work here.”
“Shit,” Carter muttered. “Does that closet lock from the outside?”
The man nodded.
“You have the key?”
He nodded again.
“Get up.” Carter flicked his wrist and waved his gun upward. “Unlock it.” The man fumbled with his set of keys and unlocked the door. “Give ‘em to me. Get in.” Carter nodded towards the closet. The man slowly stepped inside, looking around at his surroundings for one last time, like he was being buried alive.
“You said if I helped, you’d let me go.”
“I said I’d let you live. Now get in.” Carter shoved the man from behind, and he stumbled into the closet.
Carter closed the door and locked it. He shoved the keys in his pocket, walked down a short hallway before reaching another door. He cracked it open to peer through. Three men stood at lab tables; one looked through a microscope, while the other two sat at computers. All wore surgical masks. The walls of the room were lined with cold storage units, much like the ones in Accenture.
