The Iron Quill

by Shelena Shorts

  I grunted loud enough for any vermin lurking in the potholes to hear me, and then sighed, surrendering to the rational thoughts that told me to back up. To the safe confines of my car.

  I was desperate, but not stupid. Once inside, I locked my doors and smacked the steering wheel with both hands.

  I felt like a chicken, a failure . . . selfish for not having the guts to march in there and demand the information I needed, but the gravitational pull from the opposite direction was stronger. Wes certainly wouldn’t go looking for a fight or conflict. Every bone in his body was kind, calm, and collected. Regardless of my frustration, I couldn’t go against the aura that surrounded who he was, who I needed to be if I was going to make it through everything that fate had to throw at us.

  After several reflective minutes, I made peace with my decision to find another way.

  Just as my engine revved, the sound of sirens in the distance reminded me of the dangers in the world, and I shuddered. An eagerness to leave rose within as I eased my Jeep out of the parallel space.

  Suddenly the sirens ceased, but several sets of headlights were coming down the narrow street, straight toward me. A glimpse into my rearview mirror was greeted by even more headlights approaching.

  I hadn’t seen another car the entire time I’d been there. That was odd. Curious, I slowed my Jeep and veered to the right.

  There were no yellow lines dividing the narrow road, so I came to a near crawl to prevent grazing one of the parallel-parked cars to my right or running head-on into the blazing stampede of approaching cars to my left.

  What in the world? I asked myself as the first ones passed. Cop cars? Even though their sirens were off, I slid back into the first parallel parking space to see what the heck was going on. Three cruisers, three vans, and two ambulances went by.

  I turned around to peer out over my headrests and saw the cars stop in front of the alleyway leading to the fight club. Someone was either injured or in trouble, and I couldn’t figure out which, until it dawned on me that the emergency vehicles were silent.

  I watched as an entire SWAT team hustled out of their vehicles and stealthily moved into the alleyway. The same alleyway I had just backed away from. Talk about a huge feeling of relief, but there was no time to relish it. An icy jab shot through my spine as a loud pound shook my window.

  I jumped, nearly knocking my head on the roof of the Jeep. Geez! I whipped my neck around to see a uniformed officer standing at my window. Major flashbacks of Andy pierced my thoughts as I sat like a deer in headlights.

  The officer motioned for me to roll down my window. Naturally, I tensed and froze. “Miss, roll down your window, or I’m going to have to ask you to step out of the vehicle.”

  That was something I definitely didn’t want to do, so I pressed down on the switch, lowering the window in two-inch increments until there was enough space for him to talk.

  “May I ask you what you’re doing here?”

  “Um. I was heading down this street and I pulled over when I saw you guys coming. I . . . I was just curious.”

  I found myself pointing behind me, hoping he would understand my rubbernecking.

  “What brings you down this street?” he asked pulling out a flashlight.

  The blinding glare in my eyes caused my heart to jump out of my chest. My breathing became labored. What’s wrong with me? Oh, my gosh!

  “Miss?”

  “Um, can you please move that light? I’m sorry,” I nearly started panting. I wanted to throw my Jeep in gear and drive off faster than he could blink.

  I glanced at him one more time with pleading eyes, and the light moved away and very quickly, I saw a look of possible recognition in his eyes.

  “Oh,” he said. “Do you have ID?”

  I turned quickly, rummaged through my purse, and nearly tossed him my wallet. “Oh,” he said again seemingly more to himself than me. “Ms. Slone, what brings you to these parts this evening?”

  He took a step back, which helped calm me. I blinked a few times and shook my head hoping my senses would return.

  “I was looking for someone, but I changed my mind.”

  “Good decision,” he said handing me my wallet and nodding. “I think it would be a good idea if you went home. Have a good night.”

  Finally, I had my chance to escape the déjà vu moment, but I was still curious. “Officer, what’s going on back there?”

  A soft smile reached across his face. “We’ve heard some illegal activities are taking place there, and we’re going to make some arrests.”

  I immediately thought of Tim. “Who’s getting arrested?” I blurted out.

  He had already taken a few strides toward the other gathered officers, but he turned and dropped his chin. “Everybody, and unless you want to be included, I suggest you head home.”

  “Okay.” No need to tell me twice. I pulled out of the space thanking my lucky stars that I had not gone inside. I’d be in handcuffs right now, and explaining that to my mother was not on my to-do list.

  But Tim? He was in there, and the officers would include everyone when it came to being arrested, and that meant I would have him right where I needed him.

  Chapter 8

  THE CALL: DR. EVAN CARTER

  During the long walk back to my office, I wondered how things had gotten so out of control. I had been making significant progress toward curing my patients, and most importantly, we were beginning to have long-term success. Many of the soldiers who had been through my treatment had gone back to active duty or had decided to take the offered honorable discharge and education assistance package.

  Things were going quite well in my opinion, so the fact that the sergeant major ordered the abduction of a well-respected civilian just didn’t make sense. Not to mention the fact that he attempted to drug him. There was no way this situation was going to end well.

  No, this situation was inexcusable and protocol had just been blown to bits, so I made the decision to call another superior officer. I knew that going directly above the sergeant major would be useless because I had a feeling his recent commands were coming from above him. That meant I needed to bypass his chain of command altogether.

  Once back at my desk, I made a call to my former commanding officer. He had no authority over this facility, but he did have connections. I asked him to look into where my current assignment came from, who was funding it, and who the commanding officers were.

  Trying not to disclose too much, I informed him of my concerns that the mission had been compromised. Finally, I told him I feared for my life, and would appreciate it if he could alert someone high in the government that this operation could lead to civilian deaths and unwanted attention if a formal inspection wasn’t started ASAP.

  I didn’t fear for my life and I wasn’t positive civilian lives were at risk, but something inside told me to send up some flares.

  Just as I hung up the phone, my office assistant Larry rushed in, “They’re moving him.”

  “Moving him where?”

  “To the interrogation room. They said you have thirty minutes.”

  The interrogation room offered little or no privacy. Anyone in the next room would be able to hear our conversation. What was I supposed to do with that? I needed to talk to Weston alone.

  I came up with the only plan I could think of on the spot, pleased with how good it actually was. I briefly questioned my reasons for going through such measures to protect Mr. Wilson, but I knew it needed to be done.

  “Larry, do me a favor please. In fifteen minutes, I’d like for you to interrupt my interrogation and tell me that one of the patients from Block 3 escaped his room and is missing. Then I want you to tell me you received a report that he was spotted leaving the first floor.”

  He looked at me, stunned. “But—”

  “Don’t worry, Larry, I just need a few minutes alone with Mr. Wilson. I’m going to have one of the assistants move the “missing patient” downstairs for some tests. By the t
ime they figure it out, I’ll have had the time I need.” He stared at me blankly. “Can you do that?” I pressed.

  He nodded supportively. “Yes, Sir.”

  After that, I made a phone call to order my newest patient moved for brain and bone scans. Then I hurried to the interrogation room.

  The sergeant major was sitting on the table, staring down at Wes, who looked terrible. Who looked drugged. Still shirtless, with soaked hair, he was beyond pale and his eyes were rolling toward the back of his head. He was either really drugged or a very good actor.

  John was standing behind him, holding his head up and forcing him to look at the sergeant major.

  I cleared my throat, causing my fellow comrades to look my way. “I’ll take it from here. Thank you.”

  Without a word, John let go of his head and Wes lazily let it tilt to the right. “Thirty minutes,” the sergeant major ordered.

  There was no telling who was listening or watching, so I had to be careful with my next move.

  Walking over to him, I leaned in closely, blocking his face from the camera. “Before I sit down, I’d like to know if you feel okay.” I hoped he would get my hint.

  Acknowledging my hidden message, his eyes focused immediately, and an enormous sense of relief washed over me. He still let his head fall to the side lazily, mimicking the effects of the un-administered drug, but there was no doubt he was completely coherent.

  “Alright, I’m going to ask you some questions. All you need to do is answer them and we’ll get you out of here.”

  His eyes still watched me with a desperation that spoke of an undeserved trust. With one final blink, I nodded and stood up straight, letting the show begin. His gaze smoothly shifted out of focus, falling back into a daze.

  “Okay, Mr. Wilson!” I said loudly, hoping to give the impression that I was searching for his attention. “Now, there are some things we talked about earlier, and it’s important that we finish. I want to know what new, innovative discoveries you have going on at the California Blood Research Lab.”

  Groggily, he played the part, “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Reluctantly, I knew I needed to change my tone. “Yes, you are. Now search your mind. Think about what you are developing there that can help us.”

  “I, I . . . “ His head swayed back and forth as his gaze traveled lazily around the room concealed behind half-closed eyelids.

  I let my gaze travel away from his face, down to his chest, which was still oddly pale, and then noticed the hard lines of his arms in the bright lights. The veins were standing out more against the pale skin. The same veins I couldn’t insert a needle into. Why couldn’t I insert the needle? I’d almost forgotten.

  Snapping out of my pit of confusion, I pressed on for the sake of our listeners. “Weston. Tell me what I need to know. You have the answer don’t you?”

  Still not focusing on me, he slowly shook his head, and suddenly fear overtook me, because no matter how good of a performance he was putting on, we weren’t going to get anywhere. He wasn’t going to tell me enough to get the sergeant major off my back.

  Speaking the truth out loud, I whispered half to him and half to myself, “This isn’t working. It isn’t going to work.”

  I put my head down, fearing the worse. I was a doctor, not a showman. I couldn’t turn this into a success for anyone other than those calling the shots. As if reading my mind, Weston looked at me, still with a drugged gaze, “I may know . . . something.”

  I looked up in shock. His eyes still appeared to have a lot of trouble focusing, knowing he needed to give up something to get out of here, he slurred more teasingly appealing information.

  “There is something my doctors have discovered about the body’s natural defense against . . . against . . . “ he paused, and began scratching at his chest and neck, “Is it hot in here, Doctor?”

  It was an amazing stall tactic, and I capitalized on it. “No, it’s just an effect of the drugs. You’ll be okay. Now go on.”

  “It’s really hot in here, Doc.”

  I fought a smile, somehow oddly proud of his stance not to give those bastards anything.

  Next, he started scratching his knees and arms. Right about then the door burst open with John leading the way. Before I could react, he had Weston by the throat and backed against the gurney.

  “Enough of this nonsense!” Frustrated, he smacked Weston across the face. I saw Weston’s jaws flex as he fought the urge to come out of his faux high.

  “Stop it!” I shouted.

  The sergeant major quickly turned to me. “Enough! Dr. Carter! It is clear you need help here. We don’t have all night.”

  Just as I was wondering where in the hell Larry was, he rushed into the room looking shocked. I’m sure it was in reaction to seeing Weston pinned against the bed by John, but it looked perfectly related to the news he was about to share.

  “Dr. Carter, something’s happened!”

  “What is it?” I urged quickly.

  Not sure who to look at, his gaze darted from the sergeant major to John to Weston, and then to me.

  “Um . . . um . . . your newest patient is missing.”

  “Missing?” I shot back, completely stunned. “Missing where?”

  “Well . . . um . . . that’s just it. We can’t find him anywhere, and someone called and reported him leaving the hospital in his gown. We don’t know where he is.”

  I looked quickly to the sergeant major. “This is not good! Do you know what this means? If he hurts someone, or worse, everything will point back here. You are sabotaging my operation with these distractions. If I don’t secure this facility . . . “ I was outraged and pointing in their faces now, not caring who was of higher ranking. I needed them to fear a breach, buy into my made-up alert, and to believe it was more pressing than Weston. “I don’t have the manpower to handle a search. And I’m too busy in here.”

  “That will be enough, Doctor!” He turned to his newfound goon. “John, take your men and find him.”

  Quickly, I instructed Larry to provide John with the patient’s name and description.

  With a more pressing matter at hand, I took the liberty to jump in. “Sergeant Major. Look at him. He’s totally out of it. He’s delirious, cold, weak. His vital signs are low. We can’t get anything reliable out of him in this state. Let me put him in one of the recovery rooms, and you can question him by yourself in a few hours. At least let some of the drugs wear off. He’s not a private just coming in from the battlefield. It’s obvious we gave him too much. The knowledge he holds will only come forth when he’s more coherent.”

  Taking only a moment to assess me, he inhaled and turned his attention to Weston who appeared to be fading, his right arm now twitching.

  “Dr. Carter, I know you don’t agree with this, but it’s a necessity. I’ve got somewhere to be in a few minutes, but I’ll be back at 0600 hours. At which time, my team will have full access to Mr. Wilson, and when you leave this facility you are not to mention anything about him ever being here. That way, you won’t have to worry about the security of your project. Do you understand?”

  “That sounds fine,” I said, trying to sound relieved more for my facility than Weston.

  I waved my hand to signal Larry over to help me guide Weston back down the hall and began shooting off orders. “I need to get Mr. Wilson to Wing 2. Go give Dr. Peyton a heads-up that he’ll need to keep Mr. Wilson comfortable and then secure his room. Understood?” He nodded nervously, and I patted his shoulder. “I’ll meet you there.”

  Without looking at the sergeant major, I headed for the door, feeling momentarily confident that I had bought us at least another six hours. Although relieved to have the extra time, I knew that when morning came, the situation would be out of my hands.

  “Zero six hundred, Doctor,” was the last order I heard as I headed down the hall.

  Dr. Peyton was already waiting by an empty room. He was the night doctor on duty, and a trusted friend. I knew We
ston would be comfortable, at least for the night.

  “Dr. Peyton,” I nodded, greeting him, “this patient needs to sleep off some medication, and then will need a meal. No one gets through those secure doors. All night. Understood? I need to make some calls and I’ll return at 0500 hours to take over.”

  “What’s going on here, Evan?”

  Using my first name while on duty signified that he sensed something was off. How could he not? “I’ll explain tomorrow. Just keep him comfortable.”

  It was clear he wanted to question me further, but he just nodded, patted my shoulder, and said, “Whatever you say.”

  Once he walked away, I wheeled Weston in the room. “You’ll be all right here, and I’m going to go home and figure something out.”

  Rolling onto the bed, Wes lay silently with his eyes closed. His lack of appreciation took me back for a moment, and then I realized that no thanks were deserved. At the end of the day, he was still here, unable to leave, with a very grim hope for what 0600 hours would bring.

  “I’ll get you out of here,” I whispered as I covered his completely still body with a warm blanket. I would have thought him to be unconscious had he not rolled over so his back was facing me, putting a barrier between us. A barrier that let me know any trust he held in me was dwindling fast.

  Chapter 9

  TIM WALTERS TALKS

  By 9:30 p.m., I had called the police station at least four times asking if Tim Walters had been arrested. After a couple of more calls, the lady finally confirmed it. I was so thrilled, I made my way to the station even though it was almost ten o’clock at night.

  At first, I was told to come back tomorrow if I wanted to see any of the detainees. Just as my frustration was about to explode, Officer Petty and Officer Wright walked out from behind the heavily secured door.

  “Oh, thank God!” I said hurrying over to them. “Please, I need to see Tim Walters. It’s very important.”