by Jonas Saul
A large needle came out from behind the doctor’s coat in his right hand. Then he presented his left hand, also holding a large needle.
“Ahh, what have we got here, Doc?” Sarah asked. She stepped away from Mark’s bed, scanning for anything she could use as a weapon. She had found another moment when having her gun would come in handy.
A small phone sat on the table beside the bed. A few items were tied to the wall with cords, but nothing else was close enough for her to grab.
The doctor held up his hand and showed off the needle.
“Inside each of these two beauties is a clear liquid called Myristicin.”
“Oh yeah?” Sarah said, trying to stall him. “What’s it gonna do to us?” She bumped into the wall and looked out the second-floor window. Jumping would be better than dying by injection, but she didn’t think Mark would be able to get out of bed, let alone jump out a window.
Near his lower abdomen, a wet spot formed and edged out in a circle as he lost control of his bladder.
“Myristicin comes from the seed of a nutmeg.” He smiled a wicked smile. “It even smells like the spice.”
“And why inject that into someone?”
“Don’t you know that nutmeg is extremely poisonous when injected into a vein?”
Sarah shook her head. The doctor hadn’t advanced too far yet. He seemed to be enjoying the terror he was putting Mark through. Either that or he was waiting for backup.
“At first you’ll experience chest pain, double vision and eye irritation. Then the abdominal pain will start, followed by nausea—but you don’t want to throw up.” He wagged a finger at her, the needle held precariously in the other three.
Drop it, she willed.
“Don’t induce vomiting. You’ll be going through convulsions, rapid heart rate and finally, seizures. That is if you live long enough for all that to happen. Not many people get this much in their system at one time.”
Mark was edging off the bed, about to fall to the floor on Sarah’s side, when the doctor pounced on him and jammed the needle into the meat of his buttocks.
Mark screamed and slipped over the metal railing and off the bed. As he hit the floor, he swung around and tried to rip the needle out of his backside.
Sarah lunged for the doctor.
She grabbed a handful of his hair. As she was about to yank his head back to punch him in the throat, he spun around and jabbed the second needle at her.
But Sarah was expecting his thrust and pivoted away like she was rolling off a tackle. This time she lost her balance, tripped over her own foot, and hit the wall on her way to the floor.
Chapter 23
Maxwell sat in his air-conditioned car and watched the street half a block down from the police station. No taxis had pulled up and there was no sign of Sarah or Russell.
He pulled his phone out and called Amanda. She answered on the first ring.
“Where’s the girl and Russell?”
“It’s under control.”
“I’m sitting here waiting with my thumb up my ass. No one has shown up.”
“What?” It sounded like she was pulling her car over. “How is that possible? Those guys owe you more money than they could pay back. No way would they deviate from the plan. They should’ve been there by now.” Screeching tires emanated through the phone. “I’m turning around.”
“I’m not even two miles away from the steak house. What could’ve happened?”
“I have no idea. I saw them both get picked up.”
“And did they come this way?” Maxwell asked.
“Yes.”
She sounded confused which made it hard for him to be angry with her. But he needed results. Everyone knew that, especially Amanda.
“Find them.”
“I’m on it. I’ll contact their dispatcher. Maybe I’ll learn where they went instead.”
“Just find them. Now!”
Detective Collins grabbed Munro’s arm before they got out of the unmarked cruiser.
“You sure about this?” he asked.
“Yeah. I think this is the best time. We always talk about acting on our hunches.”
“We haven’t slept since yesterday morning. Instead of going home, on a hunch, you want to visit Mark Stead in his hospital bed to check on the veracity of his statement, although what you really want to do is verify a doctor named Scott Emmet works here and if he is on duty right now or not? Is that it? Do I have it all?”
“That’s it.” She shrugged off his hand and got out of the car. “That’s my hunch.”
He got out too and slammed his door. “Then can I go home and sleep?”
“When we’re done here, you can do whatever you want.”
They started for the hospital doors and fell in side by side.
“Why now?” Collins asked. “Why not tonight or tomorrow? Why does this hunch have to be attacked right now?”
“Because Russell made a point of mentioning the hospital tip he had supplied to you and how it hadn’t been solved yet. If what he says is true, which you’ve discovered to be the case every time, then this hospital betting ring has to come to an end. People could be committing murder to win money.”
“Okay, but is there a reason we have to do it right now?”
“Yeah. Mark Stead was tortured last night and was probably supposed to be killed just like Tyrone Percy. My guess, or rather my hunch, is that whoever’s behind Mark’s attack will want to finish the job as soon as possible.”
“Well, it does make sense.”
They hit the doors and entered the hospital. They walked up to the first counter, flashed their badges and asked for Mark Stead’s room. They were directed to an elevator that would lead them to the second floor.
Following the blue line on the floor to the elevator, Collins asked, “And you think the man behind all this is recently retired loan shark, Maxwell Ramsey?”
“One hundred percent.”
Collins pushed the button to call the elevator. “Why are you so sure?”
“His visiting you at the station today was to deflect suspicion from him. He wanted to show his face and make us think he was truly concerned about Mark and Tyrone. But all the men involved in this case either work for him or used to work for him in some capacity. He’s the most probable connection. To me, this smells of Ramsey.”
“And I thought this case smelled of shit.”
The doors opened and they entered the elevator. Munro stopped and peeked out. Then she shook her head, leaned back in and hit the second floor button.
“What was that for?” Collins asked.
“Nothing.”
Amanda squealed into the hospital parking lot. After speaking with dispatch and learning that three of their drivers were admitted into the ER within the last twenty minutes, Amanda knew what had happened.
On her way to the hospital, she called Maxwell back. He said he would drive up the street and meet her there. He told her to get inside and find Sarah. But stay away from Scott, who had a job to do.
“But what if that’s where Sarah and Russell are? Trying to stop Scott from removing our subject?”
“Let me handle it when I get there. Just watch your back. And how the fuck did they know they were being ambushed?”
“How did they know about the warehouse? How did they know to deal with Detective Collins? How did they know—Maxwell, you there?”
But Maxwell had already hung up.
She angled into a parking spot, aiming the front of the car at the road with an unobstructed path for an easy escape if need be.
She got out and scanned the parking area. Fighting wasn’t what worried Amanda. She loved to fight and had spent too much time doing it to worry about a few fists flying her way. It was weapons she hated. You can’t fight a bullet or a knife once it’s in the air and flying toward your head.
She locked her door and half ran, half jogged across the parking lot.
Near the admin doors, an unmarked cruiser slowed and
then stopped on the side. Two people hesitated for a moment and then got out.
Collins and Munro.
Shit! What are they doing here?
She dialed Maxwell to warn him, but he didn’t pick up.
As the detectives walked around their car and entered the hospital, Amanda picked up her pace until she was running to catch up.
She entered as they stood at the admin counter talking to a nurse. All she overheard was a room number that started with a two. She tried to catch her breath on the side of the room behind a large fake plant while the two detectives followed the blue line to the elevators.
On the far right, Amanda spied the sign for the stairs. She walked casually to the door, then ran up the stairs three at a time.
She opened the door to the second floor slowly and stepped out. After a quick turn around a corner, the elevator the two detectives were on came into view.
She pulled her cell phone out and flipped it to vibrate.
It rang in her hand.
“What?” she whispered.
“What do you mean, what?” Maxwell said through gasps of breath. He had to be running. “You called me.”
“I’m on the second floor of the hospital.”
“Have you found them?”
“No, but Collins and his partner are here.”
“Why’s that? I just left Collins at the police station half an hour ago.”
“No idea, but they must’ve asked for a patient by name because the woman at the front counter told them the second floor.”
Both cops slipped out of the elevator and started her way. She turned on her heels and nonchalantly walked away from them. But walking this way didn’t allow her to see if they entered a room.
Maxwell was screaming something into the phone. She had no choice but to end the call and use the phone’s screen as a mirror to look over her shoulder.
When she brought the phone up as if she were looking for a better signal, the detectives were nowhere to be seen.
She turned around.
They were gone.
She ran for the corner, hoping to see them before they entered a room.
Chapter 24
When Sarah hit the floor, she rolled hard and fast away from the bed. The doctor landed beside her, the needle dangerously close. For a brief second, it brought back horrible memories of the Rapturites in Toronto trying to inject her with their poison.
If she had slowed or stopped her roll sooner, she could’ve whacked at the arm holding the needle. Instead, she rolled again and then stopped at the wall next to the locked door.
The doctor was already getting to his feet, the needle held out before him.
Mark had grown quiet on the other side of the bed. She chanced a glimpse his way under the bed. His eyes were shut and he wasn’t moving.
“Before we’re done dancing here,” Sarah said, “that needle is going to be rammed into your face.”
The doctor smiled and flicked a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Highly unlikely, little girl.”
The use of the term little girl infuriated her. She wondered if she could turn around, unlock the door, and run into the corridor before she got injected in the back.
“Why go after Mark?” she asked. “Why was he tortured?”
“I have no idea, but I’m about to be paid a handsome sum because Mr. Stead is dead.”
“Why’d you tell him I was coming to hurt him?”
“No idea,” he said as he advanced toward her. “I was given your name and the message for Mark.”
“By who?”
He edged forward again, closing the distance between them. He was close enough to dive at her. She was trapped by the door and the wall.
“The man I owe a lot of money to.” He shrugged. “Actually, the man I used to owe a lot of money to. With Mark dead, that debt is paid. With you dead, I will get paid.”
“Oh, you’re talking about Maxwell Ramsey?”
A flicker of recognition crossed his face.
He took a large step forward and lunged, the needle aimed at her stomach.
Keeping her head and shoulders on the floor, she pushed off with her butt and lifted her foot to kick at the hand that held the needle. He was too fast. Her foot connected with his elbow, missing her chance to knock the needle from his grasp.
Before she could punch, roll or move away, he was on her. He had to weigh at least two-hundred pounds, paralyzing her under his weight.
A scream escaped as she writhed under him. He straddled her hips and wrapped his legs around hers, locking her lower body down. Her head bumped the door a couple of times in her struggle to get out from under him.
He dropped his chest down on hers to avoid her flailing arms.
The tip of the needle came close to her face.
With one last effort, she pushed on his shoulders with both hands, but he didn’t move more than an inch.
“Noooo!” she screamed in frustration and anger. Rage she hadn’t felt in a long time erupted inside her and she fought with all her reserve energy.
The doctor jabbed at her. The needle plunged into the skin of her right arm.
The doctor’s face contorted to a mask of insanity, his eyes wide, nostrils flared as he fought to keep his prey secure.
His big hand came to rest on the plunger.
Russell Anderson stared at the cop in front of him and wondered how he was going to get out of this. How could Russell know that a random car accident, which was unrelated to him and his task, would happen two blocks from where he was supposed to set his accident up? Things happen, sure, but he didn’t anticipate that one.
When he distracted his cab driver with the red baseball cap, they were supposed to hit the light pole and get admitted to the hospital for observation after he complained of neck pain.
But it didn’t work out that way.
As they turned the corner, just as he was supposed to distract the driver, flashing lights caught the driver’s eye up ahead. A yellow taxi was upside down in the middle of the road. The driver shouted something and hit the gas.
It was too late. Russell had missed his window of opportunity. But he had to be admitted to the hospital. He knew Sarah’s life hung in the balance. She could die if he wasn’t there.
His daughter had told him so.
He had lunged over the front seat, grabbed the steering wheel, and yanked it hard to the right. The cab had sped across two lanes, hit the curb and lifted into the air sideways. It rolled twice and came to rest on its roof.
Medical personnel attended to the scene, but they took too long. The driver was still unconscious when he was lifted out of the vehicle. The only problem Russell had was a sore right arm. He thought it was just bruised, but the doctor examining him at the hospital thought he should have an X-ray.
But Russell couldn’t wait any longer. Sarah could already be in trouble or dead while he sat here talking to the police.
“Tell me again,” the cop said. “Exactly what happened?”
Russell felt crowded in the little hospital room they had made him wait in and the cop wasn’t giving him any room.
“I already told you. My driver saw the accident up ahead, thought he knew the other driver and hit the gas to race to the scene of the accident. Next thing I know, the wheel spun out of control and we hit the curb and flipped. That’s all I remember. Now, can I go to the cafeteria? I need to leave the room for a few minutes.”
Russell hopped off the bed.
“Hold up. I can’t let you leave my sight until I’m certain that what you’ve told me is the truth.”
“What else do you want me to say?”
“Sit back down. There’s no rush. You’re waiting for an X-ray anyway. Start from the beginning—”
“I can’t,” Russell cut him off. He was losing his patience. “I need to leave for a few minutes. I’m probably already too late.” He turned toward the curtain.
The cop dropped a hand on his shoulder.
“Hold it rig
ht there. Why are you in such a hurry?” He turned Russell around. “I’m not asking anymore. Sit back down. The only reason I haven’t handcuffed you yet is because that arm may be broken, but I will if you don’t sit back down and tell me again what happened.”
