by Ray Garton
“I’m not sure I understand the connection.”
“That’s why Paaxone was diverted to the Middle East.”
“But... I thought you said it was an antidepressant.”
“Yes, it is. A fairly new one. And it was intended to be nothing but an antidepressant. But more recently, the manufacturer has claimed that Paaxone also works as a treatment for PTSD.”
“But... that’s military. The NSA is an intelligence agency. It has nothing to do with the military.”
“Well, like you said, maybe this Gall fellow has his own agenda. Whatever the case, I’m sure there’s a great deal of money involved.” Falczek thought of Everett and felt a sharp cramp of loss in his gut. “A friend of mine once said that money talks and everything else walks.” His face tightened and his lips pulled back over his teeth a little as he added, “Of course, he’s dead now. Because you killed him. You prick.”
He heard movement to his left and turned toward the doorway. Roger leaned heavily on the edge of the doorway, his shirt and pants soggy with blood.
“Jesus, Roger!” Falczek said as he hurried toward the doorway.
Roger fell forward and landed on the floor in a heap.
Falczek knelt beside him and tried to figure out where he’d been hit. “I’ve gotta call 911,” he muttered, fumbling in his pocket for his cell phone.
Roger looked up at him with heavy-lidded eyes. “I... I... “
Falczek flipped the phone open and hit 911. He put the phone to his ear and leaned toward Roger, saying, “What? What is it?”
“I’m... having... the shittiest... day.”
4.
Rubinek did not leave the spot where he’d been standing while talking to Falczek. He watched Falczek go to Roger’s side and call 911.
Of course he’s dead now. Because you killed him. You prick.
Falczek’s words stirred a number of reactions in him. His first thought was, It’s just a job. But that sounded too much like saying, “I vas just folloving ze orders,” in a German accent. But that was true—it was just a job.
True as it was, though, it only made him feel worse. It reminded him of Ronald Shelldrake, the silver-haired eye-patched attorney who’d represented Braxton-Carville in court when Olivia’s parents tried to sue for wrongful death. Shelldrake had just been doing a job, too. No personal feelings, nothing emotional—just a job. But the fact that Shelldrake simply had been doing his job did not lessen the blow that job had dealt to Olivia’s family, to Rubinek, and to the significance of Olivia’s death.
Rubinek thought these things as he watched Falczek talk on the phone while kneeling beside his friend—whom Rubinek had shot in an attempt to kill him. Falczek’s other friend lay dead just inside the front door... because Rubinek had had a job to do.
The call to 911 would be answered by more than an ambulance; the police would respond to a gunshot wound. He didn’t have much time. He went to Falczek’s side.
With the phone still held to his ear, the reporter looked up at him and said, “Go over to the bar and see if you can find some hand towels. I’ve got to do something to slow down this bleeding.”
Rubinek hurried behind the bar and found a small blue towel on a wall rack over the small sink. In a drawer under the counter, he found three more. He took all of them to Roger’s side.
Falczek had finished with the phone and put it back in his pocket. He reached out for the towels saying, “I think it went straight through. He’s bleeding in the front and back.”
Rubinek knelt on the other side of Roger and handed two of the towels to Falczek. “You apply pressure to the back and I’ll get the front.”
As they pressed the towels to Roger’s wound, Falczek said, “So you’re not going to kill us after all, huh?”
“I don’t work for Mr. Gall anymore. I quit a few minutes ago. But I can’t stay long. I’ll have to get out of here before they come. You’re planning to report this whole thing?”
“Every goddamned word of it.”
“Then listen closely. You heard about the murder of Senator Walter Veltman’s press secretary a week ago?”
“The beheading? I was kind of surprised it didn’t get much coverage in the press, but yes, I heard about it.”
“Gall hired me to do that. I thought I was doing it for the NSA. Now I’m not so sure.”
“Does it matter? You cut off the man’s head.”
“We don’t have time for moralizing. That was connected to your antidepressant, I think.”
“How?”
“It was meant to send a message to Veltman, to scare him out of the idea of forming a committee to look into the relationship between the FDA and the pharmaceutical companies it’s supposed to be regulating. He called the drug industry a seven-headed hydra and said that heads would roll. And I was specifically instructed to cut the head off Arnold Shipp. That’s the message that was being sent. Veltman resigned today, and it looked like it was because of the sex scandal he’s mixed up in, but I don’t think so. I think he got the message, and the message was, fuck you, your committee, and your head-rolling—back off or your head’s next. Veltman got scared and resigned. It looks like Gall did this either on behalf of a drug company—maybe more than one—or for a drug company on his own, maybe as a favor or some kind of enticement.”
“Braxton-Carville? As enticement to work with him and get some Paaxone to Afghanistan?”
Rubinek nodded. “I’m going to have to catch the next plane east. The second I get there, I’ll go to work getting the rest of this story for you, but I need time to get there. Is there any way you can sit on this until then? If the players in this game find out we’ve seen their cards, it might be hard for me to do what I want to do.”
“I’m afraid that cat’s already fled the bag. Chloe was on the radio talking about it earlier. I’m sure that didn’t go unnoticed.”
“Damn,” Rubinek said with a sigh. “Then I guess I’ll just have to do my best. What are you going to tell the cops?”
Falczek shrugged a shoulder. “What should I tell them?”
Rubinek thought about it a moment. “For now, just tell them you didn’t see any of it. Be confused. It’ll be a waste of time to put them on my trail because I don’t leave one. And it would be counterproductive because I want to help you out.”
Falczek’s bushy eyebrows huddled low as he frowned. “Why? You came here to kill us. Why are you going to help us now.”
“I have my reasons.” He let go of the towel he’d been pressing to Roger’s flank and placed Falczek’s other hand over it in his place, then stood. “You’ll hear from me as soon as I’ve got all the information you’ll need.”
Rubinek left the room and hurried out of the house.
5.
A new fear entered Eli like the hot blade of a knife. It was not like the generalized, unfocused fear he’d been feeling. It was very specific and immediate, a reaction to the wall of fire that was moving toward him more rapidly than he thought possible. That fear was startling and clarifying, like a splash of ice-cold water in his face.
The woman screamed his name again, and Eli spun around. This time he knew the voice, and the fear and pain in it twisted his gut into a knot.
“Chloe?” he said between coughs.
The smoke was getting thicker, but he could still see her on the ground.
The police officers, both coughing and gasping, still had their guns aimed at him. The situation suddenly fell into place in his head—for the moment, anyway. Awareness made him stiffen his back as he raised his hands.
“I dropped the gun!” he called. He hurried toward Chloe, hands still up, coughing the whole way. He dropped to his knees at her side. “Jesus, Chloe!” he shouted, his voice thick with emotion. He put his hands on her and leaned close.
“Eli,” she said, clutching his wrist. “We have to get out of here.”
Even through the smoke, he could see how pale she was. There was a spot of blood on her turquoise skirt and it was sp
reading rapidly.
“What have I done?” he groaned. “Oh, god, what have I done?”
The two cops closed in. The wiry one grabbed Eli’s arms from behind. “Stand up,” the officer said.
The tall one said, “Cuff him later! We’ve gotta get out of here!” He bent down and scooped Chloe up in his arms, then turned and headed away from the fire.
The heat was smothering. Inhaling made Eli’s lungs burn. The clarity he’d experienced just a moment ago began to fade. Confusion and fear flooded in again as he watched the officer carry Chloe away.
“Wait, come back!” Eli shouted, struggling with the officer who held his arms.
“Let’s go,” the cop said, pushing Eli forward as he held his wrists tightly.
Eli heard the cop’s voice but not his words. His attention was too intensely focused on the police officer who was carrying Chloe away. All he knew was that Chloe was being taken from him, that he’d hurt her and now she was being taken away, away, away.
He fought to pull away from the cop behind him, calling Chloe’s name, and finally jerked out of his grasp. He rushed forward to the cop who was carrying her away, shouting, “No! Leave her alone! Don’t take her! Please!”
His own thoughts assaulted him with pain. Fear mixed with the smoke to suck the oxygen from him. He grabbed the officer from behind, wrapped his arms around his shoulders and tried to hold him, to keep him from taking Chloe away.
“Get this son of a bitch off of me!” the big cop shouted to his partner.
The officer behind Eli shouted, “Stop fighting or I’m going to tase you!”
The words were gibberish and made no sense to Eli. All he could hear was the roaring and cracking of the fire and the zapping, rushing sounds that filled his head. Somewhere in all the chaos was the knowledge that this police officer was taking someone—or was it something?—away from him and had to be stopped. Eli continued to struggle with the officer, trying to wrestle him to the ground.
A sharp, piercing pain erupted in Eli’s lower back. A second later, an explosion of pounding pain erupted from that spot and he lost control of his limbs. He dropped off of the cop and hit the ground hard, his back arching reflexively.
After that, everything faded in and out of focus.
He lay on his back, head tilted backward. From there, he could see the wall of fire closing in, filling the air, the sky, the world. In a flash, it was gone and the canopy of trees overhead were passing by rapidly as the ground passed roughly by him under his back. He felt someone clutching his calves.
Voices shouted.
A woman cried, “Eli! Eli!”
The trees disappeared and gave way to the smoke-filled sky.
“He’s all right!” a man shouted. “Quit struggling. We’re gonna get you some help.”
“We can’t wait for the wagon!” the other man shouted. “We gotta get clear of this fire.”
Eli realized he was drenched with sweat, clothes soaked through. Dirt and gravel and bits of weeds clung to him after being dragged over the ground.
“Eli!” the woman—was it Chloe?—shouted. “Is he hurt?”
“He’s fine, he’s fine. We’ve got to get out of here.”
Eli heard a car door open as he continued to stare up into the smoke, chest rising and falling quickly, fists clenched at his sides. Focus began to return. But that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. No matter how clear his exterior focus was, inside his head a storm raged.
For a moment, he thought it had begun to rain because water was dribbling down into his ears. Then he realized they were tears.
Chapter 21
Aftermath
1.
Eli’s eyelids seemed to be glued shut. With effort, he peeled them open a bit at a time and squinted at the bright, blinding light. He was lying in a bed between crisp sheets with a thin blanket over him in a cool room that smelled antiseptically clean. Every inch of his body ached and his head throbbed. He shifted in the bed, slowly lifted a heavy arm to his head and massaged a temple.
“Eli,” a man said. The voice was vaguely familiar. “You’re awake.” There was a whisper of movement to Eli’s right and a man appeared beside the bed.
Eli blinked a few times until the man came into focus and he recognized him as Falczek, the man Everett had introduced him to over lunch a thousand years ago. Lifting his head from the pillow slightly, Eli saw a window beyond Falczek. It was dark outside. The last thing he remembered hearing was Chloe screaming his name.
“Where’s Chloe?” he said, his voice harsh and cracked, mouth dry. He flashed on a memory—standing in Roger’s kitchen and hitting Roger on the back of the head with something heavy. “And Roger. Is Roger okay?”
Falczek sucked in a deep breath through his nose, then said, “Well, not exactly okay, but he’ll live.”
“Why? What’s wrong? Where’s Chloe?”
“Of the bunch of us, I’m the only one who’s not in this hospital as a patient. Chloe and Roger are both hospitalized here. Both of them were shot and they’re recovering from surgery. Chloe was hit in the hip by a police officer who was shooting at you. The bullet was removed and she’ll be fine. Roger was shot by... uh, he was shot by an intruder this afternoon. The bullet went through his abdomen and out his back without hitting any major organs, but it nicked an artery and he lost a lot of blood. That was fixed in surgery and he’ll recover.”
It hurt to frown, but the frown came naturally as Eli tried to think. His mind was full of mud. He remembered hearing Chloe’s voice a lot... disembodied... calling out to him. He remembered hitting Roger, but he couldn’t remember why he’d done it. The question he was about to asked sounded silly, but he couldn’t help that.
“What... what happened?” Eli said.
“You went away for awhile, Eli. You couldn’t refill your Paaxone prescription and the effects of the withdrawal turned you into someone else.”
“Paaxone,” Eli whispered as things began to come back to him.
“You went a little crazy, I’m afraid. But you managed to accomplish a lot, Eli. Without even knowing it, you got a pretty big ball rolling. You should be very proud of Chloe, too. We haven’t known each other long, but if you let that one go, I will personally kick your ass. She’s practically a superhero.”
Eli could only stare up at him blankly.
“The doctor said you’d probably be pretty foggy when you came around, so I don’t know how much you remember, but while you were out there in the city going crazy, Chloe was trying to reach you. You didn’t answer your cell phone, so she went on the radio. She commandeered the microphone at KNWS and went on the radio to reach you. She also told the listeners everything she knew about Paaxone. That included the fact that the manufacturer had intentionally diverted it from this market, leaving a whole lot of people high and dry. It also included what she’d learned from Everett about the withdrawal effects. People listened. They flooded doctors’ offices and hospitals. Some did it before the withdrawals kicked in, but others were already feeling them. Meanwhile, other people began to realize that the bizarre behavior they were exhibiting—or the bizarre behavior exhibited by a friend or loved one—was caused by this withdrawal from Paaxone. They started calling their doctors. Some called the police. One man who was unfortunately suffering the withdrawal effects already waited for his doctor in the parking lot this evening and beat the crap out of him for not warning him of the possible side effects. Chloe’s impromptu broadcast this afternoon has gotten the attention of major media outlets, and now everybody’s talking about it. Reporters from all over the place have flocked to Santa Vermelha like monarch butterflies to Capistrano. All of this happened after business hours on the east coast, so there’s been no response from the drug’s manufacturer yet. I’m sure they’re having a sweaty little meeting to decide what that response will be. It all happened very fast. Because of you. And thanks to Chloe’s gutsiness. But guess who’s gonna write the story? The whole story? Top to bottom?”
&nbs
p; “Who?”
Falczek smiled and his bushy eyebrows bobbed once. “You’re lookin’ at him. While you’ve been sleeping, I’ve been sitting here with my laptop getting it started. But I don’t have the whole story yet. I’m waiting for a call from a source.”
Eli was confused. “The whole story? I’m not even sure what part of it is yet.”
“You’ve been sedated, tased, and nearly burned alive. You’ve got an excuse. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it all out later.”
“Who’s this source you’re waiting for?”
“He’s, uh... someone close to the story. You need anything? Are you thirsty?”
“I could use some water, yeah.”
Falczek hit a button on the bed’s control and elevated the head so Eli was sitting up. He turned to the bed table, poured ice water from a plastic pitcher into a plastic cup with a straw in it and offered it to Eli, who gulped down several swallows.
Falczek cleared his throat and said, “There are, um, a couple of other things you should know, Eli. You’ve been arrested.”
Eli pulled his head away from the cup, frowning. “What? Arrested?”
“Well, you gave the police a little trouble today. They didn’t take too kindly to it. Also, during your wild ride through the city, you had a woman in the car with you. She claims you beat her and held her against her will and she’s pressing charges.” He jerked his head toward the door. “There’s a cop outside. But don’t worry about it too much. You were suffering from some pretty serious side effects because a drug you’d been prescribed had been withheld from you by the manufacturer. So you’ve got that going for you. This is already a hot topic and there will be a lot of people on your side. But best of all, I’ve called Dr. Tara Varadaraj.”
