Foreign Threat

by Mitchell Goldstein

  Sweetpea started to seem more interested in learning about Jake. “So does this stupid chief have any life outside the hos-

  pital?”

  Steve thought for a second, “I really don’t know much about his personal life, and frankly I don’t really care, and why would you care?”

  “Well, I don’t know, he just sounded like a complete shithead and…and…well, I don’t know. So what happened

  the rest of your day?”

  Steve realized she quickly changed the subject but he was too tired to care. He told her about the events during the night that kept him from sleeping, like all the phone calls from the floor nurses for pain medications or sleeping pills. “And then just after eating or rather swallowing dinner, I got a trauma code call from the ER. Unfortunately, the gentleman did not make it, but they brought him in after a single vehicle rollover. We tried for thirty minutes or so, but he was basically dead when they brought him into the ER.”

  Sweetpea was quite impressed. “A single vehicle rollover, huh? That sounds professional. Is that the same thing as a bad car accident? You must be really tired, so I’ll let you go, but maybe we can talk tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah, I am exhausted,” said Steve. “But I feel terrible. I didn’t even ask how your day was or for that matter how your week went.”

  “That’s ok. Some night when you have more time on your hands maybe we can have some conversations that last more than ten minutes.”

  Steve added, “…if you don’t mind waiting five years or so.”

  They both said their goodbyes and Steve signed off. He was so tired he didn’t even turn off the lights. He just dragged himself to the bed and collapsed.

  Chapter 13

  While Steve was saying goodnight to Sweetpea, Jake Douglas was across town in a smoke filled bar. He was waiting, waiting, waiting for the guy to show up to discuss his future endeavors, endeavors that were guaranteed to change his life forever, changes that would erase his financial troubles.

  The dive bar did not seem like it was a place to discuss a situation in which one could make a lot of money. Jake also knew that this conversation was not the typical interview for a real staff surgeon job, but he was very curious. He wanted to know how he could make enough money to pay off all his debt and then some.

  He had questioned the entire situation when the guy came to talk to him in the hospital. He demanded to know how he got Jake’s name, and he had wanted to know more about this job that would change his life. But the man was very cautious about providing Jake with too much information. The man stressed that he and Jake needed to meet privately to discuss the job offer in more detail. It sounded interesting, so Jake agreed to show up. Now Jake was sitting in a bar, waiting for a guy he hardly knew to discuss his future.

  When Jake walked into the bar, it was obvious he didn’t belong. He wasn’t the best dresser, but compared to the rest of the crowd in the bar, he was sharp as could be. He walked over to the bar and asked for a drink. The bartender gave him the beer on tap and then pointed to a table in the corner of the bar. Jake turned around, saw the empty table, and then glanced at the bartender with a puzzled look on his face.

  “That table is reserved for you, Dr. Douglas,” said the

  bartender.

  Jake stared at the bartender for ten seconds and then said, “Excuse me?”

  The bartender replied, “We have been expecting you, doctor. Please have a seat, and your acquaintance will be with you soon.”

  Jake slowly walked over to the table, but every fourth step, he slowly looked back to examine the bartender. He wondered if the man was a patient of his in the past, but nothing really registered. Jake finally reached the table, and he chose to sit facing the entire bar so could scope out the place.

  Jake studied everybody to make sure he didn’t recognize anyone from some past hospital experience. The closest table had two people who definitely didn’t register with him as past patients. There was one man who had long gray hair with a leather jacket on his chair and leather pants to match. He displayed a large tattoo on his left arm of a woman stretching, and the right biceps had the Harley-Davidson logo inscribe into his skin. His muscles appeared rather large as they bulged out from his short sleeve shirt. His mustache was yellow from too much tobacco abuse. His companion was an exemplary biker chick. She too modeled several tattoos. The first that jumped out was a small colorful rose on her left breast. Her leather vest revealed most of her breasts but not all. Jake could make out two other tattoos on her shoulders. Jake could not see any others, but he suspected more hid beneath her leather attire.

  The two of them appeared to be enjoying themselves as they drank beer. The man told joke after joke and leaned into her as they both laughed. Jake wasn’t sure if the man was testing new material for comedy or just trying to peek down at her breasts for a better look at that tattoo. She didn’t seem to have much to offer with respect to the conversation but looked comfortable listening to his jokes. A half basket of peanuts was on the table, empty shells on the floor. The ashtray had about fifteen butts, and both of them were chain smoking.

  The music in the bar was from a jukebox in the corner next to the bartender. It wasn’t too loud but did have a country western twang to it. Jake wanted to review the selections.

  The entire bar seemed to become instantly quiet as he got up. Jake felt like all eyes were focused on him. However, by the time he got to the jukebox and had an excuse to offhandedly look up, he could see that no one was looking his way.

  He was pleased to see that there were other music categories besides country. He placed a couple of dollars into the machine and selected a few songs. As he walked away from the jukebox, he looked at his watch and saw that it was nearly 10:45. He was supposed to have met with this unknown man at about 10:30. He started to think that this was just some joke from Dr. Rosberg or one of the other staff surgeons.

  As he sat down at his designated table, he heard a loud crash come from the near the bar. He quickly looked over to notice two big guys ready to duke it out. “Come on, you little shit,” said one of the guys, “I’ve had enough of your bull shit tonight.” He threw a punch at the other guy, but the guy ducked just in time. The other man took his beer bottle and swung it at the guy. Then all of a sudden, the two of them were on the floor throwing punches at each other. The bartender quickly slapped a red button on the wall next to a line of bottles of alcohol. Then he jumped over the bar and jumped on one of the guys to try to break up the fight. The three of them struggled for a few minutes until sirens approached outside. Then one of the guys got up and bolted out the door. The bartender did his best to restrain the other man, but as the sirens became louder, the man overpowered him and dashed through the door too. A few seconds later, the police entered. They talked to the bartender for a few minutes, wrote some notes on a little pad of paper, and left.

  Jake was thinking to himself that if it were some joke, this would be a good time to leave. He then reminded himself of the promise from the man that the job would more than pay off all of his loans. Jake forced himself to stay for a few more minutes, especially since all the commotion had ended.

  The other patrons in the bar had barely noticed the fight. A few looked over their shoulders and then back to their conversations and drinks. The couple in front of him never even glanced up until the cops arrived.

  The music on the jukebox finally began to play the selections Jake had picked. As he was reconsidering leaving, a waitress walked over with a bottle of Heineken.

  “Hi. This is for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jake replied. “You must have the wrong table. I didn’t order a beer.”

  “Yeah, I know, but the lady sitting up at the bar thought you looked like a guy who drinks Heinies.”

  Jake glanced over to the bar and saw a very attractive woman sitting at the bar smiling in a somewhat shy way.

  “I see,” said Jake. “That will be just fine. She guessed right. Would that nice girl have a
name to her?”

  The waitress placed the beer on the table and acted as if

  she didn’t hear him. “Would you like a glass with that?”

  Jake took out a five and offered it to the waitress.

  She didn’t take it. “That’s ok. This is already taken care of.”

  Jake smiled and said, “I know.”

  He grabbed his beer and stood up. Just as he started to walk toward woman with no name, the door to the bar opened, and in walked the man that had found Jake at the hospital. Damn, thought Jake. What bad timing. He fell back into his chair and

  raised his beer to the lady at the bar as if to say thank you.

  Jake studied the man as he walked through the bar. He tried to figure out what this guy was all about. For whom did he work? How did he find Jake’s name? Was he some weird guy gone crazy? Was the whole idea some illegal matter? There were many questions Jake had but knew he needed to wait for the right time to pursue them. He wasn’t even sure about the meeting in the first place. He did need money, but certainly didn’t want to jeopardize his five years of training as a surgeon for some illegal operation.

  The man was dressed the same as he had been at the hospital. He wore a dark suit that seemed outdated under a long black overcoat. He was moderately overweight with a double chin. His teeth were stained yellow, implying a long history of smoking. He also had a mustache that showed signs of tobacco use.

  The man walked over to Jake’s table and pulled out a chair. “Good evening, I’m glad you could make it.”

  “You kidding? I wouldn’t dream of missing a night out at this lovely establishment. I mean, the terrific clientele, the exciting bar fights, the wonderful ambience, what more could a guy ask for on a night out?”

  The man didn’t seem amused.

  When the man started to take off his coat, Jake was surprised. “I thought that didn’t come off, like maybe it was attached or-”

  “Very funny,” replied the man. “I thought you were more serious about this opportunity. I’m sure I could inquire about other applicants if you are not interested.”

  “Hey, sorry, it’s just that you look unchanged since I last saw you.”

  Finally, the man sat down. “If you want to be a clothing

  critic, that’s fine. If you want to earn enough money to take care of your bills, loans, and ex-wife, then you better shut up and spend a little more time listening!”

  Jake was paralyzed briefly, “How did you know about my wife?”

  “I’ll be more than happy to explain, that is, if your comedy routine is over?”

  “Fine, fine, fine, I’ll be quite. I’m all ears,” said Jake. He sat back and folded his arms as if to give the gentleman his undivided attention. As the man finished taking off his coat, Jake saw the gun harnessed under his suit. Jake felt a lump in his throat. He looked at the people by the bar. He started to think that maybe this was not the way he wanted to make extra money. He had no clue who this guy was, but he sure did know a lot about Jake. What kind of guy walks around with a revolver next to his heart and hangs out at a dump like this? Not to mention the flashy overcoat.

  This was more than Jake had bargained for. “You know, I’m really sorry to mislead you, but I don’t think I have much of an interest in helping you out or making any extra money. I’m having a change of heart.”

  The man had perceived Jake’s apprehension upon seeing

  the gun. The man looked down at his weapon and smiled. “Before you run off, give me a few minutes to explain. You came all the way to this part of town for a reason, so just let me explain.” In fact, the man was concerned that Jake had already had too much exposure. If Jake wanted out now, he would have to be kept quiet. It would get too complicated if Jake backed out now. If Jake left at this point, he might be at major risk for exposing the entire operation. The man would have to get him on board.

  The man reached into his pocket of his suit and pulled out a

  wallet.

  Jake asked, “Are you going to pay me up front?”

  “Just relax, young man. My name is Thomas, Agent Bill Thomas of the Central Intelligence Agency.” He opened his leather wallet to display a CIA badge with his picture.

  “The CIA?” shrieked Jake. He grabbed the wallet to examine the identification more closely. Of course, Jake never had examined a CIA ID before. It wasn’t like he was examining a possible appendicitis case. He had no idea what to look for, but it seemed to be authentic.

  He looked up at Agent Thomas and appeared perplexed. “I’m not sure I understand what you want with me.” Jake began to fidget with his hands under the table. His mind raced through all the things that an intelligence agency could question him about.

  Agent Thomas was talking, but Jake’s mind was a million miles away. First, he thought about his ex-wife. Maybe she had set him up for this investigation. She certainly would have a motive to see him sweat with the authorities. Of course, there were numerous people who would like to see him sweat out an investigation: all the surgery residents and medical students of the past three or four years who he had embarrassed, tormented, and spoken condescendingly to. Then there was the entire nursing staff, not to mention all the staff surgeons to whom he was rude and disrespectful though they all deserved otherwise. The list could go on and on and on.

  “Dr. Douglas? Dr. Douglas! Are you listening to a word I’m saying? Where are you?” demanded Agent Thomas.

  “I’m so sorry, sir. I, uh, I was thinking about a patient of mine in the ICU who is very sick, and I think I should get back to review, uh, to review his labs,” Jake said frantically.

  “Why don’t you just call the ICU and get the labs? Won’t

  that be more expedient?”

  Jake felt beads of perspiration form on his forehead. He tried to figure out how he could wipe his forehead without attracting too much attention to himself. By now his armpits were soaked, and every time he moved he could feel just how wet his arms were. Perhaps he could supplement his income by advertising for Brut, but lord knows that his stick bar wasn’t working at the moment.

  Agent Thomas had expected this reaction. In fact, all three people he had considered would have had the same reaction. They had the same features in common: they failed to show any morals, they had serious financial troubles, they were either divorced or cheating on their wives, their peers hated them, and basically they were losers. Jake was certainly no exception. Thomas had finally decided to recruit Jake because he was so screwed up. He thought Jake would rush to this opportunity with arms wide open. Jake certainly had the worst financial problems, the least amount of morals, and most importantly, the most gullibility and stupidity. He would never even think of questioning the mission when the CIA was involved. He would be so scared of what they could do to him that he would do whatever without asking questions, especially about the money involved.

  “Dr. Douglas, just relax. We’re not here to interrogate you. I’m here to see if you could help us out. Honestly, we had to go through a long list of applicants, and your name was the one that continuously came up as the one most likely to succeed in completing our mission successfully. Now just relax and let me explain. And if you would like, please feel free to wipe your forehead.” He handed Jake a napkin from the table.

  “The CIA has reason to believe that there is highly confidential material entering the United States from foreign territory,” started Agent Thomas. “We think there is an international organization that is using human messengers as a means to bring in this material.”

  Jake interrupted, “That’s fine and dandy, but what does this have to do with me?”

  “That’s a good question. We have reason to suspect that the next delivery to the US will be made somewhere in the Midwest. Our agency has been instructed to contact hospitals responsible for indigent care to be on the lookout for possible delivery sites. It may be Minneapolis, Chicago, or even Detroit. Other agents are making contacts with hospitals in these cities.”

&nbs
p; Jake continued to dig. “I still don’t understand what you want with me. Why not let the proper authorities know of the situation, like the administrators?”

  Agent Thomas replied, “First, we discussed this issue for some time and debated how to deal with the problem. We feel that if we contact too many people in high places, this mission would be scrapped because it would probably become public. You see, if we were to inform the administrators about this issue, they would need to contact their lawyers to discuss the situation and so on. So we decided that, before we announce it to the proper channels, we should make contact with the doctors that would be interacting with these human messengers first. Second, there has been a trend to send information within these human messengers. I mean literally inside them. That’s where you surgeons come into play. These people appear at hospitals with severe abdominal pain and get operated on before they reach their contacts.

  “Before they reach their contacts,” repeated Jake. “What do they do once they reach their contacts?”

  “We believe they are sacrificed and the package that is inside them is delivered to their contacts in the United States by someone else. We feel that there is information that may be threatening to our national security. We are not certain, but we need to intercept one of these packages to determine exactly what information is being imported. We are contacting several surgeons to discuss this highly sensitive situation. We will be in contact with our international agents, and as soon as we know the packages are coming and where, we will contact the appropriate surgeon in that city. We will kindly reimburse you for your surgical skills if you are involved with retrieving the package.”

  “This is a little more involved than what I really care for,” said Jake nervously. “I don’t think I really need the money that badly. I mean, I don’t know these characters, but they sound pretty serious, and if I screw up their plans, I can only expect them to screw with me, and that’s not worth the trouble of a few bucks.”