It didn't matter what kind of bedding I got; she shoved me onto the bed and in five minutes, I was asleep. I barely had time to kick off my shoes before passing out. The Nasty Nurse of the North didn't even bother to cover me up.
Chapter 3
Dear Dr. Shaw, I question your choice of sedative, the strength of same and those instructed to deliver it.
Sincerely, Corinne.
Corinne, what happened?
Shaw.
Dear Dr. Shaw, I slept for sixteen hours, nobody checked on me (that I know of) during that time and I almost peed my pants trying to make it to the bathroom when I woke up. The state of my dress, the frigidity of my skin and the dandelion-look to my hair attest to the unprofessional manner I was left on the military bedding* supplied in my suite.
*Their term, not mine.
Sincerely, Corinne.
I'll have a word with the nurse.
Shaw.
Dear Dr. Shaw, I don't think one word will suffice.
Sincerely, Corinne.
"Are we incensed?" August stood outside my door, copies of my e-mail correspondence with Dr. Shaw held ominously aloft in his left hand.
"Incensed is insufficient. I refer you to any thesaurus. I pray the military has seen fit to purchase at least one for the use of its several divisions?"
Yeah, I was pissed. I'd just gotten out of the shower, there were no towels in the bathroom, I'd been forced to use kitchen towels to dry off and then I had to dress in the same clothes I'd worn the night before because my things still hadn't arrived.
I figured they'd gotten lost in New Jersey, somewhere. My hair was wet, it was sixty-nine degrees inside my suite and I couldn't find a thermostat anywhere to make it warmer.
"My skin is blue," I held out an arm for Colonel Hunter to see. It was covered in goose pimples, too, but he could see that for himself. "My hair practically has icicles on it," I complained.
"You're on the same centrally-controlled thermostat as the gym," August frowned. "They keep it cooler in there."
"Well, it's sure as hell cooler in here," I sputtered. "Are you coming in or getting out?" I flung up a hand. "We wouldn't want all the frigid, polar temperatures to slip away, now would we?"
"Cori, I get that you're upset. Shaw already called and chewed me a new one." He stepped inside my suite and studied the stark emptiness I'd been assigned with a less than critical eye. "I'd appreciate it if you'd come to me first, from now on. Dragging Shaw into this just complicates matters."
"You weren't the one who ordered the sedative—he did."
"Then demand to see me the next time somebody shows up from the med-unit. I'm in charge of your wellbeing, remember?"
"Sure. I'll let you wrestle the nurse next time. I was as respectful as I could be; she was waving a syringe and making threats."
"What kind of threats?"
"She said if I didn't drop my pants, she'd call somebody to hold me down."
"That's not," August sounded angry for a moment. "I'll go, now." He left without explaining where he was going or what he intended to do when he got there. I hoped he was prepared to tell somebody off for threatening to hold me down. I ought to have a choice whether I accepted a sedative or not; the one I'd gotten was extremely unwelcome.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Dr. Shaw prescribed a sedative," he snapped.
I stared down the doctor on duty in the med-unit. "Shaw says he prescribed half what you gave her," I snarled back. "The patient was threatened, also something Shaw would have discouraged, and the treatment was completely unprofessional."
"Look, she's on duty at night for a reason—we're not usually needed then," he raked fingers through his hair. "I saw the report. I'm just grateful she didn't bother to lie about it. Her report matches what is on the security video. She isn't a psychiatric nurse, by any stretch."
"I'm not sure she should be a nurse at all," I fumed. "Don't let her near Corinne again. If you can't find somebody better than that, call me. I'll get Shaw over here to handle it."
"Yes, sir."
He'd better damn well call me sir. I outranked him and had access to the security videos, just as he did. I'd already seen them—with James. James was pissed about the way Corinne was shoved onto the bed and left there for sixteen fucking hours. "Unless it's an emergency, I expect to be notified of any medical treatment for Corinne in the future. You got that?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." I stalked away from the med-unit, still fuming.
* * *
"Colonel, we've had word," James placed a folder on my desk. "The Blacksmith is changing. He didn't die."
"I have mixed feelings about this," I said, shaking my head before opening the folder. I'd gotten a dossier on the Blacksmith, just as the other handlers would receive the information. All of us had intelligence on the Five, plus Corinne, to make sure safeguards were in place. The Program was too important to allow a single death to debilitate it. If information on the Program was leaked, the Five, the handlers and Corinne were in jeopardy.
"What do you think the odds are that he'll fit in?"
"Almost as poor as Corinne's odds. I put him ahead of Corinne because this guy, young and strong, could probably handle two or three of the Five at once. He has a reputation for a reason."
"I read his stuff last night. Scary," James agreed. "He may draw a handler just as tough."
"What you read probably wasn't the half of it."
"Yes, sir."
* * *
Corinne
My stuff showed up after five. Nobody came up to help. I wasn't surprised. I'd walked downstairs to the restaurant at three to get a late lunch. I was watched the whole time. Somebody, somewhere, was watching while I unpacked my stuff for the second time in a week.
I pretended that wasn't true as I filled drawers in my small kitchen with kitchen gadgets. If I thought about it too much, I'd lose the beef stew I'd had for lunch. With crackers.
"What are you doing in there?" I pulled my mp-3 player out of a box of ladles and spatulas. Sticking earphones in my ears, I listened to music the rest of the evening while I put things away.
* * *
James showed up with two lattes the following morning. "I'm here to hook up your desktop," he grinned.
"Hi, James. How long will this take?" I asked.
"Maybe an hour, why?"
James has blue eyes, brown, curly hair and probably got into everything when he was a child. He has an air of curiosity about him that hasn't been taken away as yet.
"I have time to bake cookies for you," I nodded and let him in. I took my vanilla latte, too—I wasn't about to turn that down.
"Oatmeal cookies?"
"Yep."
"Nobody bakes cookies around here," he sighed and followed me to the kitchen. I didn't point out that the hour he took watching me bake cookies was under surveillance; he had warm cookies to eat in forty-five minutes and ate almost a dozen. I packed another dozen for him to take with him after he hooked up my computer.
"I wish I could tell my family that I just hooked up Sarah Fox's computer," he said as he walked out my door. "Thanks for the cookies."
"Oh, you could tell them," I shrugged. "I just can't say what might happen to you afterward."
"True." He grinned and waved before heading toward the elevator.
"Look, it's Corinne. Itty, bitty, helpless Corinne," he mimed a fainting fit. Becker, my least favorite of the Five walked up, tossing an insult in my direction. He'd been to the gym to work out and just happened to walk all the way to the other end of the Mansion's third floor to ride down the west end elevators.
Nosy bastard.
"Look, it's Becker," I said, waving an arm. "I'm surprised you can say my name without pointing. Or drooling." I didn't wait for him to think up a comeback—that could take a while. I shut the door and locked it instead. He didn't walk away for several minutes. Yeah, I listened shamelessly for his footsteps.
* * *
"Corinne, you shouldn't bait him like that," August speared chunks of salad with a fork. He'd forced me to have dinner with him in the cafeteria later, before he went home to his wife.
"So, you want me to just listen to the insults and say nothing?"
"What did he say to you?"
"Come on, you know what he said." I figured everybody in the Mansion knew what he said.
"Yeah." August shook his head and kept eating.
"When the President waved her hand and ordered me here, didn't you step up and argue with her? Why didn't you tell her what happens when the Five and I get together?"
"I think she's seen the reports."
"Everybody sees the reports," I muttered, hugging myself. I had chicken and noodles in front of me and hadn't touched them. My stomach would rebel, and the cafeteria floor was mostly clean. The staff would probably prefer that it stay that way. "Nobody does anything about them," I added.
"The Five are special," August said, refusing to look at me.
"Yeah."
"Maye and Becker are with the President, tonight," August said.
"Of course they are. I understand things are a bit strained with the Russian Ambassador. Is the Prez trying to soothe ruffled ushankas?"
"Cori, most people don't even know what those things are called."
"Yeah."
"Corinne, I wish, well, fuck." He dropped his fork and pinched the bridge of his nose.
I blinked at August—he seldom used profanity around me. I didn't mind when he did—I knew what all those words meant. I'd used them, too, in my seventy-plus years.
"Auggie, I have a long list of I wishes, and none of them are on anybody's list to be granted. I'm stuck here. You're stuck with me. We're both miserable. Admit it."
"I guess that's what makes you such a good writer," he finally looked me in the eye. "You read situations better than anybody I ever met, and you were never trained to do it. I don't know how you knew about the Russians, but there it is. Again."
"Something's going on, isn't it?" I lifted an eyebrow. "Somebody's gotten the drug, haven't they? That's why Russian panties are in a knot."
"That's why Russian panties are in a knot," he agreed with a grim smile. "We have an old spy with a ton of information he wants to hand over. They suspect we have him. What they think is that he's dying and we won't get much. If he survives, we could get everything."
"A double-edged sword," I said, allowing my shoulders to droop. "You don't know if he can be trusted. You don't know what he might be able to do when he wakes. You don't even know what he'll look like when he does," I ticked things off on fingers.
"You don't know that he'll live," August began.
"Count on it," I grumbled.
"How do you know this shit?" he frowned.
"August, stop asking questions if you don't really want answers."
"What do you see when you look at me?"
That question surprised me and definitely took an unusual turn. I blinked at him for a moment before answering. "I see a confused man," I said.
"Fuck," he said again. "Eat your dinner, Corinne." He rose and stalked out of the cafeteria.
* * *
"Two hours after having dinner with the President, the Russian Ambassador was murdered outside a bar in Arlington," the reporter announced.
I'd been rousted out of bed at two-thirty in the morning and herded toward the cafeteria by a decidedly grumpy Colonel Hunter. The Five were already there, with handlers in tow. I had no idea why I was included in this meet and greet, but I didn't want to have an argument with August about it; I just wanted to go back to bed.
Nevertheless, I sat at a table with August, watching the large television in a corner of the dimly-lit dining section as the news was announced.
"They think the President had something to do with this?" Maye turned to her handler, Jeff Chambers.
"You'd know better than I would," Jeff muttered.
"I didn't pick anything up from her," Maye huffed before turning back to the news program.
"What about the Ambassador's guards? Where were they?" Kevin asked.
"They were asleep at the Russian Embassy. Where the Ambassador was supposed to be," Preston Childers said. Preston was Nick's handler, who decided to answer Kevin's question before Carol, Kevin's handler, had a chance to do so.
Carol White was the only female handler in the bunch, and I could see she didn't like Preston's interruption. The corner of her mouth tightened and she turned her back on him.
"Do we have proof they were there and asleep?" Vance Johnson asked.
"None yet—all we have is their word," Brigadier General George Safer said as he strode into the cafeteria. "There's no evidence at the crime scene that says otherwise, though." He held up a flash drive and nodded to Ken Harvey, Kevin's brother.
Ken rose, took the drive from Safer and plugged it into the computer system connected to the television.
The crime scene was bloody and the images had been recorded before the body was covered. I closed my eyes against the violence of the scene and fought down nausea. Once the initial ill feeling passed, I opened my eyes and watched the scene while Safer described it in detail.
"No prints at the scene. Killed with a nine millimeter," Safer said. "No records of any meetings set up on his calendar, and nobody knew he was outside the Embassy."
"Somebody had to know. You just don't sneak out of there—all the doors are guarded," Nick huffed.
Becker was my least favorite of the Five. Nick was my second least favorite. Nick was smarter than Becker, though. By a lot.
"The Russian President is demanding answers, of course, and we have nothing to give him. Nick, we'd like you to come with us while the crime scene is still fresh, to see if there's anything you might tell us."
"I'll get dressed." Nick rose from his seat. All of us were in robes and pajamas—we hadn't had time to get dressed before we'd been pulled into the cafeteria.
"Maye, you should come, too; we're questioning anybody who was in the area around midnight."
"I'll be ready in fifteen," she rose and followed Nick from the room. Both handlers nodded to Safer and followed their charges.
"Corinne, I know it will be hard for you to see this up close, but will you come?" Safer stood in front of our table.
"But," I stuttered.
"We know you're a damn fine mystery writer. Maybe you'll see something we miss. It never hurts to have fresh eyes on something like this."
"August?" I turned to him in shock.
"Cori, get your clothes on and let's go."
* * *
We walked through the bar, where several people were either in the process of being questioned or waiting their turn. I watched them closely as we headed toward the back door of the upscale bar—the crime scene wasn't far from there, according to Safer.
"August," I tugged on his sleeve.
"What?" he stopped abruptly and I almost plowed into him.
"That man sitting at the table against the wall? Who is he?" I asked after regaining my balance.
"I don't know. General, do you know?" Safer had stopped shortly after we did and turned toward us.
"Let's find out." Safer led us toward the man, who lounged against the back wall, watching as police questioned bar patrons on what they'd seen and heard shortly before the bar closed.
"Don't come any closer." He'd stood so fast I almost didn't see it. He held a gun in his hand and pointed it right at General Safer.
"Gun," somebody shouted. I stared as things slowed. The man, in his fifties and blond but going gray, shot at the officer who'd shouted.
At least six officers fired back, killing the man instantly.
* * *
"I can't tell you, because I don't know," I said for the fortieth time. "I just had a feeling, that's all. Trying to explain this is like asking an earthworm to describe why the sky is blue. He lives in the dark and doesn't know."
The blond man's gun was a nine mil
limeter and the same one used to kill the Russian Ambassador. The ID on the man was a forgery, and his fingerprints weren't in any database. August was just as tired as I was, but he wanted an answer he could take to the Chief of Staff and the President. They'd utilize their time better if they concentrated on identifying the shooter.
"Who do you think he was, since you can't explain why he stood out?"
"I think they knew each other," I said. "This guy and the Ambassador. I think the Ambassador had a reason to meet him, and the guy had a reason to shoot the Ambassador. Ask your Russian spy when he wakes up. I'll bet you ten bucks he knows something."
"Not a bad idea," August sighed. "If you get any more of these feelings, will you let me know? He might have killed somebody, or gotten away last night and we'd be nowhere with this. We have one police officer with a shoulder wound and that's it. Could have been a lot worse."
"Right. Can I go to bed, now?"
"Yeah. Want James to walk you back to your suite?"
"If he has time."
"He has time. One last thing, Corinne."
"What's that?"
"General Safer wants to keep this between us and the President—that you pointed this guy out. The others think he just went crazy. They were already outside at the crime scene and didn't see anything."
"Fine with me."
* * *
"A sausage and mushroom pizza, please, to Miss Watson's suite," James said before ending the call to the restaurant downstairs. I was exhausted and hadn't eaten since the night before. It was a difficult decision to make—sleep or food, first. James said it would be easier to sleep on a full stomach, so I asked him to order something for me.
I ate with my eyes closed at least half the time, drank a glass of milk and went to bed after brushing my teeth.
* * *
Notes—Colonel Hunter
"Colonel, that's outstanding. The Russian President says he's never seen the shooter and is giving us the usual bluster about our defective security, but the Secretary of State pointed out that his security let the Ambassador get away from the Embassy in the first place. We're having a small, cold war at the moment, but we'll find out who that bastard was and we'll have the Russians by the balls. Your theory is looking pretty sound from where I'm sitting. You say she stopped you and asked about the shooter right away?"
Cloud Dust: RD-1 Page 3
