Chapter Forty-Eight
Chase, Cameron, and Aiken were the first government agents to arrive at the hospital right behind the State and local police. They made their presence known in a big way; the charge nurse would not divulge any information on the status of either of the three patients even when threatened with imprisonment and violence. They were told that the teenage victim was in surgery and that his condition was uncertain and not stable. Cameron asked what had happened and all she would state was that the victim had a GSW and was in the OR.
Aiken spotted the paramedic carrying out a blood-soaked gurney and approached him. He flashed his official badge and led the startled EMT away from the nurses’ station riding in the elevator with him up to the helipad on the roof.
“Tell me what happened,” he ordered the medic. “Jason.” He read the man’s name off his flight suit.
“We picked up the victim and brought him to the ED,” Jason replied. “Don’t know the kid’s name, just that he was shot in the back, it went through the lungs and he was hemorrhaging out. We sealed both entrance and exit wounds, put in a chest and bronchial tube, got him on fluids and blood expanders. We air-lifted him. He coded once, got him back and into the ED. He coded and Doc Ross cut him open to do open heart massage. That’s all I know, other than he saved a US Marshal and a kid from a pedophile that’s suspected of three other disappearances.”
“The boy died?” Aiken asked, his heart dropping.
“Twice. Whether they kept him alive - that’s up to him, the doctors and God. Look, I gotta go. There’s another call.” He had to speak over the sudden burgeoning noise of the chopper as the turbines whined to a start. The wind plucked at their pants’ legs and Aiken involuntarily ducked lower as the blades sliced the air. He watched as the helicopter veered off and then, he retraced his steps to the waiting room.
Surprisingly, no one was in the ICU waiting area and this puzzled the agent as he knew that Lakan was still in surgery. Even Chase and Cameron weren’t in sight. He went toward the center horseshoe shaped nurses’ station and cornered a young RN with her hair under a surgical cap.
“Ms., where is the boy that Life Flight brought in?”
She looked at him. He flashed his credentials and she smiled. “All your other agents have set up a base in the Conference room on seven. Man, I’ve never seen so many badges and government IDs. Spook salad. I thought nursing had a lot of abbreviations and acronyms.”
“Can you tell me how the boy is doing?”
She shook her head. “Sorry, no. Only immediate family and I really don’t know his condition. I just came off a domestic GSW.”
“The Marshal? What room is he in?” Aiken asked. She looked on her computer.
“Room 653, West Tower.” She pointed and gave him directions to the elevators. He found his way with little effort and didn’t care that he attracted curious glances because of his camouflaged gear. Most people just assumed that he was part of some military group as they were close to Norfolk Naval Base.
The room was wall-to-wall men dressed in everything from chinos and boots to three-piece suits. The US Marshal was sitting up against the raised head of the bed, his neck in a padded collar, his arm in plaster and wearing a removable cast on his hips. He had large bruises under his eyes and looked worn out yet no one was leaving his company. His eyes, a fine steel gray with chips of emerald and gold flickered when he saw Aiken towering over the heads of cops, Troopers, and other Marshals.
“Who are you?” he managed and the crowd parted as Aiken flipped his badge.
“Aiken, NSA,” he offered.
“NSA? What do you want with me? The Spooks are interested in pedophiles and kidnappings?”
“Just the boy, Marshal.”
“TG Muir,” he pushed his casted arm out and Aiken gripped the swollen fingers. “What can I tell you?” Aiken hesitated and looked at the crowd. “Hey. We’re all security rated and we can keep our mouths shut.” Muir shrugged and winced.
“Tell me what happened,” Aiken encouraged. Muir did. Explaining how three other children under the age of ten had disappeared from around the Walmart area, their bodies found days to months later showing evidence of rape, torture, and dismemberment. Then, Sami, the seven-year-old daughter of his best friend had disappeared at Walmart. Her father had called him, TG immediately and a team was on-site within ten minutes. He took his K-9 search and rescue dog out to the area and met a teen in the woods. A tracker as good as his dog. He found Sami but the pedophile found them, came up behind TG, hit him with a tree limb or some kind of club and took his gun before pushing him over the edge of the quarry’s rim.
“I felt it when my neck broke,” he said and slowly shook his head. “I tried to move and knew that my pelvis was broken and my arm. I could still feel, knew I might have a chance if someone got to me before I moved and cut my spinal cord.
“He came down the trail and stood over me laughing. Then, he picked up my head and wrenched it, severing my spine. I was dead instantly. I don’t remember anything until this incredible light and warmth covered me. I woke up and was able to move. Found my sat phone and called 911. That’s all I remember until the paramedics got to me.”
“You died?” Aiken laughed, downplaying what he heard. “Did you have one of those tunnels of light experiences, too?”
“The x-rays show a healed C-3 fracture, Aiken,” TG snapped. He tilted his head the tiniest amount and smiled in a conspiratorial way. “Why are you guys after him?” Aiken didn’t answer. “I heard Sami’s alright. How’s the boy?”
“Gunshot in the back. Through the lung, came out the front. He’s still in surgery, we’re trying to find out his condition,” Aiken said reluctantly. “Good news is that somebody put a three-foot hunting broadhead through your perps’ chest. He’s dead.”
“No loss. Saves the county a trial.” He closed his eyes just as the nurse came in and shooed everyone out. The entire group headed for the elevators and the seventh floor. It was easy to find by the scurrying of junior agents carrying equipment back and forth including coffee pots and meals.
In a huge conference room geared towards medical lectures, Aiken found his boss and teammates jockeying for space with US Marshals, FBI SACs, State Police and Homeland Security.
“What are they doing here?” he whispered to Raylan. “There’s no terrorist aspect to this. It’s a kidnap case, the Fibbies turf.”
“It’s a cluster fuck,” Raylan returned. “Everybody wants a piece of this kid. I’m surprised that the Vatican isn’t in on it, they’re calling him the next Messiah.”
“They? They who? The media got ahold of this?” Aiken swiveled his eyes towards Chase and winced. The Director looked mad enough to bite steel and he knew that someone would bear the brunt of his displeasure.
“The doctors won’t let any of us in to see him, not even when I used the HS credentials,” Chase snarled. “It seems that doctors put themselves above Federal Agency jurisdiction.”
“We can’t move him, anyway,” Cameron insisted. “We could kill him by moving him.”
“I thought you said he was untouchable, immortal.”
“I said he could theoretically live forever, I never said he was unkillable. I suspect if his brain was damaged by a bullet, he’d die because he was unable to enact repairs. It sounds like he tried to resuscitate dead victims and couldn’t do it for himself,” Cameron explained.
Chase stared at him. “How do you know that?”
Cameron snickered and patted his laptop. “I hacked into the Hospital database and pulled up the surgery suite video feeds. I watched the entire procedure.” He blanched and swore. “Shit!”
“What?” Chase demanded. Cameron looked stunned.
“He just flat-lined. They’re trying to get his heart going again.”
Chase dragged them over to an unoccupied corner and together they watched the video stream as the team battled to save the teenager’s life. A blue haze filled the suite and crackled as if lightning had taken over the OR. No matter what the geneticist tried, he could not re-establish the feed or get the laptop to work.
“The hard drive is fried,” he said in frustration. “Some kind of electrical surge went through it.” He tossed the computer in the trash to Aiken’s protests but the doctor told them that no one, not even the FBI’s tech lab could pull anything off the destroyed hard drive. Besides, everything was in the cloud where he, Cameron could retrieve it.
There was a stir in the crowd as a nurse in dark green scrubs came out of the operating room wearing shoe covers, mask, and cap. She pulled down her mask and addressed the assembled agents.
“Marshal Muir is recovering nicely and is asleep. He has had his pelvis pinned and his arm set. Sami is also doing well and asleep with her parents at her side. Neither one will be available to speak to anyone until tomorrow afternoon. The doctors have told me to tell you that the young man was touch and go but they have his heart stabilized and beating, they’re repairing his lung and the pericardium which was nicked by the bullet. Which exited so we do not have the projectile to hand over. Dr. Ross and Dr. Arbury estimate that it will be another hour before they close up and Mr. Kitwillie goes to Recovery. He will be in the ICU, visitors are family members only and two at a time.” She turned on her heel and exited before any of them could ask any questions.
Another nurse came out and reported on the deceased registered sex offender. “The coroner has just released a preliminary COD on the victim. His name was Everette William Morris, a known, registered sex offender from Washington, D.C. He was pronounced at 3:56 p.m. by the on-site EMTs. The cause of death was a hunting arrow through the left branch of the aorta severing it, causing blood to fill the thoracic cavity. Death was instantaneous. The victim had cocaine in his system and Viagra.
“Was the girl raped?” the FBI SAIC asked.
The nurse shook her head. “No. There was no sign of any sexual trauma on the girl.”
“The boy?” Aiken asked sharply.
“Attempted. We found saliva on the boy’s abdomen and anus. The EMT reported he was found on his stomach with his jeans pulled down to his ankles. The creep was shot and killed before he could do anything more.”
Aiken growled. One thing his mercenary mindset hated was child molestation. If someone hadn’t killed Morris, he would have. Preferably by cutting off his dick and balls. “Who killed the fucker?”
The nurse looked startled at his vehemence. “A young man named Robin Kitwillie, the brother of the patient’s fiancée.”
“Fiancée?” All three of them asked. “When the hell did he have time to meet a girl?” Aiken asked in disbelief. “It’s gotta be one of that old man’s kids from the fishing camp. He has a daughter.”
“He’s 16!” Cameron said. “He doesn’t even know what dating is!”
The nurse looked amused. “Yeah? Ask the next pregnant 12-year-old about that.” She snorted and left them alone.
Cameron asked, “what are we going to do about this, Chase? We can’t just come in and take over, not with all these other agencies involved.”
Chase sneered. “When it comes to National Security, I can do anything.”
There was a hush in the room starting near the doorway and working its way through in increasing waves like the ripples of a pebble in the water. Four Secret Service men stood there and then covered all four corners of the room. The man who entered next was well-known and well-connected, the next Presidential candidate for the coming election. Senator Jaimie Lourdes.
“Not everything, Director Chase,” he stated, indicating that he had heard the last words Chase had spoken.