Scarcity (Jack Randall #3), page 7
“Her heart?”
“Yes. She suffered what we call a myocardial contusion, essentially a hard blunt impact to the heart, and it’s now severely bruised. Like any muscle that suffers such a blow, it swells. Right now it’s functioning enough to keep her alive, but the injury is severe. The swelling may interfere with the normal beating of her heart, as well as its chemistry while her body works to repair the damage.”
“How bad is that?” the senator asked.
“It can cause heart attacks or dysrhythmias if the muscle is damaged enough. It can also lead to bleeding into the pericardium, the sac surrounding the heart, which would have to be drained as the blood would place pressure on the heart, as well. She’ll be closely monitored around the clock. If she starts showing signs of heart failure, the only option may be a transplant. Let’s just hope it doesn’t progress to that. On the plus side, she’s young. Kids have a miraculous healing ability. One of my teachers used to say if the pieces are all in the same room, you still have a chance, and he’s right. We’ll know more in the next twelve hours or so. Until then, we wait.”
“Can we see her?”
The doctor shook his head. “Not right now. She’s in the recovery unit and we keep it as sterile as the operating rooms. Once we move her out of there and into the ICU you’ll be able to visit for short periods. There’ll be a strict protocol for you to follow to keep her safe from infection. My nurses will walk you through it.”
Dr. Balzano looked them over as they absorbed the news. The father looked like he was okay, but the mother was barely keeping herself together. He decided he’d put in a call to Susan, the hospital’s grief counselor, and have her pay them a visit.
“Folks, I know what you’re going through. Nobody is ready for a day like today and I know I’ve painted a pretty bleak picture here, but I want you to know that your daughter is getting the best care there is. This hospital pioneered trauma medicine decades ago, and it’s still the leader today. She’s getting the benefit and experience of all those years.”
The senator and his wife perked up only slightly at that. He managed a nod.
“I’m sharing care of your daughter with Dr. Fong. He’s one of our cardiac surgeons and very experienced. He’s also a good friend. He’ll be contacting you shortly.”
“Thank you, doctor.”
“Okay, well I’m going to go check on her progress. Someone will be here soon to get some information from you and set up some contact numbers so we can stay in touch. We offer a website that you can use to give out information to those you give a password to. We find it helps keep family informed without you having to spend all your time on the phone.”
“Can you get some security to keep the press away?”
The question caught Dr. Balzano off guard.
“I’m sorry?”
Out of habit, the senator stuck out his hand. “I’m Senator Remington Lamar of Maryland.”
Dr. Balzano shook the hand automatically.
“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t have time to read your daughter’s file, and I just didn’t recognize you.”
The senator waved it away as irrelevant.
“I’ll notify security to keep an eye out.”
“Thank you.”
Rita’s self control finally ended and she broke down crying. The doctor left them alone in the room and walked down the hall toward the recovery unit. His fist tightened on the surgical cap in his hand.
A senator’s daughter? Add that to the drug kingpin upstairs and this place was becoming a real zoo.
He changed directions and found his way to his office. He needed to unwind a little. The five hours of surgery had put a crick in his neck and he wanted some time in his chair. As he passed through the outer office he was surprised to see Janice still there. She gave him her questioning look as he walked past.
“Can you call security and have someone keep the reporters away from the senator and his wife, please? We’ll need someone outside the ICU also. I just need my chair for twenty minutes.”
She didn’t bother answering. She had been there long before him and knew each doctor’s routines. She had already picked up the phone by the time he closed his door.
He ignored the clutter that dominated his office and pulled some files from his chair and tossed them on the floor next to his Box. The chair had heat and massage, and he’d had it delivered on his first day to everyone’s amusement. Soon they were envious and a few more just like it could be found throughout the building. After arranging himself and turning it on, he felt the stress beginning to subside.
While his body relaxed, his brain was not in the mood. He found himself looking at the Box on the floor. He liked to keep the things he pulled from peoples’ bodies—he used them when he taught classes to young surgeons. Mostly metal, they ran the gamut from lawnmower blades to street signs. There were a couple of arrows. A piece of fence. A carabineer. A fork. A prop from an RC plane. Some rebar. An axe handle. They all had their own unique story of how they got to be inside a living human, and how he had gotten them back out.
Today was different. Nothing had penetrated the girl’s body today, yet the damage was just as severe. The patient would take some close watching from both him and Dr. Fong, if she was going to make it. He forced the thoughts from his mind and leaned the chair farther back. He needed twenty minutes of rest before he went back to the ICU. He made sure his pager was on his chest before he allowed himself to fade out.
Reputed Columbian drug cartel leader
is ordered detained by judge in N.J.
The Associated Press Wednesday, February 03, 2010
—SIX—
Anita’s parents followed the detective through the madhouse that was the headquarters of the Mexican AFI. Despite the many ceiling fans hanging over them, the air was thick and humid with the smoke of multiple burning cigarettes. Dressed in a cheap suit, and already stripped of his tie and jacket, the detective wove through the crowd with a practiced ease until he arrived at his desk. Here he stole some battered chairs from his neighbors and offered them to the harried couple. Rounding the desk, he fell into his own ancient chair and let it fall back to the limit of its capabilities. The chair complained with a loud squeak that they barely heard over the multiple conversations and ringing phones echoing in the large room.
“You say your daughter has been kidnapped? How do you know this? Are you sure she’s not off somewhere with a young man, perhaps?”
The father felt his blood pressure rise, but fought to keep his cool.
“I know my daughter. She’s not one to take off on her own, and there was no boy in her life. Her friends tell us there was no one she was seeing. They say she left them at a café in the mall and went to the car and never came back. A man saw her get pulled into a van. We’ve been calling for two days and no one has bothered to come by. The police haven’t even questioned the witness. What the hell are you people doing?”
“I am . . . not surprised.”
“You’re not . . . what the hell?”
“Mr. Perez. I can tell you this, you are far from being alone in this situation. Across Central and South America kidnappings happen by the thousands every year, over five thousand in Mexico alone last year. If this was Columbia it could be for propaganda, or to fund terrorist purposes. Maybe they wish to have one of their own released from prison? You are not a politician but a businessman, so I am comfortable telling you that your daughter was taken for one thing only. Money. This is nothing but a business deal for them, and one that has become very profitable. That is good news, as they’ll be reluctant to kill her. She is worth nothing to them dead.”
“So how do we get her back? Who do we talk to here?”
“Here? You are talking to me now, yes? As for what we can do for you, I’m afraid there is very little.”
“Very little? You could have people out looking for her!”
“That is what you don’t want anyone doing. If we were to somehow stumble onto where they were hiding her, they would most likely kill her before any rescue could happen. No, you don’t want that.”
“The army?”
The detective smiled at the man’s ignorance.
“The army is rather busy fighting the narcos. They have no time for one girl. And if they did, they would go in with guns blazing. Your daughter would not survive. Besides, most kidnappers are tied to the cartels. It is sort of a side business for them.”
“Why haven’t they called?”
“Most likely they are still on the move. They’re asking her questions to get a better idea of how much money you are worth. When they’re ready, you’ll get a call, and when it comes, you need to be ready.”
“I don’t understand. How can we be ready? You’ve told us nothing, and you say you can’t help us. How’re we supposed to be ready?”
The detective let his chair fall forward and opened the top drawer of his desk. It was as cluttered as its surface and he rooted around until he found a stack of business cards wrapped in a rubber band. He rolled it onto his wrist before fanning them out in his hand. After a quick search, he pulled one from the pile and offered it to the father.
“What is this?”
“His name is Luis. He’s a negotiator. I’ve worked with him before and he’s very good. Call him, he’ll tell you what you need to do. If he needs my help, tell him to call me and I’ll do what I can.”
“That’s it? That’s all you can do?”
“Look around you, Mr. Perez. Do we not look busy enough for you? Call the man. He can help you more than I.”
Accepting the fact that they would get no further help here, the couple rose and with a look of disdain, the man took the card before leading his wife away through the crowd. Once they were lost in the confusion, the detective reached for his phone.
“Yes?”
“The parents just left. I gave them the card and the usual story. I would expect a call very soon.”
“Good.”
“They’re worth more than the last one. I can expect my share to increase?”
“You’ll get what we agreed on and no more. Send the medic to the house tonight. Tell them we need the full package.”
The detective’s happy tone was checked by the rebuke. For a moment he had forgotten who he was working for.
“I’ll call him right now.”
The call ended without a reply and the detective dialed a new number from memory.
“Yes.”
“They need you tonight. He wants the full package.”
“I understand.”
• • •
The Major watched as the team stopped their actions and the doctor checked the time.
“16:42.”
The nurse wrote it in his notes at the same time as the Major. The doctor shook his head in disgust. He had thought the man would pull through. He turned to see the Major waiting.
“He’s all yours now. Sun will be down in a few hours, you’ll have to hurry. I’ll go talk to his commander.”
“We’ll get him ready quick.”
He watched as the team removed all the debris left behind after they ran a code. The tube was pulled from the man’s throat and the syringes all counted. The Major moved in to roll the man out on the gurney and the team made room for him, all of them wanting the evidence of their defeat gone as soon as possible.
He pushed through the double doors of the medical unit and quickly entered the morgue. Here he found his partner waiting with the autopsy table already set up. They quickly moved the Afghan soldier’s body to the table and positioned him with his head in the clamp. The man wasted no time and placed a cooler full of dry ice on the floor next to him. He pulled out a scalpel and began the Y incision. The body wasn’t even cold yet, but he was already behind.
“Time of death?”
“16:42.”
The man glanced at the clock on the wall between incisions and speeded things up.
“The plane is already on its way. It was at another base north of here. Should be about thirty minutes.”
“Just the liver and the kidneys, right?”
“That’s it. His blood type isn’t a match for the heart we need.”
The mortician did some quick calculations before speaking.
“It’ll be close. Get the funeral linen ready. We’ll have to wrap him quick if they want him tonight.”
“The doctor’s talking to the guy’s commander, but his village is close. They probably will want him tonight.”
“Well then quit jawing and get your hands dirty.”
He sliced his way through to the abdominal cavity and began removing bowel. The smell was overpowering, but the man had gotten past that years ago. He would slow down when he got to the liver, as it required some finesse.
The Major locked the door behind him and pulled the shade down over the window before moving to one of the cabinets against the wall. He pulled out a sealed package of white cloth that had been approved by the Afghan government for the wrapping of the bodies of their dead soldiers. Unlike the Americans, they received no embalming or dress uniform before burial. While their religion didn’t forbid an autopsy, it did call for a simple cleaning of the body before being wrapped in clean white linen for burial without a casket. Something his company was contracted to do.
The Major opened the package and spread it out on an adjoining table. It had to be applied in a certain way, so as not to show the large crude stitches left by the mortician’s handiwork.
Despite the air conditioner, he started to sweat. A glance at the clock showed only twenty minutes left until the plane arrived. He preferred to meet them on the tarmac, but today they may have to wait for him. Waiting meant a greater chance of conversation with the ground crews. It was better if they just landed, fueled, and took right back off, the shorter the time on the ground the better.
He looked across the room to see his partner elbow deep in the body of the Afghan soldier. He was sweating as well.
It was going to be close.
• • •
Anita sensed a change in the conversation outside the door. Normally loud and brash, it had been hushed for the last hour. The TV they watched constantly was also louder. She strained to hear what they were saying over the sound of the radio, but was unable to make it out. Clearly it was something they didn’t wish her to hear, and this set both her mind and stomach in motion. The fear ratcheted up as her mind filled itself with thoughts of what they could be discussing. Where they planning her death? Her rape? Was she going to be moved as she had heard them discuss before? It dawned on her that they had not been drinking today, and this only added to the mystery.
The sound of a door slamming shut on the lower floors made her jump and she heard the men scramble to their feet. Someone was arriving, someone important.
The squeaky steps and heaving footfalls announced the presence of not one, but two men. They were greeted with respect and another hushed conversation took place near the blaring television.
“. . . take at least three of each.”
“. . . after I . . . what I need.”
The sound of a weapon being cocked sent her stumbling back from the door and she retreated to the far corner with her towel. Her heart raced and she fought back the bile rising in her throat. The urge to gag had just subsided when a loud knock on the door caused her legs to fail her. As the locks were turned one by one, she managed to grope for the towel and throw it over her head.
The door opened a few inches while the first man peered in to see if the towel was in place. Once he saw her cowering in the corner, he entered, and she heard several footsteps follow. She trembled as they approached.
The lead man smiled at her fear. He enjoyed this part.
“Stand up.”
“W-What do you want?”
“Stand up!”
She rose on shaky legs. The tears flowed from under the towel.
He grabbed her arms and roughly spun her around till she faced the wall. She cried out as he twisted her wrist.
“Be quiet! We are going to remove the towel and put a smaller blindfold on you. You will shut your eyes and not open them until we say. Do you hear me?”
“Y-yes.”
A hand roughly gripped the back of her neck and she felt the towel pulled from her face. She didn’t dare turn her head, and held as still as she could while hands placed thick wads of cotton over her eyes before a long strip of black cloth was wrapped around her head and tied.
“Tighter.”
The blindfold was given another yank and knotted off before the hand on her neck was removed. The pain remained, and she knew her neck was bruised from the rough treatment. She hoped that was the end of it as one of them turned the radio volume even higher.
She was lead toward the door, but halfway there hands seized her and a rag was stuffed into her mouth before she could cry out. She felt herself lifted and flung onto the bed.
This was it, she thought. They were going to rape her.
She struggled futilely against their grip until she felt something round and cold against her head. She immediately stopped as the barrel of the gun pinned her head to the pillow.
“Hold still, little girl, or I will make you very dead, very quickly.”
To her surprise and confusion, her clothes stayed on, and she only felt the odd sensation of her arm being exposed as someone ripped the sleeve of her sweatshirt open to her armpit. She felt a gentle hand caress her arm before the others tightened around her biceps.
The sting of the needle caused her to flinch, but the movement was checked by the strong hands holding her. The needle burned for some time as the hands performed their task. She heard the ripping of tape and felt the needle being removed, only to be replaced with a small bandage.
