David Golemon: Ripper

“You got room for one more Doctor?” a large man asked as he slung a weapon over his shoulder.

“Sure, the more the merrier,” Denise said with weariness lacing her voice. “Who is it?”

“Well, he may be one of yours. We found him passed out on the loading dock about a half hour ago.”

“What makes you think he’s one of mine?” Denise asked as curiosity finally made her look up from one of Everett’s security men.

The two strangers looked at each other and everyone could tell they wanted to laugh but held back.

“Well, ma’am, he’s wearing what looks like a candy striper’s outfit.”

“He?” Denise asked.

“Bring him in,” the first man called through the door.

As everyone inside the clinic waited, even the director stopped complaining long enough to watch. Two other men in black clothing brought a third man in and laid him down on one of the desks.

Will Mendenhall had to stand up and shake his head in wonder. Sarah’s eyes widened, and Niles had to laugh at the escapee from a hospital in downtown Las Vegas.

Jason Ryan, still replete in his stolen candy striper’s uniform, managed to look up to see where he was and then lay his head back down.

“Is this the best you can do for a bed, after all I went through to get back here?”

Denise walked over and shook her head at the naval aviator. Then she smiled.

“You know, that’s not a bad look for you Mr. Ryan.”

“I know.”

Sarah finally got her smile under control and stopped by to check on Henri. He was lying in bed sans handcuffs with his eyes closed. He had a whole pint of blood dripping into his veins from an IV line attached to his right arm. McIntire was about to turn away when she heard his voice whisper.

“Please tell me this is some of your blood my dear,” he said so low she had to bend over to hear him.

“Sorry to disappoint you, Henri, but I think you have some of Mendenhall’s blood in you. The blood bank went bad because of no electricity.”

Henri managed to look up and around until he saw Mendenhall sitting on a desk a few feet away getting his head bandaged by a highly attentive Gloria Bannister. Mendenhall saw the Frenchman looking his way and raised his right hand, extending his middle finger.

“I knew you liked me Lieutenant.”

Sarah smiled, but she knew she had to leave the clinic before the smell of blood and medicine did her in. She stepped into the hallway and Henri watched her as she leaned against the glass. He watched her and knew that he was in love with the woman and wanted to tell her. But he also knew he was going to prison, and he knew that she didn’t love him. She loved Collins and would for a very long time, even if he was dead.

As he started to lie down he saw Sarah straighten from the wall. He watched as she frowned and then started crying. She stepped forward as two men carried a third man in between them and threw her arms around the man being assisted. Henri Farbeaux felt his heart sink when he saw the familiar face of Jack Collins as he allowed Sarah to hold him. The two men carrying Collins looked away as Sarah McIntire welcomed Jack Collins back to the Event Group.

Farbeaux turned away and closed his eyes against the harsh florescent lighting.

The Baltimore state trooper watched as the two bodies were loaded into the ambulance. He shook his head at the senseless violence that happened on a daily basis along the Baltimore Beltway.

It was evident from the car that was still sitting on its jack stand and the spare tire lying nearby that the two women had stopped to fix a flat late at night. The two bodies had been found fifty feet from the car. Each had been shot once in the chest and left sprawled in the high grass close to the Beltway. This hadn’t been the only occurrence of violence on this stretch of road. There had been seven other murders, some drive-bys, others like the one he just recorded in his notebook, a senseless killing, probably at random, of two people changing a tire after a night out.

The trooper was approached by his sergeant. “We ID the driver?” he asked, also shaking his head as the bodies were finally sealed inside the ambulance.

“Yeah, we found her identification in her car. The younger woman we haven’t discovered anything about yet. The driver is Lynn Simpson. She has a company badge.”

“Yeah, what company?” the sergeant asked as the ambulance drove away.

“That’s why I called you out here, Sarge. She worked for the CIA.”

“Oh, boy.”

Niles Compton listened to the president speak, but his words became almost unintelligible as he listened. With his ankle in a cast, Niles was forced to sit and listen to his old friend. After the president said his piece he waited for Compton to say something. He waited for a long time as his friend sat stunned at the news that had been delivered. He was so stunned he couldn’t speak.

“Niles, would it help if I called and gave him the news?” the president asked.

Compton finally looked up and into his friend’s eyes. “You know Jack is not going to buy this bullshit the Maryland State Police are telling you.”

The president shook his head. “Why should he, I don’t. I’ve ordered CIA Director Easterbrook and the FBI to give this investigation a full-court press. I want to know what happened. I’m not a believer in coincidence.”

Niles sat and listened, maybe believing his old friend, maybe not. He was fast becoming a skeptic in such matters as governing a country.

“We have a detailed briefing by Pete Golding in two days. I think maybe you better be here to hear what he and Europa have to say,” Niles said.

“I’ll see what I can—”

“Mr. President, I never ask you for anything, yet you have asked me for everything. I want you here to learn what in the hell we’re dealing with. Then you can take your ball and go home.”

The president saw that Niles Compton was in no mood to hear anything other than yes.

“Okay, Baldy, I’ll be there in two days. Also I want Colonel Farbeaux transferred to FBI custody when he’s able to travel.”

Niles nodded his head without really answering and reached out and shut off the computer with the president’s image still on it, breaking every rule of etiquette and protocol on the books. He didn’t want to discuss the fate of the Frenchman and knew his friend the president just wanted to remind him he was still in charge. Compton reached over and hit his intercom switch to connect with the computer center.

“Golding,” came the quick response.

“Pete, ask Europa the location of Lieutenant McIntire.”

“Okay,” he said and returned just a second later. “She’s located in suite nine, level eight.”

Colonel Collins’s room?”

“Yes.”

Sarah watched Jack as he in turn looked at her. She reached out, took his hand, and smiled.

“You took your time leaving Alice’s house,” she said.

“You know me, I had to finish painting or Alice would have thrown a fit.”

Sarah shook her head. Then she became serious. “Jack?”

“Yeah, short stuff?”

“Colonel Farbeaux, what’s going to happen to him?”

“That’s not up to me, but I imagine he’s bound for trial for the murder of our people and possibly many others.”

Sarah bit her lower lip. “Do you believe he killed people from our Group or murdered innocents from anywhere?” she asked watching him closely. “I mean, do you really think he’s capable of cold-blooded murder?”

“Doesn’t seem to be his style does it? But I wasn’t here in the bad old days. I just don’t know,” he added. “But deep down? Yes, I believe Henri has killed in the coldest blood possible in the past.”