F Wilson - Implant

Gerry pulled into his parking space in front of the house. Night was leaching from the eastern sky. Dawn wasn't far off. Somewhere in the trees a bird called.

He headed for his front door, bounding over the curb and up the steps.

He was pumped. And relieved. A successful operation tonight. At the last minute the Bureau had called out every available agent, the kidnapper had made a mistake, and they got the little Walker boy back safe and sound.

Gerry could have stayed and celebrated with the rest of the guys, but this case had made him anxious to get back to his own child.

And it reinforced his determination to move up to a position with regular hours. And soon.

em"K Gerry stood inside his front door and surveyed the empty living room. Gin's raincoat was there, but where was she?

"Gin? ' A little louder.

Upstairs with Martha? Had to be. But an unreasoning fear made him pad up the stairs, taking them three at a time as silently as he could, hurrying to Martha's bedroom. He stopped at the door, struck dumb by the sight of his child curled up under Gin's protective arm. Both were asleep, both faces so smooth, so relaxed, so innocent in the growing light.

He'd taken a chance asking Gin tonight. He hadn't known how she'd react, how it would work out, but he'd sensed a rapport between Gin and Martha during their first meeting and, well, he'd longed to see her.

And who better than a trained physician?

But this?

He stood staring, captured by the nghtness of the scene. It was as if their little duplex, his and Martha's little world, had changed, their fragmented family briefly made whole again.

He realized that tears were sliding down his cheeks.

You belong with us, Gin, he thought.

He wiped the tears away and had to fight the urge to crawl in with them. Besides, there was no room left in that tiny bed.

So Gerry pulled up the rocker Karen had bought for nursing Martha and sat there watching the two women in his life until the sun came up.

THE WEEK OF OCTOBER THE HEARING RELAX, GINA, SENATOR MARSDEN SAID AS HE GATHered the papers on his desk. "You look as if you're about to jump out of your skin." His desk was piled high with folders, reprints, charts, graphs, and detailed analyses of medical statistics. Joe Blair had been in earlier, reviewing his last-minute strategies on networking with other chiefs of staff. He was cool and professional toward Gin but decidedly distant.

And Alicia was a whirling dervish, darting in and out of the office like an overweight hummingbird. She'd conscripted a couple of the officer's legislative correspondents to field the endlessly ringing phones. This was her big day and she seemed to thrive on the pressure.

The past four days had been a whirlwind of activity. Gin felt as if she'd moved into these offices. She'd met Charlie and Zach, the other two legislative aides assigned to the Guidelines committee, and had been impressed with the amount of research they'd collected. They had copies of guidelines and codes of ethics from every state medical board in the country.

The amount of material to be reviewed and absorbed was daunting. But she'd waded in with the rest of them.

"I'll be fine, " Gin told the senator.

And she would be. It was just that not only was this her first day of actually attending a congressional hearing as a participant, but the chairman of the committee would be depending on her medical knowledge to interpret the testimony being given, all of which would occur before cameras broadcasring the proceedings to the nation.

Nothing to it.

Right. That was why her hands were cold and her palms were sweaty and her stomach had shrunk to a walnut-sized knot.

But she was all set to go, She had a pad, a supply of pens, and she had her brand new photo-iD badge slung on a chain around her neck.

"I know you will. Remember, Your job is to listen and take notes.

Alert me immediately, pass me a note, tap me on the shoulder and whisper, whenever you think someone's blowing medical smoke my way. And I do mean immediately. I don't want to find out days later that someone was running double-talk by me. Your responsibility is to keep the medical testimony honest." She held up her steno pad and pens.

She didn't know shorthand but the steno pad was a convenient size.

" I'm ready." She hoped she sounded confident. She was beginning to feel the weight of the responsibility she'd taken on. And she'd be shouldering it in public.

She'd watched congressional hearings on TV before and seen aides passing notes or whispering in committee members' ears, hard to believe people would be watching her doing. the same today. Her father was staying home from the store this morning to watch C-SPAN.

Senator Marsden winked at her. "And maybe when this is over you can write a more evenhanded op-ed piece for the Tiones-Piaaygne." Gin stiffened. "You know about that? " "Sure. Joe showed it to me shortly after the interview. It's his job to background anyone joining my staff."

"I was afraid it might put you off." He rose and tucked a bulging file folder under his arm.

"I spent forty years in business. I learned the worst thing you can do is surround yourself with yes-men. That's why I like to keep a devil's advocate around." Gin felt a burst of warmth for this man. Alicia had called him "one of the good guys" and now Gin believed her.

"I'll be it."

"Then let's go." The hearing room was gorgeous, paneled floor to ceiling in gleaming mahogany. The carved ceiling would have been at home in Versailles, nearly twenty feet high, white with delicate, hand-painted blue designs. Rich red carpet stretched wall to wall.

Three tall windows ran almost to the ceiling and were trimmed with black crepe in honor of the committee's departed member, Congressman Lane. Set between the windows and all around the room were giant brass sconces, designed like ornate torches that would not have been out of place in the Roman Senate. Each flared a wedge of light against the paneling above it. All the furniture, the curved dais where the committee members sat like knights of the semicircular table, the witness table, the visitor chairs, was fashioned of mahogany perfectly matched to the paneling. The red leather on the seats and backs of the chairs arranged in neat rows for visitors and witnesses and lined against the wall behind the dais for the committee members' aides matched the carpet, as did the leather inlays in the tops of the press tables flanking both sides of the room.

Chaos reigned. Photographers were jockeying for position in the space allotted them, reporters were weaving through the mix of legislators, witnesses, and visitors, looking for comments, sniffng for rumors, while the C-SPAN technicians made final adjustments on their cameras, one near the front and the other midline at the rear.

Gin followed Senator Marsden to the dais, why did it feel so special to stroll past the "Staff Only" sign? , and staked out a chair behind his spot at the apex of the semicircle. Zach would be with her. Charlie had stayed behind at the office. While Marsden began arranging his papers, she looked out over the milling crowd and was shocked.

Duncan.

"Senator, do I have time to talk to someone? " "Of course, ' he said, glancing up at the disorder before him. "We won't come to order for at least another ten or fifteen minutes." As she stepped off the dais, someone tapped her on the shoulder.

Another familiar face, one she was very glad to see.

"Gerry! What are you doing here? " "Just stopped by to say hello. " "But how'd you get in? " He flashed his FBI ID. "Never underestimate the power of the Department of Justice. I knew this was your big day and I just wanted to wish you luck. I'dtve brought flowers but, " "Oh, I'm glad you didn't. I wouldn't have known what to do with them." He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. "Knock em dead, Gin. " She gave him a hug. "Thanks. That means a lot." And it did. No one else had wished her luck, or thought she should even be here. She watched him go, then spotted Duncan on the far side of the room. He was talking to one of the committee members, Senator Vincent. Both looked to be about the same age, wore suits of similar cut, but Duncan's trim figure and aristocratic bearing somehow left the senator looking like a poor relation. And what had the senator done to his hair? A permanent?