Kill on Command (12 page)

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Authors: Slaton Smith

Tags: #Espionage, #Fiction, #Retail, #Suspense, #Thrillers

BOOK: Kill on Command
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X
I

“Hey!  I know you!”

Pittsburgh - UPMC

 

At the hospital, Michelle was speaking with the neuroscience team.  Sean had just come out of a new state-of-the-art scanner.  There were only three like it in the world.  He was wheeled to a private room - still unconscious. An older doctor looked at the monitor and back at Michelle.  The room was cold.  The hum of equipment broke the silence.

 

“You see this?” he asked, pointing to a small line that started at Sean’s skull and ran into his brain.  “There’s also one on the other side of his head.”

 

“Barely, what is it?”  Michelle asked.  The doctor motioned for her to get closer. She sat down on a round stool and focused on the monitor.

 

“Someone has been inside his head.  Literally,” he said, studying the image on the monitor.  “What did you say he did for a living?”

 

“Marketing.  He travels all over the place.”

 

He looked at her briefly and then continued.

 

“I am not sure this is accurate. This looks like something pierced his skull and entered his brain almost like an implant.   It is tiny.  I will have to look at the machine again for the measurement. . . . The new equipment picked it up - it would have been invisible with any other scan.  But here’s the weird part, there’s no one that I know of that can do something like this.  It’s all theoretical.  There must be a mistake.  Something is wrong.  I am having trouble believing what I am seeing,” he said, leaning back in his chair and running his hand through his hair.

 

“An implant?  Why would he have that?”

 

The doctor nodded as she spoke, but did not respond.  He really wasn’t listening.  He was too caught up in what was on the monitor.

 

“Look at this,” the doctor said, leaning forward and pointing to the image of Sean’s skull.  “If the scan is accurate, it would have had to have been done with a laser.  The laser would have fused the wound immediately, leaving next to no trace of any procedure.  Your friend have any headaches?”

 

“I think so, why?”

 

“After this, he would definitely have one.  If this really happened, a headache would be the least of his problems.” 

 

Michelle did not speak.  The doctor continued, again pointing at the monitor.

 

“This is one of the regions of the brain where the supposed implant enters.  It controls muscle memory.  The second implant enters the area of the brain that is home to higher level processing.  Language.  Reasoning.”

 

“Will he recover?”  Michelle asked.

 

“With what I see here, it could be in five minutes, five years or never.  There is no way to predict how fast he will recover, or if there is any permanent damage.”  Michelle stood up. The stool rolled across the room and hit the wall.  Tears stung her eyes.

 

“Look Michelle.  I want to get another scan in the morning.  There has to be something wrong with the equipment.  What we are talking about is closer to something from Star Trek than medicine.  Don’t worry.  He’s in good hands here. ”

 

Michelle nodded and left the room sobbing.

 

On the 5
th
floor, seven rooms from the elevator, Sean rested.  Brian was sprawled in a chair looking out the window.  The bed was in the center of the room.  Two chairs were against the window.  A bathroom was opposite.  Sean was hooked up to a heart monitor and IV. 

 

★★★

 

It was nearly 10:30 P.M. when Sandy woke up.  She freshened up and pulled her medium length blond hair into a tight ponytail.  Letting the robe fall to the ground, she walked back into the bedroom and around to the duffel.  She pulled out a black sports bra and tight black tank top, boy shorts and pair of black cargo pants.  A pair of black boots followed.  They were sturdy, but not bulky.  She put it all on and sat back on the bed.  She tied the laces of the boots.  She got up and picked the steel trunk up, placed it back on the bed and opened the lid.  Everything she had packed was right where she had left it.  There were two Walther PPQ pistols. Three clips were there for both.  She placed them on the bed next to the trunk.  Inside was also a Heckler & Koch MP7.   She liked it because it was light at only a smidge over four pounds.  There were three, thirty-round magazines.  Lastly, there was a Russian-made commando knife.  She took it out of the sheaf and held it up to the light.  It was a double-sided blade – razor sharp.   She carefully placed all of the weapons except the PPQ in the duffel along with a second set of clothes.  She then placed the cash, passports and credit cards in the backpack. She slipped the knife into a side pocket of her cargo pants.  The PPQ went into her waistband.  She then sanitized the room and the bike.  She was leaving it in the room.  She pulled on the red pullover and backpack.  She then threw the duffel over a shoulder and left the room and didn’t look back.  She got on the elevator.

 

Arriving in the lobby, she walked over to the valet.  He saw her coming and walked over to meet her as she exited the club.

 

“Can I get your car?” he said eagerly.  He was probably eighteen at the most.  Sandy was a head taller than him. He looked uncomfortable in his “Valet” windbreaker.

 

“I was hoping to get a cab.  I just need to head right down the street to UPMC.  I am a nurse and I am late for my shift,” she said with a mixture of worry and embarrassment.  The valet liked her instantly.  Most men did when Sandy turned it on and he instantly wanted to impress her.

 

“I’ll take you.  I don’t want you to have to take a cab,” he offered as he looked through the keys in his stand.  He pulled out a set of keys and held them like he had just caught the biggest wide mouth bass in Pennsylvania history.  He clicked the fob and lights went on in a red BMW X5.

 

“Won’t you get in trouble?” she asked, walking towards him.  The air had cooled considerably since the afternoon.  Cars roared down Fifth towards downtown.  Across the street, Pitt had illuminated the Cathedral of Learning.  She could just make out the lights of the Carnegie Museums.

 

“Nah, they will think I am parking something,” he said as he led her over to the BMW and opened the door for her.

 

“You are so nice.  Look!  It matches my sweater!” she said.  He was eating it up.

 

“You want me to put your bags in the back?” he asked, as he reached for the duffel.  She moved it closer to her body.

 

“No thank you, I’ll hold them on my lap.”

 

“Ok.” 

 

He ran around to the other side and smiled at her as he started the truck.  They merged onto Fifth and made the short trip to UPMC.  He turned right into the complex, which like everything in the city was built into the side of a hill. 

 

“You can drop me off around in the back of this building,” she said, pointing to the left. He stopped the car. 

 

“What’s your name?” she asked leaning in towards him.

 

“Paul,” he said nervously.

 

She looked at him for a moment, leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Thank you.  Paul,” she said, got out of the truck and walked towards the loading docks behind the hospital.  The entire time she was cognizant of the cameras as she entered the hospital.  It might be impossible to avoid all of them, but she was going to give it a shot. 

 

Paul watched her as she disappeared into the hospital

 

“She’s awesome! That’s the kind of girl I need!” Paul said to himself.

 

Sandy entered the back of the hospital and immediately started searching for the nurse’s locker room.  She needed scrubs and an ID.  She made her way down the narrow halls under the hospital.  She saw a maintenance worker heading towards her.   He looked to be in his fifties and was hurrying to get home.  He stopped as she approached.

 

“I am so lost!  I am in from Ruby Memorial and I have no idea where the locker room is.” She tried to look exasperated.  The old guy pointed towards a set of double doors. 

 

“Through those and down the hall to the left.  You’ll see a sign.” 

 

“Thank you.”  She walked confidently down the hall.  She passed through the double doors and saw the locker room on the left.  There was a key card reader on the handle.  She was not worried.  She knew how to crack it.  Just then the door opened.  A pair of nurses looked at her.  They had changed into street clothes and it was obvious they were heading out on the town.

 

“Better hurry, you are late for your shift,” one of them said holding the door for her.  It was nearly midnight.

 

“Thanks.”  She brushed past them. 

 

One of them turned and said, “Please tell our friend Martha, we will see her at the Voodoo Lounge.  You won’t be able to miss her.  She’s the one frantically running around in the bathroom.” 

 

They both laughed and let the door close.  Inside, Sandy quickly found Martha.  She was indeed frantically trying to dry her dark brown hair.  She was dressed in a flashy top and tight, black jeans.  Sandy leaned against the door leading into the bathroom.

 

“Your friends told me to tell you that they would meet you at the Voodoo Lounge, wherever that is,” Sandy said to her.

 

“Thanks.  It’s in the Strip.  They couldn’t wait five minutes for me?”  she asked, obviously upset.

 

“Some people are like that,” Sandy said, turning and looking around the room.  No one else was there.  She scanned the long row of lockers and saw an open one.  Martha’s.  Inside, Martha’s ID was hanging from a hook.  She reached in and grabbed it.  Her scrubs were hanging there too.  Martha was in such a hurry, she would not notice.  Sandy took them and walked around to the other side of the lockers.  She took off her red pullover and pulled Martha’s scrub top over her head.  Not exactly a perfect fit.  The pants were a little large and a little short.  It actually was fine, as she needed them to fit over her cargo pants.  She pulled a dark brown wig out of her duffel and tucked her hair up inside.  She finished dressing, put the red pullover in the backpack and left the locker room.  In front of the elevator, she studied a map of the hospital.  ICU was on the fourth floor.  She would start there.  “It sure was easier with the tracker,” she thought.  The doors opened on four and she walked out.  UPMC’s halls began and ended at the elevators.  Basically, one big circle.  She began walking to the left.  She walked down the hall looking casually in each room.  She did not see Sean.  She made it back around to the elevators, when another nurse noticed her.

 

“Hey, you looking for someone?” the nurse asked, pretending to care.

 

“Yeah, a lacrosse player.  Head injury,” she said, looking at the nurse.  The nurse spoke without looking up.

 

“Took him to five,” she mumbled and entered a room to the right.  Sandy turned and got back on the elevator.  She punched the five button.  The door opened.  She was not worried.  Bill and Bob would not be here for at least a couple of hours.  She walked up to the nurse’s station.  A fifty-something nurse looked at her. 

 

“Help you with something?” she asked.

 

“It looks like I am working here tonight.  I was over in the Neo Natal ICU, but they want me here tonight,” Sandy said, with confidence.  The nurse looked her up and down, focusing on her boots.

 

“Those are some boots,” she said, pointing at Sandy’s feet.

 

“Yeah, I am having terrible arch issues.  They provide a lot of support,” she answered.

 

“I could use some boots like that.  A lot of butt needs to be kicked up here.  What’s with all the stuff?” she asked, gesturing with a ballpoint pen. 

 

“No lockers.  They make me carry all my stuff around.”

 

“That is so awful.  You know, you should complain.  I am Lucy, by the way,” the nurse said and waved Sandy over to the other side of the desk.  Sandy took a chair and put her bags at her feet.

 

“I’m Martha,” Sandy responded.

 

“Anything I should know about the floor, Lucy?”  Sandy asked, surveying the monitors.  She could see the elevators through a mirror mounted on the ceiling.

 

“Yeah, some doctor’s boyfriend was injured in a game today.  She’s being real difficult,” the nurse said with a sneer.  “I did get a peek at him though.  A real babe.”  She fanned her face with a folder.

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