“Come,” he said, gently handling her frail body.
“Keep the blankets. I can knit more,” Frau Bauer smiled.
“Thank you so much. You’ve been a great, great help,” Sam told the hostess as he lifted Nina into his arms and carried her out to the car. Purdue’s face was plain and expressionless while Sam loaded the sleeping Nina into the car.
“Right, she’s in,” Sam announced light heartedly, trying to comfort Purdue without getting soppy. “I think we’ll need to go back to Heidelberg to get her file from her previous doctor after she is admitted in Mannheim.”
“You can go. I’m returning to Edinburgh as soon as we sort Nina out.” Purdue’s words left a hole in Sam.
Sam frowned, dumbfounded. “But you said you would fly her to a hospital there.” He understood Purdue’s frustration, but it was not worth playing with Nina’s life.
“I know what I said, Sam,” he said harshly. The empty look was back; that same look he had had at Sinclair, when he told Sam that he was beyond help. Purdue started the car. “I also know what she said.”
17
Double Subterfuge
In the top office of the Fifth Floor, Dr. Fritz was meeting with an esteemed representative of the Tactical Air Force Wing 34 Büchel Air Base on behalf of the high commander of the Luftwaffe, who was currently being hounded by the press and family of the missing airman.
“Thank you for seeing me unannounced, Dr. Fritz,” Werner said cordially, disarming the medical specialist with his charisma. “The Lieutenant-General asked me to come because he is inundated with visits and legal threats at the moment, as I am sure you can appreciate.”
“Yes. Please sit down, Mr. Werner,” Dr. Fritz said abruptly. “As I am sure you can appreciate, I also have a tight schedule, what with critical and terminal patients to see to without unnecessary interruptions of my daily work.”
Werner sneered as he sat down, put off not only by the doctor’s looks but also by his reluctance to see him. However, when it came to missions, such things were not in the least troublesome to Werner. He was there to retrieve as much information about Airman Löwenhagen and the extent of his injuries as he could. Dr. Fritz would have no choice but to assist him in finding the burn victim, particularly under the pretense that they wished to set his family at ease. Of course, in actual fact, he was fair game.
What Werner also did not bring to the fore was the fact that the commander did not trust the medical facility enough to merely accept information. He was keeping well under wraps that, while he was engaging Dr. Fritz on the Fifth Floor, his two colleagues were sweeping the building with a well-trained, fine-toothed comb for the possible presence of the pest. Each scoured the area individually, moving up one flight of fire stairs and down the next. They knew they only had a certain amount of time to complete the search before Werner would be done interviewing the presiding physician. Once they were sure Löwenhagen was not in the hospital, they could spread out their search to other possible locations.
It was just after breakfast time when Dr. Fritz asked Werner a more pressing question.
“Lieutenant Werner, if I may,” his words twisted sarcastically. “How is it that your squadron commander is not here to speak to me about this? I think we should cut the bullshit, you and I. We both know why Schmidt is after the young airman, but what does it have to do with you?”
“Orders. I am but a representative, Dr. Fritz. But my report will reflect accurately how swiftly you assisted us,” Werner replied firmly. But in truth he had no idea why his commander, Captain Gerhard Schmidt, was sending him and his associates out after the pilot. The three of them assumed they were out to exterminate the pilot just for embarrassing the Luftwaffe when he crashed one of their obscenely expensive Tornado fighter planes. “Once we have what we want,” he bluffed, “we will all receive a reward for it.”
“The mask does not belong to him,” Dr. Fritz declared defiantly. “You go and tell Schmidt that, errand boy.”
Werner’s face went ashen. Rage filled him, but he was not there to disassemble a medical professional. The doctor’s blatant derogatory derision was an undeniable call to war, which Werner mentally placed on his to-do list for later. But for now he was focused on this juicy morsel of information Captain Schmidt had not counted upon.
“I shall inform him of just that, sir.” Werner’s clear, narrowed eyes pierced through Dr. Fritz. A smirk formed on the fighter pilot’s face while the clatter of dishes and the chatter of hospital staff drowned their words of secret jousting. “Once the mask is found, I will be sure to invite you to the ceremony.” Again Werner was prying, trying to throw in keywords untraceable to specific meaning.
Dr. Fritz laughed out loud. He slammed the desk in amusement. “Ceremony?”
Werner feared that he had ruined the play for an instant, but it soon benefitted his curiosity. “Did he tell you that? Ha! Did he tell you that you need a ceremony to assume the face of the victim? Oh, my boy!” Dr. Fritz sniffed as he wiped tears of amusement from the corners of his eyes.
Werner was elated at the doctor’s arrogance, so he milked it by discarding his ego and apparently admitting he had been fooled. Looking utterly disappointed, he proceeded to answer, “He lied to me?” His voice was down, barely louder than a whisper.
“That’s right, Lieutenant. The Babylonian Mask is not ceremonial. Schmidt is deceiving you to keep you from profiting from it. Let’s face it, it is an extremely valuable piece for the highest bidder,” Dr. Fritz spilled eagerly.
“If it is so valuable, why did you give it back to Löwenhagen?” Werner ventured deeper.
Dr. Fritz stared at him in utter befuddlement.
“Löwenhagen. Who is Löwenhagen?”
While Nurse Marx was busy clearing out the last of the used medical waste from her rounds, the faint sound of the ringing phone in the nurses’ station drew her attention. With a laborious groan she jogged to answer it, since none of her colleagues were finished with their patients yet. It was the reception desk on the Ground Floor.
“Marlene, there is someone here to see Dr. Fritz, but there is no answer in his office,” the receptionist said. “He says it is very urgent and lives depend on it. Can you put the doctor on the line?”
“Um, he’s not nearby. I’d have to go and look for him. What is it about?”
The receptionist answered in a subdued voice, “He insists that if he does not see Dr. Fritz, Nina Gould will die.”
“Oh my God!” Nurse Marx gasped. “He has Nina?”
“I don’t know. He just said his name is…Sam,” whispered the receptionist, a close acquaintance of Nurse Marx who knew about the burn victim’s assumed name.
Nurse Marx’s body went numb. Her adrenaline edged her forward and she waved her arm to get the attention of the Third Floor security man. He came running from the far side of the hallway, hand on his holster, passing visitors and staff on the pristine floor that mirrored his reflection.
“Okay, tell him I’ll come to get him and I’ll take him up to see Dr. Fritz,” Nurse Marx said. After she hung up, she told the security officer, “There is a man downstairs, one of the two missing patients. He says he must see Dr. Fritz or the other missing patient will die. I need you to come with me to apprehend him.”
The security guard released the strap of his holster with a click and nodded. “Got it. But you stay behind me.” He radioed his unit to report that he was about to arrest a possible suspect and proceeded with Nurse Marx to the reception area. Marlene felt her heart racing, terrified, but excited about the development. If she could be part of the arrest of the suspect who had kidnapped Dr. Gould, she would be a hero.
With two other officers flanking them, Nurse Marx and the security man descended the stairs to the Ground Floor. As they reached the landing and turned the corner, Nurse Marx peeked eagerly past the huge officer to see the burn unit patient she knew so well. But he was nowhere to be seen.
“Nurse, which man is it?” asked the office
r, while the other two readied themselves to evacuate the area. Nurse Marx just shook her head. “I don’t…I don’t see him.” Her eyes examined every single man in the lobby, but there was nobody with burn injuries on their face and chest anywhere. “This cannot be,” she said. “Wait, I’ll call out his name.”Standing amidst all the people in the lobby and waiting area Nurse Marx stood still and called out, “Sam! Can you come with me to see Dr. Fritz, please?”
The receptionist shrugged at Marlene and said, “What the hell are you doing? He is right here!” She was pointing at the handsome, dark-haired man in the posh coat waiting at the side of the counter. He approached her immediately, smiling. The officers drew their guns, stopping Sam in his tracks. At the same time, the onlookers caught their breath; some disappeared around corners.
“What is going on?” Sam asked.
“You’re not Sam,” Nurse Marx frowned.
“Nurse, is this the kidnapper or not?” the one officer asked impatiently.
“What?” Sam exclaimed, scowling. “I am Sam Cleave, looking for Dr. Fritz.”
“Do you have Dr. Nina Gould?” the officer asked.
In the background of their discussion the nurse gasped. The Sam Cleave, right here in front of her.
“Aye,” Sam started, but before he could utter another word they lifted their guns in a straight aim at him. “But I did not kidnap her! Jesus! Put your guns away, you idiots!”
“That is not the correct way to speak to an officer of the law, son,” the other officer reminded Sam.
“I’m sorry,” Sam said quickly. “Alright? I’m sorry, but you have to hear me out. Nina is my friend and she is currently undergoing medical care in Mannheim at the Theresien hospital. They need her folder or file, whatever, and she sent me to see her attending doctor to get that information. That is all! That is all I am here for, understand?”
“Identification,” the security guard demanded. “Slowly.”
Sam refrained from poking fun at the officer’s FBI-movie moves, just in case they were trigger-happy. Carefully he opened the flap of his coat and retrieved his passport.
“There you go. Sam Cleave. See?” Nurse Marx came out from behind the officer, apologetically putting out her hand to Sam.
“I am so sorry for the misunderstanding,” she told Sam, and repeated the same to the officers. “You see, the other patient that went missing with Dr. Gould was also called Sam. Obviously I immediately thought it was that Sam wanting to see the doctor. And when he said Dr. Gould could die…”
“Yes, yes, we get the picture, Nurse Marx,” the security man sighed, holstering his gun. The other two were equally frustrated, but they had no choice but to follow suit.
18
Unmasked
“As you were,” Sam jested as he was given back his credentials. The flushing young nurse lifted her open hand in a grateful gesture to them as they walked away, feeling dreadfully sheepish.
“Mr. Cleave, it is an honor to meet you.” She smiled, shaking Sam’s hand.
“Call me Sam,” he flirted, deliberately looking intensely into her eyes. Besides, an ally could help his mission along; not only in obtaining Nina’s folder, but also in getting to the bottom of the recent incidents at the hospital and perhaps even the air base in Büchel.
“I am so sorry for screwing up like this. The other patient she disappeared with was also called Sam,” she explained.
“Aye, my darling, I caught that the other time. No need to apologize. It was an honest mistake.” They got an elevator to the Fifth Floor. A mistake that almost cost me my bloody life!
In the elevator with two radiology technicians and the gushing Nurse Marx, Sam pushed the awkwardness from his mind. They were silently staring at him. For a split second Sam contemplated spooking the German ladies with a remark on how he once saw a Swedish porn flick start much in the same fashion. The doors opened on the Second Floor and Sam caught a glimpse of a white sign on the hallway wall reading “X-ray 1 & 2” in red lettering. The two radiology technicians breathed out for the first time only after they’d stepped out of the lift. Sam could hear their giggling die down as the silver doors slid together again.
Nurse Marx wore a smirk and her eyes stayed glued to the floor, prompting the journalist to relieve her of her discomfiture. He breathed out hard, looking at the light above them. “So, Nurse Marx, is Dr. Fritz a radiology specialist?”
Her posture straightened up instantly like a loyal soldier. From Sam’s knowledge of body language he realized that the nurse harbored an undying reverence or desire for the doctor in question. “No, but he is a veteran physician who lectures at global medical conferences on several scientific subjects. Let me say – he knows a little about every disease, where other doctors specialize in just one and know nothing about the rest. He took very good care of Dr. Gould. You can be assured. In fact, he was the only one who picked up on th…”
Nurse Marx swallowed her words immediately, almost spilling the cancerous news she’d been stunned by just that morning.
“What?” he asked kindly.
“All I meant to say is that whatever is plaguing Dr. Gould, Dr. Fritz will figure it out,” she said, pressing her lips together. “Ah! Here we go!” she smiled, delighted at their well-timed arrival on the Fifth Floor.
She led Sam out to the Administrative wing of the Fifth Floor, past the archives office, and a staff tearoom. While they walked, Sam enjoyed periodical sights from the identical square windows that lined the off-white hall. Every time the wall gave way to a blinded window, the sun would reach through and warm Sam’s face, showing him an aerial view over the local surroundings. He wondered where Purdue was. He’d left Sam the car and had taken a taxi to the airport without much explanation. That was another matter for Sam to carry unresolved deep inside his psyche until he had time to deal with it.
“Dr. Fritz should be done with his interview by now,” Nurse Marx informed Sam as they neared the closed door. She briefly explained about the Air Force commander sending an emissary to speak to Dr. Fritz about the patient who had shared a room with Nina.Well, well. Sam pondered. How convenient is this? All the people I need to see, all under one roof. It’s like a compact information center for criminal investigation. Welcome to Corruption Mall!
As was the protocol, Nurse Marx knocked three times and opened the door. Lieutenant Werner was just getting up to leave and did not seem at all surprised to see the nurse, but he recognized Sam from the news van. A question brushed on Werner’s brow, but Nurse Marx stopped and lost all the color in her face.
“Marlene?” Werner asked with an inquisitive look. “What is it, baby?”
She stood motionless, in awe, while slowly a twinge of terror overwhelmed her. Her eyes read the nametag on Dr. Fritz’s white coat, but she shook her head in a daze. Werner came to her and cradled her face as she prepared to scream. Sam knew something was up, but as he knew none of these people, it was vague at best.
“Marlene!” Werner shouted to jerk her to her senses. Marlene Marx allowed her voice to return and she roared at the man in the coat. “You’re not Dr. Fritz! You are not Dr. Fritz!”
Before Werner could fully grasp what was happening, the imposter propelled forward and grabbed Werner’s gun from his shoulder holster. But Sam was quicker in his reaction and he lunged ahead to push Werner out of the way, thwarting the malformed attacker’s attempt to arm himself. Nurse Marx retreated from the office, hysterically crying for security to help.
Narrowing his eyes through the plate glass window in the double doors of the ward, one of the officers Nurse Marx had previously summoned tried to distinguish the shape running toward him and his colleague.
“Heads up, Klaus,” he scoffed to his colleague, “Polly Paranoid is back.”
“Good God, but she is really moving, huh?” the other officer noted.
“She is crying wolf again. Look, it’s not like we get a whole lot of action on this shift or anything, but being fucked with is not what I see as kee
ping busy, you know?” the first officer replied.
“Nurse Marx!” the second officer exclaimed. “Who can we threaten for you now?”
Marlene dove at speed, landing right in his arms, clawing at him.
“Dr. Fritz’s office! Go! Go, for God’s sake!” she screamed as people started to stare.
When Nurse Marx started tugging at the man’s sleeve, pulling him along with her towards the office of Dr. Fritz, the officers realized that this time it was not a hunch. Again, they raced towards the distant hallway just out of their sight as the nurse cried for them to catch what she kept calling the monster. Confused as they were, they followed the sound of the altercation ahead and soon discovered why the frantic, young nurse referred to the imposter as a monster.
Sam Cleave was busy exchanging blows with the old man, stepping in his way every time he went for the door. Werner was sitting on the floor, dazed and surrounded by shards of glass and a few kidney dishes that had gone sprawling after the impostor had knocked him out cold with a bedpan and toppled the small cabinet where Dr. Fritz kept his Petri dishes and other breakables.
“Mother of God, look at that thing!” the one officer yelled at his partner as they elected to bring the seemingly invincible culprit down by piling their bodies onto him. Sam struggled out of the way as the two officers subdued the offender in the white coat. Sam’s brow was decorated in crimson ribbons that elegantly lined the features of his cheekbone. Next to him, Werner was holding the back of his skull where the bedpan had connected painfully.
“I think I’m going to need stitches,” Werner told Nurse Marx as she carefully crept around the doorway into the office. His dark hair sported bloody clumps where the gash smiled. Sam watched how the officers restrained the odd-looking man with threats of deadly force until he had finally yielded. The other two loiterers Sam had seen with Werner outside the news van showed up too.
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