by Xavier Mayne
“I don’t think it is a coincidence, sir,” Donnelly replied, his smile never wavering.
Mr. Hendricks was clearly taken aback. “You don’t?”
“No, sir, I don’t. I think things happen for a reason. I think God wanted Trevor to see a friend right now, and so he put it in my heart to be here. Simple as that.” He worked his features into what he hoped would be a convincing arrangement of placid resignation in the face of fate.
Bingo.
Mr. Hendricks’s face lit up, and he smiled for the first time since Donnelly entered the room. “That’s a wonderful way of looking at it,” he said warmly. “I think you must be right.”
The Hendrickses exchanged a long look and then nodded to each other.
“Trevor’s doing well this morning,” Mr. Hendricks continued. “He’s right through here.”
Mrs. Hendricks went ahead of them to the door that connected their hotel room to the next. She opened it, stepped through, then closed the door behind her.
“She’ll let him know you’re here, and then you can go in,” Mr. Hendricks said. “We try not to surprise him. Surprises trouble him.”
Donnelly nodded. The risk of an untoward surprise weighed heavily on him, but at least he had the consolation that if Trevor freaked out because a stranger had appeared claiming to be a long-lost high school friend, his parents would not immediately jump to the conclusion that Donnelly was a fraud.
At least, that’s what he hoped.
Mrs. Hendricks reappeared in the connecting doorway. “Randy, Trevor perked right up at the mention of your name. I think it’ll be fine for you to come in.”
Showtime.
Donnelly followed Mrs. Hendricks back through the doorway into a room that, while a mirror image of the one next door, was dimly lit and appeared not to have been disturbed since it was made up by housekeeping. In a chair near the window (Donnelly assumed it was a window, though the heavy curtains obliterated any hint of daylight), a frail-looking young man sat staring blankly ahead. He was wrapped in a blanket and was wearing a stocking cap.
“Trevor,” Mrs. Hendricks called, her voice just above a whisper. “Trevor, dear, Randy’s here now.”
Donnelly approached, searching Trevor’s face for any sign of recognition—or alarm. Slowly Trevor turned his head, and finally their eyes met. But though he stared right at Donnelly, his facial expression didn’t alter.
On the plus side, he wasn’t screaming bloody murder at the appearance of an imposter claiming to be one of his friends from high school, so Donnelly took a steadying breath and pushed ahead. He moved slowly to the chair opposite Trevor and sat slowly down. Trevor’s eyes followed him as he moved, but did not so much as blink.
“Trev?” Donnelly said softly, leaning toward him. “Trev, it’s me, Randy. Randy Filkins.”
Trevor stared, still perfectly devoid of expression.
“Trevor, are you all right, honey?” Mrs. Hendricks asked, leaning toward him as well.
Trevor jerked and started, and his hands flew up to flail at his mother. He made a strangled, wailing sound that Donnelly found simply heartbreaking. Without thinking, he put his hand on Trevor’s knee.
Immediately Trevor fell silent. His gaze snapped down to Donnelly’s hand, and then he looked up and met Donnelly’s eyes once again. This time there was something… different. Donnelly wasn’t sure what it was, but something had changed.
“Oh, now, Trevor,” his mother scolded, “Let’s not—”
Trevor again flailed at his mother, and this time his voice was stronger—less a wail than a full-throated protest. She recoiled, her face clouded with confusion.
“Trev?” Donnelly said soothingly. He rubbed Trevor’s knee with his hand, pressing the connection between the two of them. Again, Trevor calmed immediately and returned to looking at Donnelly.
Mrs. Hendricks stepped back, arms falling limply by her side. “I don’t understand.”
As if driven to madness by even this bewildered utterance, Trevor barked again in her direction.
Donnelly turned to her. “Mrs. Hendricks, do you think Trevor and I could have a moment or two alone? It seems like one person at a time may be as much as he can take.”
Mrs. Hendricks drew herself up. “I think I know what my son—”
She was cut off by more frantic flailing and guttural noises from Trevor. She stepped back again, eyes wide with confusion. As she retreated, Trevor calmed.
“I promise I’ll call you if anything happens,” Donnelly said, not taking his eyes off of Trevor. “I’m sure he’ll be fine if I just sit with him for a few minutes.”
Mrs. Hendricks seemed to debate within herself for several long moments. She watched as Trevor slowly reached out and took Donnelly’s hand in his own. Donnelly held his breath, hoping that the gesture wouldn’t alarm Mrs. Hendricks with its intimacy. But Trevor simply shook Donnelly’s hand, as if they’d just been introduced. That seemed to placate the paranoid Mrs. Hendricks.
“Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt to leave you two alone for a bit,” she said, her voice uncertain. “I’ll just be in the other room. Call me if you… well….” She backed herself into the door that stood ajar and then awkwardly stepped around it and disappeared from view.
Donnelly turned back to Trevor and looked into his eyes. He didn’t know how much time they might have, and he needed to make a connection—needed to see what they were up against.
“Hey, Trevor,” he began, a little stiffly. “Great to see you.”
Trevor blinked at Donnelly then, twice. Slowly he brought his finger up to Donnelly lips, and pressed it there. He shook his head slowly. Then his own lips began to move.
“What?” Donnelly whispered, leaning close. “I didn’t hear you.” He leaned forward until his ear was nearly pressed against Trevor’s lips. Then he could hear, and the words sent a shiver down his back.
“Help… me.”
Donnelly swallowed hard. “I came here to help you, Trevor.”
He looked for any sign of recognition on Trevor’s face but saw none—at least at first. Then he saw it: a tear formed at the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek.
“Help me,” he said again.
“Yes. I’m here to help you.”
“Everything okay in there?” called Mrs. Hendricks from the other room.
“Yes, Mrs. Hendricks,” Donnelly called back dutifully. He wouldn’t have much time.
“Trevor,” he said, leaning in close again and whispering quietly, “do you know why you’re here? In Geneva?”
Trevor blinked hard, forcing more tears from his eyes.
“Do you want them to take you to the doctor tomorrow? Do you want to be treated?”
Mrs. Hendricks popped her head back into the room. “We should probably let Trevor rest,” she said. “He’s got a big day tomorrow.”
“All right, Mrs. Hendricks,” Donnelly replied. “Can we have just one more minute? I think Trevor’s really enjoying our conversation.”
Trevor, eyes focused on his mother, strained to make something that looked like a smile.
“Oh my, look at that,” she said, holding her hand to her chest. “I haven’t seen a smile like that in I don’t know how long.” She gave an embarrassed little laugh. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt for you boys to take another couple of minutes.” She ducked back out.
Donnelly was out of time. He knew he needed to make his move if this whole charade was going to work.
“Trevor, I came here with someone. Someone you know.”
Trevor looked at Donnelly, frozen, listening.
“Sandler is here.”
Trevor gasped, then quickly stifled the sound. He struggled visibly to get himself back under control.
“Sandler came here because he found out you needed help. He’s here to help you, Trevor. We all are.”
His eyes wide in wonder, Trevor’s lips began moving again. Donnelly leaned in close once more.
“Sandler,” Trevor said softly, the
n repeated the name several times, like a mantra.
“Now we should let Trevor get some rest,” sang Mrs. Hendricks as she sailed back into the room. “I’m sure this has all been very exciting, but we need to be rested for tomorrow.”
Donnelly stood. He took Trevor’s hand again and shook it, then placed it back in his lap. “Bye, Trev. I hope we can see each other again soon.”
Mrs. Hendricks led him through the doorway to the other hotel room. “That was simply amazing,” she said as they passed through. “I’ve honestly not seen him smile like that since the accident.”
“We’re very lucky that you not-so-coincidentally showed up in Geneva,” Mr. Hendricks said. “Your visit was just what he needed.”
“Do you think I could see him again?” Donnelly asked. “Could we maybe have dinner together tonight?”
The Hendrickses exchanged a look.
“I don’t think that would be a…,” Mrs. Hendricks began.
“You see, Trevor can’t really eat in restaurants,” Mr. Hendricks said. “Being around that many people really seems to bother him.”
“Maybe I could come up, and we could have dinner here?” Donnelly wheedled. He had to find a way to get back here.
“Well…,” Mrs. Hendricks said, tipping her head to one side, appraising this Randy Filkins and his radical ideas.
“You said he was going in for a treatment tomorrow. They say people respond better to medical treatment when they are in a good mood”—he was making up whatever he could to press his case—“and my being here really did seem to do him some good.”
“You’re right about that,” Mr. Hendricks said, turning to his wife.
“I really think this is what I was brought here to do,” Donnelly offered solemnly. “I would be honored to come back and have dinner with him, and you two could go get dinner downstairs. You probably don’t get a chance to do that very often, do you?”
“Not at all, young man,” Mr. Hendricks replied. “Not at all.”
They both turned to Mrs. Hendricks.
“All right, all right,” she said, holding up her hands in surrender. “Randy, if you could come back at about six, we’ll order up some room service for the two of you.” She took his hand in hers. “And please make sure you tell him about your sister. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
“Of course I will, Mrs. Hendricks,” Donnelly replied with a laugh he hoped sounded less forced than it felt. “I wouldn’t pass up the chance to give him a hard time about that!”
They all shared a laugh, and then Donnelly was on his way. Now he just had to figure out how to turn a dinner date into a rescue operation.
Hôtel Genève
“SANDLER,” DONNELLY called from across the lobby. They were on their way for a progress check over lunch in the hotel restaurant. Brandt and Kerry had already gone in, but Donnelly wanted to catch Sandler to give him the news about Trevor alone.
“Gabriel!” Sandler clapped a hand on Donnelly’s shoulder. “How’d it go?”
Donnelly said as he put his arm around Sandler, “Let’s sit for a sec so I can tell you before we go in.”
Sandler stopped cold. “Is it that bad?”
“No, it’s good,” Donnelly assured him as they sat down. “I saw him today.”
Sandler’s mouth dropped open. “You saw… Trevor?”
Donnelly nodded.
“Like, in the distance? Through a window?”
“No, I sat next to him. I talked to him.”
Tears sprang to Sandler’s eyes.
“I talked to him about you.”
Sandler’s hand flew up to his mouth, covering a gasp. “What did he say?”
“He said your name—he said it like a prayer.”
“Oh my God,” Sandler said softly, tears flowing freely down his cheeks now. “Oh my God, oh my God.” He clutched his head in his hands and rocked back and forth, completely overwhelmed.
Donnelly sat silently for a few minutes, letting Sandler absorb what he had said. “He repeated your name over and over again. It brought him such joy.”
Sandler took another few moments before he was able to speak again. “How… how is he?”
Donnelly took a deep breath. “I don’t know. He seemed… delicate? He didn’t seem well, but he was clearly aware of his surroundings. He asked me to… help him.”
“We have to rescue him,” Sandler said. “We have to find a way to get him out of there.”
“We will. I promise you that.”
Sandler nodded, but though he tried to speak several times, he was unable to form words.
“I’m going to go join Ethan and Kerry. Take as long as you need, okay? Then we’ll get to work figuring out how to get Trevor free.”
Sandler nodded and sat back in the chair, eyes to the ceiling.
Donnelly went into the restaurant and found Brandt and Kerry sitting at a table in a far corner, away from other diners.
“Did Sandler get lost?” Kerry asked as he approached the table.
“I wanted to tell him about my morning before he came in—give him some time to process it.”
“Bad news?” Brandt asked, his brow furrowed empathetically.
“No, I think it’s pretty good news, actually. But we need to figure out what comes next.” He brought them up to speed on his morning with the Hendricks family.
Sandler joined them just as Donnelly was wrapping up, and they listened to Brandt describe his conversation with Schwegler. Then Sandler summarized their conversation with the doctor himself.
“He’s still taking new patients,” Sandler said.
“And he’s still making promises about how his protocol will cure them,” Kerry added.
“I’m surprised he would admit that,” Brandt said, “given that your company is pursuing legal action. I would have thought he would be a little more circumspect in talking to you about it.”
“Well, we were very subtle about that aspect of things,” Kerry replied, looking at the tablecloth. “It didn’t make sense to go in with those guns blazing if we wanted answers, right?”
“Kerry was terrific,” Sandler blurted. “Now, what’s next?”
“Well, here’s what we know. Dr. Rauthmann is indeed implementing his protocol despite evidence provided by Kerry’s company that it causes irreparable harm. The director of the clinic is concerned, but his concern won’t stop Rauthmann in the short term from continuing his horrible work. Finally, Trevor is here, at the hotel near the clinic, and has an appointment at the clinic tomorrow for a treatment that we have every reason to believe will leave him mentally and emotionally damaged, and likely suicidal. Gabriel will be having dinner with him tonight, which may be our only chance at him before he’s taken to the clinic tomorrow.” He looked around the table. “Does that about sum it up?”
There were nods all around, though Sandler’s was slower than the rest—the part about Trevor being suicidal had clearly shaken him.
“The question before us, then, is how can we keep Trevor from being taken to the clinic tomorrow?”
“We could phone in a bomb threat,” Kerry said casually.
Donnelly jumped and stared across the table, stunned.
“Let me rephrase that,” Brandt said sternly. “How can we keep Trevor from being taken to the clinic tomorrow without committing a felony?”
“Oh, so now there are all kinds of conditions,” Kerry replied. “I thought we were brainstorming.” She smiled, and even Sandler got a chuckle out of her attempt to lighten the mood.
“Is there a way we can bring more attention to his work, to embarrass the clinic into shutting him down immediately?” Sandler asked.
“I don’t get the sense that Dr. Schwegler is likely to be swayed by the media spotlight,” Brandt replied. “The guy is pretty unflappable. I was only able to get him to look into Rauthmann’s practice when I calmly pointed out the number of suicides that have followed his treatment. He didn’t respond to emotion, only logical argument.”
They all looked at him expectantly.
“I’ll warn you up front that those of you who are sticklers for proper legal procedure are probably not going to like it….”
And then all eyes were on Brandt, who rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. “Can we just do this without all the drama, please?”
“As you wish, sir,” Donnelly replied with a teasing obedience in his voice. He laid out his plan to the group, and by the time he finished, there was a sober silence all round.
“So, that’s how I think it could work. What do you think?”
“You can put me down for ‘Hell yeah,’” Kerry announced without a moment’s hesitation.
“I would do all of that and more if it meant getting him out of there,” Sandler said solemnly.
They turned to Brandt.
“I counted seventeen places where things could go disastrously wrong,” he said flatly.
Both Kerry and Sandler looked crestfallen.
Donnelly looked him in the eye. “So, you in or are you out?”
They all looked at him, not a breath being drawn around the table.
“In, of course,” Brandt answered with a chuckle and a shake of his head, as if surprised that the question needed to be asked at all. “But we have a lot of work to do.”
“Fuck yeah,” Kerry said, and held up her hand for high fives all around. “Break it down, chief. Where do we start?”
Brandt took a deep breath before answering. “From the beginning. We start there and work our way through. If we hit a wall, we back up and think through it again. Before we leave this table, the plan needs to be bulletproof.”
“You don’t think there will be guns, do you?” Sandler asked, clearly spooked.
“Not unless someone goes rogue on us,” Brandt replied, deadly serious. But then he burst out laughing. “Just pulling your leg, Sandler. I don’t foresee having to do anything more than a few warning shots over people’s heads.”
“My sociopath fiancé is trying to make a joke,” Donnelly said, then turned and punched Brandt in the arm. “Stop that.”
“All right, all right,” Brandt replied, holding up his hands in surrender. “Let’s get started. The first move is yours, Gabriel. Take us through it.”