The Spirit Survives

by Gary Williams Ramsey

  When he came out of the room, I approached him. “I’m Ben Harris. Leah is my fiancée. What just happened? She seemed okay earlier.”

  He extended his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Harris, I’m Dr Lowell Jackson. I’m on emergency room duty now. I’ll report this to Dr. Batka, and I’m sure that he’ll advise you given that your fiancée is his patient. It’s evident to me that the lady is suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD sufferers re-experience the traumatic event in some way and a panic attack occurs. I injected a sedative and we’ll start her on Klupophin to keep her calm until further treatment can be determined.”

  I rubbed my eyes and sat down in the closest chair.

  “Are you okay?” Dr. Jackson seemed concerned.

  “I’ll be fine,” I answered.

  “Listen Mr. Harris, I have other patients to attend to, but I asked Nurse O’Brian to call Dr. Batka and ask him to come to the hospital. He’ll give you more specific information when he gets here. Just sit out here until he arrives.”

  He walked away and as I got up from the chair and turned around, the nurse came out of Leah’s room.

  “She’s resting comfortably now,” she said. “Dr. Batka should be here within an hour. Can I get you anything? You’re white as a sheet.”

  “No, I’ll just wait here for the doctor,” I said.

  There was only one other person in the waiting area, a grey-haired man, probably in his sixties wearing a T-shirt reading, “Texas ain’t no place for amateurs.” He was intently watching the TV mounted on the wall. The T-shirt gave me a little smile since I had seen it one time before.

  I heard the ding of the elevator and glanced in that direction. Getting off the elevator was Dr. Batka and a lady in her thirties wearing a dark blue business suit. Her black hair was pulled back in a bun, and it was impossible not to notice her large powder blue eyes.

  Dr. Batka saw me and acknowledged me with a smile. I got up and as they approached. “Mr. Harris, I want you to meet Dr. Mia Giovanni. She’s a psychiatrist, who is very experienced in treating post-traumatic stress and panic attacks. Dr Jackson briefed me on the incident with Ms. Hamilton and I agree with his prognosis that it was a panic attack brought on by her being beaten and raped.”

  I shook Dr. Giovanni’s hand. “I’m Ben Harris, nice to meet you.”

  She had a firm handshake and looked straight into my eyes. “Mr. Harris, I can tell you are very upset and you need to get some rest, otherwise you may need treatment also.”

  “I just need to know about Leah,” I said.

  She nodded. “I’ve studied Ms. Hamilton’s chart, and although I must interview her to be certain, it appears to me that she suffers from a panic disorder. The mental anguish and physical pain she suffered during her captivity left a negative impression in her mind. This panic disorder is compromised of very intense panic attacks for short durations. The person feels as if they are going to faint and even die. Symptoms may include chest pains, heart palpitations, hot and cold flashes, feelings of unreality, dizziness or faintness. Another major feature of panic disorder is that the person cannot identify the specific reasons for the attack. It feels as if it comes out of nowhere, which makes it even more terrifying to those experiencing them. You may call it post-traumatic stress disorder, or panic disorder or simply panic attacks. It all stems from the same mindset. I’ll return and speak with her when the medication wears off. I wanted to meet you to get permission to proceed, since you are the party responsible for her. I checked the hospital records and a copy of the power of attorney is not there. I understand that you just brought her in, but you need to bring a copy of the document tomorrow. Is that clear?”

  “Doctor the document is in our files at our temporary quarters at the hotel. I’ll bring it first thing in the morning.”

  “Okay,” she said. “If you agree for me to work on this case, you must sign some papers at the admission’s office.”

  I listened intently to her, “Of course you have my permission, and I’ll sign the papers, but how can I help? I want her to know I’m here for her.”

  “In most cases the patient will have to stay in a rehab center for at least two weeks. She probably will need intense therapy. Dr Batka has informed me that physically she’s fine, but of course mentally she is not. Just let me spend some time with her in the morning, and I can be more specific with you then on my recommendations.”

  “May I stay with her tonight?” I asked.

  “Sir, that’s not a good idea. Unfortunately, you will probably remind her of the traumatic experience and probably of her shame and humiliation of being raped. It’s common that being with loved ones can bring on another attack.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. However, I decided to follow whatever advice would help Leah.

  “You need to go home, get some rest and meet me back here tomorrow morning at eleven. I’ll be here at nine to talk to Leah and, depending on her responses to me, I’ll determine what my specific recommendations will be.” The entire time she was talking, she was looking straight into my eyes, hardly blinking.

  I thought for a moment and decided that I had no choice but to follow her advice to go get some rest. I looked at Dr. Batka. “If anything else happens tonight, I mean anything, you have the nurse call me, and I’ll be here immediately.” I wrote my cell number on a scrap of paper and handed it to him. He agreed and I turned and left the fourth floor as both doctors were entering Leah’s room.

  I went to admissions and signed the forms to allow Dr. Giovanni to treat Leah. I told the lady behind the desk that I would provide the power of attorney papers first thing in the morning. She said that she understood and kindly consented to call a cab for me. I had the taxi driver stop by the Residence Inn where I picked up the document. During the taxi ride back to the hotel, I was trying to process all the things that had happened for the last two days. I was so tired that my body was rebelling against my attempts to solve problems and make decisions. I paid the taxi driver and went straight to my room. The first thing I did when I got to the room was to fill a glass with ice and Jack Daniels. I rested on the couch and sipped the drink. I placed my feet up on the couch, turned on the TV with the remote, and took a long pull from the glass of bourbon. I set the glass on the coffee table and closed my eyes for a moment. I was out like a light.

  I was back in the cave and the wolf was licking my hand, as I rubbed his head. The snake was in front of us, consuming a huge rat and the rat’s eyes were bulging while the venom rendered him motionless. Then the dream skipped to a meadow where Leah and I were sitting on a blanket having a picnic. The wolf lay on the corner of the blanket sleeping. I looked at the cloudless sky and felt the cool breeze against my skin when I heard a scream. I looked at Leah and half of her leg was in the snake’s mouth. He was swallowing her. I tried to move to pull him off but my body wouldn’t respond. I was frozen in place while he swallowed her whole. I tried to yell repeatedly and finally got out a grunt.

  The grunt was more of a shout and that awoke me from the nightmare. I sat up on the couch and wiped the cold sweat from my head. “Oh God!” I repeated several times. I got up from the couch, went to the coffee maker, put in grounds and water and turned it on. I glanced at my watch—7:00 a.m.

  I went to the bathroom, undressed and turned on the shower as hot as I could stand. I stood under the steaming water for ten minutes, washed myself, got out and dried with a towel. I wrapped the towel around my waist and moved back to the kitchen and poured a cup of hot black coffee. After one cup, I prepared a couple of slices of toast, ate them with another cup of coffee. I wasn’t hungry but I needed something to settle my stomach. After a third cup of coffee, I got dressed in fresh jeans and a polo shirt. By eight o’clock I was in my rental car heading to the hospital. “How Do You Mend a Broken Heart” by the Bee Gees was playing on the radio. Go figure.

  * * *

  I arrived at the hospital at 8:30 a.m., dropped off the power of attorney and went to t
he familiar waiting area on the fourth floor. Leah’s door was closed. At precisely 9:00 a.m., I heard the elevator door open and Dr. Giovanni exited. She saw me and advanced to where I was sitting.

  “Good morning, Doctor,” I greeted her.

  “Good morning,” she answered. “I can understand your concern, Mr. Harris. You look much better than you did yesterday. I’m going to be with Ms. Hamilton for probably a couple of hours. You can wait here or you can go get something to eat and come back. It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll just wait here,” I replied.

  I waited anxiously for about an hour and a half. It seemed like a lifetime to me.

  Finally, Dr. Giovanni came out of the room looking grave. She sat on the chair beside me. “Mr. Harris, first let me assure you that Leah will be okay. She has suffered several traumatic experiences. It’s just going to take a little time before her mind accepts that she’s safe. She may seem completely normal for awhile and then suddenly, without warning, have a panic attack. I’m recommending to you that she enter a rehab center for probably two weeks. I’ll treat her and she will be under the care of professionals twenty-four hours a day. I have a business association at Lyndow Recovery Center here in Houston. They have an exceptional reputation for treatment that Leah needs. With your permission, we can have her transferred there tomorrow morning.”

  ”Of course I agree. May I see her now?”

  “I’m sorry Mr. Harris,” she said, “It’s best that you don’t talk to her or see her for the two weeks I think she requires for treatment. Unfortunately, you’re a reminder of the incidents and her shame of being raped. She loves you, but we don’t need any emotional incidents or distractions until we can get her straightened out. I promise you she will be okay. Trust me please; I’ve handled many cases similar to this one.”

  I sat silently for a moment and then replied. “Okay Doctor, I understand. However, I want a daily report from you.”

  She nodded. “Certainly.”

  I gave her my cell number, and she assured me again that her prognosis was for a full recovery. I accompanied her to the admission’s desk and signed the essential papers. There was nothing left for me to do now but to go back to the hotel and plan my next moves.

  Revenge is mine, sayeth the Lord, but I think in this case, I’ll assist Him with this revenge. There’s going to be hell to pay.

  Chapter 81

  Sergey and his wife Allisa returned from a formal dinner with the mayor, who had sponsored a benefit for retarded children for the city of Chicago. Although he had committed ten-thousand dollars to the charity during the dinner, Sergey did it only to cement his reputation with the mayor. He couldn’t care less about the stupid kids. As he walked to the bedroom to get out of the tux, his cell phone rang. He noticed that the signal for a text message was highlighted. Sergey opened the message and saw the phone number and the code, which signified to him that his most trusted police contact urgently needed to talk to him. He walked out on the balcony to return the call when Allisa entered the room. “What are you doing? she asked.

  “Business,” he said as he closed the sliding door.

  Allisa knew to leave him alone when he was conducting business. She shrugged and went into the bathroom to change.

  Sergey punched in the phone number, and as soon as he heard the click of the receiver, he repeated the code. The familiar voice of his police informant came on the line.

  “You’ve got trouble,” he said. “Viadislav Lenechka, whom you call Cheche, is in the custody of the FBI and the Houston police. Your man Bern has been shot and killed and his two associates are in custody. Cheche was holding a captive named, Leah Hamilton, who is the fiancée of a former Houston cop by the name of Ben Harris. Harris and Special Agent Gerry Stewart, who is the special agent in charge of the Houston Regional Offices, made the bust. As far as I can determine, none of them have talked. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to, but you better hope they don’t talk.”

  “Don’t concern yourself with that,” Sergey retorted. “They know if they say a word, I’ll make them suffer a fate worse than any prison term.”

  “If they connect you to this scheme, I won’t be able to protect you,” the policeman replied. “Your best bet is to get to this Ben Harris and his fiancée and eliminate them. If you need help doing this, I have someone in mind who will be so disconnected from you that you’ll never have to worry. She’s the turncoat FBI agent who brought Bo Lopez and the girl to you. I assure you that she can be trusted, and she’s an excellent terminator.”

  “What’s her full name so I can have her checked out?” Sergey demanded.

  “You’re going to have to trust me on this,” was the aggravated reply. “You can call her Macy. That’s all you need to know.”

  Sergey understood that he had few options, and with Bern dead he wasn’t sure who he could trust. He bristled at the tone this two-bit cop was taking with him, but he gritted his teeth and said, “Okay, how can I make contact with her?”

  “I’ll have her call you within thirty minutes. Keep your powder dry. We’ll get you out of this mess. I expect to be rewarded beyond my normal fee,” he said.

  Sergey agreed and they hung up. Sergey didn’t like anyone giving him orders. When this little problem was behind him, he would teach this overbearing bastard what it’s like to give Sergey Ivanova orders. He might even let the jellyfish give him a little love bite.

  When he walked back into the bedroom, Allisa was sitting on the bed wearing black lace lingerie, which barely covered her creamy white breasts. “Are you coming to bed now?” she sighed.

  Sergey looked at her, repeated the word again, “Business!” and walked out of the room.

  “Where are you going?” he heard her call out. Without responding he left the house, got into his vehicle and drove to his condominium. He walked by security without smiling or speaking and took the elevator to his condo. When he entered the living area, Melissa Browning, his lovely southern mistress was sitting on the couch drinking wine. There was a tray with an assortment of cheese and bread on the coffee table in front of her. Melissa was wearing an expensive yellow cotton sweater over fashionable black designer jeans. She was barefoot and looked like the sexy girl-next-door that every teenage boy dreams of. “I didn’t expect you tonight, but I’m pleased to see you,” she purred. “To be honest, I’m horny.”

  Sergey strolled to the couch, took the wine glass from her hand and set it on the coffee table. He put his arms underneath her, picked her up like a baby and carried her to the master bedroom. He threw her on the bed and began to remove his shirt when his cell phone rang. “Shit,” he grumbled, seized his phone from his pocket and answered it. “Who is the hell if this?” he growled.

  “This is Macy. I understand you want to do some business with me.”

  He walked out of the bedroom, shut the door and moved to the bar. “Hold on,” he said as he grabbed a glass, took a chilled bottle of Diva vodka out of the bar fridge and filled it half full. Sergey took a long pull, swallowed it and said, “Yes, I need to do some business.”

  “Our mutual friend briefed me. I just need for you to be specific. What do you want and what are you willing to pay?” Macy asked.

  “I need for you to make sure that Ben Harris and his girlfriend cannot do any harm to my reputation, ever,” he replied. “I’m willing to pay one-hundred thousand for each of them to be silenced, but first I need to understand what Harris knows and who he has given information to.”

  “I can arrange a meeting between you and Harris, and you can determine for yourself what he knows. I’m sure you’re good at that,” Macy said laughing. “The girl is a different matter. She’s presently in a rehab center, and I can’t get to her for a couple of weeks, but she can’t say anything to harm you while she’s there. Let’s handle Harris first and I can take care of the girl the day she gets out.”

  Sergey was silent about a moment, “How in the hell can you set up a meeting with Harris and me?”<
br />
  “Just leave the particulars to me,” she said. “You’ll have to trust me on this.”

  Sergey didn’t trust anyone and now he had been asked twice in the span of an hour to trust people who were, in fact, turncoats and liars. Once again, he bit his lip and agreed to her terms. He would figure out a way to get even when this imminent threat was eliminated. “Okay, do it your own damn way!”

  “I’ll call you as soon as I get the meeting set up,” Macy replied and hung up.

  Sergey hurled the phone to the floor and drained the glass of vodka. He had never been this close to being discovered as Russian Mafia, let alone the rape that the girl could accuse him of and the Lopez murder that he committed while she was in the condo.

  He needed distraction and he knew precisely where to find it. He placed the glass on the bar, and walked back to the bedroom. He opened the door and Melissa lay there, naked, her long blonde hair spread on the satin pillow. Her body was beautifully tanned and was only creamy white in the places where her skimpy bikini shielded it from the sun.

  She looked over at him, slowly spread her legs and whispered, “What took you so long?”

  At this moment Sergey fully understood why he spent so much money on this nymph. She was worth every penny. He nearly tore off his clothes and joined her. The sex was so violent that Melissa would have a difficult time hiding the bruises with make up and clothing.

  Tonight will cost him the two caret diamond ring I’ve been admiring at Tiffany’s. The bruises will heal but a diamond lasts forever, she thought.

  She heard Sergey showering and knew that he would leave without a word. She glanced at the end table beside the bed to check the time. Lying just below the clock was his Platinum American Express Card with a note attached. “Have fun and buy yourself something pretty,” it read. She smiled and closed her lovely eyes.

  * * *

  Macy sat at the rolling table that room service had brought with her dinner. The bowl that held the lobster bisque was empty. There were two bites left of the rare filet mignon on her plate. The bread was untouched. She smiled and poured another glass of the Dom Perignon from the half-empty bottle. She knew that when she went back to the regular service of the FBI, dinners like this would be rare. She slid back the chair, took her glass with her and walked to the bed where her purse was lying. She took another long sip of the sparking paradise and set the glass on the end table. She searched through her purse and pulled out the secure phone that she used only to call Peter Branson. Macy pushed the speed dial and waited for him to answer.