The Face Transplant

by R Arundel

  Sal and Wiggie have recovered. Both are running toward her. Sarah realizes she has not cut Wiggie’s carotid, and she runs down the abandoned street. Sal is surprisingly agile. He has a slight build, but Sarah does not realize until now that he is in reasonable shape. He is closing the distance, but she is nearing the next street. It is a straight foot race, winner take all. Sarah is athletic and quick. Wiggie is behind, screaming expletives. Sal is slowly but surely losing ground, and he holds his right groin.

  Sarah glances back, feeling the fatigue. Sal is running again. If anything his pace is quickening, but he cannot close the gap. Sarah gets to the road. Wiggie has caught up to Sal, but they slow and move into the shadows.

  Sarah looks up and sees a car. The headlights are directly approaching her. As the car slows, Sarah feels a surge of joy. She is tired, but she did it. She is free.

  Peter is coming home late from work. At least that’s what he tells his wife. He has been seeing Ginger for a few months. One night here, one night there, nothing serious. He tells himself he loves his wife, their two boys. He just needs a break.

  Ginger is nice and likes nice things. He hasn’t told his wife he is three months behind on the mortgage payments because he has bought Ginger a few of those nice things. She just has expensive tastes, and when she gets to know him better, she will cost less. Then he will get back to paying the mortgage. And dropping off his sons at football practice. He had a few beers at Ginger’s place, but is sure he isn’t drunk now. In front of him, in the middle of the street, is a very beautiful young woman in black underwear and a white blouse. She has white hair that is bizarre, but on her it looks amazing. He slows and sees she has a crazed, desperate look. It is a real turn on. Probably the drugs. She is a street prostitute. He tries to remember how much money is in his wallet. Only $20. He had given Ginger $500 tonight. She needed some things she said. What could he get for $20? He slows his car. Probably she’s desperate, and she’ll take anything. Then again, she looks high class. Probably not much for a twenty. But something’s better than nothing. He had chosen this route since the area is deserted. No chance anyone will spot his car in this place. He definitely could stop. I wonder if she takes credit. Come to think of it, his credit is overdrawn, a tanning bed for Ginger.

  She looks desperate, maybe she would take $20. This is too good to be true. She doesn’t look like a prostitute. She is way too high class. Maybe this is an undercover cop. Maybe this is a trap. He is no criminal, and he doesn’t want to go to jail. He presses the accelerator and speeds away. What is he thinking? He is a married man after all.

  Sarah cannot believe her luck. There are no other cars on the road, and the area is deserted. She feels a vice-like grip on her arm. Sal holds her tightly with Wiggie close behind. Wiggie has his left hand on his neck; there is blood all over his clothes. Wiggie smiles. Sarah never noticed before how yellow and misshapen his teeth are.

  Sarah is bound firmly to her chair. Sal ties her up even more tightly than Wiggie. In the meantime Wiggie has put a makeshift bandage around his neck. He is calm, almost sober.

  Wiggie speaks very softly. “Leave us.”

  Sal looks at Sarah. He remains.

  Sarah knows she’s in serious trouble. “The guy in the car is going to call 911. The police are going to be here any minute.”

  Wiggie unleashes a punch to Sarah’s right jaw. The area goes numb, and Sarah sees stars. She tries to open and close her jaw. She remembers from medical school that if your teeth don’t fit together after a punch to the jaw, there is a good chance that the jaw has been broken. It’s funny the useful things she learned in medical school. She tries to open and close her mouth.

  Very softly, she hears Wiggie. “Leave us now, Sal, thank you.”

  Sal leaves.

  Sarah can smell Wiggie’s breath, a nasty stench like rotten eggs. The door closes very quietly, and the room is completely silent. There is no sound from the other side of the door. Sal may have left the house. Wiggie and Sarah are all alone. Wiggie rips off her white blouse. Her bra is dirty, the clasps broken. They barely hold. Her black underwear contrasts with her pale white skin. Wiggie smiles. His rancid body odor makes her gag. His hair is matted with dirt and grease.

  It looks like Wiggie is going to leave. He turns and moves toward the door. A surge of relief floods Sarah. He is disciplined. He was ordered not the harm her, and he is going to leave her alone. Then without warning, he turns and punches her. The wind leaves her body and she gasps for air. Wiggie laughs hysterically, and the mad look returns to his eyes.

  “Fooled you.”

  Wiggie then takes out a knife from his pocket. He opens the fourteen-inch knife with the thick black handle. The silver blade glistens in the light. Sharp honed steel.

  “You are going to die. But first I’m going to tell you how I’m going to kill you.”

  Sarah knows. This is it. She is relaxed. She realizes she is crying and she stops. She meets his gaze and stops squirming.

  He continues to talk, but her change is now affecting him. He seems intimidated. He glances at the door, rechecks her bindings. He then picks up the knife. He has finished with talk. He is disappointed that it has not increased her fear as he had hoped, but whatever, he still is going to enjoy it.

  She sees the excitement in his eyes. She prays it will be quick.

  At that moment the door bursts open. Wiggie is furious. His back to the door, he has his knife above Sarah’s left cheek.

  Wiggie yells, “Sal, get out of here before I give you—”

  Wiggie does not finish the sentence. The knife is ripped from his arm and he is spun around. The upper cut to his face is so forceful it knocks him off his chair. Wiggie falls to the ground. The wound in his neck begins to ooze. Mr. Page is a muscular man. He drags Wiggie from the room by his hair.

  Mr. Page, “You idiot, I told you she was not to be hurt, not unless I tell you.”

  “Sorry. She tried to escape.”

  Mr. Page gives him a backhanded slap.

  “Sal called me, I know. So what?” says Mr. Page.

  Mr. Page’s arms are full of tattoos. Brightly colored, very artistic. A dragon eating his tail on his left forearm. He is a weightlifter and the use of anabolic steroids has given his arms a size three times larger than the average man. He makes a fist and brings it down on Wiggie’s nose. The sound of the bones shattering is like a crispy cracker being crunched.

  “You’re an idiot.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Page.”

  “I give the orders. If she ends up dead, we’ll all be dead.” Mr. Page continues, “We’re not working for chumps on this one.”

  He removes a large black Smith & Wesson Magnum from his pants. “Should I kill you right here?”

  At this range the gun will blow a hole the size of a football through Wiggie.

  “I’m sorry, I got confused. Look, she cut me.”

  Sal interjects, “She tried to escape. She tried to kill Wiggie. Let him live.”

  Wiggie begins to cry. “Please, don’t do it, I’m sorry.”

  Mr. Page looks around. “Did anyone see her when she got out?”

  Wiggie responds too quickly. “No, we got her before she left the yard.”

  Mr. Page points the weapon at Sal. “Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “I swear, there was no one; it’s the middle of the night,” says Wiggie.

  “You’re very lucky Sal called me. If she had been injured in any way . . .”

  “Sal’s great, I love him. Sorry, Mr. Page.”

  Mr. Page hesitates, then picks up his cell phone and dials the number. This is an emergency. Sal and Wiggie are puzzled by the look of fear on Mr. Page’s face. They can hear bits and pieces of the conversation.

  “I’m sorry . . . She is safe and unharmed. No one saw nothing . . . I am sure. Thank you, sir, my bad. It will not happen again.”

  He closes his cell phone and lets out a sigh. “Wiggie, you’re a lucky mother. Lay off the rock.”
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  Mr. Page abruptly leaves, not even bothering to close the door behind him. They hear the car drive off.

  “I’m outta here. I really need some rock.”

  Sal closes the front door behind Wiggie.

  Chapter Thirty

  The next morning Sarah is treated to a big breakfast. Wiggie brings in her food. He has stitches on his neck. He loosens the ropes and throws her a bag of new clothes. Dark green skirt, a red shirt, and black panties and bra. “Thanks,” says Sarah. Wiggie turns and leaves.

  Sarah has replayed the events in her mind over and over all night. She is drained. She has hardly slept. Her chances of escape are now gone. She remembers the look of the man in the car. He was early forties. She will always see that face. She even remembers the comb-over covering his bald spot when he drove by. There is no way he is going to call the police.

  She is being kept alive to control Matthew. If they determine he is still investigating, they will bring her to the phone again, and no doubt provide better persuasion for him to stop. Wiggie and Sal cannot harm her. The blackout blinds on the windows are gone. There is no point now, since she knows the time of day. The person in charge of this phase is taking his orders from the man or woman Matthew is after. Soon, they will not have any interest in Sarah Larsson. Mr. Page allowed her to see him. That can only mean she will be killed after the time is up. Sal and Wiggie will be free to do as they please with her.

  ***

  Sal sits quietly reading a men’s magazine. Wiggie is really beginning to dislike this guy. Maybe he should get some payback after this is all over. Calling Mr. Page last night, that was plain double crossing. But maybe he did good. No doubt, Mr. Page would have killed them both if he had knifed Sarah. So maybe Sal saved his life. Whatever.

  Wiggie says, “I’m out of here, cover me.”

  “No problem,” says Sal.

  As soon as Wiggie leaves, Sal goes to Sarah’s room. She jumps when she sees Sal. It is not meal time and usually she is left alone.

  “Salvatore, please let me go.”

  Sal just stares.

  “Salvatore, please.”

  Sal’s creepy stare continues.

  ***

  Two days pass and the routine is back. Sarah eats her meals; she has a little time to walk around in the room. Wiggie is high all the time and almost unable to give any instructions. He cannot be trusted to even bring in the food tray without dropping it. He sniffles constantly. His absences from the house are more and more frequent.

  “Salvatore, let me go.”

  “Can’t do that, Sarah.” “I will tell the police that you were kind. I will ask them to go easy on you.”

  “No can do.”

  “Salvatore, please, I beg you. I’m sure they are going to kill me soon.”

  “I didn’t hear that. We’re to keep you safe.”

  “For now, yes, but later? Murder is a life sentence; you could even get the death penalty. Do you want that?”

  Silence.

  “Wiggie is a drug addict. Even if you guys get away with killing me, can he keep the secret? He is going to sell you out.”

  “I don’t think so. He’s in as deep as me.”

  “The minute he gets caught for drugs, or anything, he’s going to sell you out. He’ll tell the cops he has something. He’ll give it to them if they give him immunity. Or a lighter sentence. He’ll make a deal to save himself.”

  “I don’t think so, he’s full-in.”

  “Don’t you see? He’ll say he was never here. You did the killing; he thought it was a kidnapping. The police will believe him. He will sell you out, Salvatore, I know it.”

  Sal looks confused.

  “Salvatore, I can help you.”

  Sal replaces Sarah’s bindings and takes the tray.

  ***

  The next day Sal brings in the breakfast. Canned ham, a banana, diet lemonade.

  “Where’s Wiggie?”

  “Phoned me, not coming in today. I’m in charge.”

  “Salvatore, I grew up in Chicago. It’s a beautiful city. Where’d you grow up?”

  “Midwest, some time out east. Moved around a lot.”

  “Are your parents still alive?”

  “Don’t quite know. Never met my father. Mother had a drug habit, kind of like Wiggie. Last I spoke to her . . . Ain’t heard from her in a while.”

  “Who do you care about? A girlfriend? A grandmother?”

  “Ain’t got no girl, no relatives.”

  “Salvatore, you need to think about the future. Someday you’ll have people who care about you and who you care about. Let me help you, so you don’t end up in jail.”

  Sal slaps her hard. His eyes are wild.

  “Please, Salvatore. I like you.”

  He slaps her again. “Don’t lie to me. You’re lying like the rest. Do you think I am so dumb that I don’t know why you are being nice to me? I know you wouldn’t spend a minute looking in my direction on any other day. Well, I’m not going to kill you, but I’m gonna get to know you real good.”

  ***

  Liam says, “Agreed, it could be a trap.”

  Alice says, “I doubt that it is a trap. No other computer in the world has the technology to trace that call. It was very sophisticated. Look at the time it took me. They did not want us to know their location. We now have a good idea of who they are, their habits.”

  Liam stares at the 3-D hologram Alice has generated of Sarah’s location. Alice has produced reports on Wiggie and Sal, including photo images. “Whatever Michael’s planning is on Karakatura.”

  Kofi says, “Yes, the answer is there. If we save Sarah, it’s going to delay us. I have a feeling whatever Michael is planning is going to cost many more lives.”

  “One life versus many.” Liam looks at the hologram showing the deserted street Sarah is on. The house has rotten wooden beams, paint peeling from around the boarded-up windows.

  “We don’t know that.”

  Kofi slowly nods his head. “Yes, Matthew, I’m afraid we do. We all know that whatever this is, if it goes through, many American lives will be lost.”

  “We don’t know what this is.”

  Kofi says, “No, we don’t. But remember The Binary Sequence—bioweapons coupled with face transplants—we have some general ideas.”

  “What are our odds of a successful rescue?” says Liam.

  Matthew says, “Low, these guys are going to be armed. Probably experienced, high-level criminals. Whoever is behind this only works with the best.”

  Kofi continues to play devil’s advocate. “They could turn their guns on her as soon as we enter.”

  Liam says, “That’s my fear.”

  Matthew can’t even think about this possibility. “That’s why, if we do this, we have to commit to go in quick, with deadly force if necessary.”

  Kofi says, “No hesitation.”

  Liam asks, “Should we transplant you back to the anonymous face? Then you can investigate. Give us some more time to plan a raid for Sarah. Or if we get lucky, we solve things and then we turn over what we have to the police.”

  Matthew says, “If they start to see mystery man Steven Jardine popping up in places asking about Tom, how long do you think it will take them to put two and two together?”

  Kofi lays out the facts. “It boils down to, do we try to save one life, Sarah’s, but in doing so, lose the chance to save many lives? Whatever is planned, you wouldn’t go to this trouble unless it was major.”

  Liam adds, “We don’t even know if she is alive. I hate to say it, but she could have been killed after that first call.”

  Matthew says, “Can we leave Sarah and try to find her after we go to Karakatura?”

  Kofi says, “It may be time to stand down, Matthew.”

  “Give up?”

  “Stand down. Stop this madness.”

  Liam asks, “Do what they say?”

  “I’m saying we walk away. We’re overmatched. It’s time to bring in law enforcement.�
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  Matthew says, “I know it’s hard.”

  Liam’s stare pierces Matthew. “Hard. I haven’t seen my wife or daughters in I don’t know how long. We’re moving in shadows, and we don’t know if we’ll be caught or killed. Look at us, three doctors trying to solve this. Hard. It’s beyond hard.”

  Kofi agrees. “Matthew, it may be time to stop. Sometimes it’s best to retreat. This is beyond us. We should turn over what we have to the police. They’re the ones with resources we don’t have.”

  “And how exactly do we do that? You’re the only one they don’t know about. Liam, me, Sarah, we’re all going to jail. And that’s the best case scenario.”

  “Well, what do you propose?”

  “George H. Brown was killed on Karakatura. Michael climbed with him.”

  Kofi says, “I know what you’re saying. We may get some answers on Karakatura. A high-level friend of mine is sure Michael’s on Karakatura. Edith Clarke worked with me, and her information is, for sure, correct.”

  Liam says, “Going to Karakatura is going to put Sarah in danger. If we just stop, she may have a chance.”

  Kofi takes a deep breath. “It’s your call, Matthew.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sal has dimmed the lights and set two plates with plastic cutlery. Sarah hasn’t noticed the plastic card table near the front window until now.

  “Wine, Sarah?” “No.”

  “I’m really excited to be on our first date. The first of many. I’m not going to hurt you, promise.”

  “Salvatore, there is someone out there for you, but it’s not me. I’m tied up. This is not a date.”

  “It is a date. I love you, Sarah.”

  Sarah closes her eyes and swallows. Her shoulders are slumped, and she seems five inches shorter, a frail weak woman. She notices the knife and fork are set backward. There is dried old food on the plastic knife. She focuses on these trivialities because she can’t think about Sal’s declaration of love.