by R. J. Blain
I twitched, and judging from the expressions of my friends and family, Dr. Castor had lit a fire under every ass at the table. “How many people do you think will escape this?”
“Wealthy and old families will, as a general rule, be able to escape it. Private clinics and hospitals should still exist, and they’ll probably be operated by some of the greatest minds in the industry. Public hospitals will be poorly operated and controlled by insurance companies. They’ll also be more expensive than the private clinics, but the private clinics won’t accept those with poor credit. The military hospitals will be great; they’ll want their soldiers healthy so they can perform in the field.” Dr. Castor wrinkled her nose, went to the kitchen, and brought back a carafe of coffee, which she served. As promised, she made me a hot cocoa spiced with cinnamon and hint of hot peppers. “The idea is to leave just enough of an intact lower class to perform necessary functions to support the military and wealthy families who exist outside of the military structure. We are of the opinion that eliminating and controlling the entire medical system is one way the government can go about accomplishing their goals. The government forgot they don’t control everything, but the only way we could make certain Janette could be treated was to make her disappear for a while.”
Mrs. Hampton spewed curses, and she eyed her purse.
“Please don’t turn your purse into a projectile, Willamina,” Mr. Hampton said, smiling at his wife. “I’m pretty sure Dr. Castor wouldn’t have set this up without having an idea of what to do about it.”
“How perceptive of you,” the doctor complimented. “As a matter of fact, yes. There is something you can do.”
“What can we do to help?” I asked, wondering if whatever the woman had in mind might help balance the scales somewhat.
“There are certain politicians who might be able to help us, but they cannot be caught doing so. I have received positive indications from a few, who are willing to let us have access to more sensitive documentation to help prove what the government is attempting to do before it is turned to law and the United States of America becomes a giant war machine. More so than it already is. However, we can’t get caught gathering the information, nor can we show any signs we’re aware this is what the government may be angling for. As such, we’re going to have to steal the information.” Dr. Castor winced. “That sounds bad, but it’s less stealing and more picking up files helpfully left out when you go to interview them about their relationships with the killed politicians you’ve been looking into, especially as you have been given the government’s blessings to investigate those cases.”
The longer I thought about it, the more I wondered which side Senator Westonhaus batted for. “What do you think of Senator Westonhaus?”
“He is not to be trusted.”
Well, that matched some of my beliefs at any rate. “May I ask why?”
“Certainly. The medical bills are his brainchild. He’s fully behind making certain the only citizens of the United States to thrive—and survive—are those who serve a purpose. He values medical care, services like libraries, and so on, but he loathes the freeloaders who make use of those services. He would prefer if librarians existed only to serve men like him, and that doctors are available only for those who can afford them without needing a loan. He has a few redeeming qualities, although not enough for me to overlook his lack of regard for all human life. I swore an oath.”
I wasn’t a doctor, but in many ways, so had I. “And the whole thing with the goats?”
Dr. Castor smiled at me. “You love animals as much as you love people. We could have used any animal, and you would have insisted on stopping to help, but goats are wonderfully naughty and troublesome, especially the goats we used for that stunt. All of them have been cared for well and sent to good homes, and the owner has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, of course. In reality, he went back home to Germany, where he will enjoy time with his family, with no intentions of returning to the United States. He is a US citizen, but it’s simply safer for us medical types overseas right now. Politicians aren’t the only ones coming to an abrupt end, and wise doctors are moving abroad if they do not agree with the government’s grand scheme.”
The more Dr. Castor told me, the more I worried about the fate of my country. “And you think stealing these files will help?”
“Yes. They are the pieces of legislature being passed without public awareness. It’s this part of the system they are protesting. Once the documents have been liberated, copies need to be distributed to the media. At the same time, you can work to find out why those politicians were being murdered and bring the killers to justice. Yes, we mimicked what the serial killers were doing because we could. It’s worked better than we could hope for—nobody expects a bunch of doctors to get together and target a politician, and the perception we planted of you preventing a shooting gave us the wiggle room we needed to make it appear as though the attack was botched. We hadn’t known they were going to make another hit at the same time.”
I regarded the scar on my arm with a wrinkled nose. “Someone needs to teach me not to jump in front of bullets for asshole politicians. I’m a slow study. Jumping in front of bullets for nice people? I should do that. But these politicians are starting to piss me off.”
“You’d still try to save even the asshole politicians,” Beatrice muttered. “You’re utterly incapable of not helping when you can.”
“You might be my favorite bitch, but you’re still a bitch, Beatrice.”
“Come to my office in a few weeks, and I’ll show you bitchy.”
“But will you be showing me bitchy while feeding me that coffee I like?”
“Yes.”
“It’s a date.”
Beatrice scratched her head. “Is this the kind of date I tell Mickey I’m going on or not?”
I eyed Bradley. “Good question. Hey, Bradley? I’m going on a date with Beatrice.”
“Just don’t get into any trouble without me,” he replied. “If you’re going to get into any trouble, it’s helpful if I’m around to support you during your troublemaking efforts.”
“Can I bring Bradley? He could have a play date with Mickey.”
“That’s a good idea. Let’s call that a plan.”
“Girls,” my mother chided. “Settle down. You can plan your play date with your fiancés later.”
I shut my mouth with a click of my teeth.
“That leads me to the next item I wanted to discuss with you,” Dr. Castor admitted. “We’ve already gotten one piece of documentation from a politician, although through less-than-legal means. However, its contents are fairly disturbing.”
“What contents?” Mrs. Hampton asked.
“Essentially, if passed, it will bar all Americans from leaving the country without government permission under the guise of protection due to unrest abroad. The definition of unrest abroad is so vague somebody could sneeze and it would classify as unrest. It’s being touted as a way of protecting Americans. We’re concerned it will be passed sooner than later to prevent citizens from fleeing the country while the rest of the legislation is being passed. It would also tie up the courts for years, giving time for the legislation to be to make it through the system before the new laws can be challenged, because a law cannot be challenged until someone with the means to fight it is barred from leaving the country.”
I could read behind the lines. “So people with moderate to high wealth will be able to come and go as they please, but the lower classes would not be able to leave?”
“Initially, yes. I feel they’ll cut off everyone from traveling closer to the draft dates,” Dr. Castor stated. “At this stage, the best you can do is avoid meeting the requirements for being drafted and hope for the best, unless we can somehow find a way to put an end to these secret bills before they become law.”
Meridian raised her hand. “May I ask a question?”
“Of course.”
“Why are you so certain th
ere are secret bills?”
“How else do you think the initial caste system came to be in the United States? If the people had known about it before it became law, they would have fought it from top to the bottom. People adapted to the laws they couldn’t challenge—or that benefited them once they were put into place. But that’s not in the history books you’ve read, is it? No, the laws that were passed did so under the radar, being signed into law by the President. Freedom died in the United States, not with a scream, a bang, or a whisper, but with the scratching of a pen. All this legislation will do is deal the killing blow. In a few days, I will return home, where I will be safe from the machinations of a government that has lost its way. But before I go, I want to give you a chance to change what I can’t.”
“But what makes you think we can change anything?” I blurted.
“You already have, that’s why. I have it from a very good source that Senator Maybelle’s death was supposed to be highlighted as a reason to bar Americans from traveling abroad, a plan concocted in the hours after her death by the government to cover up their lack of involvement with her murder. You changed their plan, because nobody expected a librarian to become a hero—or that exsanguinators could work medical miracles live on television. The government couldn’t erase your act of heroism, so now you’re in a position to do something about what they’ve started. You didn’t start this, but you’re in a unique position to be able to finish it. But the first thing we need to learn is the truth, and that means going straight to the top.”
TWENTY
I like this politician, and that makes me feel dirty.
To seek out and learn the truth, Dr. Castor had a list of five names, including one senator and four representatives, all men who came from old, wealthy families. Like the Hamptons, they made use of contracts to continue the family line. Unlike the Hamptons, they stood to lose a lot should the government turn our country into a militant state.
Senator Thaddens of Michigan owned and operated numerous chains of retail stores, with the bulk of his business targeting lower and middle earning Americans. Representative Forsythe of Alabama owned an American-made automobile company supplying discounted but good parts to lower income families needing to maintain older vehicles. Representative Dareth of New York lived and breathed charitable causes, and he worked the stock market and investments, betting on the little guys to make a big fortune.
Without the little guys, his empire would inevitably fall.
Representative Dimitris of Texas had started life as a rancher, worked his way up to designer leather products, and believed in giving back to the public as often as possible, usually focusing his efforts on making other Texan ranches as successful as his, no matter which side of the fence the ranchers supported.
Last but not least, Representative Allany of Nevada built his empire on the lost fortunes of the poor and rich alike, operating one of the major casino chains in Las Vegas. According to Dr. Castor, Allany’s mission in life involved creating a utopia, one where everybody could afford to come to his casinos two weeks out of every year for luxury time in paradise.
It sounded crazy to me, but Representative Allany also believed in paying back to the community, and he held the Nevada record for having the highest number of employees, doing more than his fair share at keeping homeless rates down.
The homeless couldn’t gamble, and he wanted to build his empire on a foundation made of stone and success. As such, he took the money he scalped from the rich to lift up the poor so the poor might one day come into his establishment and gamble their excess money away before returning to their mundane, boring, but comfortable daily lives.
I tapped my finger to the profile sheet Dr. Castor had made of Representative Allany. “If you told me this guy likes public libraries, I might actually have some appreciation for a twisted politician.”
Dr. Castor nodded. “He loves libraries. He fully funded the Las Vegas library for a period of five years, including the renovations to all of its branch buildings. He also works to make certain the local government continues to fairly pay and support librarians. Educated people make better employees, and he’s in the business of making businesses. Whenever he has a business opportunity that lets him hire new employees, he takes it, as long as he can afford it. He bases these projects on a percentage of his profits, so the better he does, the more people he hires. Since he’s out to improve the bottom line, funding public libraries and other crucial public services is a huge part of his operations. He’s been doing a phenomenal job in Las Vegas, honestly. Crime rates have dropped, employment rates have gone up, new businesses are flourishing, and all of these things are driving tourism to his casinos.”
“Well, damn. Bradley? I like this politician, and that makes me feel dirty.”
“Well, you do have an unreasonable love of libraries.”
“Unreasonable?” I wrinkled my nose at him. “My love of libraries is not unreasonable.”
Ajani, as though sensing Bradley would earn a scolding if he kept it up, jumped onto my lap and purred in a bid for attention, which I immediately gave her. Bradley held out his hand to his mother, who produced a cat brush from her purse, thus sparing my hand from a mauling.
“It’s so unreasonable you used a kitten to gain entry,” he teased. “And then you allowed the kitten to ruthlessly take over.”
“But she’s such a good fluffy goddess. Look, she even missed me. I haven’t been horribly mauled over my absence. This is evidence that she loves me.”
“She is a good fluffy goddess,” Bradley agreed. “And yes, she does love you. But, just because a politician likes and support libraries does not mean they’re a good person.”
I faked sniffling, I pouted, and after a moment, I quivered my lip.
“That was a really good effort, but you can’t fool me, Janette.”
“But he likes libraries.”
“According to the donations Senator Westonhaus also likes libraries, but we have all come to the general conclusion that he is a dick.”
I laughed at Bradley’s choice of words. “I prefer to think of him as an asshole.”
“That’s fair,” he replied. “He is an asshole, in my not-so-humble opinion.”
“Beyond their altruism, what’s so special about these men, Dr. Castor?”
“Their altruism is what makes them so special, although all of them have stated, to certain people in the medical industry with a known concern for the state of the system, that they might have more information on the subject available. All of them, at least according to Mrs. Hampton, have sent cards following Senator Maybelle’s death, although you had disappeared by the time they arrived. Such interesting timing.”
“Do they know you were being a naughty doctor, Dr. Castor?” I asked, raising a brow.
“I am merely stating that at some point in time, money from their bank accounts may have wandered into one of my bank accounts, and as we are not complete and total idiots, these transactions were handled at banks in Switzerland on a long weekend where I gave a speech during your recovery. Dr. Yvon handled your care then, and he kept you amused with kittens.”
Damn it, I had missed a bunch of kittens? “You’ve broken my heart now. I can deal with forgetting about the pain and the agony and the suffering, but the kittens?”
“You didn’t think your fluffy goddess would handle sharing well,” the woman replied with laughter in her voice. “You were also the one who suggested against interacting with politicians, as they were dangerous entities, but it was too important a chance to ignore.”
“I love I was being sensible, but I hate I can’t remember being sensible,” I admitted. “And you’re right. Ajani probably wouldn’t like other cats. She must be the favorite cat with her choice of human servants. Then again, I could be wrong. Apparently, Ajani loves goats. I can’t really blame her. Goats are adorable.”
“Anyway, as it stands, I will be returning to Europe within the next few days. Some of my colleagues will use
my home for a while before I sell it, as I do not see myself returning due to the current political climate. During the discussion phase of the research convention, I expect it will be moved to Canada or Mexico—safer choices, all things considered.”
“Assuming we can leave the country at all by then,” Meridian muttered.
“That is a concern, yes. Should any of your number wish to escape the United States while it’s possible, I can help with the process to move into Spain. The Spanish government has already begun implementing refugee protocols for citizens of the United States, as some of the documentation has been leaked abroad.”
I frowned and narrowed my eyes.
Bradley’s mother asked, “Why hasn’t that documentation made it to the United States media?”
“I wish I had an answer to that question, but I don’t. I recommend searching the internet for more details and using the media of other countries to get some of your news moving forward. Oh, and Bradley?”
“Yes, Dr. Castor?”
“Ten thousand steps a day keeps the angry doctors at bay.”
“Understood, ma’am.”
Sometime after the cocoa, I clocked out with my cat on a couch. I had a faint recollection of Bradley luring me to a vehicle with some form of hot beverage, but everything after was a blur. I regained the semblance of general coherency back at the hotel room, and Ajani attacked my hands beneath the covers, one of her ways of informing me she needed to be fed immediately but preferably sooner.
Fortunately for me, somebody had trimmed her claws, sparing the hotel from blood on their sheets.
“Good girl,” Bradley praised, and he pet my fluffy goddess.