Rise of The Iron Eagle (The Iron Eagle Series Book 1)

by Roy A. Teel Jr.

  When they entered County Emergency and Jim had identified himself and who he was looking for, the nurse rolled her eyes and said, “Follow me.” She walked them back into the ER, and he could hear Barbara before he saw her… “I don’t need a fuckin’ IV; what I need is a drink.” He walked around the corner, and she was sitting on the side of a hospital gurney in the same t-shirt she was wearing the night before. She saw Jim and Steve come into the room and glared at Jim as she yelled, “YOU LEFT ME!” Her voice boomed off the walls of the ER. He walked over to her and said, “There was no way to know you were there. I’m sorry. I’m just so glad you’re okay.” Her eyes softened, and she reached her hands out to him. He approached, and she took his hands and pulled him close to her. She leaned in like she was going to kiss him but instead hauled off and smacked him in the face.

  “YOU FUCKIN’ LEFT ME, YOU SON OF A BITCH!” Her voice boomed through the ER again, only this time a nurse moved closer and said, “You yell one more time, and I’m gonna stick a needle in your ass, and you’re going to sleep. Got it?” Jim snapped back, “Jesus Christ, Barb. I didn’t know you were there. Shit…the fucker said he had Steve’s wife, her best friend, and you. She grabbed him in a huge hug and kissed his face and apologized. Steve just stood off in the corner with a look of bewilderment. “Let’s go home,” she said quietly. Jim took her hand, and Steve came over and helped her up. As she got her discharge papers, Jim heard one of the nurses comment that it was good to see her go. They all got into Jim’s car and as they drove off she said, “Thank you for coming to get me. I still can’t believe YOU LEFT ME THERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH! But I love you!”

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘The shocked look on Marty’s face

  was answer enough for Sara.’

  John walked into Starbucks at the corner of Topanga and Lassen just before six thirty a.m. He got a coffee and a copy of the Daily News, and the headline said it all, “‘Billy the Kid,’ Crips Gang Member and Serial Rapist, Body Found in Legion Park: Iron Eagle Said to Be Killer.” He shook his head, “I should really start looking for the people who leak this stuff.” He walked to a flower shop a few doors down to purchase a dozen long-stemmed red roses. His truck was parked in front of Country Deli, a local landmark for nearly fifty years. He knew the area very, very well, but he knew it for all the wrong reasons. He pulled out of the lot and headed west through the neighborhoods of oak and eucalyptus trees, following Lassen as it turned from a busy thoroughfare into a quiet neighborhood of post-World War II homes and horse properties, until he reached the entrance to Oakwood Cemetery.

  He parked his truck outside the large black wrought iron gates and the ivy covered brick walls of the cemetery and walked through the entrance and up the steep incline of the main road. He walked past a blue and white striped tent; a small backhoe sat quietly where fresh earth had been moved, and a concrete burial vault sat on the ground next to the newly-opened grave. He walked out into the cemetery grass and stopped in front of a grave marker set beneath a huge California Live Oak. He looked at the gray and white granite and its inscription, ‘Amber Lynn Swenson.’ He knelt and brushed away the fresh cut grass, so the whole inscription was revealed. ‘Loving Wife and Beautiful Soul. April 8, 1978 – March 20, 2003.’ Placing the flowers on the stone, he sat down, leaning his back against the tree. “I miss you, honey. I miss my best friend. I’m sorry I’ve been away for so long.” He heaved a sigh as a tear rolled down his face, and he whispered, “I’m still looking for him, Amber Lynn. For the man who took your life and our life together away.” He wiped the tears from his eyes, his lower lip quivering. “I know I’ve told you, and I don’t know if you are somewhere where you can hear me or not, but I’m sorry. If I had just been on time that night, he wouldn’t have gotten you.” He wiped the stone with a handkerchief from his pocket and laughed. “You always made fun of me for being old fashioned… but you were glad I had it the night I asked you to marry me. How could I know that this same piece of linen that dried your tears of joy at our engagement would later dry my tears of sorrow at your funeral.” John paused for a moment, his anger rising up. “He’s still out there, Amber, hurting women and children. I can’t let that continue. I will find him…and I will avenge you and all the others he’s tortured and killed. He’s a sly one; so far below the radar not even law enforcement sees his pattern or knows that he even exists. The randomness of his killings and the large area that he covers is his protection. I thought I had him with Roskowski. He was evil but wasn’t the man who did this to you.”

  He stood up and walked toward the unmarked piece of land next to Amber’s headstone. “This is my spot, baby, right next to you. I’m not afraid of death…I’m afraid of dying before I catch him and bring him to justice.” He leaned down on his hands and knees and gently touched his lips to her name. “Rest, my angel. The next time I come back, it’ll be to tell you that I got him.”

  The ER at Northridge Hospital Medical Center was packed. Doctor Sara Cook was in the final week of her emergency medical fellowship and had already been offered a very prestigious position at Scripps Mercy Hospital in San Diego as head of the ER trauma center. She was on her second to last seventy-two hour shift at Northridge and was pulling the chart for her last patient of the day. She opened the chart and recognized the name immediately. Walter Cruthers. She pulled back the exam room curtain to find Mr. Cruthers sitting up on the hospital gurney bent over in pain. “Walter…sit up straight.” He did as she asked, and a smile broke out across his face. “Hello Sara.” “Walter, you can’t keep doing this.” “Doing what?” She closed the curtain and placed her hands on her hips. “You can’t keep coming into my ER with imaginary pains and made up symptoms just to see me.” “It’s the only way I can see you, Sara. You refuse to go out with me.” She scowled at him and then looked over his chart. Walter sat admiring her.

  “You are so beautiful, Sara!” She flipped a page in his chart and said, “Stop it, Walter, and don’t call me by my first name. It’s Doctor Cook.” “My, you’re in a feisty mood today, Sa… sorry, Doctor Cook.” She closed the chart and said, “Your vitals are fine, Walter. I’m releasing you.” “Now, wait a second, Doctor Cook. You have to examine me. You did take the Hippocratic Oath, correct? To do no harm? Wouldn’t sending me away without at least checking my complaint be a violation of that oath?” She pressed the stethoscope against his chest, then moved to his back and said, “Deep breath.” He complied. She had him do it four times quickly just to make him dizzy. “It says that you’re having chest pain.” “Yes…chest pain.” “Walter, your blood pressure is normal, your lungs are clear, and your heart rate is normal with no arrhythmias on the EKG that we ran when you came in.” She made a note in his chart and closed it. “Walter, you are a very healthy sixty-five-year-old man. Now I want you to put your shirt on; I’m releasing you.” He started to take off the hospital gown when he asked if his age was preventing her from accepting his dinner invitation. She shook her head. “Walter, you seem like a very nice, handsome man. However, one, you are old enough to be my father if not my very young grandfather, and, two, you’re not my type.”

  He asked what type that would be while buttoning his shirt. She shrugged and walked over to wash her hands. “You have been in this ER ten times in the past six months. You always come in when I’m on duty, and you request me. Walter…you are one step away from a restraining order. I like you, but I’m coming off the end of a very long shift, and I have a lot of packing to do. You understand that this time next week there will be a new fellow here in my place, right?” “I hear what you are saying, but I don’t understand. You were offered a very lucrative employment agreement with this hospital.” She looked confused. “How could you know that? I did accept a position with Scripps Mercy in San Diego.” “Well, Doctor Cook, I haven’t been completely honest with you about who I am. You see, Sara, I’m president and CEO of WEC Medical Services.” She shrugged her shoulders as she was writing on his cha
rt, “Yea right. Perhaps I need to recommend putting you on a seventy-two hour psych hold; you’re delusional.”

  He smiled at her as he stepped down from the table, “I assure you, Doctor Cook, that I am who I say I am.” “I don’t have time for this, Walter. I really need some sleep.” He pulled out his cell phone and made a call. Sara shouted at him about hospital policy but heard him continue just the same. “Hello, Margaret. This is Walter. How are you today? Oh, that’s wonderful. Listen… is Marty in his office.” There was a pause, and Sara stood silent. “Hello, Marty; its Walter. How are you today? Well, I’m so happy to hear that. Listen, I don’t mean to bother you, but I stopped into the ER and have been conversing with Doctor Cook. I was just telling her how disappointed I am to hear that she has refused our offer to stay with the hospital.” Sara was now angry and reached out and took the phone from his hand. “Hello, to whom am I speaking?” The voice on the other end of the line was immediately familiar. “Sara! What are you doing on the line? I was just speaking to Mr. Cruthers. This is Martin Powers, your friendly hospital administrator. Would you be so kind as to put Mr. Cruthers back on the phone?” Her face sunk as she handed the phone back to Walter.

  “Hi Marty; I’m back. Oh no, no problem. I think Doctor Cook thought I was trying to pull a ruse on her. Listen, this is the first that I’m hearing that Doctor Cook turned down our offer.” She sat down on the stool near the exam room desk with her head in her hands. Walter continued, “She tells me that she has taken a job with a hospital in San Diego.” He listened intently. “I see…Scripps is a wonderful hospital but not one that I control Marty. I like to have the best talent on staff in my hospitals. Why didn’t you bring this to the board, so we could vote on countering the offer? Oh…I see. Doctor Cook didn’t request a counteroffer; she has always wanted to work at Scripps. Well, that’s a horse of another color. Okay, then, I’m going to be up to see you later on, and we can talk about this a little more. Sure, sure, I will ask Doctor Cook to stop by and see you before she leaves today. No, Marty, this will have no impact on WEC’s investment in this hospital. I made a commitment to your board of directors. Our money will remain here.”

  He grabbed his suit coat and placed the phone in the side pocket. “Marty asked you to stop by before going home.” The smile never left his face. “Oh my God! Walter, why didn’t you tell me who you were?” “I want people to like me for who I am not for how much money, power, or influence I wield.” She shook her head slowly. “It wouldn’t have mattered, Walter, and it doesn’t change the fact that I’m not going on a date with you. I’m going to go see Mr. Powers, and then I’m going to go home, take a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, and pack.” He nodded saying, “I understand now,” and walked out of the room totally rejected, his shoulders slumped and dragging his foot as he went.

  Walter sat in his Mercedes listening to Beethoven’s 5th symphony in an adjacent parking structure. He was parked two rows back from Sara’s car on the other side of the parking structure and was waiting for her to emerge. He thumped the steering wheel in time with the music, “You only think you’re leaving me, Sara…you only think that.” On the floor of the passenger’s side was a half-opened black bag. Inside was a roll of blue duct tape, white nylon rope, and a red and black labeled brown bottle with the letters ‘Chloro’ on it.

  Sara was changing clothes when Doctor Stephanie Olsen came into the room. “So I hear that you finally met Walter Cruthers?” She shook her head, “No…I’ve seen Mr. Cruthers as a patient in my ER for almost six months; he just revealed his connection to the hospital to me about ten minutes ago.” “You sound angry. What’s up with that?” She had buttoned her blouse and was putting on her flats while sitting on a bench in front of her locker. “The problem is the guy has been hitting on me for weeks, and he didn’t have the decency to tell me who he really was.” Stephanie shot her a look. “Who cares? He’s tall, dark, and handsome, not to mention filthy rich, from what I hear.” “That’s not the point; I told him he’s not my type.” “He’s still not your type? A hunk who’s loaded?” Sara shot a look back at her. “You know there’s a lot more to life than money.” “Yea, that’s what they tell me, but I’m following the advice given to me by my grandmother. Marry the first time for love and the second time for money.” Sara looked at her indignantly. “That’s horrible. I want love; the money will come if it comes.” “I wish he were wooing me.” “You want him? You can have him. If I see him again, I’ll tell him you’re interested. I don’t get it. Why am I always beating the men away from me?” Stephanie looked at her in disbelief, “You’re kidding, right?” She grabbed her by the arm and pulled her over to a dressing mirror. “Take a good, long look at yourself. You’re a natural blond with stunning emerald green eyes, a body perfect for your five two frame, great skin, huge boobs, a bubbly personality, a great sense of humor, and an infectious laugh. What’s not to love about you?”

  She pulled away from Stephanie and went back to her locker. “Just once in my life I would like a man to look at me and see me, not the package, just the person inside.” “Oh Sara…you got it going on, girl… there’s no way that any man is going to think you’re anything more than eye candy until you start talking. It’s when you start talking that your love life goes into the toilet because you intimidate the hell out of people.” Stephanie started to undress, “Girl, I’m a damned attractive Black woman.” Sara nodded in agreement. “All I can tell you is I’m taking my grandmother’s advice except I’m marrying for money the first time. You know what I’m saying?” Sara nodded and excused herself to meet with Marty. “They can offer me what they like; I’m taking the job at Scripps. It’s close to my family and friends, and, who knows, maybe the man of my dreams.” “Well, those are great ideals, but if I were you I’d be preparing myself for their next offer. Start your life new here. San Diego isn’t that far away. You can always stay in touch with family. Medicine is getting very competitive. Follow the money, girl.” Sara waved her off as she walked out.

  Martin Powers was waiting when she arrived at his office. He invited her in and offered her a beverage, which she refused. “Thank you for stopping in before you head home, Sara. I really appreciate it.” “No problem, Marty, but I’m really tired, so what can I do for you?” “Stay.” “No.” “You’re an excellent trauma surgeon, Sara; this hospital needs talent like yours. You save lives.” She sat motionless in the office chair as she told him that she would still be saving lives, just at another facility. She reminded him that she’d heard through the grapevine that the new fellow had a great reputation as a trauma surgeon. “He does have a stellar reputation; however, he’s going to need guidance, a mentor, and you’re the glue that keeps this place together when the world is falling in on us.” She shook her head. “No, Marty. You have a great staff here. I have done my time; I’m ready to go home and be with my friends and family. Scripps is a great hospital, and it’s underserved when it comes to trauma surgeons and ER specialists. I save lives, Marty. I do the very best that I can to make that happen. Now I really appreciate the talk, but this hospital is going to be just fine without me. I’m going home to get some sleep.”

  She stood up, but Marty stopped her. “Sara, I’ve been authorized by the board to give you a blank check offer to stay with the hospital.” Her facial expression was hard for him to read. “I’m afraid I don’t know what that means.” “It means, my dear, that you can name your price, and the hospital will pay it to keep you on staff as our ER Chief of Staff and supervising trauma surgeon. We’re offering you the opportunity to run the whole department; the only people you’ll answer to are me and the board.” She sat back down. “This is Walter’s doing, isn’t it?” Marty walked back over to his desk and sat down. “Walter has insisted that we do everything in our power to retain you; however, your credentials and reputation speak for themselves. WEC owns the hospital, Walter is the president and CEO, but his influence was not the whole reason for this offer.” She threw her
hands in the air in anger, “Listen, Marty, I’m a surgeon not a psychiatrist, but even I know that’s not true. There was no one begging me to stay at the hospital after our initial negotiations. I’m a doctor, Marty, and a damn good one, but I’m not going to be held hostage by one man no matter how much power he wields.” “It’s not like that, Sara, really.” “Come on…I’m supposed to believe that the hospital had a sudden change of heart and decided I’m so damn important and irreplaceable that now, three months after we finalized the agreement and I had interviewed with five hospitals and received the offer from Scripps, which, let me remind you, was less than what you were offering in our previous conversations, after the going away party and the final farewells that the check book suddenly opens, and I can have any amount of money I want because the hospital needs me? I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it!”

  He shrugged and folded his hands on his desk, “Sara, please don’t get angry.” She sat up straight in her chair. “Don’t get angry? Did you know that Mr. Cruthers has been in our ER ten times in the past six months?” “That’s not a surprise; he does that with all of his hospitals.” “Really? Did he tell you that all ten visits were with me? That he requested me as his attending when he came in every single time? Did he tell you that he made advances toward me, Marty? Unwanted advances? That he has told me repeatedly how beautiful I am and has asked me to dinner at least five times?”