by James Carver
And then there had been the news about Earl. The world seemed a paradise now that Earl had left it.
There was a knock at the door and Dr. Lazard entered.
“Miguel. Hello.”
Alvarez put down his knife and fork and greeted him. “Hi, Dr. Lazard.”
“How are you?” asked Lazard.
“Good. much better, thanks.”
“Good. Are you feeling ready for the move?”
“Yes. I’m ready.”
“We’ve set up everything very nicely for you at the ranch. You’ll be able to continue resting there.”
“You’ve been so kind to me, Dr. Lazard. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me.”
Lazard didn’t reply. In fact, he didn’t even seem to hear what Alvarez had said. There was another knock and two nurses entered pushing a gurney, which they positioned by Alvarez’s hospital bed. One of them slid the table with its remains of breakfast away from the bed, and then both assisted Alvarez as he slowly levered and rotated his body in preparation to stand. While Alvarez got comfortable again on the gurney, Lazard stood by a window peering through the blinds onto the quadrant of grass below. As he scanned the neat parkland in front of the building, he spotted two small figures below and his face suddenly flinched, as if he were in momentary pain. Then he turned to the nurses and clapped his hands abruptly.
“I don’t mean to hurry you, but we only have the ambulance for a short time. We must be quick.”
An insipid muzak version of “All My Lovin’” by the Beatles greeted Fox and Devlin as they entered the reception lobby of building F. Along the back wall was a curved metal reception desk, and to the side of the desk was a white spiral staircase that went up to a mezzanine level. Past the stairs were the elevators. A heavily made-up lady in her thirties wearing a white lab coat was standing at the reception desk working a PC.
Fox was first to improvise a plan. “Okay. You charm the woman on the desk. Divert her attention. You’re probably bit on the old side for her, so it’ll be a challenge.”
“What are you going to do?” asked Devlin.
“I’ll try and find out which bed Alvarez is in.”
They split up. Fox broke toward the elevators while Devlin approached the receptionist behind the counter, putting on his most engaging and priestly manner.
“Hello there,” said Devlin.
The receptionist looked up, saw the tall gentleman in a black suit and white collar, and her severe features softened a little. “Hello, Father.”
“I’m supposed to be meeting the hospital chaplain here. But it’s possible I’m early.”
“Father Diaz?”
“That’s right. Father Diaz. Have you seen him around?”
“I haven’t. I can call him up for you if you’d like?”
“Oh no. I’ll hang on a little longer…” Devlin looked down at her name badge. “Mrs. O’Driscoll. Are your parents from the old country?”
“My father was from Wicklow.”
“Wicklow, is it? Have you seen the Wicklow mountains?”
“I haven’t, Father.”
“Well, come to think of it, neither have I. But I hear they’re a wonder.”
Mrs. O’Driscoll laughed as Fox slipped into the elevator with a group of doctors.
Fox read down the departments listed next to the elevator buttons. Floors four and five were the urology and kidney inpatients center. She got out on floor four with the group of doctors, keeping close to them as they passed the department nurses’ desk in the entrance hall and turned into the corridor where the patient rooms were. Once she was at the head of the corridor, she slowed and let the group walk on. Then she began checking the patient names, which were written on the whiteboards outside of each room. She swept through the whole of the floor but could find no sign of Alvarez and came to a back stairway, which she took up to floor five. She did the same thing here, checking the rooms one by one and got to the end; again, no Alvarez.
She looked back and saw she’d passed a nurse who had now stopped outside one of the rooms, an empty one, and was busy writing a new name on the whiteboard. Fox charged up to her.
“Hi,” said Fox. “Was a man called Miguel Alvarez in this room?”
The nurse was taken aback by Fox’s impatient manner but answered, “Yes. He was.”
“When was he moved?”
“You just missed him. He was taken a moment ago.”
“Where to?”
“Excuse me, but are you a friend?”
Fox didn’t blink and said with complete conviction, “I’m his wife.”
“His wife?” The nurse was momentarily wrong-footed by the idea that a teenage Mexican was married to an American woman in her thirties. But she wasn’t confident enough say it out loud.
“That’s right,” challenged Fox. “Oh wow? You got a problem with that? That is not professional!”
“Uh, no…no, of course not…”
“Good. Where did he go?” barked Fox.
“I…I’m…I’m not sure. I think I heard that Dr. Lazard took him to another clinic closer to Halton Springs.” Fox didn’t wait for any more information and took off back along the corridor to the stairs and sped down them, jumping half flights and swinging around the stairwells at high speed. She raced out into the lobby and saw Devlin at the desk still sweet-talking the receptionist.
“Devlin!”
Devlin looked up and saw Fox looking panicked. “I’m afraid I have to go. Tell Father Diaz I’ll be in contact.”
“Oh, okay. I will, Father.”
Fox took off at speed out of the entrance, and Devlin caught up with her outside.
“What the hell’s going on, Fox?”
“Lazard just took Alvarez.”
Fox and Devlin looked up and down the road and saw an ambulance that had just loaded up having its back door pushed shut.
“There’s Lazard,” said Devlin.
Fox saw a pale, thin-looking man in a long tweed coat get into the back of the ambulance and shut the door.
“I’ll run and get the car,” said Devlin. “Keep an eye on the ambulance, and try and follow it as far as you can.” And he sprinted off without waiting for Fox’s reply.
The ambulance pulled off and rode down to the main route out of the hospital with Fox trying inconspicuously to follow. Then it took a right and before it was able to pick up speed came to a stop at a crosswalk. Devlin pulled up by Fox in his Ford and flung open the passenger door. Fox jumped in.
“We’re okay, Devlin. We caught a break with the red light up ahead.”
The ambulance took the 75 out of Dayton, then turned onto the 36 for a few miles heading toward Halton Springs’ Main Street. It kept on going through the heart of Halton and out east. Devlin and now Fox too had no doubt where it was headed: out to the Logan Ranch.
Devlin slowed to a stop when he saw the ambulance signal left for the entrance into the ranch. They watched it turn off the highway and drive under the stone arch.
Fox turned to Devlin. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to follow it.”
“Into the Logan Ranch?”
“Damn right.”
Devlin turned through the stone arch and carried on up the track. The ambulance came into view again; it had passed the trailers, the barns, and the bunkhouse and was heading around past the ranch house.
“The cattle lab,” whispered Devlin. “They’re taking him to the cattle lab.” Devlin began to speed up, then thumped his foot down hard on the brake and the Ford lurched to a standstill. Ahead of the car stood a man just about as broad and as tall as it was possible to be.
“Packer,” said Devlin.
“You know this guy?”
“We have a history. He likes to dance with me.”
“Is he a good mover?”
“Neither of us can agree on who leads.”
“What’s with his eye?”
“I don’t know,” said Devlin and the
n muttered to himself, “Woe to the idol shepherd that leaveth his flock…his right eye shall be utterly darkened.”
“What?”
Devlin didn’t respond. He was calculating that this was not the moment to go up against Packer, so he wound down his window and shouted, “We were just turning around. We headed the wrong way down the highway.”
Packer said nothing. He just stood there, more like a monument than a man, his white eye unmoving, his right hand hovering over the sheathed hunting knife hanging from his belt. Devlin turned the car around and set back off down the 36. A run-in with Packer now would do them no good. Packer watched them go and unhooked his radio from his belt.
Devlin headed back in the direction of Halton. Fox stared out of the window in a state of confusion.
“Why take him back to the Logan Ranch?” she wondered aloud.
“Because that’s where they’re preparing him. Because that’s what that lab is really all about.”
“The lab?”
“The cattle fertility plant. It’s a huge aluminum structure he had built. All that crap Clay spun me about the fertilization program, the R & D that increased their yield? Just a plausible front for a far more lucrative trade. Marie Vallory knows there is a massive demand for suitable, fresh organs from young healthy donors, a demand that Freedom can’t legitimately supply. She understands that people will pay fortunes to get to the top of any organ list.”
“Jesus. What the fuck do we do now?”
“We have to get some evidence. We have to go back to the ranch.”
Before Fox could question Devlin’s plan, her cell rang. It was Stevens. Fox put him on speaker. They could hear heavy rasping breaths.
“Greg? You okay?” asked Fox.
“No. No, I’m not, Katy. Some bastard’s just tried to kill me.”
Devlin checked his mirror and suddenly broke and swerved, changing direction and heading back the opposite way.
“What the hell are you doing?” yelled Fox.
“Tell Greg we’ll meet him at Ed’s. It’s a place off—”
“No, wait,” interrupted Fox. “I got a better idea. A place I know. Somewhere we’ll be safe.”
49
Devlin and Fox stood side by side looking through a small cabin window out onto a clearing and thick woodland beyond. Fox had taken Devlin to her aunt’s place in Hocking Hills that the family used for vacations. In light traffic and stopping once to fill up on gas and buy some provisions, they had got to Hocking County in just over two hours. Eventually, they had turned off Route 33 and, with Fox giving directions, wound down so many minor roads that Devlin lost all sense of where he was. Finally, they turned onto a dirt road that took them even farther from any passing traffic and came to a halt outside the cabin.
Inside the cabin, the place had been minimally furnished, enough for people staying a couple of weeks. There was a basic kitchen on one side, and set in the middle of the cabin were wooden stairs that went up to the attic room that had been split into two small bedrooms. On the other side of the stairs were an old sofa and armchairs set around a stone hearth fireplace. The bathroom was out back.
Now they were waiting for Stevens to arrive. As they stood motionless, the backs of their hands brushed together. Fox gently dragged her fingers along Devlin’s and entwined her hand around his. Her small, neat hand became swaddled in his large, powerful, and gentle hold. Tiny as the gesture was, at that moment it consumed every atom of each other’s feelings and thoughts.
Eventually, Devlin checked his watch and spoke. “I’d better call George. I’d said I’d check in, and it’s been a while.”
“Okay. I’ll keep an eye out for Greg.”
Devlin went outside to get enough of a signal to call Brennan. He sat on the porch and, as his cell rang, he thought about what he should say. He decided to hold back on any detail until he absolutely knew he had enough evidence. If Brennan didn’t believe Devlin’s theory, he might think Devlin had lost his mind. If Brennan did believe him, he might feel he was required to refer up, to brief a senior figure, and Devlin wasn’t going to risk letting anybody muscle in until he had all but brought Clay Logan in himself. After all, as much as he trusted him, Brennan was a government agent and not absolutely out of the reach of Logan’s Capitol Hill friends.
Brennan answered, but his tone was distant and serious.
“Gabe.”
“George. I’m calling in like we agreed—”
But Brennan wasn’t listening and went straight ahead and spoke. “Listen, there’s been a development on my end.” Brennan’s voice was heavy now and ominous. “I’ve got some bad news. Very bad news. Ed’s been murdered. And Errol too. The place up here is…well, it’s a goddamn mess. Like a fucking slaughterhouse. Whoever killed them, they were animals…a person or people who like doing what they do.”
Brennan’s words caught Devlin completely unawares. He felt numb and was unable to respond. It couldn’t have been worse. The person Devlin had set out to help had befallen the worst possible fate.
After a moment he forced his mind back into gear and managed a reply. “Jesus. How did they know Ed was there?”
“I don’t know. Me, Errol, and you knew where he was.”
“Well, you can damn well take it as a fact it wasn’t me. I dropped everything to make sure he was okay.”
“I know, Gabe. Of course. I never thought it was you. If I had to take a guess, I’d say it was someone on the camp who snitched. As to who actually did it, well, it doesn’t take a genius to work out this Packer guy is the main suspect. The one who does Clay Logan’s dirty work. The foreman on the ranch who came looking for Ed in the first place. But if it’s about fault, then I feel like it’s mine. I got Ed involved; I feel responsible for Ed and Errol. They should never have met an end like they did here. Nobody should.”
“George, none of us had any idea what this was about. How dangerous it would get.”
Brennan cleared his throat and said, “What do you know, Gabe? Have you got anything more since we spoke?”
“I have. I’m getting somewhere with this. Like I said, Lazard has given me a way in. But it’s still not enough. Not enough to call it. But I will. I know I will. You’re going to have to trust me; I just need one more day.”
“Okay, Gabe.” Ed and Errol’s death had changed George’s attitude toward Devlin. He was less combative now. More reflective. Maybe he felt like his only ally now in this nightmare was Devlin. “You got it. Truth is, I’m stuck. Everything that’s happened just seems to point to Clay being protected somehow, either by people above me in Homeland or in the Secret Service. So it’s all on you, Gabe. I want to fuck these guys over, whoever is responsible for Ed and Errol’s deaths. It’s all I want to do. If you can do that, you got whatever I can do to support you.”
“Just another day. That’s all I need right now and I’ll bring these bastards in. I’ll be in touch.”
Devlin hung up and felt a bitter chill run through him. Ed, Devlin’s friend, a man he had lived and worked with, a man he had resolved to find and protect, had been murdered. But tears would not call Ed back. There were other ways to channel grief. This Devlin knew all too well.
Devlin returned to the cabin. Fox turned to see him enter and noticed the sudden change in his mood, the darkness that had changed his features. She walked up to him and placed a hand up onto his chest.
“Devlin? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ed. He’s been murdered. Up at the trailer where I found him in Cuyahoga.”
“What? Do you know who did it?”
“Yeah, I know who did it. The same people who killed the kid up in Long Pine, who killed Brendan, who killed Earl.” Devlin looked at Fox. He saw her green eyes, wide and full of compassion. Something in his heart sparked, and he placed a hand on her face. “You shouldn’t be involved in this. I was wrong to pull you in. This is a brutal business, and you’re a journalist…”
“Devlin.”
“No. You should go
now. No one knows you’re involved. You must walk away before your life is threatened. I can’t have your life on my conscience. It’s too much. It’s happened to me before, and I can’t allow it to… When Greg arrives I’ll…”
Fox put a finger up to Devlin’s lips and gently shushed him. She spoke evenly and softly but with absolute certainty.
“Shut up. Shut up and listen to me. I’m not Jane and I’m not Ed. What I do is my choice and never anybody else’s. I am my own fucking boss. I am not stupid. I know how dangerous this has got, and I’m not walking away, under any circumstances. When I get my teeth into something, I don’t let go. It’s the way I’m made, and you don’t get to veto me out of this.”
Fox stopped speaking, and Devlin didn’t say anything. Instead, they held each other’s gaze until the recognition of new feeling became unbearable and impossible to avoid acting upon.
“What happens now, Devlin? You’re a priest after all…” whispered Fox.
The question hung in the air, and just as Devlin was about to break the intense silence with an answer, the sound of an engine growing louder beat him to it. A car had swung in from the dirt track. Fox and Devlin turned to see it lurch and bounce into the clearing. It was Stevens.
“Saved by the bell,” said Fox. Devlin didn’t reply.
They walked out onto the porch and beckoned Stevens in. He was pale and trembling. Whether from fear, from the strain of the past few days, from his illness, or more likely, a combination of all three, it was not possible to tell. They gathered nearly knee to knee around the small round kitchen table. There was a lot to catch up on. The last time Stevens and Devlin had been face-to-face was Tuesday, three days ago.
“What happened, Greg?” asked Fox. “Who tried to kill you?”