Ashby took a deep draught of his cigar and blew a perfect smoke ring at the ceiling. He looked at Gelb. “Well, Harold, it looks like you have the situation well under control.”
“Yes, sir. Do you want us to continue with ’round-the-clock surveillance?”
Ashby thought about it for a moment. “Not at this time. Continue to monitor the GPS readings and maybe do spot checks once or twice a week, unless the GPS shows something suspicious. I think once the subjects go to ground at night, we can let them go.”
“Yes, sir,” Gelb said. “I’ll continue to provide you with weekly reports unless something suspicious turns up.”
“Good. Thank you, gentlemen, and congratulations on a superb job. Now, on your way out, tell my nurse it is time for my nightly bath.”
CHAPTER 22
When the group gathered at Sheila’s house, she offered them all drinks and cookies. Kevin took a beer, Burton took a whiskey over ice, Kat asked for white wine, and Sheila made herself a rum and Coke, with lime making it officially a Cuba libre.
Because Kevin and Kat had come straight from the lab, they had Angus with them. Sheila threw a bath towel down on the floor and put a couple of cookies on it for him. He gave her a soft bark and settled right down, munching on the cookies.
As the rest of her guests settled themselves around the living room, Sheila took out some notes she’d made after listening again to her tape-recorded interviews with Jordan Stone.
Before she could begin to talk, Kevin held up his hand and put a finger to his lips.
When Sheila raised her eyebrows at him, he quickly bent to the briefcase at his feet, opened it, and took out a small black plastic box. After going to all of the windows overlooking the city and pulling the drapes shut, he pulled a silver antenna out of the top of the box, flipped a switch on the side, and then began to walk around the room. He waved the box at the windows, light fixtures, and walls, humming to himself as he did so. A small green light on the front of the box remained green.
After a few moments, Kevin grinned and put the box away. He sat down, took a swig of his beer, and explained, “Since we know the bad guys are having us watched, and since we know they’ve put GPS trackers on all of our cars . . .”
“What?” Sheila asked.
He nodded. “Yep, I checked ours earlier today and I checked yours when we pulled into the parking garage, Sheila. It’s located under your right front wheel well, attached there by a small magnet.”
“Shit!” Ramsey exclaimed. “Now, what do we do? We can’t have them learning everywhere we go.”
Kevin shrugged. “It’s no problem, really. Now that we know they are there, if we want to go someplace private, we can either use the Honda safe car, or just remove the tracker device and stick it against a metal pole in the garage. As long as they don’t have actual eyes on us, they’ll never be the wiser.”
“And just what was that little dance you just did with the curtains and black box for, Kevin?” Kat asked.
He held the box up. “I bought this today at the Spy Shop in the Galleria. It is guaranteed to find any bugs the bad guys might have placed in our offices or apartments. It sure as heck found the GPS devices when I used it on our cars. As for the drapes, it’s possible to listen to everything said in a room by using a laser device to read the vibrations on windowpanes. Closing the drapes prevents that.”
“I assume that since the little green light didn’t change color, we are safely debugged in here, then?” Ramsey asked.
Kevin nodded.
“You did good, Kev,” Kat said, patting his leg, causing him to blush furiously.
“Okay, go ahead, Sheila,” Ramsey said, sitting back in his chair and sipping his whiskey.
She consulted her notes and began, “I think I have found a suitable candidate for our human trial with the formulae. He is just over sixty years old, and he is going to die in the next few weeks unless a miracle occurs, which I am counting on Kat and Burton to provide. He is very smart and has a kind, generous disposition, but he has been brought down by circumstances in his life beyond his control.”
She went on to tell them what she knew of Stone’s life and the occurrences that had turned him from a respected academic to a down-and-out alcoholic. She also tried to give them some sense of the man as a human being, one whom she had grown to care for as a friend.
Ramsey, feeling just a few twinges of jealousy, frowned. “Okay, so he is a great man, but do you think his medical condition is so severe that even our formulae won’t be enough to help him?”
Sheila looked over at him, smiling, for she knew just why he was irritated. “I really don’t know, Burton, not having had any experience with your formula under these circumstances before. I do know that his liver and kidney functions are barely high enough to keep him alive, and that he also has advanced cardiovascular disease and even some pulmonary dysfunction from multiple bouts of pneumonia.”
Ramsey glanced at Kat. “What do you think, Dr. Williams? Do you think he is too far gone to even attempt to save him?”
Kat shook her head. “No, Burton. In fact, this is the very type of patient I had in mind when trying to perfect my formula. After all, what good is it if it only works on healthy, middle-aged people? The ones who really need our help are patients just like this, whose only chance for a better life is our formulae.”
Kevin stared at Kat, thinking, God, what a woman. No wonder I can’t get her out of my mind.
Sheila nodded. “Okay, then. Jordan should be ready for discharge in the next few days, so I’ll go by tomorrow and visit with him to see if he is interested in a drug trial that might help keep him alive for a few more years.”
“You mean you’re going to ask his permission? What if he says no?” Ramsey asked, an astounded expression on his face.
Sheila glared back at him. “Of course I am! I am not all that enthused with the idea of trying a potentially fatal treatment on anyone, no matter how near death they are, and I am certainly not going to consider it without their permission and their full awareness of the dangers.”
“I agree,” Kat said, looking at Ramsey with disdain, “and I wouldn’t have it any other way, either.”
Ramsey glanced over at Kevin. “And I suppose you agree with the ladies?”
Kevin nodded. “Fully.”
“Okay, okay. Just please ask him not to tell anyone else about our little experiment, even if he refuses.”
“Certainly,” Sheila said, ice in her voice.
“Not to change the subject,” Kat said, “but is the lab about ready for us to proceed with Mr. Stone if he agrees with Sheila?”
Ramsey nodded. “The last of the equipment just arrived, and as we planned, there are two rooms fitted up as guest quarters: one for us and one for our patient. That way someone can stay there full-time to take care of him as he recovers from the treatment.”
“You don’t think he will respond as quickly as Angus did?” Sheila asked Kat.
At the sound of his name, Angus’s ears perked up and he looked over at Kat, obviously listening to what she was saying.
Kat shook her head. “I doubt it. After all, Angus was old, but he was healthy, other than the severe arthritis in his hips. Not only is Mr. Stone much sicker and much more frail, the differences between a human and a dog are such that I would expect at least a few more days of recuperation in a human subject.”
Then she smiled and shrugged. “But then again, who knows? This is all cutting-edge stuff we’re doing here, and as you all know, we are flying by the seat of our pants with our first human patient, so just what will happen is anybody’s guess.”
Ramsey got to his feet. “Okay, so since we all have a busy day tomorrow, I suggest we get to it. Kat is going to start her leave of absence from BioTech in the morning, and then she and Kevin are going to head out to the Conroe lab to meet me and make sure everything she needs is there. And, Sheila, you are going to try to convince Jordan to let us experiment on him.”
As they all got up and gathered at the front door, Angus got to his feet and pranced over to stand in front of Sheila. With a solemn look on his face, he picked up his right front leg and held it out to her.
She looked over at Kat, a puzzled look on her face.
Kat grinned. “I think he is thanking you for the cookies,” she said.
Angus glanced over his shoulder at Kat and gave a soft bark, showing that she was correct.
Sheila laughed, then bent over and shook Angus’s paw. “You are quite welcome, . . . what is it you call him? Oh, I remember . . . you are welcome, ‘big guy’.”
With that, Angus turned and trotted over to follow Kat and Kevin out the door.
After everyone was gone, Burton went over to Sheila and put his arms around her. “I’m sorry, darling.”
“For what?” she asked against his shoulder.
“For not realizing that you would never experiment on anyone without their permission.”
“Good. I’m glad you are starting to understand me—finally.”
“Then you’re not angry with me?”
“Umm, not too much,” she said softly, putting her arms around him and giving him a squeeze.
* * *
The next morning, Dr. Patterson walked into Jordan Stone’s room and stood next to the bed. As he perused the chart, he asked, “How are you feeling this morning, Jordan?”
Jordan smiled, held up a hand, and waggled it back and forth. “Oh, so-so, I guess. The shakes have about gone, and I’ve been able to keep my last two meals down, so no complaints from me.”
Patterson glanced up with an apologetic expression. “That’s good, ’cause the hospital administration is climbing all over my back about using a private room for a nonpaying patient.”
“So, you want to move me back to the ward?”
Patterson pursed his lips. “It’s worse than that, I’m afraid. They want me to discharge you. They say we’ve done all we can for you, and it’s time to make room for someone who needs the room more.”
“Okay, that’s fine by me. I’m kinda tired of breathing this stale hospital air anyway. I’m ready for the great outdoors.”
Patterson handed him an envelope. “I had Social Services put together a packet for you with all of the homeless shelters and food kitchens in the area listed, so you’ll have a place to go and somewhere to find good food.”
Jordan laughed. “I’m afraid you’re stretching the truth with that ‘good food’ description of the food kitchens’ fare.”
“Okay then, let’s just say ‘healthy food,’ all right?”
“Well, we can agree on that at least,” Jordan said as he climbed out of bed and went over to the closet. When he opened the door, he sniffed at his clothes and then turned to look at Patterson.
Patterson blushed. “I took the liberty of having the hospital laundry wash and press your clothes. They were in pretty sorry shape.”
“Thank you, Dr. George, you are both a scholar and a gentleman,” Jordan said as he climbed into the ragged but clean clothes.
As he walked Jordan to the front door, Patterson pressed a twenty-dollar bill into his hand. “Promise me you’ll use this to buy food, not wine.”
Jordan’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Doc, you don’t have to do that. I’ll manage. I’ve been on the streets for over three years, and I’ve become something of an expert at survival.”
“Take it, anyway, just spend it on protein, not the kind of carbohydrates you find in a pint of alcohol.”
The bill disappeared into his ragged coat, then he waved and passed out the double doors of the hospital and was immediately lost in the crowd of people walking along the sidewalk.
Patterson shook his head, knowing he would probably never see the professor again—unless it was in the morgue—and he moved back down the hall to finish making his rounds.
* * *
It was just over two hours later when Sheila walked into Stone’s room and was surprised to find a middle-aged woman in the bed instead of Jordan Stone.
She excused herself to the patient and went looking for George Patterson. She finally found him exiting the line in the employees’ cafeteria, tray of food in hand.
“Oh, hi, Dr. Goodman,” he said cheerfully. “Would you care to join me for lunch?”
She nodded, then went to the coffee bar and poured some hot water over a Lipton’s tea bag, grabbed a couple of packets of Sweet ’N Low, and joined him at his table.
“George,” she said as she sat down before he had a chance to speak, “I was just over to Jordan Stone’s room and found he’d been moved.”
Patterson shook his head and said around a mouthful of hamburger, “Not moved, Dr. Goodman, discharged.”
“Oh no. I thought you realized I was in the process of trying to enroll him in a drug trial.”
He nodded. “I did, and when the administrator’s office told me he had to go, I tried to call your office, but they said you were not on call and they refused to page you for me.”
“Damn!” she exclaimed. “Those fools have standing orders to always call me for a fellow physician, no matter the day or time.”
He smiled and shrugged. “Maybe they forgot.”
“Never mind that. Do you know where Stone lives?”
He shook his head. “Nowhere, as far as I know. My sense is that he lives on the streets and only takes shelter in one of the homeless places when the weather gets really bad. I did have Social Services make up a list of shelters and soup kitchens and I gave it to him, but I doubt if he even bothered to keep it. These street people are very independent and rarely take advantage of all the services that are out there for them.”
She took a final sip of her tea and set the cup down. “George, I need two favors.”
He shrugged and held his hands out. “Anything, Dr. Goodman.”
“Make that three favors, actually. First, when we are alone, please call me Sheila. We’ve worked together too long to be so formal.”
He grinned. “You got it, Sheila.”
“Second, I need a copy of Stone’s chart, especially the lab and X-ray results, and I don’t want to go through official channels to get it.”
He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “So, this drug trial is . . . uh . . . kinda ‘unofficial,’ is that it?”
“Very perceptive, George. It is something I am pursuing on my own, without any sanctioning by the FDA.”
He nodded. “No problem. And the third thing?”
“I would like you to ask around of any of the other street people in the hospital now or who come in over the next few days and see if you can find out where Stone hangs out—if there are any particular neighborhoods where he is likely to be found.”
“It must be pretty important that you find him, then, huh?”
She nodded. “You have no idea how important.”
He picked up his tray and stood. “Then I’ll get right on it.”
* * *
Four hours later Sheila received a call from George Patterson.
“Hello, George, what do you have for me?”
“First, I put a copy of Stone’s chart in your box in Medical Records, and no one saw me copy it.”
“Thank you. Anything else?”
“Yeah, I just admitted an old drinking buddy of Stone’s. Before I sedated him, I managed to find out that Stone’s friends hang out along Navigation Boulevard. That’s a street in the Fifth Ward that runs along the ship channel. Specifically, they stay pretty close to a liquor store there named the Bottle Shop. Seems the owner has a soft spot for alcoholics and extends them credit when they get short.”
“Hang on a minute while I write this down. Navigation Boulevard, ship channel, and the Bottle Shop . . . right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“George, I am forever in your debt.”
He laughed. “Just remember that when I ask you for a recommendation letter for my fellowship year.”
She smiled into the phone. “I won’t forg
et, believe me.”
She hung up the phone and turned to Burton Ramsey, who was sitting in her kitchen sipping on a whiskey and water.
“Are you ready to go looking for our subject?”
“What? Now? Hell, Sheila, it’s almost seven o’clock. Can’t we wait until morning and look for him in the daylight?”
She frowned. “Sure, if you think he’ll still be alive by then. Remember, he just got out of the hospital and several days of forced sobriety. What do you think is the first thing he is going to do?”
He snorted. “Get as drunk as he can as fast as he can.”
“You’ve seen his liver and kidney tests. How many more benders do you think it will take until both organs shut down for good?”
“Okay, okay. I see your point. But did I hear you say Navigation Boulevard and the ship channel?”
“That’s right.”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous that area is, especially at night?”
“Yes, I do. How about we call Kevin and Kat and ask them along for reinforcements?”
He shook his head. “Can’t. Kat finally broke down and told me one of the ingredients in her serum is fetal brain tissue. Not too hard to get for rats and dogs, but damn near impossible for humans. So I sent her and Kevin to Monterrey to see a doctor contact of mine who said he could get her whatever she needed—for a price, of course. They won’t be back until day after tomorrow.”
“That’ll be too late. We’ll just have to do it ourselves.”
“But Kevin took the undercover car to the airport. If we use your car, the guys following us will know where we went.”
“So what? Their patient knows we’re going to need a subject to test the serum on, so what if he finds out we went to the worst part of town to find one? We’re going to have to share Stone’s medical history and general condition before and after with him at some point. And Kevin said we could just remove the tracker and leave it in the garage and they’ll never know we left.”
“Okay, my dear. But do you mind if we drop by my apartment on the way, so I can pick up my pistol? I’d feel naked in that part of town without some kind of protection.”
“Not only do I not mind,” she said as she moved to the door to her bedroom, “but I think I’ll take my own gun with us, too.”
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