We approached a stocky blond man, who was almost as tall as Nicoli.
“Captain Marek,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here today. Thank you for coming. We were in quite a bind, as you of all people could imagine.”
I stole a glance at Nicoli, but he said nothing.
The blond man looked down at me and offered a smile so fake a tourist
wouldn’t buy it. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Lieutenant Commander
Emory Weston. The warden here. And you must be…”
“The doctor you requested,” Nicoli answered evenly. “Where is the patient?”
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Lt. Weston eyed me again, then motioned for us to follow him down the hall.
When he saw that the troops would pursue, he raised surprised brows at Nicoli.
“Is this really necessary, Captain? We have an ample guard of our own.”
Nicoli shrugged. “Whether or not it’s necessary remains to be seen, Weston.
The patient?”
Weston licked his lips, a nervous trait, I believed. We followed him to
another elevator, where he turned to us. “Unfortunately, all of the cattle cannot be corralled into this one. Some will need to stay behind, I’m afraid.”
Nicoli crossed his arms. “We’re in no hurry today, Weston. Half of them can
go first. We’ll take the second elevator when it comes back. Unless you have an
alternate route that would accommodate all of us simultaneously?”
Weston licked his lips and shook his head. Nicoli gave a nod to Horan, who
issued a silent order for the first outfit to load into the elevator.
As we awaited its return, Nicoli addressed the warden. “We’ve also made
arrangements to transport Dr. Yomato’s body back to the Bellator for autopsy.
You can speak with Lt. Horan regarding these arrangements.”
Lt. Weston fidgeted the taser on his belt. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible,
Captain Marek. We’ve already disposed of his body just this morning.”
Nicoli didn’t appear surprised. “That’s interesting, Weston. Standard
procedure requires that the death of an officer be investigated through autopsy if suspicious circumstances are present. You are, of course, aware of this.”
“I was not aware of any suspicious circumstances, Captain.”
“The regulation further states that any death occurring in the confines of a
prison shall automatically be treated as suspect and given the benefit of further investigation. You have a negligible recollection of regulation and procedure,
given a warden of your rank, Weston.”
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The warden’s face grew red at Nicoli’s barely masked implications. His
upper lip twitched, and his hand locked on the taser. Nicoli eyed him, raising a
brow that invited him—dared him—to pull it. Weston let his hand fall as the
elevator doors opened.
“After you, Warden,” Nicoli said.
We entered as a group. My stomach tightened as we dropped farther into the
entrails of this ominous building. When the doors opened again, we followed the
warden to the end of a long white hallway which was now lined with our own
guard.
Lt. Weston pointed to the last door on the left. “He’s in there. Please let me
know if you need further assistance.” Then he walked away, barely containing
his malevolence.
When he was out of earshot, Nicoli turned, looking down at me with
unveiled concern. “Remember, do not speak to him unless absolutely necessary.
I’ll be right here if you need me. Leave the door open and please, please make this the quickest house call in the history of the earth.”
I held my breath as I opened the door that said Infirmary.
I walked in, wishing I had Nicoli’s capability of cloaking my emotions. The
room was small, the usual hospital-variety utensils lining the white walls to
accommodate the four beds. In the corner sat a large desk, with a name plate that read Dr. Hiroshi Yomato. Despite the sheer vastness of the desk, that it had already been cleaned and boxed made the room seem more empty.
“I was tired of lying down, so I decided to sit. I do hope that’s agreeable to
you, Doctor,” a voice called from behind one of the beds, startling me. I walked
slowly to it.
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He sat in the chair next to the bed, adorned only in a smile, a hospital gown
and some crepe-paper slippers. The bed beside him had either never been used,
or was freshly made. My pulse quickened.
The man had undeniably Greek features, with olive skin, a large crooked
nose and dark hair seasoned with the salt of age. Probably in his mid-fifties, and in very good shape. The Greeks, as a people, were renowned for their heart
health. If this man had a heart condition, it was because he lacked a heart
altogether.
“I would prefer that you at least sit on the bed. It will give me better access to the tools I need,” I told him with much more confidence than was really there.
He stood and scooted himself onto the edge of the bed.
“Tell me what’s been going on.” I walked to a large double-door cabinet to
rummage through it for supplies.
“My chest has been hurting.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Sometimes I can feel my heart palpitating. It feels like it beats faster, then
slower. Sometimes it feels like it skips a beat altogether.”
“Hmm.” I pulled out a stethoscope and walked back to him. “What are you
doing when you feel this way?”
He shrugged. “Sometimes nothing. Was that Nicoli Marek I just saw at the
door?”
I stiffened.
He smiled the most unpleasant smile I’d ever seen. “You two make a good
couple,” he whispered, as if he were divulging gossip.
“Does physical activity make it worse?” I asked, trying to ignore the turn in
conversation.
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“No. I bet he doesn’t like letting you in here to see me, does he? Probably still sore about the whole incident with his father. There’s something different about him though…can’t quite place my finger on it…” He tapped his index finger on
his chin in dramatic contemplation. “Oh, that’s it. It’s the fact that he looks like a lovesick pup. Who would have thought, someone actually brought the mighty
Nicoli to his knees—”
“I’m going to listen to your heart.”
He wouldn’t be deterred. “But then, I guess I’m not surprised to find you
consorting with the likes of Nicoli Marek. You’re rather impressive yourself,
aren’t you, Dr. Morgan?”
I froze.
“Okay.” He laughed softly. “You got me. I planned to drag it out for at least
another ten minutes, but I never was good at suspense. We both know what
you’re going to find when you listen to my heart, don’t we, Dr. Morgan?”
I lowered the stethoscope. I hoped he couldn’t see my pulse threatening the
boundaries of the artery at my neck. The trap hadn’t been set for Nicoli at all.
He chuckled again, enjoying the element of surprise more than should be
possible. “Oh, I’ve been trying to arrange this little meeting for weeks now.
You’re a difficult pe
rson to track, Elyse. Of course, your little UN friends saw to that.”
I glanced back at the door. Nicoli still stood there, his wide back turned to us.
Apparently, he’d complied with my wishes to keep at bay. If he were within
hearing distance, Ares Petropoulos would find that he did indeed have a heart
condition.
“Oh, there’s no need to alarm the boyfriend,” Ares assured in a whisper, his
tone smug. “We’re just going to talk, you and I. If you’re anything like your
father, you’ll at least be curious as to what I have to say.”
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My head snapped back in rapt attention, apprehension vaporized, replaced
with hatred, pure and raw.
“See? I know you better than you think. Shall we talk?”
I nodded. If this man had information about my father, I wanted to know it.
“That’s a good girl, Dr. Morgan. The stoic captain will be checking in on us,
most assuredly. Why don’t you get an IV started or something? Let’s make it as
convincing as possible, shall we?”
I walked to the cabinet and pulled out the ingredients of an IV. I brought it to
his bedside and began to set up.
He eyed the saline solution. “Better let me have a look at that bag, Doc.” I
handed it to him and after he inspected it, he nodded and handed it back. As I
worked, he continued.
“Oh, at first, they really had me fooled. Setting up that monument on your
island, burying that empty casket next to your parents. Even The University held
a memorial to grieve the loss of their youngest graduate. I berated myself for
sending those mindless goliaths to retrieve you. They’re renowned for their
sloppy work.” He shook his head in disgust. “I thought I killed you myself. I was almost sad.”
I taped the IV to his arm with gritted teeth as I listened to his self-absorbed
speech. I fought against his provocation, against the urge to attack him, against the urge to call for Nicoli. None of these things would get what I wanted. Not
yet. Nicoli was right—Ares was indeed intelligent if he could orchestrate the
circumstances surrounding this meeting from within the confines of this
forgotten prison. Which meant he might have planned for an attack, since he
obviously planned to provoke me. He could have a weapon hidden somewhere,
ready to kill me. Or he could have no weapon—if I attacked him, helpless in the
infirmary, a heart patient no less, he would get a free pass.
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No, I had to do what he didn’t expect. I couldn’t allow him to surprise me again—or rather, I couldn’t allow him to see my surprise. I decided on
nonchalance.
“Now, now, Dr. Morgan. You can’t just sit there. He’s already checked on
you twice since you started the IV. Go see what you can find in that cabinet. I’m sure there’s a wonderful array of important-looking gadgets you could pull out.”
I complied, feeling the rage in my stomach begin to broil. Among my
selections was a scalpel. I placed it with purpose on the metal tray beside his bed.
Closer to him than to me. An invitation to make the first move.
He didn’t miss it. He smiled at me crookedly.
“I’m waiting for the point of all this,” I told him with double-meaning. He didn’t miss that, either. Still, he didn’t appear to fear me.
“I want you to work for me.”
“No.”
“Whatever the UN is paying you, I’ll double it. Whatever their
compensation, I’ll even triple it.”
“No. I’m not being paid for my work.” I laughed softly as if he were a child
asking a silly question.
In a moment of brilliance, I walked to the cabinet and retrieved another bag
of saline solution and a few syringes. I returned to the bed and showed him my
fare. He shrugged, uninterested. Either he trusted my ethics as a doctor, or he
didn’t see me as a threat.
He tilted his head, studying me. “I believe you get that foolish generosity
from your father. Your father refused me as well. The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it, Dr. Morgan?”
Control yourself. I steadied my hands and filled a syringe with the solution. If Nicoli peered in, he’d see me busying myself with some anonymous task related
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to the care of my patient. I filled the last one, trying to envision my father having this same conversation with this man.
“Why would you want the antivirus? Feeling a little remorse?” I glanced
back at the door to Nicoli’s broad shoulders.
Ares chuckled. “You can, of course, see how profitable it would be to have
both in my control. Oh, now, don’t look at me like that, Dr. Morgan. You act as if I’m some sort of monster.” He made a tsk ing sound with his tongue. “Did you think your little UN friends would be any different? That they wouldn’t use the
cure to their full political advantage? Oh, goodness, Dr. Morgan, it looks like you did.” He laughed delightedly.
I did, in fact. I hadn’t thought about any political agendas when I agreed to
help. Stupid, stupid. My father was right not to trust the UN. They had probably
approached him first—just like Ares. And if I knew my father, he had probably
expanded their vocabulary by a few choice phrases as he kicked them out of his
house. Of course, the UN’s intentions couldn’t have been worse than Ares’s, but I could see them withholding the cure to countries that refused to cooperate with
their terms. Let people die while they dangled it in front of their faces. No, the UN’s agenda wasn’t worse than Ares’s, it was exactly the same—control.
It sickened me to think I was helping either side. I couldn’t allow anyone to use it for their own advantage. This wasn’t about sides. It was about people.
Regardless of their nationality or alliances or beliefs. It was about life. I would preserve life—even if it meant giving up my own. Somehow I would make this right.
“I really had expected much better from you, Dr. Morgan,” Ares said in
feigned disappointment. “Given your intelligence and all. Did you know that
your IQ is actually a little higher than your father’s was? Although, not quite as high as mine.”
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I was tired of keeping my temper in check. “The IQ test must not account for
arrogance. The erroneous belief that one is infallible. I’m afraid your score would suffer dramatically, if it did.”
My answer seemed to please him. “Won’t you reconsider, Dr. Morgan? I can
see we’d get along quite well.” This time, there was an echo of pleading in his
voice.
I smiled wide. “Never. Not now, not ever. But the good news is, I’m happy
with the results of your examination. I’ll certify the extreme excellence of your health, and you can have the benefit of a fair trial, how does that sound? I would say it was a pleasure meeting you, but…” I shrugged.
I turned to leave, with no small amount of relief.
“Did they ever find out who was responsible for your father’s death? You
know, your mother was just a bonus.”
I whirled around. The man was snarling. I narrowed my eyes at him, almost
doubled over with the pain of his admission. And then the rage took over.
I
closed the distance between us in two efficient strides. I grabbed the syringe and injected it into the IV without another thought. I stared down at him, smiling
through triumphant tears.
“That was only saline solution,” he said. “I watched you fill it myself.”
I snorted. “That’s the thing about air bubbles, Mr. Petropoulos. You can’t see
them. They don’t even show up in autopsies.”
He gasped as he realized my meaning, his face contorted in terror.
“You’ll be dead within hours,” I whispered. I spun and strode to the door,
shaking with the lie. Still, I felt no remorse for my deceit, no pity. It would do this man considerable good to think he was on the verge of death. I hoped he
would be thinking about his brush with it when he stood trial in two days.
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Nicoli’s eyes grew livid when he saw the track of a tear I’d just wiped from
my cheek. He started for the infirmary, but I held him back.
“Please, Nicoli,” I pleaded. “Please, just take me home.”
He growled, furious. He led me down the hall, careful not to touch me
inappropriately in front of his men.
In the quiet haven of the transport pod, I could tell he fought the urge not to
force it out of me. He kept glancing at me, his beautiful dark eyes afflicted with concern. Finally, it got the better of him.
“I need to know,” he said.
“Yes,” I agreed, “you do.” I inhaled as much as my lungs would take.
Then I told him everything.
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Chapter Fourteen
Nicoli wouldn’t speak to me.
That first evening on the island, I had thought I was educating him on the
adverse effects of the silent treatment. Now I realized that his mother or his little sister—or both—had already instructed him in the art. I realized that they were
much better at it than me. And I realized that Nicoli must have been their star
pupil.
It had been two days since I told him in the transport pod what had
happened between myself and Ares Petropoulos. As I relayed to him the
unfolding of events, he said nothing. His jaw had simply hardened, as it always
did when he was angry—only this time it had stayed that way.
He hadn’t shown up to the gym or to the mess hall, hadn’t called me to his
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