Chapter 2
February 28, 1984 – 1:00 p.m.
Maggie Sullivan put down the phone. Whoever this Tawnia Baker was, she seemed in earnest that Hannibal and his men were in trouble. Someone was taking them out one by one, and Hannibal was the only one left standing. Or rather lying, in a seedy motel room unconscious and in pain. Her combat training kicked in, pushing aside any feelings in order to do the job. How many times had she lost friends under the knife, men whose wounds were too severe to even begin to treat? If she had allowed emotions to enter the arena, it would have paralyzed her. She used that same ability now. The feelings she had buried for him began to bubble up, and SLAM! Right back in the box Maggie! You have work to do! OK, think. Based on the symptoms, it is probably poison, or a sedative. Hoping the latter. There were too many poisons available to even guess which it could be. Gathering what she could, she hopped in the truck and headed out. She turned the music up loud, not even wanting her brain to think about the man she was going to help. Within 30 minutes, she had arrived at the motel room. God, he looked so helpless. The goo in her stomach returned, and she slammed that back in the box too, getting to work.