THE SHAFT

Part 2 — Chapter 2

Jesse frowned at Amanda as he looked at her from across the table in the pathology lab. His eyebrows were raised. "Machu Lie?" he asked in disbelief. He shook his head as he took another sip from his drink he had taken from the cafeteria. "No way. I don't see it. Machu is too much of a sweet guy to do such a thing." He sat down on a seat, shaking the remains of the ice in the bottom of the carton cylindrical cup. "Have you ever seen the guy? He looks as though he recites poetry."

"As you have very well proved to us, Jesse," Steve said, "a person can have two sides. People snap eventually." He looked at the files Amanda had got for them. "I mean, let's face it, Machu practically created the idea of this chain of hospitals. He was the brains behind the whole operation. With Machu's help, Carl Graves expanded his operations from Germany into America and became a success—a millionaire. Then Machu is cut out of everything—his credibility and the will. It's a good motive for murder."

Mark sighed dejectedly. "He's got a really strong motive. But was he able to do it?"

Steve nodded. "I'm afraid so. We don't even need evidence for this one. Even I heard the whole thing—there was a confrontation back stage just before I returned to you, dad and Jesse had disappeared downstairs. Machu and Carl were arguing. Machu said, here is your 'drink'. He could have poisoned it when giving it to Carl. That cyanide bottle could be anywhere by now. When I looked behind after the argument, Machu was nowhere in sight. He could have just been hiding. Literally, a few minutes later, Carl Graves was dead." Steve looked over at his father and knew that he was feeling subdued about the whole affair. Considering he knew Machu Lie personally, it didn't make him feel any better.

Sometimes, this was just the way it worked out.

Mark shook his head. "It seems so unlike him. He was such a bright man. I never thought he's resort to something like this."

"Well," Steve implied, "with a case without any forensic evidence, the circumstantial one's the best we got. And we have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest Machu Lie for his murder. Even if we could find the cyanide bottle, it would be even better and proof that he hired Duke."

"You think that would be better?" Jesse asked.

Amanda cleared her throat. "What would be much better is if you stopped drinking in the pathology labs. You know that no one is allowed to eat or drink in here."

Jesse nodded meekly and put the cup in waste paper bin beside him. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about how complicated the case had gone. He had promised Duke he'd come after his rounds had finished. But from this latest news from Amanda, he wanted to hear it. It could be one way of finding who the real murderer was. There were still a lot of things that didn't fit, though, such as the fire. How could he have put it there? Maybe Machu had deposited the liquid potassium before he killed Carl Graves. Confused, Jesse shook his head and looked out of the door. Amanda noticed from where she was standing over the table, Jesse's expression change from confusion to shock and then anger. "What the hell is he doing here?" Jesse asked quietly that they could barely hear what he stood. The others turned round in the direction of Jesse's gaze and could tell immediately what was wrong. Standing at the reception desk was a tall, very blond man.

"Jesse, don't do anything stupid—" Mark started to say and got up to walk to Jesse. But he was too late. The young doctor had shot up from his seat and marched towards Jamie Condrack. The other doctor was looking totally confused in Community General and had no idea where he was going. He was almost inclined to ask the receptionist to help his way around but he decided against it. Waiting was better.

He was about to head down a corridor when someone grabbed his arm and spun him round. "What are you doing here?" the short man hissed at him.

Jamie's face turned from one of shock to almost delight but within his happy face, there was also a nasty malice to it. "Oh, well, if it isn't Dr Travis himself. Come to give me a warm greeting, have you?" he asked, his blond eyebrows raised and his face in a crude smile. Even with a menacing look, he was rather handsome.

"More like an icy reception," Jesse replied quietly. "Why are you here?"

"To see if you really did drop down seventy five feet into an elevator shaft." He looked at Jesse as though he was some insect. "Shame I have to come back and find that it isn't true. You're still roaming the corridors acting like a doctor. Tell me, did you have to bribe the Dean eventually—'I've been so good. I turned Jamie Condrack in and I know it was you who gave you the answers, don't you think you deserve to give me my graduation whether I pass or not."

Jesse pushed Jamie hard in the chest. The older man stumbled but didn't fall. "Everything I got I earned through all the work I did. I didn't need to bribe anyone. Why can't you see that what you did was wrong. You were taking answers and everyone knew it was you so why bother denying it. Even Shelly eventually saw it."

Jamie took a step towards Jesse menacingly. "You must have brainwashed her. It must have you been your 'natural charm' as you used to call it. You framed me and then made Shelly believe that it was my fault." It was his turn to push Jesse and the shorter doctor fell back against the door of one of the rooms

Jesse shook his head. "Well, at least I earned it all through a decent graduation. I spent all five years learning for my degree. I didn't cheat once in my life. I may have been a big joker in class, but I knew that if I were going to save lives properly, I wouldn't have to go to the Dean and ask him for them. And at least I didn't get my parents to cry and shout and send you to another posh school somewhere else. It must have taken them a lot to realize what you'd done and fight to get into another school knowing what you'd done—been a disgrace."

Jamie lost his patience and lunged for Jesse, aiming and punch but Jesse dodged. Both of them were locked together, trying to overpower the other. People were starting to watch. Mark, Steve and Amanda had been watching the trading of insults, wondering how much hate could two people have and wish to share out in the open with ears listening. It was like a point-scoring match where one person always had to get the upper hand. It was almost childish but by now, it had grown past petty insults. They knew, though, when enough was enough when the fight of word turned physical. Steve came forward and tried to pull the two men apart. But the anger of the two men had given them so much strength that Steve couldn't do it. Mark stepped in to help and eventually, after pushing and shoving, Steve held Jesse back whilst Mark held onto Jamie.

Jesse had managed to come out unscathed even though he was struggling in Steve's grip. He was itching for a fight. Jamie had a small trickle of blood coming from the corner of his mouth but he allowed Mark to keep him out.

He felt the blood on his lip and then wiped it away. Then he looked at Jesse. "Well, the least I can be truthful about is that my parents did actually care. I didn't need a rich mother and at least my father didn't run away and leave me. I can't imagine what it had been like, constantly trying to impress them. It seemed to get you nowhere. When was the last time you saw dad, Travis? And did it make your mom proud? At least I didn't have to fight for their pride."

Steve felt Jesse tense up in his hands but the doctor calmed down quickly. It was almost as though he was giving up. "Well, if you've ever said anything truthful in your life, that was it." He shrugged Steve's grip and then wandered down the hall. He turned the corner.

Amanda looked in amazement at the scene that had just taken place. Jamie wiped the rest of his blood on his hand. Mark and Steve watched Jesse disappear down the hall as Amanda walked over to Jamie and stood in front of him. "You are some piece of work," she said to the doctor. "I don't know a lot about you but I think I got everything I needed to ever know from that scene just now." Amanda wasn't as mad as Jesse. But she couldn't understand how two people could hate each other so much that it was possible to say things like that.

Jamie didn't seem at all flustered. "If you were in my shoes ma'am, you'd do the same thing to the man who almost ruined your future."

"I'd be a little more mature about it."

Mark shook his head. "This isn't what we're meant to be talking about. What are you here Jamie? Surely it's not about Jesse Travis and to play this who can insult most game."

Jamie shook his head and brought out a small bottle. "No, it's about this." He held it up and on the label where the words CYANIDE.

* * * * *

Duke looked carefully at the man who was checking his temperature and heart rate. There was something about the doctor that confused him. He didn't act like a doctor. It was as though doing this was all boring. Something was distracting him from his normal routine and that didn't make Duke feel better. The doctor was frustrated, thinking about something, due to the look on his face and the small frown that he wore. "Something wrong, kid?" Jesse shook his head and continued checking, avoiding eye contact. "Oh really? You haven't even said a proper hello, how are you, today. Something's up."

Jesse sighed and put the instruments down. "Nothing serious. Just an old rivalry with doctors—me being one of them—ending up in a punch out." He sighed again; more frustrated Just thinking about Jamie made him tense up with anger again. He was happy he had delivered that punch out and cracked his lip. But it didn't satisfy him. He guessed that for a hate that had stretched for so long, one lip bleeding wasn't going to cut it.

Duke laughed and settled back against the pillows. "Man, if that's rivalry for doctors, I'd hate to see rivalry among hitmen."

"So would I." Jesse sat down in a chair and leaned his head back. "We're also trying to solve this case. I know why Carl Graves looked half dead before you shot him and fell to a heap on the ground." Duke looked inquiringly at him. "Traces of cyanide poison were found in his system. He must have drank it within a few minutes before you shot him." Jesse sighed. "That doesn't really help you get away. Forensics have your gun and they matched the bullets in there to the one that you plugged into Carl." Jesse ran a hand through his hair. "We're in a mess. There's no way we can clear your name."

Duke's eyes narrowed. "I never should have been here in the first place." Jesse didn't look at him. "If we had just carried on going down, I could have got away. But we got stalled. Now I'm in a hospital bed and there's no way I could get out of here. I could be back out on the streets again, in Chicago, doing my job." Duke's anger was growing and he grabbed onto Jesse's arm because of it. He was mad at Jesse. Jesse had been the one who landed him here. Duke was just violent by nature. He couldn't help it when his anger for the better of him. He had been taught—and his job required him—to hurt. Jesse's eyes widened in panic and he tried to break free of the grasp, tugging from Duke's vice like grip on him.

"Duke, you're hurting me." He tried to get through to the man but it made no different. He was still talking, racing on like a steam train.

Duke knew he had heard this kind of speech before. Jesse had given him one like this when they were inside the building. "But no, I'm stuck in here with a one way trip to a jail cell—probably even Death Row." When he shouted the last two words, he realized what he was doing. Reality sunk in. He let go of Jesse's wrist and then young doctor pulled it back, a red strip around his wrist. He held on to it, rubbing it to take the throbbing pain away. Duke's mouth dropped for a second and he faced away from Jesse, staring at the door in front of him, and the figure of the guard outside the door. "I'm sorry," Duke said quietly. "I didn't mean to do that. It's just that…I'm mad. I can't stand being in here, knowing what's going to happen."

"You're going to have to face up to it," Jesse said as a matter of factly.

Duke looked round at Jesse. "Doc, I'm a killer," he said. "All I got to face up to is an electrocution or injection. I want to be out there again. I'm a killer and even if I have to kill every doctor in this hospital including you, I will make it out."

Jesse shook his head. The hazy forms of an idea were coming into his mind. Jesse thought that it was rather risky but was it worth doing. "I know you're never going to tell me who hired you," he said. "That would make you a dead man. But have an idea about how I can get you out without anyone noticing. You could practically just waltz out of here but it will take a few days." He looked to make sure the guard outside the door wasn't listening in or looking at them to make sure anything was going on. In fact, the guard spent most of his time either watching the TV down the corridor, or having a conversation with passing nurses under twenty-five.

"I don't have a few days. Doc Sloan says I'll be out of here by tomorrow. I'm well enough as it is, he says, and then it's straight down to the LAPD. And besides, there is a guard out there. Soon, they'll have the bomb squad here in case I explode as well."

Jesse smiled for a second but then turned serious again. He shook his head. "There is a way I can keep you here."

Duke raised an eyebrow. "How?"

Jesse grimaced. "It's not particularly pleasant. In fact it's horrible. But there's something I can give you, which will make you vomit, give you a rising temperature and make you feel as though you want to die. It's nothing serious, though. You'd get better within a few days and by that time, I can have you out of the hospital. I have just thought of a way."

"That don't sound too pleasant." Duke didn't sound to enthusiastic

"I could cut off your leg."

"Well, throwing up does sound better than a blood mess," Duke reconsidered. "Okay, we'll go for it." He paused and looked at Jesse, who had once again, returned to looking very frustrated. "Why are you doing this for me, Jesse. I mean, I'm a hitman who, once I get out, will only start killing again. I mean, we are friends—kind of—but I don't want you putting off your job and your doctor thing just to get me out of here." He wasn't quite sure what reaction he was going to get from that. It was one of the most sentimental things he had ever said in his life and even though he had known Jesse for about a week, his own personality had greatly changed. He didn't know about Jesse so he didn't know the reaction. He wasn't expecting an explosive one.

"I am not your friend!" Jesse shouted, his hands shaking as he turned and rounded on Duke. "I don't want to be your friend. You're causing me trouble ever since I met you in that elevator. It's all getting too much now. I know you didn't kill Carl Graves but my friends think you did. I don't know whose side I'm meant to be on. I mean…you're a hitman! A Killer! You said yourself. And here I am, trying to bust you free. You almost killed me when we inside that building. I almost—almost—wished you had. But don't talk to me about being friends."

Duke's eyes narrowed again, a sure sign that he was getting angry, Jesse realized. Duke pulled the covers off from him and got out of bed, standing up. In any other circumstance as a doctor, he would have pushed him right back but he didn't. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was afraid of what Duke might do or something stupid nerve inside of him decided to act tough even though he wasn't. "Believe it or not, kid, I don't want to be your friend either. I know that I'm not meant to be. The common sense is up in that. And deep down, I know that I'm still supposed to sneak up behind you and break your neck. I can't afford you running around and telling everything I've said to you. The thing is, I don't care about anyone else because I don't know them. But I know you and I know that if I kill you, I'd have a guilty conscience. Don't get me wrong, kid, I still wanna kill you. I have been thinking about it."

Jesse shook his head. "You're not scaring me."

"Good. Then you are somewhat tougher than you look. But don't give me any crap about friendship. This would never have happened if I'd gotten away. The pact about forgetting this ever happened would have worked." His dark brown eyes flashed slightly as he looked down into Jesse's blue ones.

"That is why I'm trying to get you out," Jesse cried back, throwing his hands in the air. "I want to forget this ever happened. I don't want to think that I met you in an elevator, saved your life and then ended up to doing this. I just want to come to the hospital every day, get on with my rounds, maybe do a little detective work with Steve or Mark—not regret things I've done with a killer."

Duke nodded. "Good, at least we got something sorted, 'cos I'm losing money the longer I sit in here. Now, you do what you have to do, doc, but you get me out of here."

"With pleasure," Jesse snapped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Without looking back, he started heading towards the door.

Duke watched the smaller doctor leave. His anger had diminished now and he climbed back into the bed painfully. His arm still hurt. "Jesse!" he cried back. The other man turned round surprised that he had been called by his first name. It was either 'kid' or 'doc.' This had to be something important. His facial expression still made it look as though he had somewhere better to be so Duke decided to get it over and done with painfully. "I'm sorry."

Jesse smiled back at him. "I'm sorry too."

Duke sighed. "How bad is this virus thing going to be?"

Jesse shrugged. "It won't be bad at all. I'm gonna be your doctor, remember." Jesse shut the door quietly, hoping that the little white lie won't mean too much.