Part 10

Marcus Hoyt considered himself a generous man, an educated man, a patron of the arts and a believer in the sanctity of Life. He attended Mass regularly at the local Catholic parish and gave large donations to anti-abortion groups. He endowed scholarships at the private University he had attended (although he'd not actually graduated). That his money was obtained by selling large numbers of illegal arms to people who in turn used these weapons to kill other people, was not something that he let bother him.

After all, it wasn't like he knew any of the people that were killed by his guns. He considered himself a businessman, an entrepreneur. The salesman who had sold him his sports car, after all, never worried that he might kill someone while driving it.

He made it a practice to avoid blood on his own hands as much as possible. Therefore, when he was arrested and first realized someone in his organization was actually working undercover for the federal government, his first thought was bribery, not murder. Government employees were notoriously underpaid-surely some low-level clerk (for he was convinced the "mole" was an accounting clerk he'd obtained a few months before from a temporary agency) would be glad to take a hundred grand or so and forget anything incriminating he might have seen.

And then his defense attorney-a high-powered, over-paid, under-ethical slippery snake-somehow managed to find out the names of the two undercover agents. Ezra Standish. Buck Wilmington.

Better known to Hoyt as Edward Steen and his bodyguard/assistant, Brian Jakes.

Rage coursed through Hoyt, the kind of red-blood rage that can only come through betrayal. He'd taken Steen in, treated him as a friend-no, more- taken him into his home. Brought him into the close circle he considered family.

And Jakes-Wilmington-had spent time with Sarah. A lot of time with her. Taken her out even. Hell, he'd made a play for her! And the innocent girl had fallen for the tall, smooth-tongued bastard. She'd left to return to Paris practically broken-hearted at leaving him.

'There's a special Hell reserved for a man who uses an innocent girl.'

Bribery was no longer an option. Steen and Jakes-Standish and Wilmington-had betrayed family. They would pay the ultimate price for that betrayal.

Hoyt picked up the phone. He punched in a number he'd memorized a long time ago. After three rings it was picked up. He spoke to the voice on the other end. "I have a job for you."

~+~+~+~

Dr. Craig Baker got a break around midnight. Sighing in relief, he slipped off to the resident's lounge and made himself comfortable on the bed in the corner. It had been a fairly quiet night so far-the only serious case being the ATF agent with food poisoning-but with the rain-slicked streets and low visibility, a spate of car crashes was likely before morning.

He frowned as his muscles slowly relaxed, thinking about Agent Standish and his earlier phone conversation with Dr. Murray at Four Corners Medical Center. She'd bluntly told him to "count his blessings" he only had one worried partner to deal with, mentioning that when any of ATF Team Seven were hospitalized under her care, she had six anxious men to deal with. "Wilmington won't give you many problems, except for flirting with every nurse on the floor," she'd assured him. "He's actually one of the more laid-back of the bunch, especially if you don't try to make him leave his friend. And since it's Standish you're trying to treat, you don't want him left alone. Not for a minute, I don't care if you think he's in a coma! The man is a slippery eel. I swore the next time I had to admit him I'd put him in restraints."

Trusting her word, Baker had left instructions that no one was to disturb Agent Wilmington with any comments about visiting hours or leaving patients to get their rest. He'd peeped in on the two men just before heading to the lounge and they were both sleeping. Wilmington didn't look good but if he was getting over that food poisoning too-

He shook his head, feeling sleep creep over his mind. Those blood tests on Standish. The results were different from what he'd expected. And what was with that erratic heartbeat? He'd treated five others who'd dined on fish at Duchienne's that night, and none of them had presented with an erratic pulse. The lab work looked different, too...

He drifted off then, to confused dreams interrupted some unknown time later by the persistent squealing of his pager.

He was needed in room 4712. STAT.

~+~+~+~

The doctor arrived at the same moment as two orderlies pulling a stretcher. By this time, Buck was coming around, muttering and making sporadic attempts to sit up. He was so weak that it didn't take much for Chris to restrain him.

Dr. Baker knelt next to Wilmington, checking his pulse and respiration. He grinned. "Told you you needed to get something to eat," he scolded gently. He beckoned for the orderlies to place the downed man on the stretcher. "Take him down to ER."

"I don't need-" Buck started faintly.

"Shut up, Buck," Chris snapped. The harsh lines that had been marring his face since the call from AD Travis that afternoon had eased since finding his friends and hearing both of them speak. Chris looked directly at the doctor. "What's wrong with them?"

Baker grinned. "You must be Chris Larabee. I'm Dr. Baker. Your friend Dr. Murray at Four Corners mentioned you'd probably be turning up soon."

"You're busted...Chris," Buck wheezed.

"Hey, I'm not the one lying on a floor," Chris returned, squeezing his friend's shoulder. He eyed the doctor again. "Well?"

"I would guess Mr. Wilmington here is suffering from mild dehydration, exhaustion, and probably hypoglycemia. But we really need to get him down to ER to check him out. Depending on what his tests show, we'll either hook him up to an IV for some fluids for a couple of hours, and then send him home for some rest, or check him in for the night."

"I'm not-" Buck started.

"Oh yes, you will," Chris cut him off. "I'm going with you." He looked over at Vin. With a flicker of an eyelid the sharpshooter assured his friend he'd stay with Ezra. Standish had slipped back to sleep, apparently not even really noticing who all had been in the room with him. Dr. Baker studied the monitors, spoke with the nurse in low tones and then turned to follow the stretcher, walking into one of the uniformed officers. He stepped back and looked at Chris.

Once the two officers had realized no one was in immediate danger, they had holstered their guns. The oldest one-a grizzled veteran-nodded at Chris. "Larabee."

"Sgt. Hamilton," Chris returned. He cocked his head. "What're you doing here, Sergeant?"

"We've been assigned as protection for Agents Wilmington and Standish," the older man returned smartly.

Chris raised his eyebrows. "Oh, you have? Who made that assignment?"

"The Watch Commander," Hamilton returned. There was something in his face that said he didn't like Chris much, or the assignment either. His eyes fell on Buck and his lips twisted in a scornful gesture.

Chris hesitated. He looked at the younger officer. "Who might you be?"

"Tim Patton, Sir." Hamilton's partner couldn't have been more than six months out of the Academy. He was so young you could practically smell the green on him. And from the look of hero-worship Chris suspected he'd heard stories of Larabee and Wilmington and their career in Denver's Major Crimes Unit. 'Obviously didn't hear any stories from Hamilton or he'd have a different look on his face.'

Aloud, Chris said, "Patton, you stand guard outside this room." He nodded toward Vin. "Agent Tanner is in charge. You talk to him if you have any questions."

"Now, wait a second-" Hamilton started.

Chris just looked at him and the older officer fell silent. "Hamilton, you're with me." His voice said there wasn't room for argument.

~+~+~+~

Five minutes after everyone left Ezra's room the nurse walked back in again, carrying a cup in each hand. She placed one on the bedside table. "He ruptured a blood vessel in his throat," she told Vin. "That with the oxygen is going to make his throat mighty sore. But he can't have any liquids by mouth yet. If he wakes up again see if you can get him to eat a few ice chips." The she handed the other cup to Vin. It was coffee, hot and strong, and he accepted it gratefully. "You look like you could use this."

"Yes, ma'am," Vin said thankfully, taking a sip. "Been a long day." He waved his hand around at the bank of monitors. "What's wrong with Ezra, 'zactly?"

"He was severely dehydrated when he came in, electrolyte imbalance. That's why the IVs in both arms. According to your other friend he hasn't been able to keep anything down for three days. Ruptured a blood vessel-apparently from the constant vomiting-that could have been bad but they cauterized it down in ER." She frowned. "He's been showing an erratic heartbeat-it'll speed up and then drop to way below normal, but he's been stable for the last couple of hours. He's on quite a bit of pain medication and he's sedated, so when he wakes up again he may or may not make any sense." She smiled. The smile took years off her face and Vin was suddenly reminded of his friend Nettie Wells. "My name's Mrs. Dunn," she winked. "But I let boys with beautiful blue eyes call me Dixie." The smile widened at Vin's blush and she started for the door. "Just hit the call button if you need anything."

~+~+~+~

Chris stood in a corner of the exam room, careful to keep out of the way of Dr. Baker and the two nurses who were tending to Buck. He had learned a long time ago that he'd be evicted from a hospital room if medical personnel thought he was interfering; not even the "Larabee Death Glare" as his men teasingly called it would change that. He had no intention of letting Buck out of his sight. The icy fear that had gripped him when Buck had passed out in Ezra's room eased a little as he heard his friend haltingly answering the doctor's questions. He winced as it took the nurse three or four tries to hit a vein for a blood sample, and then to get an IV started. "You're not quite as dehydrated as Mr. Standish, but you're pretty parched," Baker informed him.

"Least you're not gonna...do one of those cut-down...things," Buck said weakly.

"Nope," Baker responded. "Close though." He was listening to Buck's chest, then took the stethoscope from his ears and looked at the nurses. "Tell the lab I need those results STAT. Keep the fluids going, and let's get him on 2 liters of 02 to start via nasal canula. And get him on a cardiac monitor."

Chris stiffened at the last words. Baker went on, to Buck this time, "How's that headache?"

"How'd...you know?"

"Cause I'm the doctor," Baker grinned. "We'll get you something for it. It'll make you sleepy, too, which is a plus. You need to rest, so just relax and let the medication do the work, okay?"

Buck's eyes shifted until he could see Chris. Larabee nodded at him, stepping close to the table now that there was some room. "Go to sleep, Buck. Everything's under control."

Buck's midnight-blue eyes stayed glued to his for a moment, then he nodded slightly and his eyelids flickered closed.

The nurse glued the circular patches to Buck's chest. Baker fiddled with a knob on one of the machines and a screen above the bed flickered on, with a series of green lines and blips on it. He watched the screen for a few minutes and then nodded, stepping away from the bed and beckoning Chris to follow.

"How is he?" Chris asked anxiously.

"I think he'll be fine. As I thought, he's just dehydrated and exhausted. He wouldn't leave Mr. Standish after he got here, not even to get something to eat. I'll know more after we get his blood work back from the lab, and I think we should admit him for the night-or what's left of the night-but he should be feeling a lot better in a few hours."

Chris nodded, feeling relief course through him. He thought of something and frowned. "Something wrong with his heart?"

Baker shook his head. "Not as far as I can tell...but Mr. Standish has had a very erratic heartbeat since he's been admitted. Since they supposedly were exposed to the same toxin I thought I should take the precaution. If his heart stays stable for a couple of hours we'll take him off of it."

Chris nodded again. "How's Ezra doin'?"

"Well, that's a somewhat different situation." Baker frowned. "He's stable at the moment, but his blood work was very unusual. I treated some other people who'd eaten at that restaurant and their blood work didn't look anything like his. And as I said, he's had an erratic heartbeat, which is not characteristic of the toxin that was reported in that shellfish." He shrugged. "He might be just exceptionally sensitive to it, he might have been getting a virus or something beforehand-Mr. Wilmington said he was pretty run-down-or we might be dealing with something else. Right now we're treating his symptoms-the dehydration, the pain, and an electrolyte imbalance-and we'll just have to see how he goes on." He smiled at Chris' concerned look. "I wouldn't worry too much-he's stabilized over the last couple of hours." Then he frowned in turn. "What's the reasoning behind having police guards?"

Chris hesitated. "Possibility of a threat," he finally said. "I'm guessing that's why our boss sent them over. Can you put Buck in the same room with Ezra?"

Baker made a face. "You must not have looked around that room-we don't have double rooms in this hospital. When they remodeled last year they made all the rooms singles. I can talk to Admitting-see if they can put him next door or across the hall from Mr. Standish." A frown crossed his face. "How much risk is there of trouble?"

Chris smiled, a cold, feral smile. "That's my job to worry about. Is there going to be any problem with someone stayin' with them at all times?" His voice implied there had better not be.

Baker raised his hands in surrender. "From what I understand from Dr. Murray, it wouldn't do me any good to say there was a problem," he grinned. "But in all actuality, I wouldn't have a problem with it anyway. And I'll make sure the floor nurses know not to say anything. But I would like you to talk to our Security...if there's a threat they need to be involved in planning how to address it."

Chris nodded. "No problem."

tbc...