BDP52

The hospital was the quietest Nottingham had ever heard it. Only the soft hum of equipment and the rapid-fire clicking of a keyboard met his ears as he walked through the automatic doors. There wasn't a single patient waiting to be admitted, not one to fill the void in the lobby with coughing, impatient mutters, or the rustle of magazines. Ian's footsteps were unnaturally loud in his ears as he moved to the front desk.

"What can I do for you?" The duty nurse said in distracted tones, never even looking up from her monitor. She was obviously transcribing the day's charts over to the computer, her blonde head moving slightly back and forth as she looked from the paperwork to the screen.

"I am here to check on a civilian admitee, Dr. Gustav Casca. He was having chest pains, an ambulance brought him in earlier this evening." Nottingham made sure his voice held assurance and the right amount of distance. He did not want to encourage conversation, not that the woman seemed overly inclined to do so, but better to keep this short. Ian did not want this discussion to stand out in her memory.

She gave an impatient sigh and swiveled her chair so she could access another workstation. A few moments later she turned back to Nottingham. Her small brass name badge caught the overhead light. It flashed and dimmed as she shifted with little glimmers that teased the eye.

It made Ian feel oddly disconnected for a moment. Blood roared in his ears, drowning out whatever the woman said. She leaned toward him, moving the brass out of the light, freeing him to think again. Nottingham was aware that she was staring at him intently; he could feel her eyes on him.

Ian knew he had to come up with an excuse fast, and make it plausible. He shook his head slightly and met her concerned expression with a slightly sheepish one, "I don't usually pull extra duty, but I got smart with a superior officer. This is my third night pulling a second shift. It's starting to get to me."

"Well, you won't be the first guy to master sleeping at attention, and I doubt you'll be the last. Remember to take extra vitamins, so your system doesn't get any more run down, and in the future keep your mouth shut." The nurse, who's badge he could now see read Muller, grinned up at him with that odd blend of sympathy and 'you brought it on yourself' that only career military seem to use.

"Will do, ma'am." Ian nodded, inwardly relieved at Muller's easy acceptance of his excuse. "Now, what were you saying when I zoned out?"

"I said that Dr. Casca is in room thirteen, he's in stable condition. Dr. Blair has him scheduled for more tests in the morning. He thinks it's stable angina, but wants to be sure. You can look in on him, but he was given a sedative two hours ago. I doubt he will even be aware of your visit." Muller pointed down the hallway to the left.

Nottingham thanked her and walked off in the direction Muller had indicated. He didn't have to go far. Ian hesitated in front of the door. Casca's chart was in a clear plastic wall tray. There was really no reason to go in, all the information he needed was right there, but a lifetime of training pushed him to go in and see Casca's condition for himself.

Irons had always insisted that Nottingham see to a thing himself, especially if it was important. Ian could hear Kenneth's voice in his head, 'One can never trust the observations of another, for by their very nature, their perceptions cannot be yours. It is best to see for one's self, whenever possible.' It was pivotal to their plans that he knew the nature and extent of Casca's infirmities. It could be very dangerous for all involved if this man was in a condition to be able to leave the hospital and return to the lab while they were unprepared.

The door opened with the faintest of squeaks, and Ian moved into the room. With typical hospital setup, the entry was something of a small hallway, as a bathroom took up the first third of the space. Once past that, Ian could see that a curtain had been pulled across the remaining back half of the room. Which meant that there was another bed and another patient.

The unknown patient must have had his chart behind Casca's. Ian was surprised to see Casca sharing his room. That must really chap his ass. The thought made Ian's lips quirk upward slightly with mirth.

"You think this is funny?" Casca growled from his reclined position.

"No sir. I was thinking that there had to be an easier way to get a day off." Nottingham knew that there was no good answer to that question, but no answer at all would be worse. Besides, it was all he could think of. He had not expected Casca to be awake, not after taking a sedative. Perhaps he should have, Casca was more likely to palm the drug and be in pain than be vulnerable in a situation he couldn't control.

"Humph, so there should be. Well, what are you doing just standing there? Report!" Casca barked.

"Actually, I came to check on you. I have nothing of import to relate, having followed you here as soon as I was able." Ian prevaricated. He could hardly tell Casca what he had been up to this evening.

"Of course there are 'things of import to relate'. Start with how I came to be here. The doctors seem to believe that I suffered a cardiac arrest, brought on by stress. The last thing I recall is yelling at Burke for being a pain in the ass. Who told her that morality had any place in a laboratory?" Casca used the switch at his side to elevate the top half of his bed, so he could glare at Nottingham without straining his neck.

The question seemed rhetorical, so Ian ignored it. "You were arguing with Dr. Burke, rather vehemently. You were very red in the face, and there were veins bulging quite prominently in your face. I watched you clutch your arm and you paled. The next moment you were dropping to the ground. I think the physicians are going to find that it was a stress-induced attack. When is the last time you had your blood pressure checked?"

"Never mind about my blood pressure," Casca waved the question away, "So that's all that happened? I have a hell of a sore jaw for a heart attack."

"You think Burke could hit you hard enough to knock you out?" Ian gave a small grin, letting incredulity creep into his voice.

"Never underestimate women Nottingham, they are stronger than you think. Irons has done you a grave disservice by not exposing you more fully to them. So what did happen to my face?" Casca touched his bruised jaw.

"You came semi-aware as they were trying to strap you into the board to carry you to the ambulance and tried to escape. Probably would have gotten away from them too, if they hadn't already strapped your legs in. As it was, you fell sideways and hit the end of the board, disorienting you enough for them to get you secured. I was impressed by your reflexes." Ian cursed himself, he knew better than to lie so elaborately.

The fabrication would not hold up under investigation. If Casca encountered the paramedics again, they would tell a very different story. Unfortunately, it was all he could think of. The bruise was at the wrong angle for Casca to have done it himself falling, he never would have believed that. Ian could only hope that he would encounter the paramedics first, and they would be amenable to bribery.

"I dislike being confined." Casca said, and seemed content to leave it at that. "Now, tell me about the rest of the evening."

"There is very little to tell. Everything has continued as planned, insofar as I have been informed. Save, of course, your situation. The doctor says he believes it to be stable angina, but he is not yet certain. So I am here to check on your condition for myself. I would have more complete information when I contact Irons. If you feel unable to continue, or if Dr. Blair discovers that you need surgery, a replacement will have to be found." Nottingham kept his voice empty; it would not do to imply his preferences either way.

"That will not be necessary. I have performed under far more difficult situations than this. Besides, I will be out of here soon enough, Irons will see to that. He wants this project to succeed even more than I do." Casca settled back on his pillow. It was clearly a dismissal.

Nottingham pivoted on his heel with military correctness and started toward the exit. He had barely taken the first step when Casca's voice stopped him.

"One more thing. My computer is in my office. It's portable, and I want it transported here. If Blair doesn't like it, he can kiss my overexposed ass. I don't trust them not to steal my research." Casca growled.

"But surely the data is encrypted?" Ian asked in shock, never expecting to be given this particular order.

"Of course it is. However, given the right tools and time, any code can be unraveled. Ellis is the one to watch, all that toadying is a front. I've worked with his type before. He would love to steal my research and claim it as his own. If that bitch Burke weren't so morally uptight, I'd tell you to watch her too. Although I don't know how much more you could possibly watch her than you do now." Casca turned his head, pinning Nottingham with disapproving grey eyes.

"I don't know what you mean." Ian dropped his gaze, afraid that he did know. It was too much to hope that their closeness would go unremarked by this man. Casca was far too aware of what went on around him to have missed it.

"Spare me the protestations. Burke is almost as attractive as she is intelligent. If she were possessed of a few less scruples, Irons would have recruited her when her file first came across his desk two years ago. Probably would have bedded her too, you know how he is with dark haired women." Casca smirked.

Ian winced; he did indeed. The idea of Moira and his father did not sit well at all. Nottingham looked away, not wanting to give Casca the satisfaction of seeing how upset he was.

"Speaking of dark haired women, if Ms. Bronte does not stay the remainder of the night with you, arrange for her to berth somewhere inside the compound. Pick-up for the women has already been arranged; their escorts will arrive at o-nine-hundred. See to it that they are ready to go." Casca closed his eyes, finished with Nottingham for the moment.

"Yes sir," Ian left, relieved that Casca had not grilled him about Beth. He was not sure why, but he was willing to take the reprieve offered.

The door closed behind Nottingham. Casca could hear his footsteps fade away as he walked down the hall. After three beats of silence, the curtain behind him opened with the faint 'shirring' of metal bearings in a track.

"He's lying." The blonde-haired med-tech said.

"I am aware of that, Hawkins." Casca waved dismissively at the young man, "I found his omissions almost as interesting as his deceits. Besides, Olsen should be in with his report as soon as Nottingham returns to the lab. We'll know the truth soon enough. In the meantime, lets look over those lab results."