Part 19 Consequences.
Amanda walked slowly back into Jesse's now empty room and sat down heavily on the bed. She couldn't remember ever feeling so alone.
Her mother was at home with her two wonderful sons, all of whom she knew loved her but she was part of their support network not the other way round. Whenever she had needed someone to talk to or confide in, to lean on in a crisis, it was one of her friends that she usually turned to, sometimes Steve or Jesse but mostly Mark. These were the steadying influences in her life and closer to her than most people's families, and now, not one or two but all three of them were in crisis. She had no one to turn to, was unsure of how she would cope, and so she felt alone.
Nathan had told her of the events at the shopping Mall and she had listened in shocked silence as he explained how Mark had been taken.
She had felt a momentary surge of anger at Mark for leaving her when she needed him and then guilt at the irrationality of the thought, he had not gone by choice, then she had stood in silence unable to voice her thoughts, whilst Nathan tried to reassure her that everything possible would be done to find both Steve and Mark.
She could see in Nathan's eyes the guilt, knew from his contrite tone that he felt responsible for Mark's predicament but could not bring herself to say anything to him other than a polite, 'thank you for letting me know.' She had turned and walked away in a dazed state and ended up here in Jesse's room. She wasn't entirely sure why.
She was still trying to reconcile the days events when she became aware that the phone was ringing. another diverted call for Mark. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Dr. Bentley speaking."
There was a momentary pause before the voice on the other end replied slightly hesitantly. "Oh.... er.... hello Amanda, it's Alison, I was hoping to speak to Dr. Sloan. He said he'd ring me if there was any news on Steve and I suppose because he hasn't that means there isn't." Alison continued, lack of sleep combined with concern for Steve seemed to have temporarily derailed her thought processes. "But I was hoping that maybe you'd heard something and just hadn't got around to ringing me.... Not that I don't trust you to ring if something happened." She was well aware that she was now rambling instead of asking a direct question, and probably sounded like a complete idiot. "But I'm probably fairly low on your list of priorities. So I thought that I would ring you on the off chance that there was some news any news then..." She finally managed to stop herself and word a coherent question. "I'm sorry Amanda, I'm probably not making much sense, If I could speak to Mark, Is he there?"
Amanda took a deep breath. She had met Alison on many occasions in Steve's company over the last few weeks and had watched their relationship grow closer. It was a long time since she had seen Steve so settled and happy in a relationship and she had high hopes for the future. So she had taken the time to get to know Alison and everything she knew about her so far she liked.
Hearing the concern in Alison's tone as she asked the question gave Amanda a sense of a kindred spirit, someone who sounded as lost and lonely as she felt, and now it was her responsibility to deliver more bad news. She took a deep breath to steel herself for the task. "No I'm afraid he isn't and there has been a development you should know about...."
Agent Baker's reception at the Malibu field office had been pretty much as he had expected. They had stopped short of open hostility towards him but all three of the field agents had exchanged looks that said, "this is all we need an idiot rookie watching our every move and reporting it back!'
Baker however, despite his lack of experience had many positive attributes not least of which was the ability to make himself unthreatening and helpful in every way. By the time mid morning came around he had assisted with file organisation, located several requested reports, typed up half a dozen sets of notes and even found time to make the coffee. He knew that he could best make the observations that Collins wanted if he behaved just like a PA to the three agents and tried to make them forget whose office he came from.
He was just attempting to engage Steele in conversation when the pandemonium struck. All three agents pagers went off simultaneously and the phones started ringing. Baker didn't manage to catch much of what was happening, something about a shooting in a shopping Mall, before he was left alone in a room that had seen five minutes of frantic activity, bemused he watched the doors swing closed and the papers settle back into piles from the draught the hurried exits had invoked. This he decided would be a good opportunity to make his preliminary report to his superior.
Mark would not like to try to count the number of operations that he had been involved in. In fact he probably couldn't even estimate how many gunshots that he had dealt with in his many years as a surgeon and yet his hand shook now with all the trepidation of an intern carrying out his first ever surgical procedure.
Compassion, caring and a good bedside manner were all aspects of the role of a surgeon but a truly good surgeon could switch those off to concentrate on the task in hand. Everyone, however, had their limits and maintaining his focus under the circumstances was at the edge of Mark's mental endurance. Still as he had already repeated to himself , there was no choice.
His hand hovered over the wound for several seconds, but it seemed like much longer, before he was able to cut into his son's flesh. Once again he had resorted to the developed sense of clinical detachment needed by anyone who became a doctor, in order to focus their minds on the skills needed rather than the person.
As he worked Mark tried to ignore the challenging conditions. Apart from those few occasions when he had had to improvise in emergency situations, his recent experiences usually involved him working in the best of operating theatres, with a highly trained staff, but here the light was barely good enough for him to see what he was doing despite having every light in the house concentrated on the small table and there was no suction to remove the excess blood only swabs. It was only the many years of experience and his intuitive senses that allowed him to work quickly and skillfully.
Emma helped as much as she could but she was almost entirely occupied with ensuring Steve did not move.
After about twenty minutes, Mark was ready to remove the bullet, he was relieved that things had been going so well. It was at this point that that almost changed. Steve let out a low moan and began to return to a form of fevered consciousness.
Disoriented and unable to comprehend what was happening to him, all Steve could feel was the hands holding him down as he tried to shift his position on the table. On the fringes of consciousness only his instincts were operating and with no higher thought to temper his actions he began to fight against the unseen constraints.
Mark barely pulled the scalpel clear before Steve's sudden jerk would have ripped his flesh apart. As he pulled the blade back violently from his son's shoulder, he could only consider the consequences of not moving quickly enough. His mind reeling as he considered the further injury that he would have been responsible for.
Mark backed off from the table in shock, his flimsy hold on his emotional control temporarily lost and for a few moments he just stood and watched as Steve began to thrash about. Emma holding on to him and simultaneously trying to soothe and reassure him with her words.
Emma quickly realised that she did not have the strength to hold him on her own, even in his weakened state he was much stronger than her and gripped by an irrational panic. Her words did not seem to be penetrating his fevered senses. She looked up at Mark, who stood staring at Steve, face deathly pale still holding the scalpel up high where he had pulled it as Steve started to move. She realised that he must have been shocked by the closeness he came to further injuring his son. She could only imagine how traumatic this must be for him, but she did not have time to consider his feelings. She still needed him, Steve needed him.
"Dr. Sloan," she said with all the command in her voice that she could manage. "I need your help. Please," she continued imploringly. "He's going to hurt himself more."
With effort Mark pulled himself back to the real world. For the third time since he had found his son, Emma had had to draw him back from the emotional bewilderment that threatened to engulf him. If he was going to help Steve recover then he would have to stop losing it like this. He needed to remain focused. What if Emma had not been there?
He moved back quickly to help her. First restraining Steve and then helping her to soothe him.
"Shhh son," he said gently. "Steve it's all right. Stop fighting everything's going to be all right" He repeated the phrases several times until finally his soft words and tone seemed to get through and Steve relaxed. Drifting back into unconsciousness.
Mark waited until he was sure that Steve would not wake again and then took a moment to clear his mind. With a new found determination, he retrieved the scalpel and continued with the surgery. He would not, could not, let his emotional state put his son at further risk.
Fortunately the movement had not caused too much damage and the rest of the operation passed without incident, once the bullet was out, Mark packed and dressed the wound. It could not be stitched until the infection had cleared. Finally satisfied that he had done all that he could, he set about the difficult task of returning Steve to the couch. Emma did her best to assist as they took care not to undo the good work they had done.
Only when he was resting comfortably with a new antibiotic IV set up and the monitors reattached did Mark allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He looked down at his hands which were once again shaking and said a silent prayer that he would never have to do anything like that again. More thankful than ever that he had in the past always had support when Steve had been injured.
He sank down heavily into a chair, mentally and physically exhausted and stared across at his son.
Steve's colour had returned after the blood transfusion Mark had been able to give him and he was far more able to fight the infection than he had been an hour before, but the fever was a continuing concern. Mark knew that Steve was not out of danger until the fever broke and his temperature came down.
Emma reentered from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee. Mark had not even realised that she had gone. She handed him a cup and sat down on the edge of the coffee table.
Mark took the cup gratefully, looking up from Steve only long enough to avoid dropping it. "Thanks," he muttered distractedly.
"How is he?" She asked taking a sip from the cup
"Hard to tell, "Mark confessed. "His system is having a hard time fighting the infection so it will be a few hours before we know either way." He swallowed and bit his bottom lip, "but if he doesn't start to show some signs of improvement soon, or if he gets any worse, then whatever the possible risks we'll have to get him to the hospital."
"If I'd had my way then he never would have left in the first place." Emma stated sadly. She too had turned her gaze to Steve's unconscious form.
Mark caught the self recrimination again. It was the same tone she had used earlier in the car when she had been explaining what had happened "Hey it's not your fault," he said. "Steve always did have a rather dismissive attitude to his own health." A small smile crossed his lips. "With a doctor as a father you would think that he would know better."
Emma returned the smile. "Yes I know what you mean," she said turning to look back at the old doctor. He was still very pale and their were heavy black sacks forming under his eyes. Everything about his demeanor betrayed the bone weary tiredness that he felt. "Look Dr. Sloan you're exhausted why don't you get some rest. I'll keep an eye on Steve and let you know straight away if there is any change."
Mark turned to look at her. "You look like you could use the rest yourself."
"Yes but I'm not the one that Steve is going to need to be alert if there are any complications." She paused watching for his reaction. "Please, I'll wake you in a few hours or if there's any change and then I promise I'll get some rest myself."
Mark considered her offer. She was right, there was nothing more that he could do for Steve at the moment, but he might need him later. He shifted position on the chair and felt the weary ache of muscles tensed for too long. Emotionally and physically the operation had drained what little resources he had left. Without rest soon he would be unable to function. "OK," he agreed reluctantly, "But any change at all..."
"I'll wake you straight away."
Mark stood slowly and headed for one of the bedrooms that led directly off the living room. He sank down, fully clothed onto the bed too exhausted to bother with the sheets and was asleep before his head had settled on the pillow.
Baker stood in front of his superior, his usual nervousness at reporting to the formidable man in front of him was diminishing with every meeting as he began to realise that the intimidating and authoritative manner was merely a front. Collins was in fact a shrewd and intelligent man who used the bluster to keep people off guard so that he could assess them. It was almost certainly how he had risen to a high position in the intelligence community. There were those who rose through the organisation politically and those who did it on merit and Collins was undoubtedly an example of the latter.
A growing trust between the two men as they were forced to work together in unusual circumstances was evident as Collins invited the younger man to sit, Baker delivered a succinct report of his first impressions of the people he had been asked to watch.
"So out of the three who would you put your money on?" Collins' asked when Baker had finished.
"Sir?" Baker replied quizzically not sure that he understood the question.
"Assuming that one of them is a traitor, which one?"
"I've only been with them for a morning." Baker started to protest.
"I know," Collins returned evenly. "But what do your instincts tell you? Who would be capable of this sort of deception.?"
Baker thought about it. "Well I wouldn't put it past any of them and from the reports they all had opportunity. They all followed up different leads across the city on Saturday afternoon, or say they did, and from talking to them I wouldn't rule any of them out."
"Yes but if you had to make a judgment who would it be?" Collins repeated the question.
Baker sighed it was clear that his boss was not going to let him generalise. He wanted a straight answer. "Dobbs," he said quietly. "He's close to retirement and bitter about his lack of promotion. He's got the least to lose and the most to gain."
"OK," Collins looked thoughtful. "Then I'll follow that up. I'll check the timings on his reports and look for discrepancies. You just continue watching all of them. There has obviously been some sort of development so you'd better get back to the office and find out what's going on."
"Yes sir," Baker replied succinctly and stood to leave, flattered that his boss trusted his instincts enough to act on them. He just hoped that that faith was not misplaced.
"Oh and Baker," Collins stopped him just before he reached the door.
"Yes sir?"
"Don't take any chances. If one of those agents is really a rogue then they've been involved in at least two deaths already."
"I'll be careful sir."
Amanda had only two reactions to extreme stress. One was to shut down, sit and cry it out of her system, but this was rare, far more often she reacted by throwing herself into her work with a vigour that frightened most people when they saw it. Today she had done both. Alison's phone call had snapped her out of her melancholy and once she had hung up she had returned to the path lab, determined to use work to take her mind off everything.
In the two hours she had been there she had completed almost a days worth of work, barely pausing for breath as she moved from one autopsy to the next and yet still managing to complete the work thoroughly and professionally.
She was just finishing up on the latest of the reports when there was a knock on the door. "Yes," she snapped showing obvious annoyance at the interruption. Recognising her mood all of the people she worked with had been avoiding interrupting her, besides most knew at least some of what was going on and didn't know what to say.
Dr. Taylor entered, "Amanda," he began, "I just came up to.."
But Amanda was up out of her seat and speaking before he had a chance to finish, her hyperactive state driving her. "Dr. Taylor, I'm sorry I didn't know it was you. Have you got some news? How's Jesse?"
Unlike her colleagues Bill Taylor had never seen Amanda like this before and was slightly taken aback by her whirlwind approach. He looked into her wide expectant eyes, gathering his thoughts to word a reply. He smiled, "Jesse's just come out of surgery and it was a complete success. Dr. Michaelson is very pleased with how things have gone and fairly confident of a good prognosis."
Amanda let out a long breath and for the first time in hours relaxed. Some good news at last. It wasn't until that point that she realised just how concerned about Jesse she had been, with Mark and Steve missing, her emotions were all one knotted mess but as the relief washed over her, that at least one of her friends was out of danger, she gained some measure of how much it had worried her. She returned her colleagues' smile. "That's wonderful, thanks Bill."
"Well I thought you would want to know straight away."
"When can I see him?"
"He's in recovery now so we should be getting him back to the ward in about 20 minutes."
"Great," Amanda said warmly. "I'll just finish up here and then I'll come down to his room. I want to be there when he wakes up. Give him the promising news."
Amanda made it to the room before Jesse and waited patiently until he was settled back in his bed before moving over to his side. She gently brushed the hair from his forehead and looked down at the serene peaceful face before her. He looked so young, but then a part of her thought that he always would. His features would never betray his true age, there was such a child like quality to them.
She knew that his face would not show the lines of pain that she had seen etched there only that morning, at least, not until the anaesthetic wore off and she lamented the fact that he could not remain peacefully asleep until the wounds had healed and the pain had gone, away from the agony of recovery as the newly mending nerves protested their treatment, but she knew that the pain would be a necessary stage in that recovery and there was nothing she could do to make that better except be there to support him, as he had supported her through the birth of her son and the injuries that she had had over the years.
She was deep in thought as he first began to stir. Her mind had drifted back to that morning when she had been told of Mark's disappearance, concern for her other two friends had temporarily pulled her thoughts away from the man in front of her. Now she was abruptly dragged back as Jesse jerked awake.
"No, it can't be!" he cried out. She grabbed him and gently pushed him back as he attempted to raise himself to a sitting position.
"Jess, It's ok everything went well. Just relax." She said calmly.
Jesse blinked several times realising once again that he had woken from a nightmare. He took a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart and looked around him, assessing his whereabouts and arranging in his head the events of the day.
"The operation?" he asked croakily once he had finally regained his perspective.
"Was a complete success," Amanda reassured him. "You're going to be fine Jess."
Still not convinced, after all his dreams had seemed so real. "My arm?" he asked, again his tone marked it clearly as a question.
Amanda was momentarily confused but then realised that he could not bring himself to look down at his left side. She saw the fear that had been there earlier. Despite her reassurance he obviously could not believe that his dream had not come true. "It's fine, look for yourself." She said nodding in the direction of his arm.
Jess stared into her eyes for a few moments searching for the lie that was not there. Amanda's expression spoke only of sincerity and concern and yet it was still difficult for him to overcome his fear. Finally he slowly turned his head to look at his bandaged arm and his whole body visibly relaxed as he let go of the apprehension. His sense of foreboding had been wrong. He really was going to be fine. "Thank God!" he whispered and rested his head back down on the pillow.
At that moment there was some commotion out in the hall. The altercation was so loud that Jesse shifted his position trying to hear what was going on. Knowing that Jesse's curiosity would get the better of him no matter how groggy he felt from the operation, Amanda decided to preempt his questioning and go and find out for herself what was happening.
"Stay there," she said unnecessarily, Jesse could move yes, but not get up. "I'll find out what it is and come back"
Jesse nodded. If truth be told he was relieved to have a few moments to himself to recover his senses before he had to speak to anyone. Despite the evidence to the contrary, his fear had been so real, so strong that it had shaken him more then he wanted to admit to himself, let alone others. He needed a little time to get his thoughts organised.
Out in the hallway Amanda found one very, very irate NSA agent in a stand off with two uniformed officers and a junior doctor. There was so much shouting going on that nobody could make themselves heard.
Realising that she was the most senior member of the hospital staff in the vicinity Amanda joined in by shouting for everyone to be quiet. When nobody seemed to take any notice of her she took the only action that she could to get herself noticed. She barged into the middle of the group. "Will....you.... please... all be.....quiet." She said, emphasising each word by pushing each of the protagonists backwards a pace.
There was something about her authoritative manner coupled with a barely contained fury that made all of them stop in their tracks and stare at the white coated woman who had shoved them away from each other.
When everyone was quiet and looking at her she smiled at them, but she kept her tone authoritative as she spoke. "That's better," she said "Now this is a hospital. Would one of you like to tell me what is so important that the whole ward needs to be disturbed by it." She held up her hand to forestall any repeat of the cacophony. "One at a time please. Agent Harris?"
Stephanie was seething, obviously barely keeping her emotions in check. "The man in that room is a material witness in an ongoing NSA investigation and these idiots here won't let me in to see him."
"The man who was shot at the shopping mall?" Amanda asked, putting two and two together.
Agent Harris nodded.
Amanda turned to look at the police guards on the door.
"We have orders not to let anyone," he emphasised the word, "in to see the prisoner unless the Captain himself approves it, and that includes agents of the NSA. Besides, the doc here said he ain't well enough yet."
Without needing to ask anything Amanda turned her gaze on the young doctor. "He's right. We only just brought him up from surgery. It will be a couple of hours before he will be up to visitors," he glanced nervously at the NSA agent but couldn't keep himself from adding. "Especially hostile ones."
Stephanie bit back a sarcastic reply and instead just furnished the doctor with her most intimidating glare. Satisfyingly he shrank back from it.
"Then I suggest that you go away and come back in a couple of hours," Amanda stated. Stephanie turned her glare on her but Amanda just returned it.
"But that man in there may be the one who shot your friend Dr. Travis and also may be able to help us with the whereabouts of Dr. Sloan." Stephanie protested attempting to appeal to Amanda's self interests.
"That may be," Amanda replied calmly, "but my first duty is to the patients in this hospital and until his doctor says he's well enough to receive visitors, then, if these police officers don't stop you getting in, I will make sure that hospital security does."
"I could always pull rank in the interests of national security." Stephanie suggested.
"You could, " Amanda held her ground as she continued to meet the agent glare for glare. "But you won't. So go away and come back in a couple of hours. Use the time to go and see Captain Newman and sort out approval for your visit. It will make it easier all round."
Stephanie looked at the four people standing in the way of her objective and decided that this was a battle she had lost. "Oh don't you worry," she said as she turned and walked away down the corridor. "I intend to do just that."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared from sight.
"Thank you Dr. Bentley," The young doctor said gratefully.
"Don't thank me yet," Amanda replied warily. "This is not over, we just won round one."
Jesse had drifted back to sleep almost as soon as Amanda had left the room but was woken moments later by the ringing phone. Still groggy from the anaesthetic he reached out to answer it more by instinct than by conscious thought. He shifted awkwardly on the bed hampered by the bulky bandaging.
"Hello, Dr. Travis speaking," he said into the receiver.
"Ah, Hello Jesse, it's Carl Milford, I was hoping to speak to Mark. Is he around?"
Jesse vaguely recognised the name. Carl Milford was an old friend of Mark's, whom Jesse had met at a few fundraising dinners and one or two parties at the beach house. "No I'm sorry he's not. Can I take a message." Jesse replied his brain almost on autopilot, replying as he would if circumstances had been normal.
"Yes, he's executor of the Van Heus estate and I just wanted to ask him if he's been out to the cabin in the last day. One of the neighbours rang up to tell me that he's seen some movement up there and I just wanted to check that it wasn't Mark before I take any action. Could you get him to ring me back please?'
"Yeah, sure as soon as I see him." Jesse replied wearily.
"Thank you."
"No problem," Jesse replied as the line went dead.
He barely dropped the handset back into it's cradle before he had drifted off to sleep again.
Amanda walked back into the room to find that Jesse was asleep. She smiled to herself, at least it allowed her to put off having to tell him about Mark. She went and sat down next to the bed and turned to stare at the wall that divided this room from the next. Wondering what Jesse would think if he knew that there was a possibility that the man who had shot him was just on the other side of the wall.
It had been four long hours of waiting. Emma checked the monitors again just to be sure that her eyes weren't deceiving her. No it was true, Steve's temperature was finally starting to fall. She briefly debated going to wake Mark to tell him the good news but decided to leave him to rest until Steve started to show some signs of wakefulness.
She had just reached this decision when it became apparent that it was unnecessary, sound from the bedroom indicated that Mark was already awake. He entered the living room still yawning and stretching. Exhaustion had allowed him to get some rest but his heightened anxiety, coupled with his minds active deliberation of the reasons for what had happened, had not allowed him to rest longer than the minimum time his mind needed to recuperate from the long hours of worry and insomnia of the night before..
He was still tired but at least he had had enough rest to function. His mind had cleared a little and even as he returned to check on Steve's condition he was deliberating what he could do now to solve the mystery surrounding Richard Fielding's death.
As he entered the room Emma turned her smile on him. "Dr. Sloan, I was wondering whether to come and get you. Good news, Steve's temperature is starting to drop."
Mark moved over quickly to check on his son, encouraged by the news. "Has he shown any signs of waking?" He asked as he checked the monitor's again.
"No, I'm afraid he hasn't stirred since we settled him." Emma replied.
That was not so good. Mark would have expected a return to consciousness after this length of time. Steve's fever had been high and the possibility of coma was a real one. Mark cursed himself for leaving his son even to take the much needed rest. He quickly knelt next to Steve and started to check his reflexes.
Having carried out the necessary checks, he sat back, his expression a mixture of confusion and relief. Steve was definitely not in a comatose state, his reflexes all responded normally. So there was no reason for him not to have woken and yet he still showed no sign that he would wake.
Emma looked at the doctor's expression. "Is everything all right?"
Mark noted her concern and smiled to reassure her. "Yes, he does seem to be improving. I'm just worried that he's not awake yet." He thought for a little longer. "But his body has taken quite a lot of punishment over the last couple of days, he probably just needs the rest." He turned his attention to Emma. "Which you promised to do yourself."
"I know." She sat down opposite the doctor. "I just don't think I could at the moment. I keep thinking of the trouble I've caused for you and Steve and Dr. Travis." She paused before continuing quietly, "and if I close my eyes there's the sight of Richard..." She stopped speaking she was staring ahead without seeing as her mind dealt with the enormity of the emotions once more.
Mark watched her reactions carefully. He always trusted his instincts with people and despite the story she had related earlier he was certain that she had no complicity in her husband's death.
Now he had two tasks; to convince her of that fact and to find out who had. He had had time to think about the events she had described and his instincts told him that Emma held the key to what had happened. It was locked in her memory of the events of Saturday and her conversations with her husband and given her emotional state it was going to be a difficult task to unlock those memories without pushing her over the edge.
"I know it's difficult but if you don't get some rest soon you are going to collapse," Mark said gently getting up and moving to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Fortunately I know a good doctor who can give you something to help you sleep."
She turned tearful eyes up to him and returned his smile. "You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"
"Not when my patients welfare is a concern, no." he replied, "besides I only recently followed some similar advice myself and the person who gave it to me was right."
Emma stood still smiling. "OK you win I'll try."
Mark followed Emma into the second of the bedrooms and gave her a mild sedative and waited until it had taken before returning to Steve's side to sit and wait and think.
Stephanie's entrance at the police station made everyone turn and stare. Not for the usual reason that she made heads turn, her looks, but because of the cloud of anger that didn't so much follow her as announce her presence as she entered the building. The air around her positively bristled with energy as she breezed past everyone without pausing for the formalities that visitors to the station normally had to endure.
She entered the squadroom and scanned for her objective. Spotting him she walked straight over, if she had not already had the attention of everyone in the room then her shouted opening to the conversation would have drawn it. "Detective Turner just what the hell do you think you were playing at?"
Nathan had been half expecting this. He looked at the angry glaring eyes of the woman who stood before him and then glanced around at the dozen pairs of eyes that had turned to watch the show. "Not here." he stated firmly and turned and walked from the room.
The implication in his actions was clear and Stephanie turned on her heel and followed him. Ironically he showed agent Harris into the same interrogation room that Steve had used to meet the two agents the day before.
Once the door was closed behind them. Nathan turned to face agent Harris whose anger by now was tangible. "Before you start," he said holding up his hand as she opened her mouth to lay into him once more. "I'd just like to say that you probably aren't going to say anything that I haven't already said to myself, or heard from my Captain."
It was true all the way back from the hospital to the station he had been questioning his own decisions, only to receive a twenty minute dressing down from Captain Newman when he arrived. It would have been longer, if the Captain hadn't been called to a meeting with the chief and the mayor to explain the incident in one of LA's biggest shopping malls. But the worst thing by far, as far as Nathan was concerned, in dealing with the aftermath of Dr. Sloan's abduction was watching Amanda's reaction.
When he had told her, it was as if he had drained the emotion out of her, one piece of bad news too many. He had watched her beautiful face cloud over and no reassurance he could give her seemed to penetrate. She had left in such a dazed state, like a lost child, that he had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right.
Amanda was normally so strong about everything that it had shaken him to see her like that, and the fact that he could not stay and make sure that she was all right had only made it harder to take. After that there was nothing that anyone could say to him that could have made him feel any worse.
So he met Agent Harris' assault head on "In fact I don't think anyone could make me feel worse about what happened but I'm willing to let you give it a try. So give it your best shot." He continued, opening his hands wide in a gesture of supplication.
Stephanie opened and closed her mouth, Nathan's unexpected reaction momentarily taking the wind from her sails. "We were supposed to be working together," was the best that she could manage.
"Look Dr. Sloan was calling the shots this morning. It was go with him or lose our only chance of a lead and there wasn't time to call anyone else."
"So you lost our lead and Dr. Sloan instead." Stephanie replied allowing the words to drip with venom.
"Yes," Nathan admitted "I did, but at the time I had no options. Do I regret it? Yes but only because of the way it turned out."
Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "Good, I'm glad you can see what a fiasco this morning was because I'm going to tell you how it's going to be from now on." She moved in on Nathan causing him to step back. The single pace took his back to the wall. She pressed her index finger onto his chest to emphasise her point as she allowed the oppressive tension to hang round him for a moment. Her face close enough to his for him to feel her breath. "Yesterday detective, you threatened me to get my cooperation. Now I find that you have an inside track to several people involved in the investigation and you are keeping me out of things." She paused fixing him with an icy stare. When she continued she had dropped her voice to a seductive whisper. "So now I'm going to threaten you. Unless you keep me posted on everything you do in this investigation, I'll open up an NSA file on you and bury you so deep that you'll spend the next two years being interviewed in the interests of national security. You will simply disappear."
Nathan swallowed, trying to remind himself that she had probably learnt as he had that the essence of a threat was in the delivery. If so she had learnt from a master.
She paused just long enough for the threat to hit home and to allow him to gauge the sincerity in her eyes, she meant every word, before continuing, "So from now on 'partner' I'm going to be your shadow. Everything you know, I know. I don't even want you to go to the bathroom without me knowing about it."
She stepped back and turned to walk away a few paces before she turned to face him again a smile now on her face. "Do I take it that we understand each other?" She asked her tone had reverted to that of an amicable colleague.
Nathan who hadn't realised quite how much he had tensed, took a deep breath and relaxed. He met the agent's gaze. "Perfectly"
"Good then perhaps you could take me through exactly what happened this morning." She moved towards the door "at your desk I think." She said opening the door and waking back out into the hall.
Bemused Nathan straightened his tie and settled down his breathing, up to five minutes ago he had thought that he was good at threats, then he followed his new 'partner' back to his desk.
Mark was deep in thought when he heard the engine of the car approaching the cabin. Instantly alert, his first thought was that somehow they had been found, either by the people who had shot at them or, perhaps just as bad given Steve's encounter with them, the NSA.
He had had time to think and now had even more reason, having removed the bullet from Steve's shoulder, not to trust the NSA he was fairly sure that the bullet came from a pistol and not from a high velocity rifle like the one that had hit Jesse. Which meant that whoever had shot Steve had been much closer to him and was therefore most likely one of the agents. Emma had caught enough of a view of them even in all the commotion to be able to say they were involved in the gun battle.
He looked frantically around for some means to protect his son and spotted Steve's gun where Emma had left it on the side table. He went over and with a slight hesitation, picked it up. It felt uncomfortable in his hand. He hated guns and abhorred violence but there was no way that he would let Steve come to any further harm without at least putting up a fight.
With his heart beating rapidly and his blood thundering in his ears he moved to stand behind the curtained window and watched as the large black BMW drew up outside. The windows were tinted so he could not see who or how many were in the car. Glancing back at Steve he said a silent prayer that it was the police who had found them but he knew that it would be unlikely that they would arrive in such a car.
He turned his attention back to the vehicle as he heard the unmistakable click of the driver's door opening. He drew in a deep breath and held it.
Amanda walked slowly back into Jesse's now empty room and sat down heavily on the bed. She couldn't remember ever feeling so alone.
Her mother was at home with her two wonderful sons, all of whom she knew loved her but she was part of their support network not the other way round. Whenever she had needed someone to talk to or confide in, to lean on in a crisis, it was one of her friends that she usually turned to, sometimes Steve or Jesse but mostly Mark. These were the steadying influences in her life and closer to her than most people's families, and now, not one or two but all three of them were in crisis. She had no one to turn to, was unsure of how she would cope, and so she felt alone.
Nathan had told her of the events at the shopping Mall and she had listened in shocked silence as he explained how Mark had been taken.
She had felt a momentary surge of anger at Mark for leaving her when she needed him and then guilt at the irrationality of the thought, he had not gone by choice, then she had stood in silence unable to voice her thoughts, whilst Nathan tried to reassure her that everything possible would be done to find both Steve and Mark.
She could see in Nathan's eyes the guilt, knew from his contrite tone that he felt responsible for Mark's predicament but could not bring herself to say anything to him other than a polite, 'thank you for letting me know.' She had turned and walked away in a dazed state and ended up here in Jesse's room. She wasn't entirely sure why.
She was still trying to reconcile the days events when she became aware that the phone was ringing. another diverted call for Mark. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Dr. Bentley speaking."
There was a momentary pause before the voice on the other end replied slightly hesitantly. "Oh.... er.... hello Amanda, it's Alison, I was hoping to speak to Dr. Sloan. He said he'd ring me if there was any news on Steve and I suppose because he hasn't that means there isn't." Alison continued, lack of sleep combined with concern for Steve seemed to have temporarily derailed her thought processes. "But I was hoping that maybe you'd heard something and just hadn't got around to ringing me.... Not that I don't trust you to ring if something happened." She was well aware that she was now rambling instead of asking a direct question, and probably sounded like a complete idiot. "But I'm probably fairly low on your list of priorities. So I thought that I would ring you on the off chance that there was some news any news then..." She finally managed to stop herself and word a coherent question. "I'm sorry Amanda, I'm probably not making much sense, If I could speak to Mark, Is he there?"
Amanda took a deep breath. She had met Alison on many occasions in Steve's company over the last few weeks and had watched their relationship grow closer. It was a long time since she had seen Steve so settled and happy in a relationship and she had high hopes for the future. So she had taken the time to get to know Alison and everything she knew about her so far she liked.
Hearing the concern in Alison's tone as she asked the question gave Amanda a sense of a kindred spirit, someone who sounded as lost and lonely as she felt, and now it was her responsibility to deliver more bad news. She took a deep breath to steel herself for the task. "No I'm afraid he isn't and there has been a development you should know about...."
Agent Baker's reception at the Malibu field office had been pretty much as he had expected. They had stopped short of open hostility towards him but all three of the field agents had exchanged looks that said, "this is all we need an idiot rookie watching our every move and reporting it back!'
Baker however, despite his lack of experience had many positive attributes not least of which was the ability to make himself unthreatening and helpful in every way. By the time mid morning came around he had assisted with file organisation, located several requested reports, typed up half a dozen sets of notes and even found time to make the coffee. He knew that he could best make the observations that Collins wanted if he behaved just like a PA to the three agents and tried to make them forget whose office he came from.
He was just attempting to engage Steele in conversation when the pandemonium struck. All three agents pagers went off simultaneously and the phones started ringing. Baker didn't manage to catch much of what was happening, something about a shooting in a shopping Mall, before he was left alone in a room that had seen five minutes of frantic activity, bemused he watched the doors swing closed and the papers settle back into piles from the draught the hurried exits had invoked. This he decided would be a good opportunity to make his preliminary report to his superior.
Mark would not like to try to count the number of operations that he had been involved in. In fact he probably couldn't even estimate how many gunshots that he had dealt with in his many years as a surgeon and yet his hand shook now with all the trepidation of an intern carrying out his first ever surgical procedure.
Compassion, caring and a good bedside manner were all aspects of the role of a surgeon but a truly good surgeon could switch those off to concentrate on the task in hand. Everyone, however, had their limits and maintaining his focus under the circumstances was at the edge of Mark's mental endurance. Still as he had already repeated to himself , there was no choice.
His hand hovered over the wound for several seconds, but it seemed like much longer, before he was able to cut into his son's flesh. Once again he had resorted to the developed sense of clinical detachment needed by anyone who became a doctor, in order to focus their minds on the skills needed rather than the person.
As he worked Mark tried to ignore the challenging conditions. Apart from those few occasions when he had had to improvise in emergency situations, his recent experiences usually involved him working in the best of operating theatres, with a highly trained staff, but here the light was barely good enough for him to see what he was doing despite having every light in the house concentrated on the small table and there was no suction to remove the excess blood only swabs. It was only the many years of experience and his intuitive senses that allowed him to work quickly and skillfully.
Emma helped as much as she could but she was almost entirely occupied with ensuring Steve did not move.
After about twenty minutes, Mark was ready to remove the bullet, he was relieved that things had been going so well. It was at this point that that almost changed. Steve let out a low moan and began to return to a form of fevered consciousness.
Disoriented and unable to comprehend what was happening to him, all Steve could feel was the hands holding him down as he tried to shift his position on the table. On the fringes of consciousness only his instincts were operating and with no higher thought to temper his actions he began to fight against the unseen constraints.
Mark barely pulled the scalpel clear before Steve's sudden jerk would have ripped his flesh apart. As he pulled the blade back violently from his son's shoulder, he could only consider the consequences of not moving quickly enough. His mind reeling as he considered the further injury that he would have been responsible for.
Mark backed off from the table in shock, his flimsy hold on his emotional control temporarily lost and for a few moments he just stood and watched as Steve began to thrash about. Emma holding on to him and simultaneously trying to soothe and reassure him with her words.
Emma quickly realised that she did not have the strength to hold him on her own, even in his weakened state he was much stronger than her and gripped by an irrational panic. Her words did not seem to be penetrating his fevered senses. She looked up at Mark, who stood staring at Steve, face deathly pale still holding the scalpel up high where he had pulled it as Steve started to move. She realised that he must have been shocked by the closeness he came to further injuring his son. She could only imagine how traumatic this must be for him, but she did not have time to consider his feelings. She still needed him, Steve needed him.
"Dr. Sloan," she said with all the command in her voice that she could manage. "I need your help. Please," she continued imploringly. "He's going to hurt himself more."
With effort Mark pulled himself back to the real world. For the third time since he had found his son, Emma had had to draw him back from the emotional bewilderment that threatened to engulf him. If he was going to help Steve recover then he would have to stop losing it like this. He needed to remain focused. What if Emma had not been there?
He moved back quickly to help her. First restraining Steve and then helping her to soothe him.
"Shhh son," he said gently. "Steve it's all right. Stop fighting everything's going to be all right" He repeated the phrases several times until finally his soft words and tone seemed to get through and Steve relaxed. Drifting back into unconsciousness.
Mark waited until he was sure that Steve would not wake again and then took a moment to clear his mind. With a new found determination, he retrieved the scalpel and continued with the surgery. He would not, could not, let his emotional state put his son at further risk.
Fortunately the movement had not caused too much damage and the rest of the operation passed without incident, once the bullet was out, Mark packed and dressed the wound. It could not be stitched until the infection had cleared. Finally satisfied that he had done all that he could, he set about the difficult task of returning Steve to the couch. Emma did her best to assist as they took care not to undo the good work they had done.
Only when he was resting comfortably with a new antibiotic IV set up and the monitors reattached did Mark allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He looked down at his hands which were once again shaking and said a silent prayer that he would never have to do anything like that again. More thankful than ever that he had in the past always had support when Steve had been injured.
He sank down heavily into a chair, mentally and physically exhausted and stared across at his son.
Steve's colour had returned after the blood transfusion Mark had been able to give him and he was far more able to fight the infection than he had been an hour before, but the fever was a continuing concern. Mark knew that Steve was not out of danger until the fever broke and his temperature came down.
Emma reentered from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee. Mark had not even realised that she had gone. She handed him a cup and sat down on the edge of the coffee table.
Mark took the cup gratefully, looking up from Steve only long enough to avoid dropping it. "Thanks," he muttered distractedly.
"How is he?" She asked taking a sip from the cup
"Hard to tell, "Mark confessed. "His system is having a hard time fighting the infection so it will be a few hours before we know either way." He swallowed and bit his bottom lip, "but if he doesn't start to show some signs of improvement soon, or if he gets any worse, then whatever the possible risks we'll have to get him to the hospital."
"If I'd had my way then he never would have left in the first place." Emma stated sadly. She too had turned her gaze to Steve's unconscious form.
Mark caught the self recrimination again. It was the same tone she had used earlier in the car when she had been explaining what had happened "Hey it's not your fault," he said. "Steve always did have a rather dismissive attitude to his own health." A small smile crossed his lips. "With a doctor as a father you would think that he would know better."
Emma returned the smile. "Yes I know what you mean," she said turning to look back at the old doctor. He was still very pale and their were heavy black sacks forming under his eyes. Everything about his demeanor betrayed the bone weary tiredness that he felt. "Look Dr. Sloan you're exhausted why don't you get some rest. I'll keep an eye on Steve and let you know straight away if there is any change."
Mark turned to look at her. "You look like you could use the rest yourself."
"Yes but I'm not the one that Steve is going to need to be alert if there are any complications." She paused watching for his reaction. "Please, I'll wake you in a few hours or if there's any change and then I promise I'll get some rest myself."
Mark considered her offer. She was right, there was nothing more that he could do for Steve at the moment, but he might need him later. He shifted position on the chair and felt the weary ache of muscles tensed for too long. Emotionally and physically the operation had drained what little resources he had left. Without rest soon he would be unable to function. "OK," he agreed reluctantly, "But any change at all..."
"I'll wake you straight away."
Mark stood slowly and headed for one of the bedrooms that led directly off the living room. He sank down, fully clothed onto the bed too exhausted to bother with the sheets and was asleep before his head had settled on the pillow.
Baker stood in front of his superior, his usual nervousness at reporting to the formidable man in front of him was diminishing with every meeting as he began to realise that the intimidating and authoritative manner was merely a front. Collins was in fact a shrewd and intelligent man who used the bluster to keep people off guard so that he could assess them. It was almost certainly how he had risen to a high position in the intelligence community. There were those who rose through the organisation politically and those who did it on merit and Collins was undoubtedly an example of the latter.
A growing trust between the two men as they were forced to work together in unusual circumstances was evident as Collins invited the younger man to sit, Baker delivered a succinct report of his first impressions of the people he had been asked to watch.
"So out of the three who would you put your money on?" Collins' asked when Baker had finished.
"Sir?" Baker replied quizzically not sure that he understood the question.
"Assuming that one of them is a traitor, which one?"
"I've only been with them for a morning." Baker started to protest.
"I know," Collins returned evenly. "But what do your instincts tell you? Who would be capable of this sort of deception.?"
Baker thought about it. "Well I wouldn't put it past any of them and from the reports they all had opportunity. They all followed up different leads across the city on Saturday afternoon, or say they did, and from talking to them I wouldn't rule any of them out."
"Yes but if you had to make a judgment who would it be?" Collins repeated the question.
Baker sighed it was clear that his boss was not going to let him generalise. He wanted a straight answer. "Dobbs," he said quietly. "He's close to retirement and bitter about his lack of promotion. He's got the least to lose and the most to gain."
"OK," Collins looked thoughtful. "Then I'll follow that up. I'll check the timings on his reports and look for discrepancies. You just continue watching all of them. There has obviously been some sort of development so you'd better get back to the office and find out what's going on."
"Yes sir," Baker replied succinctly and stood to leave, flattered that his boss trusted his instincts enough to act on them. He just hoped that that faith was not misplaced.
"Oh and Baker," Collins stopped him just before he reached the door.
"Yes sir?"
"Don't take any chances. If one of those agents is really a rogue then they've been involved in at least two deaths already."
"I'll be careful sir."
Amanda had only two reactions to extreme stress. One was to shut down, sit and cry it out of her system, but this was rare, far more often she reacted by throwing herself into her work with a vigour that frightened most people when they saw it. Today she had done both. Alison's phone call had snapped her out of her melancholy and once she had hung up she had returned to the path lab, determined to use work to take her mind off everything.
In the two hours she had been there she had completed almost a days worth of work, barely pausing for breath as she moved from one autopsy to the next and yet still managing to complete the work thoroughly and professionally.
She was just finishing up on the latest of the reports when there was a knock on the door. "Yes," she snapped showing obvious annoyance at the interruption. Recognising her mood all of the people she worked with had been avoiding interrupting her, besides most knew at least some of what was going on and didn't know what to say.
Dr. Taylor entered, "Amanda," he began, "I just came up to.."
But Amanda was up out of her seat and speaking before he had a chance to finish, her hyperactive state driving her. "Dr. Taylor, I'm sorry I didn't know it was you. Have you got some news? How's Jesse?"
Unlike her colleagues Bill Taylor had never seen Amanda like this before and was slightly taken aback by her whirlwind approach. He looked into her wide expectant eyes, gathering his thoughts to word a reply. He smiled, "Jesse's just come out of surgery and it was a complete success. Dr. Michaelson is very pleased with how things have gone and fairly confident of a good prognosis."
Amanda let out a long breath and for the first time in hours relaxed. Some good news at last. It wasn't until that point that she realised just how concerned about Jesse she had been, with Mark and Steve missing, her emotions were all one knotted mess but as the relief washed over her, that at least one of her friends was out of danger, she gained some measure of how much it had worried her. She returned her colleagues' smile. "That's wonderful, thanks Bill."
"Well I thought you would want to know straight away."
"When can I see him?"
"He's in recovery now so we should be getting him back to the ward in about 20 minutes."
"Great," Amanda said warmly. "I'll just finish up here and then I'll come down to his room. I want to be there when he wakes up. Give him the promising news."
Amanda made it to the room before Jesse and waited patiently until he was settled back in his bed before moving over to his side. She gently brushed the hair from his forehead and looked down at the serene peaceful face before her. He looked so young, but then a part of her thought that he always would. His features would never betray his true age, there was such a child like quality to them.
She knew that his face would not show the lines of pain that she had seen etched there only that morning, at least, not until the anaesthetic wore off and she lamented the fact that he could not remain peacefully asleep until the wounds had healed and the pain had gone, away from the agony of recovery as the newly mending nerves protested their treatment, but she knew that the pain would be a necessary stage in that recovery and there was nothing she could do to make that better except be there to support him, as he had supported her through the birth of her son and the injuries that she had had over the years.
She was deep in thought as he first began to stir. Her mind had drifted back to that morning when she had been told of Mark's disappearance, concern for her other two friends had temporarily pulled her thoughts away from the man in front of her. Now she was abruptly dragged back as Jesse jerked awake.
"No, it can't be!" he cried out. She grabbed him and gently pushed him back as he attempted to raise himself to a sitting position.
"Jess, It's ok everything went well. Just relax." She said calmly.
Jesse blinked several times realising once again that he had woken from a nightmare. He took a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart and looked around him, assessing his whereabouts and arranging in his head the events of the day.
"The operation?" he asked croakily once he had finally regained his perspective.
"Was a complete success," Amanda reassured him. "You're going to be fine Jess."
Still not convinced, after all his dreams had seemed so real. "My arm?" he asked, again his tone marked it clearly as a question.
Amanda was momentarily confused but then realised that he could not bring himself to look down at his left side. She saw the fear that had been there earlier. Despite her reassurance he obviously could not believe that his dream had not come true. "It's fine, look for yourself." She said nodding in the direction of his arm.
Jess stared into her eyes for a few moments searching for the lie that was not there. Amanda's expression spoke only of sincerity and concern and yet it was still difficult for him to overcome his fear. Finally he slowly turned his head to look at his bandaged arm and his whole body visibly relaxed as he let go of the apprehension. His sense of foreboding had been wrong. He really was going to be fine. "Thank God!" he whispered and rested his head back down on the pillow.
At that moment there was some commotion out in the hall. The altercation was so loud that Jesse shifted his position trying to hear what was going on. Knowing that Jesse's curiosity would get the better of him no matter how groggy he felt from the operation, Amanda decided to preempt his questioning and go and find out for herself what was happening.
"Stay there," she said unnecessarily, Jesse could move yes, but not get up. "I'll find out what it is and come back"
Jesse nodded. If truth be told he was relieved to have a few moments to himself to recover his senses before he had to speak to anyone. Despite the evidence to the contrary, his fear had been so real, so strong that it had shaken him more then he wanted to admit to himself, let alone others. He needed a little time to get his thoughts organised.
Out in the hallway Amanda found one very, very irate NSA agent in a stand off with two uniformed officers and a junior doctor. There was so much shouting going on that nobody could make themselves heard.
Realising that she was the most senior member of the hospital staff in the vicinity Amanda joined in by shouting for everyone to be quiet. When nobody seemed to take any notice of her she took the only action that she could to get herself noticed. She barged into the middle of the group. "Will....you.... please... all be.....quiet." She said, emphasising each word by pushing each of the protagonists backwards a pace.
There was something about her authoritative manner coupled with a barely contained fury that made all of them stop in their tracks and stare at the white coated woman who had shoved them away from each other.
When everyone was quiet and looking at her she smiled at them, but she kept her tone authoritative as she spoke. "That's better," she said "Now this is a hospital. Would one of you like to tell me what is so important that the whole ward needs to be disturbed by it." She held up her hand to forestall any repeat of the cacophony. "One at a time please. Agent Harris?"
Stephanie was seething, obviously barely keeping her emotions in check. "The man in that room is a material witness in an ongoing NSA investigation and these idiots here won't let me in to see him."
"The man who was shot at the shopping mall?" Amanda asked, putting two and two together.
Agent Harris nodded.
Amanda turned to look at the police guards on the door.
"We have orders not to let anyone," he emphasised the word, "in to see the prisoner unless the Captain himself approves it, and that includes agents of the NSA. Besides, the doc here said he ain't well enough yet."
Without needing to ask anything Amanda turned her gaze on the young doctor. "He's right. We only just brought him up from surgery. It will be a couple of hours before he will be up to visitors," he glanced nervously at the NSA agent but couldn't keep himself from adding. "Especially hostile ones."
Stephanie bit back a sarcastic reply and instead just furnished the doctor with her most intimidating glare. Satisfyingly he shrank back from it.
"Then I suggest that you go away and come back in a couple of hours," Amanda stated. Stephanie turned her glare on her but Amanda just returned it.
"But that man in there may be the one who shot your friend Dr. Travis and also may be able to help us with the whereabouts of Dr. Sloan." Stephanie protested attempting to appeal to Amanda's self interests.
"That may be," Amanda replied calmly, "but my first duty is to the patients in this hospital and until his doctor says he's well enough to receive visitors, then, if these police officers don't stop you getting in, I will make sure that hospital security does."
"I could always pull rank in the interests of national security." Stephanie suggested.
"You could, " Amanda held her ground as she continued to meet the agent glare for glare. "But you won't. So go away and come back in a couple of hours. Use the time to go and see Captain Newman and sort out approval for your visit. It will make it easier all round."
Stephanie looked at the four people standing in the way of her objective and decided that this was a battle she had lost. "Oh don't you worry," she said as she turned and walked away down the corridor. "I intend to do just that."
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared from sight.
"Thank you Dr. Bentley," The young doctor said gratefully.
"Don't thank me yet," Amanda replied warily. "This is not over, we just won round one."
Jesse had drifted back to sleep almost as soon as Amanda had left the room but was woken moments later by the ringing phone. Still groggy from the anaesthetic he reached out to answer it more by instinct than by conscious thought. He shifted awkwardly on the bed hampered by the bulky bandaging.
"Hello, Dr. Travis speaking," he said into the receiver.
"Ah, Hello Jesse, it's Carl Milford, I was hoping to speak to Mark. Is he around?"
Jesse vaguely recognised the name. Carl Milford was an old friend of Mark's, whom Jesse had met at a few fundraising dinners and one or two parties at the beach house. "No I'm sorry he's not. Can I take a message." Jesse replied his brain almost on autopilot, replying as he would if circumstances had been normal.
"Yes, he's executor of the Van Heus estate and I just wanted to ask him if he's been out to the cabin in the last day. One of the neighbours rang up to tell me that he's seen some movement up there and I just wanted to check that it wasn't Mark before I take any action. Could you get him to ring me back please?'
"Yeah, sure as soon as I see him." Jesse replied wearily.
"Thank you."
"No problem," Jesse replied as the line went dead.
He barely dropped the handset back into it's cradle before he had drifted off to sleep again.
Amanda walked back into the room to find that Jesse was asleep. She smiled to herself, at least it allowed her to put off having to tell him about Mark. She went and sat down next to the bed and turned to stare at the wall that divided this room from the next. Wondering what Jesse would think if he knew that there was a possibility that the man who had shot him was just on the other side of the wall.
It had been four long hours of waiting. Emma checked the monitors again just to be sure that her eyes weren't deceiving her. No it was true, Steve's temperature was finally starting to fall. She briefly debated going to wake Mark to tell him the good news but decided to leave him to rest until Steve started to show some signs of wakefulness.
She had just reached this decision when it became apparent that it was unnecessary, sound from the bedroom indicated that Mark was already awake. He entered the living room still yawning and stretching. Exhaustion had allowed him to get some rest but his heightened anxiety, coupled with his minds active deliberation of the reasons for what had happened, had not allowed him to rest longer than the minimum time his mind needed to recuperate from the long hours of worry and insomnia of the night before..
He was still tired but at least he had had enough rest to function. His mind had cleared a little and even as he returned to check on Steve's condition he was deliberating what he could do now to solve the mystery surrounding Richard Fielding's death.
As he entered the room Emma turned her smile on him. "Dr. Sloan, I was wondering whether to come and get you. Good news, Steve's temperature is starting to drop."
Mark moved over quickly to check on his son, encouraged by the news. "Has he shown any signs of waking?" He asked as he checked the monitor's again.
"No, I'm afraid he hasn't stirred since we settled him." Emma replied.
That was not so good. Mark would have expected a return to consciousness after this length of time. Steve's fever had been high and the possibility of coma was a real one. Mark cursed himself for leaving his son even to take the much needed rest. He quickly knelt next to Steve and started to check his reflexes.
Having carried out the necessary checks, he sat back, his expression a mixture of confusion and relief. Steve was definitely not in a comatose state, his reflexes all responded normally. So there was no reason for him not to have woken and yet he still showed no sign that he would wake.
Emma looked at the doctor's expression. "Is everything all right?"
Mark noted her concern and smiled to reassure her. "Yes, he does seem to be improving. I'm just worried that he's not awake yet." He thought for a little longer. "But his body has taken quite a lot of punishment over the last couple of days, he probably just needs the rest." He turned his attention to Emma. "Which you promised to do yourself."
"I know." She sat down opposite the doctor. "I just don't think I could at the moment. I keep thinking of the trouble I've caused for you and Steve and Dr. Travis." She paused before continuing quietly, "and if I close my eyes there's the sight of Richard..." She stopped speaking she was staring ahead without seeing as her mind dealt with the enormity of the emotions once more.
Mark watched her reactions carefully. He always trusted his instincts with people and despite the story she had related earlier he was certain that she had no complicity in her husband's death.
Now he had two tasks; to convince her of that fact and to find out who had. He had had time to think about the events she had described and his instincts told him that Emma held the key to what had happened. It was locked in her memory of the events of Saturday and her conversations with her husband and given her emotional state it was going to be a difficult task to unlock those memories without pushing her over the edge.
"I know it's difficult but if you don't get some rest soon you are going to collapse," Mark said gently getting up and moving to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Fortunately I know a good doctor who can give you something to help you sleep."
She turned tearful eyes up to him and returned his smile. "You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"
"Not when my patients welfare is a concern, no." he replied, "besides I only recently followed some similar advice myself and the person who gave it to me was right."
Emma stood still smiling. "OK you win I'll try."
Mark followed Emma into the second of the bedrooms and gave her a mild sedative and waited until it had taken before returning to Steve's side to sit and wait and think.
Stephanie's entrance at the police station made everyone turn and stare. Not for the usual reason that she made heads turn, her looks, but because of the cloud of anger that didn't so much follow her as announce her presence as she entered the building. The air around her positively bristled with energy as she breezed past everyone without pausing for the formalities that visitors to the station normally had to endure.
She entered the squadroom and scanned for her objective. Spotting him she walked straight over, if she had not already had the attention of everyone in the room then her shouted opening to the conversation would have drawn it. "Detective Turner just what the hell do you think you were playing at?"
Nathan had been half expecting this. He looked at the angry glaring eyes of the woman who stood before him and then glanced around at the dozen pairs of eyes that had turned to watch the show. "Not here." he stated firmly and turned and walked from the room.
The implication in his actions was clear and Stephanie turned on her heel and followed him. Ironically he showed agent Harris into the same interrogation room that Steve had used to meet the two agents the day before.
Once the door was closed behind them. Nathan turned to face agent Harris whose anger by now was tangible. "Before you start," he said holding up his hand as she opened her mouth to lay into him once more. "I'd just like to say that you probably aren't going to say anything that I haven't already said to myself, or heard from my Captain."
It was true all the way back from the hospital to the station he had been questioning his own decisions, only to receive a twenty minute dressing down from Captain Newman when he arrived. It would have been longer, if the Captain hadn't been called to a meeting with the chief and the mayor to explain the incident in one of LA's biggest shopping malls. But the worst thing by far, as far as Nathan was concerned, in dealing with the aftermath of Dr. Sloan's abduction was watching Amanda's reaction.
When he had told her, it was as if he had drained the emotion out of her, one piece of bad news too many. He had watched her beautiful face cloud over and no reassurance he could give her seemed to penetrate. She had left in such a dazed state, like a lost child, that he had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right.
Amanda was normally so strong about everything that it had shaken him to see her like that, and the fact that he could not stay and make sure that she was all right had only made it harder to take. After that there was nothing that anyone could say to him that could have made him feel any worse.
So he met Agent Harris' assault head on "In fact I don't think anyone could make me feel worse about what happened but I'm willing to let you give it a try. So give it your best shot." He continued, opening his hands wide in a gesture of supplication.
Stephanie opened and closed her mouth, Nathan's unexpected reaction momentarily taking the wind from her sails. "We were supposed to be working together," was the best that she could manage.
"Look Dr. Sloan was calling the shots this morning. It was go with him or lose our only chance of a lead and there wasn't time to call anyone else."
"So you lost our lead and Dr. Sloan instead." Stephanie replied allowing the words to drip with venom.
"Yes," Nathan admitted "I did, but at the time I had no options. Do I regret it? Yes but only because of the way it turned out."
Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "Good, I'm glad you can see what a fiasco this morning was because I'm going to tell you how it's going to be from now on." She moved in on Nathan causing him to step back. The single pace took his back to the wall. She pressed her index finger onto his chest to emphasise her point as she allowed the oppressive tension to hang round him for a moment. Her face close enough to his for him to feel her breath. "Yesterday detective, you threatened me to get my cooperation. Now I find that you have an inside track to several people involved in the investigation and you are keeping me out of things." She paused fixing him with an icy stare. When she continued she had dropped her voice to a seductive whisper. "So now I'm going to threaten you. Unless you keep me posted on everything you do in this investigation, I'll open up an NSA file on you and bury you so deep that you'll spend the next two years being interviewed in the interests of national security. You will simply disappear."
Nathan swallowed, trying to remind himself that she had probably learnt as he had that the essence of a threat was in the delivery. If so she had learnt from a master.
She paused just long enough for the threat to hit home and to allow him to gauge the sincerity in her eyes, she meant every word, before continuing, "So from now on 'partner' I'm going to be your shadow. Everything you know, I know. I don't even want you to go to the bathroom without me knowing about it."
She stepped back and turned to walk away a few paces before she turned to face him again a smile now on her face. "Do I take it that we understand each other?" She asked her tone had reverted to that of an amicable colleague.
Nathan who hadn't realised quite how much he had tensed, took a deep breath and relaxed. He met the agent's gaze. "Perfectly"
"Good then perhaps you could take me through exactly what happened this morning." She moved towards the door "at your desk I think." She said opening the door and waking back out into the hall.
Bemused Nathan straightened his tie and settled down his breathing, up to five minutes ago he had thought that he was good at threats, then he followed his new 'partner' back to his desk.
Mark was deep in thought when he heard the engine of the car approaching the cabin. Instantly alert, his first thought was that somehow they had been found, either by the people who had shot at them or, perhaps just as bad given Steve's encounter with them, the NSA.
He had had time to think and now had even more reason, having removed the bullet from Steve's shoulder, not to trust the NSA he was fairly sure that the bullet came from a pistol and not from a high velocity rifle like the one that had hit Jesse. Which meant that whoever had shot Steve had been much closer to him and was therefore most likely one of the agents. Emma had caught enough of a view of them even in all the commotion to be able to say they were involved in the gun battle.
He looked frantically around for some means to protect his son and spotted Steve's gun where Emma had left it on the side table. He went over and with a slight hesitation, picked it up. It felt uncomfortable in his hand. He hated guns and abhorred violence but there was no way that he would let Steve come to any further harm without at least putting up a fight.
With his heart beating rapidly and his blood thundering in his ears he moved to stand behind the curtained window and watched as the large black BMW drew up outside. The windows were tinted so he could not see who or how many were in the car. Glancing back at Steve he said a silent prayer that it was the police who had found them but he knew that it would be unlikely that they would arrive in such a car.
He turned his attention back to the vehicle as he heard the unmistakable click of the driver's door opening. He drew in a deep breath and held it.