Frank was not completely unconscious. His major source of pain came from his chest, not his head, which was merely muddled. When the guys moved him and up and apparently unto a bed, his wound throbbed horribly and he fought to stay conscious.
"I know who the man is," he thought, concentrating all of his energy on remembering, "I've known him from some years ago, when I was still with FBI." A list sprang into his head. "Anthony - drug dealer, Beta Organization - anarchists, Camilio - drug dealer, Caven - smuggler, Disco - drug dealer and a gangster, Dubus - a hired assassin related with the infamous physician case…" He shut his eyes tight as concentration became harder to keep. "And that major hostage case with the prominent Gatille family. My last case in FBI…"
His thoughts were interrupted by a sense of coolness on his skin. Someone had taken his shirt off, with some effort and pain on Frank's behalf. Due to the clotting of blood, the shirt was stuck on the skin while the wound kept on pouring out blood straight from his lung. He coughed, inflicting a splitting pain, and tried to cough as slightly as possible. Blood welled up in his mouth and flowed down the corner. A warm, wet towel wiped it immediately away.
"Mr. Gatille wants all the blood off the guy, Miss Merrill." A voice said, sounding distant to Frank's ears.
"Yes, Gen, You've told me that already. I understand." A young, female voice replied coldly.
Gen nodded respectfully. This Miss Merrill was important to Mr. Gatile. He had better not mess with her at all, although she's blond and beautiful and all that. Gen had an intelligence quotient below normal, but some things he did understand.
The warm water felt comfortable, but the lacerating pain increased with every stroke of towel. Frank clenched his fists, trying not to move away from it.
Merrill frowned impassively. She motioned two guys standing at the door to come over and hold Frank down. The two obeyed quietly.
"Lung puncture, serious business. What is he delaying for? Does he want this Donovan dead?" Merrill muttered as she sighed at the sight of profuse bleeding. The water has been changed four times already, each time a crimson mess. "He's lucky that Neil had a thin, short blade. The damage is severe, but not fatal - if he stops bleeding and receives proper treatments." Merrill thought aimlessly, looking at Donovan's face without realizing it. She knew Gatille to be very smart, even though he was practically forced into Harvard graduate school by his family. He was wild, although he was scared when taken hostage. He was vengeful and bitter, although the situation left him with nothing but a scar. As for Donovan, she knew about him, too. Born out of the country, English was a second language, a great student, a great agent, and a great team leader. Which one of the two would survive this? Donovan? Probably not. He was wounded and alone. Besides, why would she want him to survive? She was with Gatille, who she thought was a genius.
"Darling, you shouldn't be doing this yourself." The alarmed voice of Gatille woke her up. He stood at the door, looking at her face, then her hand, then back to her face. Suspicion lurked like a serpent.
He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist gently. "I don't want you to approach this man, you understand me?"
"You don't need to be like this, Robert." Merrill shook her hand free, as if annoyed by his paranoia. "I have more skills in nursing, that's all."
"Sure. I know that, darling. After all, you went to Georgetown School of Nursing and Health Services. I can recite your transcript. But I don't want you near Donovan. He's too dangerous."
"Sure." Merrill remained nonchalant. "Take over."
"Don't be upset with me, Merrill. You know how I get mad when you are upset with me." The scar on Robert Gatille's face twitched.
"Sure. I am not upset." She moved away. "Call me in when you need me. And I'll take the girl away from here."
"No. Leave her here. You stay with me; make sure that she doesn't bother me. I hate to be left with children. That's what women are for, anyways. Right, darling?"
Merrill didn't answer.
"I know who the man is," he thought, concentrating all of his energy on remembering, "I've known him from some years ago, when I was still with FBI." A list sprang into his head. "Anthony - drug dealer, Beta Organization - anarchists, Camilio - drug dealer, Caven - smuggler, Disco - drug dealer and a gangster, Dubus - a hired assassin related with the infamous physician case…" He shut his eyes tight as concentration became harder to keep. "And that major hostage case with the prominent Gatille family. My last case in FBI…"
His thoughts were interrupted by a sense of coolness on his skin. Someone had taken his shirt off, with some effort and pain on Frank's behalf. Due to the clotting of blood, the shirt was stuck on the skin while the wound kept on pouring out blood straight from his lung. He coughed, inflicting a splitting pain, and tried to cough as slightly as possible. Blood welled up in his mouth and flowed down the corner. A warm, wet towel wiped it immediately away.
"Mr. Gatille wants all the blood off the guy, Miss Merrill." A voice said, sounding distant to Frank's ears.
"Yes, Gen, You've told me that already. I understand." A young, female voice replied coldly.
Gen nodded respectfully. This Miss Merrill was important to Mr. Gatile. He had better not mess with her at all, although she's blond and beautiful and all that. Gen had an intelligence quotient below normal, but some things he did understand.
The warm water felt comfortable, but the lacerating pain increased with every stroke of towel. Frank clenched his fists, trying not to move away from it.
Merrill frowned impassively. She motioned two guys standing at the door to come over and hold Frank down. The two obeyed quietly.
"Lung puncture, serious business. What is he delaying for? Does he want this Donovan dead?" Merrill muttered as she sighed at the sight of profuse bleeding. The water has been changed four times already, each time a crimson mess. "He's lucky that Neil had a thin, short blade. The damage is severe, but not fatal - if he stops bleeding and receives proper treatments." Merrill thought aimlessly, looking at Donovan's face without realizing it. She knew Gatille to be very smart, even though he was practically forced into Harvard graduate school by his family. He was wild, although he was scared when taken hostage. He was vengeful and bitter, although the situation left him with nothing but a scar. As for Donovan, she knew about him, too. Born out of the country, English was a second language, a great student, a great agent, and a great team leader. Which one of the two would survive this? Donovan? Probably not. He was wounded and alone. Besides, why would she want him to survive? She was with Gatille, who she thought was a genius.
"Darling, you shouldn't be doing this yourself." The alarmed voice of Gatille woke her up. He stood at the door, looking at her face, then her hand, then back to her face. Suspicion lurked like a serpent.
He stepped forward and grabbed her wrist gently. "I don't want you to approach this man, you understand me?"
"You don't need to be like this, Robert." Merrill shook her hand free, as if annoyed by his paranoia. "I have more skills in nursing, that's all."
"Sure. I know that, darling. After all, you went to Georgetown School of Nursing and Health Services. I can recite your transcript. But I don't want you near Donovan. He's too dangerous."
"Sure." Merrill remained nonchalant. "Take over."
"Don't be upset with me, Merrill. You know how I get mad when you are upset with me." The scar on Robert Gatille's face twitched.
"Sure. I am not upset." She moved away. "Call me in when you need me. And I'll take the girl away from here."
"No. Leave her here. You stay with me; make sure that she doesn't bother me. I hate to be left with children. That's what women are for, anyways. Right, darling?"
Merrill didn't answer.