It was 11:00 P.M.
Gatille had sent Iris to the parking lot and have been smoking for about an hour.
Gatille regretted it the minute he sent Iris away. He cursed his stupidity at having done exactly what Frank wanted him to do. His captive was a fanatic in some way, a kind of fanatic hero obsessed with saving people at any cost using any method. "At least I still have Donovan." Gatille's face twitched, "He cannot escape from my hands, not as long as he's got that lung puncture."
He went quickly up, ascending three staircases at a time. His men understandingly dodged him, seeing the brooding storm upon his eyebrows.
Merrill met him at the door. "Robert, what's the matter? Haven't you …"
"Sent the bastard away? Yes. Now I want to talk to Donovan about our past little business, the time when he refused to pay MY ransom." Gatille spoke through clenched teeth. Merrill could sense the hatred and the anger.
"He can't talk." She went in after Gatille, "He went unconscious soon after you made that phone call. He has a high fever."
"Body temperature?" Gatille went to Frank. The man's lips were parched and his breathing was shallow and rapid.
"39.5 degree Celsius." Merrill answered, watching Gatille's face. "It might be an infection due to lack of air circulation, soiled bandage, bacteria on the knife, or simply mental or emotional stress."
"Stress. Grand excuse. How convenient, just when I was about to torture him with guilt, shame, hopelessness, and fear." He took off the cuff on Frank's right wrist and counted the pulse, which was usually fast and beating irregulars. "Bring me water, bandages, and alcohol."
Merrill knew his intentions only too well.
Gatille took off the old bandages and frowned. The chest wound was red, swollen, and burning hot. The movements caused it to bleed again; the blood was dark. Dirty.
Gatille carefully cleansed the skin around the wound, and then applied alcohol straight. The sting greatly intensified Frank's body and he winced, hands clutching at the sheets.
"Robert, he obviously needs more than alcohol and external care. He needs surgery, blood, and medication to get well." Merrill found herself protesting against Robert.
Wasn't he the one she admired? What was she doing being so rough with him?
Gatille's eyes turned sharply toward her. "I know that, darling." He said in a soft tone that could shudder Merrill to death. "But you see, I can't take him anywhere. Isn't that right? Sure. Sure. You're just worried that I won't get my revenge. Sweet darling." He grabbed her neck, lowering it for a touch of lips.
Frank stirred.
When he was first wounded, he still had a goal to accomplish: saving Iris. The thought had created energy and stamina inside his body that fought against everything until the task was completed. And when it was done, Frank sank into relinquish. The injuries soon took hold of him. His mind wondered from his team to college to Neil's fall and always went back to the scar on Gatille's face.
He did not give Gatille the scar. Yes, when Gatille was taken by the gang he hung out with, Frank insisted that his father should take extreme caution in negotiating the terms. Instead of a siege-like threat, as in most of the hostage situations, Frank went in alone and found that Robert Gatille's life meant very little to the gang. Gatille was distrusted all along.
When Frank took out the gang's leader with a single shot in the head, the one holding Gatille down used his knife.
That knife created the scar. But Frank shot too quickly. Gatille escaped in a flash, not even noticing that Frank's bullet had killed the man who hurt him.
And now, what kind of revenge was this? What a mess?
Gatille had sent Iris to the parking lot and have been smoking for about an hour.
Gatille regretted it the minute he sent Iris away. He cursed his stupidity at having done exactly what Frank wanted him to do. His captive was a fanatic in some way, a kind of fanatic hero obsessed with saving people at any cost using any method. "At least I still have Donovan." Gatille's face twitched, "He cannot escape from my hands, not as long as he's got that lung puncture."
He went quickly up, ascending three staircases at a time. His men understandingly dodged him, seeing the brooding storm upon his eyebrows.
Merrill met him at the door. "Robert, what's the matter? Haven't you …"
"Sent the bastard away? Yes. Now I want to talk to Donovan about our past little business, the time when he refused to pay MY ransom." Gatille spoke through clenched teeth. Merrill could sense the hatred and the anger.
"He can't talk." She went in after Gatille, "He went unconscious soon after you made that phone call. He has a high fever."
"Body temperature?" Gatille went to Frank. The man's lips were parched and his breathing was shallow and rapid.
"39.5 degree Celsius." Merrill answered, watching Gatille's face. "It might be an infection due to lack of air circulation, soiled bandage, bacteria on the knife, or simply mental or emotional stress."
"Stress. Grand excuse. How convenient, just when I was about to torture him with guilt, shame, hopelessness, and fear." He took off the cuff on Frank's right wrist and counted the pulse, which was usually fast and beating irregulars. "Bring me water, bandages, and alcohol."
Merrill knew his intentions only too well.
Gatille took off the old bandages and frowned. The chest wound was red, swollen, and burning hot. The movements caused it to bleed again; the blood was dark. Dirty.
Gatille carefully cleansed the skin around the wound, and then applied alcohol straight. The sting greatly intensified Frank's body and he winced, hands clutching at the sheets.
"Robert, he obviously needs more than alcohol and external care. He needs surgery, blood, and medication to get well." Merrill found herself protesting against Robert.
Wasn't he the one she admired? What was she doing being so rough with him?
Gatille's eyes turned sharply toward her. "I know that, darling." He said in a soft tone that could shudder Merrill to death. "But you see, I can't take him anywhere. Isn't that right? Sure. Sure. You're just worried that I won't get my revenge. Sweet darling." He grabbed her neck, lowering it for a touch of lips.
Frank stirred.
When he was first wounded, he still had a goal to accomplish: saving Iris. The thought had created energy and stamina inside his body that fought against everything until the task was completed. And when it was done, Frank sank into relinquish. The injuries soon took hold of him. His mind wondered from his team to college to Neil's fall and always went back to the scar on Gatille's face.
He did not give Gatille the scar. Yes, when Gatille was taken by the gang he hung out with, Frank insisted that his father should take extreme caution in negotiating the terms. Instead of a siege-like threat, as in most of the hostage situations, Frank went in alone and found that Robert Gatille's life meant very little to the gang. Gatille was distrusted all along.
When Frank took out the gang's leader with a single shot in the head, the one holding Gatille down used his knife.
That knife created the scar. But Frank shot too quickly. Gatille escaped in a flash, not even noticing that Frank's bullet had killed the man who hurt him.
And now, what kind of revenge was this? What a mess?