Chapter 9

Instructions were simple, no visitors allowed until after the psychoanalysis. The hospital staff waited with baited breath, Sands didn't know about the psychologist. Sands didn't like psychologists or psychotherapists, to put it lightly, he avoided them at all costs.

Arnoldo had always went along with Sands' aversion, but the psychologist insisted. He insisted that any man injured as badly as Sands was would have emotionally damaging after-effects. Arnoldo had grimly been forced to relent, in order to get a clean bill of health Sands would have to deal with the psychologist.

As he lay in the pristine white hospital cot Sands heard the door open. He could tell that there were two people, both of them men. He was able to judge gender by how they walked, heavier footsteps for the men, lighter footfalls for the women. He could hear the metallic clanging from some kind of medical equipment. He would have refused pain-killers, it was a point of pride, but he really wished he had one just in case.

From the moment he had lost his eyes up until now he had been on a tranq of some kind. Ajedrez had injected him with double the dosage making sure that it would last a long time for the 'fun' to go on and on. Then Sable, who was unaware that he'd figured it out, and then finally Billy's stash. He knew the former crime-boss had something blocking his nervous system from pain. As he guessed, it was in the front shirt pocket. Predictable.

Now. . . what the hell? He heard an annoyingly familiar voice talking to someone that Sands didn't know. It was Jim, a rookie agent who wanted nothing more than to kill Sands off and try for the high spot himself. What was he doing in the room? Muscles tensed as Sands waited to attack. . .

The IV was hooked up, he could feel its presence. Sands waited until he could smell the man's aftershave before grabbing his neck. With a few quick movements he had rendered the man unconscious.

He heard Jim curse, before he could attack again he felt a needle jab his arm. The sensation he'd gotten used to ran through him fogging his mind. His body moved sluggishly, but Jim yelped all the same.

Sands felt a bone break, one of Jim's ribs were broken. They'd drugged him! The fuck-mooks dared to drug him! Revenge would be sweet in coming, they wouldn't get away with this unscathed. But, in the deeper recesses of his mind, he was glad he wouldn't have to face all of the pain alone just yet. . .

* * *

"They won't let me bring in any food or drink," Sands stated as Sable entered the room. He recognized her by the way she smelled, the light dusting of vanilla perfume she wore seemed uncharacteristic, but when he walked around using a fake arm he couldn't throw stones.

The IV's drip slowed by morning, he didn't feel any pain, but he had regained use of his extremities. He had laughed when he overheard the doctors talking about Jim's condition. The man was in a hospital bed of his own with his chest bound due to one broken and two bruised ribs.

"How sad for you," she closed the door watchfully to make sure no one had followed her. She had no doubt that there were security cameras outside, but she was careful to stay unseen. There might be an audio transmitter inside, no one would put a camera inside a hospital room.

"And I can't up and leave because, apparently, I'm being monitored."

'That wouldn't stop you," Sable scoffed, she'd seen Sands enter maximum-security houses without breaking a sweat, a simple camera would be nothing.

"No, but this might," he held up an arm and embedded inside the vein was a wickedly long IV needle. He was too calm about it, Sands was only calm over a perceived injustice when the damage he caused outweighed the supposed crime.

"What did you do to them," she leaned against the wall comfortably with one leg crossed over the other at the ankle.

"Not much. Maybe black eye, broken rib, but that's about it." Sands shrugged.

"You let them off lightly," Sable rolled her eyes at his satisfied smile.

"It would seem so."

"So is this it then? Has Arnoldo been in to talk to you at all after that? Dawes even?" Sable asked.

"Why are you here," Sands evaded the question, "why did you stick around?"

"I've got nothing better to do. I figured I'd check in on my partner before wreaking havoc elsewhere."

"No wonder," Sands leaned back against the headboard and pushed the glasses up further on his nose.

"Right. . . well, no one to main here, I guess, target practice calls," she opened the glass door knowing full well Sands wasn't through yet.

"Alice," she sighed at the nickname, "don't forget the tequila next time."

"Drop the nicknames and I'll try to remember, assuming there is a next time."

"There will be, sugarbutt," Sands chuckled to himself as he heard the door slam behind her.

* * *

"We know you've been in to see him," Arnoldo said as she fired another round of bullets into the paper dummy.

"Who," she dropped the gun to her side and regarded him calmly.

"I trained you both. Don't try lying to me," he smiled satisfied all the same, "feel up for another visit?"

Sands was actually enjoying himself, they'd brought him a mediator. He wasn't in the mood to converse about 'topics of a rather personal nature' so aside from giving him the big F-you, he decided to set up the pins.

"Holy shit, Arnoldo. You sent Hayer in? Sands is going to turn him into an unraveled basket case!" Sable stared through the glass doors watching as Hayer made several rapid hand gestures.

"Dawes thought he could handle it," they both shared a look. "Want to play middle-man?"

Sable let the door to the observation room shut with a bang, and as she'd expected Hayer jumped about a mile into the air.

"Play time's over, Sands," she pulled up a chair and straddled it so the back was in front. "Let the man go, and come play with the big guns."

"And I almost made him cry," Sands snorted, "'s your lucky day, kid."

"I'll bet Dawes'll be surprised-"

"Dawes knows. Fuck off." Hayes practically ran to the door and gave them both a horrified glance before they were left alone.

"You know our conversation's being recorded," Sable glanced at the mirror-like wall behind them.

"I'm blind, not stupid. What do you want?"

"Psycho-analysis," she rested her chin on the chair's top.

"You getting paid extra for this?"

"You're damned right I am," Sable grinned.

"They broke the rules." No nut case was coming in to question him, waste of time. ""Fuck the psych."

"It's a guy, you wouldn't want to, and I'm not in the mood."

Sands chuckled, boy how he'd missed this, "So they're sending in good ol' Marky-mak again, eh?" he referred to Mark, the doctor who'd been in to see him already.

"Nope. You get the professional's professional."

"Outside office," they were just warming up, both knew Dawes and Arnoldo were listening. Why not turn it up a notch?

"Outside, inside of corporation," Sable laughed.

"Inside of outside's office?"

"Center of outside's inside."

"Oh-ho, big boss, huh," Sands crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. His mood had improved with Sable's return, she knew how to turn a phrase almost as well as he did. He appreciated her intelligence and sarcastic wit.

"What the HELL are they saying," Dawes threw up his arms in exasperation. "You send HER in for information and what do we get?"

"A helluva lot. She's damn good and if anyone can get him to agree, it'll be her. Listen."

"I am. They're not saying anything. Just bullshit and riddles."

"She's telling them we're sending in an experienced psychologist from the very best the CIA has to offer. From middle, specialized, branch."

"But she told them they're being taped!"

"And you assume he didn't know? The sorry lot you train, it's a good thing they're mine, they'd be wasted on you."

". . . when." Sands asked.

"The hands will reach for you and then raise in surrender." So he was going to give them a chance, good. Anything she could do to make Dawes look like an ass.

"Agreed." Sands complied and saluted the glass-tinted window. He remembered this room well, one of the worst criminals had died here and Sands inwardly laughed at the memory.

The observation room, where men were questioned and observed. Sometimes just watching and listening to voice and body movement was enough to know if a man was guilty. Some didn't make it through the questioning, the one he was thinking of collapsed of a heart- attack within the first hour of his questioning. The bullet in his heart was just a side-effect of the questions.

"Good. Nough of this round table crap." Sable sighed.

"Tell Dawes thanks for the warm-up round," he had until noon tomorrow to sharpen his repertoire of subtle insults.

"I'll be sure to pass that on," Sable put the chair back.

"Forgetting something," he grabbed her arm as she would have stepped back. Sable deftly countered his attack releasing her arm from his hold.

"No." she ran her hand up along the coverlet and then down inside the sheets by his leg. "Patience," she leaned down to his ear and whispered, "don't follow the rabbit."

"No worries. . . Alice," he wrapped his fingers around the neck of the liquor bottle and stopped hers from going any further. "I won't let the caterpillar befuddle my senses."

"Perfect. I wouldn't want you to get over-excited," she winked at where she knew Arnoldo was standing. "Adios."

Sands raised the bottle in a toast as the door again slammed shut and laughed the first genuine laugh in a long time. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.