There was a distinct hospital smell to the facility. Everything was
white walls and stainless steel, florescent lights and pine-sol. Dylan
shuddered; she hated the place.
A tall, plain woman with pinned-up hair approached her. With a curt nod she introduced herself to Dylan. "Doctor Greene. You're Dylan Saunders?"
Dylan nodded. Charlie said that he would be calling the facility to inform them of her visit. The doctor nodded again, opening a file.
"This man, this assassin...he's dangerous?" She asked delicately, looking over the notes scribbled on a few sheets of paper.
Dylan faltered. Was he? Was he dangerous? She wasn't sure. He'd switched sides before...what made her think that he wouldn't do it again?
"I can't answer that. All I can say is that I don't think so."
Doctor Greene's mouth became a straight line, as if she the answer came with grim acceptance. They would still have to take the utmost precautions with the assassin.
"He's in this room," Doctor Greene showed her to a small room that was located in the middle of the bustling headquarters. Men and women in dark suits carried papers and evidence to and fro, not stopping to peer into the tiny room. The doctor waved her inside. "But Dylan, please be careful. We're locking the door behind you. There's a surveillance camera...I'll be watching."
The door closed shut, startling her into a few steps forward. The room was subdued, not glaring and white like the rest of the facility. On the far wall was a hospital bed, and the Thin Man was lying, stretched to his full length, on his back. He was pale, and perfectly still. Dylan would have thought him dead if not for the subtle movement of his chest and the eerie beeping of the heart monitor.
Taking a deep breath, she moved closer, willing her feet to move forward. At his bedside, she studied him. Thin Man..
"No," she silently scolded herself, "It's Anthony."
An IV trailed out of his left hand and attached to a bag of saline solution. There were bruises on his neck, and they seemed to descend down under his hospital pajamas. His right arm was broken. Gathering courage, Dylan carefully pulled away the thin blanket, and gently unbuttoned the front of his night-shirt. There was a lump of surgical gauze which she removed to reveal a long, jagged wound. It was about five inches long, with barbed-wire stitching poking through. They stitched him up from the inside out.
She quickly placed the gauze back onto the wound, and buttoned him back up. When she looked at his face again, she could see the tiny, purplish veins that emerged from his temples. He had come extremely close to death.
Dylan toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. The regimen part that she was so used to seeing was in disarray, so she carefully parted his hair and smoothed it to the sides. One piercing, blue- grey eye popped open. The other was swollen shut.
He couldn't move, but if he could have, she knew that he would have jumped up and hurled himself out of the window, landing on his feet like a cat. There was just that looked of fear, a caged animal that would never get used to its surroundings. But when they locked eyes, and Dylan smiled slightly at him, Anthony's fears were replaced by an almost heart-breaking sadness. He wanted to be free again, but there was nothing she could do to help him.
A tall, plain woman with pinned-up hair approached her. With a curt nod she introduced herself to Dylan. "Doctor Greene. You're Dylan Saunders?"
Dylan nodded. Charlie said that he would be calling the facility to inform them of her visit. The doctor nodded again, opening a file.
"This man, this assassin...he's dangerous?" She asked delicately, looking over the notes scribbled on a few sheets of paper.
Dylan faltered. Was he? Was he dangerous? She wasn't sure. He'd switched sides before...what made her think that he wouldn't do it again?
"I can't answer that. All I can say is that I don't think so."
Doctor Greene's mouth became a straight line, as if she the answer came with grim acceptance. They would still have to take the utmost precautions with the assassin.
"He's in this room," Doctor Greene showed her to a small room that was located in the middle of the bustling headquarters. Men and women in dark suits carried papers and evidence to and fro, not stopping to peer into the tiny room. The doctor waved her inside. "But Dylan, please be careful. We're locking the door behind you. There's a surveillance camera...I'll be watching."
The door closed shut, startling her into a few steps forward. The room was subdued, not glaring and white like the rest of the facility. On the far wall was a hospital bed, and the Thin Man was lying, stretched to his full length, on his back. He was pale, and perfectly still. Dylan would have thought him dead if not for the subtle movement of his chest and the eerie beeping of the heart monitor.
Taking a deep breath, she moved closer, willing her feet to move forward. At his bedside, she studied him. Thin Man..
"No," she silently scolded herself, "It's Anthony."
An IV trailed out of his left hand and attached to a bag of saline solution. There were bruises on his neck, and they seemed to descend down under his hospital pajamas. His right arm was broken. Gathering courage, Dylan carefully pulled away the thin blanket, and gently unbuttoned the front of his night-shirt. There was a lump of surgical gauze which she removed to reveal a long, jagged wound. It was about five inches long, with barbed-wire stitching poking through. They stitched him up from the inside out.
She quickly placed the gauze back onto the wound, and buttoned him back up. When she looked at his face again, she could see the tiny, purplish veins that emerged from his temples. He had come extremely close to death.
Dylan toyed with a strand of hair that had fallen out of place. The regimen part that she was so used to seeing was in disarray, so she carefully parted his hair and smoothed it to the sides. One piercing, blue- grey eye popped open. The other was swollen shut.
He couldn't move, but if he could have, she knew that he would have jumped up and hurled himself out of the window, landing on his feet like a cat. There was just that looked of fear, a caged animal that would never get used to its surroundings. But when they locked eyes, and Dylan smiled slightly at him, Anthony's fears were replaced by an almost heart-breaking sadness. He wanted to be free again, but there was nothing she could do to help him.