Disclaimer: Don't own it.
Part 7
In a brightly illuminated room, Harm was lying on an examination table. Two doctors where busy examining every inch of his body. Three persons were observing through a glass-wall, Mac, Webb and Chegwidden. Bud had just left. He hadn't been home for 14 hours, first a long day at work, den some hours with Harm and Mac. And today was the fourth day in a row he had been doing this. When the Admiral joined them, he had practically ordered Bud to go home.
An extra furrow or two had assembled on the Admiral's forehead the last few days. It was hard running the office when his two finest officers were absent. And the extra that was hired in, was an asshole, if he gave himself permission to speak freely. Chegwidden hoped she would screw up big time, soon, so that he had an excuse to fire her. What was her name again? Lt. Zimmer, Stinger? No, Lt. Singer was her name.
The examination was time-consuming. No potential irregularities were omitted. After a little more than an hour it was finally over. One of the doctors approached the persons behind the glass-wall, while the other one made Harm ready for transportation back to his room.
"What did you find?" Webb was the first to speak. Since the doctor didn't respond immediately, Web started to get impatient, like always.
"I don't have all day," he mumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, and was going to continue with something about useless doctors. Mac just gave him one of her "don't start" looks, and Webb quickly shut up and looked away.
The doctor finally spoke. "We didn't find much, but what we found was relatively disturbing. We should go somewhere else, so that you can have a seat while I tell," he looked towards Mac.
"No, just spit it out," Chegwidden knew that Mac could handle it as well as anybody else. They could sit down later. Mac silently reached out a hand; Chegwidden hesitantly took it and held it tight. They both knew that what would come wouldn't be pleasant to hear. It was good to know that someone else was there, it gave them both some kind of comfort.
The doctor continued. "We found several small circular marks, just a couple of millimeters in diameter, on his torso, arms, and legs, including under his feet and in his palms."
"What could have caused them," Webb asked, he already had his suspicions.
"We have never seen anything like it. At first we hadn't got a clue what could have caused anything like this. The only thing we can think of now is that some kind of electrodes have been attached there. This also agrees with the traces of burned tissue that was found in the middle of most of the circles."
"Anything else," Webb continued like what he'd just heard was an everyday thing.
"Puncture marks were found on various parts of Mr. Rabb's body. Needles have been inserted into him, exactly deep enough to be extraordinary painful, without injuring any vital organs or hitting major blood vessels. The person who did this must know a whole lot about human anatomy. We have never seen anything like it," the doctor stated.
"But the muscle relaxant, wouldn't it do so that Harm didn't feel pain," Mac basically was clinging to a straw.
"No, the muscle relaxant would just make him unable to move. He would be fully aware and feel everything that was done to him. It must be one of the worst forms of torture, the pain must have been excruciating," the doctor added sadly. It was the hard facts. There was no consolation.
All of them knew it. Harm must have gone through hell the hours he was in Palmer's power.
Palmer, now in another motel room, this one neither deserving as much as one star when the standard was considered, was carefully putting some syringes, needles and a small bottle with a clear liquid into a bag. This would take care of Harm.
He thought about what had gone wrong six days ago. That damn real-estate agent!
Palmer was just finishing up. He had just shot Harm, packed his gear together and was almost finished cleaning up all evidence when he heard a noise downstairs. Someone entered the building and opened the door to the apartment on the first floor. It was a real-estate agent; Palmer saw her car through the window. She just wanted to have a last look at the apartment to se that everything was ok. Some potential buyers would come by on Monday. Palmer didn't move a muscle when she was down there. Then he heard that she started to go up the stairs. Had she heard something after all? Palmer couldn't take the chance to stay. He quickly picked up his bag, opened a window on the back and cautiously closed it before sliding down the gutter, still wearing plastic gloves. He looked around. No one there. Then he walked away like nothing had happened. In all the hurry he'd forgot to place the "suicide note" he had written, carefully copying Harm's handwriting. It wasn't a big mistake. Not everyone who killed themselves left notes. As soon as he came back to the motel he burned the note. One more part of evidence gone.
What Palmer never got to know was that if he had stayed, he could have finished his job. The real-estate agent just wanted to see what the hallway looked like upstairs when her phone rang. She had left it in the apartment, and went down to get it. Then she forgot about going upstairs and left the building. She had no idea about the drama going on upstairs.
Palmer had put on a wig, a fake nose and some make-up. He now looked like a man in the fifties, almost exactly like one of the doctors, Dr. Felsenstein, who had access to Harm's room. This doctor wouldn't be anywhere near Harm tonight, but the guard outside of Harm's room didn't know that. Palmer had gone through the doctor's schedule carefully. And if Mac or Bud was there, they wouldn't react; they had seen this doctor before. He couldn't afford to do mistakes. The guards had got detailed descriptions of Palmer and his known aliases, but he wasn't worried. He had passed right under their noses last time he was at the hospital, and then he hadn't half as god disguise as he had now. They hadn't even looked twice.
An hour later, Palmer found himself at the hospital. He had just hidden his bag in a storage room, and only carried what was really necessary. Then he headed towards Harm's room. Now it would finally happen, he would get rid of his enemy, his eyes lit up with evil happiness. That was not the face of a sane man. But the happiness he felt while thinking about hi task wasn't as great as before. It was the dreams about the pacific island that occupied his mind more and more often. Killing Harm was just one step on the way. He was getting tired of the everlasting hunt.
"Good evening", he nodded towards the guard.
The guard nodded back, he was just finishing his shift, and eagerly waiting for his replacement who was ten minutes late.
Palmer entered Harm's room. No one was there. "Perfect," he said to himself. He looked at the pale shape in the bed for a while. Now it was just the easy part left, he filled a syringe with the clear liquid from the small bottle he carried. Outside, the new guard had just arrived, he hadn't seen the first "doctor" enter, and thus didn't react when apparently the same doctor entered again. Palmer was just about to inject the liquid into Harm's IV when the door opened. Dr. Felsenstein, whose identity Palmer had "borrowed" entered the room. The tire of his car had blown out on the way to work and the spare tire was out of air, so he was doing his rounds much later than usual. Once again coincidences, the one thing Palmer couldn't control, ruined his perfect plan.
"Hey, get away from him," Dr. Felsenstein yelled, he saw the person looking almost like him, standing by the bed with a syringe in his hand.
"What the …," the guard heard the yelling and rushed into the room.
Palmer used the seconds of confusion to make a run for it, knocking over the doctor on the way. The doctor fell into the guard's arms; they both ended up in a pile on the floor. Palmer spurted down the hallway, he ran for his life. He had to disappear fast, leave the country before morning. There was not going to be a third try now. It would be too risky, his Utopian dream of a perfect, small tropical island had gotten too strong lately, killing Harm wasn't something worth dying for anymore. Harm was probably injured for life that had to be good enough. A couple of years ago, fleeing from the country without killing Harm wouldn't have been an option. Things had changed.
An alarm was sounding through the building, when Palmer was on his way down the stairs.
Webb received a call almost at the same time as the alarm went of. He had a meeting with Chegwidden about Harm's security in the almost empty cafeteria at the time. It didn't take long before all entrances were sealed off and police and CIA agents were all over the place. Harm was checked out once again to assure that he was alright. But they couldn't completely seal off the emergency room, in case of emergencies; this was where Palmer, still dressed as a doctor could wander unimpeded through the door, to freedom, at least for now.