THE GIRL NEXT DOOR

Chapter Seven: Improvisation

Hugo came slowly awake and blinked against the surrounding darkness. His mind was fuzzy from sleep and the drugs that we're being fed into his system via the IV. But when one of the shadows shifted, a rush of adrenaline shot through him, bringing his mind to instant, heart-pounding wakefulness.

For several moments, Hugo could do little more than stare in stunned fascination, trying to deny what his eyes were trying to tell him. There was someone else in the room with him. "Who's there?" he called into the darkness, his voice low and more afraid than he liked.

He felt for the bedside lamp, all the while mentally trying to squash the nearly paralyzing fear that was building within him. His fingers bumped something round and filled with liquid. It fell to the floor with a plastic slosh before bouncing and then landing with a muted thump against something solid.

The shadows shifted, and Hugo forgot how to breathe. And then, suddenly, the darkened form stepped into faint light and resolved into the deep blue shirt and white shoulder insignia of a Los Angeles police officer's uniform.

"Oh, it's you." He wilted with relief. "You scared me nearly half to death."

"Just checking out the room." The policeman continued forward, and his facial features moved briefly into the light.

Hugo's blood ran cold. The place that he'd last seen those eyes flashed sickeningly to mind. It was at Dr. Travis' restaurant. He would never forget that malevolent glare, or the sneering voice that had issued demands before Travis and Ellie were taken.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Darkness enveloped the man again as he continued on toward the bed with an arm extended.

Every instinct in Hugo's body screamed that he should get up and run away as fast as he could. But that wasn't an option. He knew that his injured leg would not hold him, and that the pair of crutches that he'd been given earlier in the evening were leaning against the wall near the bathroom door. Meanwhile, the other man was closing in and all that he could think was what a failure he had been in life, that it was a shame that he was going to die this way. He'd brought it all on himself. If by some small miracle he managed to survive this, he would never, ever gamble again. He'd get help, he'd do whatever it took.

Then Ellie's face flashed through his mind -- her smiling and happy when they'd discussed their plans to marry, and then the absolute terror that had shown on her face when she'd been kidnapped from that BBQ joint. Even Travis' fear, and the worry of Travis' friends made an impact on his conscience. It was bad enough that he'd let himself down by his cowardly behavior, but he'd spread that to others. He had to make it right. He couldn't leave that burden to someone else.

With a sudden cry, he brought his arm up, the bedside lamp clasped in his hand, and with a quick motion smacked it to the side of the phony policeman's head. Surprised by the attack, the other man stumbled sideways into the bed and tumbled to the floor. Hugo heard him moving sluggishly around, but didn't take time to look. He tore at the guard rail on the opposite of the bed and somehow managed to operate the release. It lowered more quickly than he'd expected and nearly dumped him bodily to the floor. He managed to catch himself before landing too roughly on his injured leg.

Grabbing the crutches, he started toward the door. A shadow rose up in his peripheral vision as his attacked stumbled up from the floor and dove at him. Hugo swung reflexively, absorbing the sickening contact as the crutch slammed into the other man.

He didn't wait to see if the man got up, but screamed bloody murder as he hobbled his way out of the room. Chaos descended as doctors, nurses and security came on the run. In the midst of the confusion, Hugo slipped quietly out of the hospital.

. . .

Nicolayev had all of half a second to utter a swear word in his native tongue before he was dragged toward the floor by Sloan's dead weight. He had made an attempt to catch him, to try to break his own fall, but the man had dropped away from him and he'd never been able to compensate for the momentum that took him down as well.

The cop landed with one side to the floor. His gun ricocheted across the small space toward the wall opposite where he had fallen, and effectively out of Nicolayev's immediate reach. His eyes narrowed as he tried to ascertain whether the other occupants of the room had noticed the object that slid into the shadow of a stack of blankets along the wall. Deciding that they were too shocked by Sloan's collapse to notice much of anything else, he quietly began to make plans.

"What is it that I can do?" He asked as the young man hurried forward and began to work over Sloan with obvious skill.

The younger man glanced past the handcuffs then speared him with a suspicious look before looking back down at his friend. The harshness in his gaze relented just slightly. "Tell me what happened," he said, continuing to go about his work. He quickly began to loosen the belt at Sloan's waist and pulled the shirt out. He then went to work on the buttons.

"The vest saved him from a bullet somewhere in the back," Nicolayev offered, he gestured toward the area that had seemed to cause the policeman the most pain. "Then later, while we ran here, something happened. He became very pale and his breathing became more difficult." He added mentally that he thought Sloan was a dead man, that at his earliest opportunity he meant to find the keys to the handcuffs which still bound them together. And immediately after that he would be getting that gun and getting out of there. Perhaps the addition of another hostage would sweeten the pot enough that the Koreans might forgive him a few past indiscretions.

The only response Nicolayev got to the words that he had spoken aloud was a nod as the doctor lifted the material of the wind breaker, the Kevlar vest and the shirt which Sloan wore. An ugly area of bruising was immediately obvious beneath the skin low on his side. It looked angry and painful and for a moment Nicolayev almost pitied the man.

"Steve, buddy, you're going to be okay. I promise." The doctor began to murmur to himself as he carefully ran his hands gently around the damaged area and then along Sloan's back with a little more pressure. "I'm just glad you're not going to be awake for this."

The doctor moved around until he was at Sloan's head, then placed his hands on either side. "Help me roll him," he ordered. "Slow and gentle," he added.

Nicolayev did as he was told, and between the two of them they rolled the downed man onto his back, while the doctor held his head and neck stabilized. Once he was settled, the young man surprised him by calling toward the woman who was crying softly.

She blinked and looked at the doctor with a look half between fear and guilt. Nicolayev did not believe that the young man would find any help from that quarter.

"Ellie, I need your help." He spoke to her again, more gently, but still with an urgency in his tone.

"W-what can I do?" she asked, then sniffled. A surprising alertness had come back into her eyes, and Nicolayev found something more to admire. Perhaps this young blonde doctor had learned something of the art of dealing with people.

"I need you to grab a new bottled water and pour 3/4's of it out. Then bring it over here with one of those straws."

"Okay." The woman didn't hesitate, she immediately got up from atop the sleeping bag and went to do his bidding.

While he waited for the woman, the doctor began to go through Sloan's pockets. Nicolayev held his breath. Was the young man going to find the handcuff keys? He resisted an audible sigh of relief when only the pocket knife was revealed. By then the woman was approaching with the items he'd asked for.

"What are you doing?" the woman asked, echoing the question that had also settled in Nicolayev's mind.

"He's got a couple fractured ribs and internal injuries. I suspect he also needs a chest tube." He looked about the small prison as he spoke. "I'll need some tape."

Nicolayev wanted to roll his eyes in pity, but he found that he was thus far impressed by the young man's resourcefulness, and discovered that some small part of him truly wanted to help. He seemed so intent on wanting to help his friend. And doing what he could would be a gesture of good will that would no doubt cause the younger man to let down his guard. He gestured toward the conditioning unit that sat in the corner of the room. Some of the wires being routed beneath it were covered in layers and layers of black electrical tape. The grateful light that shone briefly in the young doctor's eyes made the small subterfuge worthwhile.

Nicolayev watched in fascination as the doctor spoke encouragingly to the unconscious man as he seemed to count along his ribs before making an incision in his side. When the doctor completed the task of assembling a small valve system with a bottle with a small amount of water, a straw and electrical tape, Nicolayev complimented him. "That was very resourceful. You must be a very good doctor."

"I had a good teacher," the young man murmured, fiddling with the bottle, making sure it was just the way he wanted it. "I learned this particular trick from his father." He nodded toward Sloan's unconscious form.

"And now that procedure just might save his son." Nicolayev chuckled in appreciation. "A very Russian irony. But there are other problems which must be attended."

The doctor didn't look up, but continued to monitor Sloan's condition. "Like we're not going to be able to move him? Like maybe we should leave him behind? It isn't going to happen."

"Yes, those are the ones," Nicolayev admitted. As the young man did not seem inclined to leave his friend's side, there was going to be no opportunity for Nicolayev to find the handcuff key on his own. He was going to have to convince them to work with him.

"We could hide him beneath the blankets there in the corner," he offered, hoping to at the very least get closer to the area where the gun was located. The weapon could prove useful in many ways. For instance, to get the key he so needed. Also, though he had slipped something into the door to prevent it from relocking, he did not want to go back out into that warehouse without a weapon.

He continued to work on the doctor. "You have done what you could here with the tools that you have. But I suspect that he will still need more than what you can manage in this small room. That tape, for example. There is the risk of infection, is there not? Or fever - already he is very pale and breathes shallowly. I noticed that there is not much water left in the refrigerator. . . . "

The younger man looked up at him then, the bloom of anger visible. And then his expression changed and he glanced downward at his friend. He looked back up and opened his mouth to speak.

. . .

Mark found it difficult to focus completely on what Lucinda was telling him about her daughter's courtship with Hugo. Though he knew speaking about those things helped to calm her with regard to her missing daughter, his mind and heart were back there in the warehouse with his own son. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"How did you manage to shake the police guard that was assigned to you?" he asked.

Lucinda gave him a look which suggested that she hadn't always been so much the proper lady. "I grew up with bodyguards and nannies, Dr. Sloan. I have some experience in the art of losing tails."

Mark chuckled at the image that brought to mind. "I'm sure Cheryl - Detective Banks - took care of notifying him of what's happened."

Lucinda shrugged, obviously unconcerned with such things. "I would much prefer to have my daughter back safely."

Mark sobered. "I know." He wanted his son back safely as well. The vibrating of his phone interrupted anything more that he might have said. He raised an apologetic hand in Lucinda's direction as he answered it.

He frowned as Cheryl's voice came on the line. His eyes widened with surprise at the news she had to impart. Quickly thanking her, he ended the call and turned to his companion.

"We've got to go back inside," he announced. "The guard that was with Hugo is dead, and another man who was found wearing his uniform has been taken into custody. Hugo is missing."