POCKET CHANGE 3: HIDE and SEEK
by Sharon R.

Chapter Nine

By the time Luka had rushed back to the bay, they were going through the doors. "What is it? You need more hands?"

"It's Sean. He's been shot." Carter wasn't sure Luka heard him over the clap of thunder. "It's Sean!" They were half way in the door when Carter realized Luka was still outside in the rain staring at them. "Luka, come on."

Once they had made it inside the hospital, the bright lights made the extent of the wounds shockingly clear to those attending the patient.

"Come on, come on, Zadro," Carter yelled, "Give me the bullet."

"We don't know a hell of a lot yet. We were flagged down by the motel manager. So far just multiple GSW's to the torso and right hip."

As they made it into Trauma-1 and moved Sean over to the gurney, the nurses started stripping away his clothes, Haleh relayed the doctors' orders by phone to the respective departments.

"Get a portable x-ray.., get surgery down here - NOW," Luka demanded. "CBC, Chem-7, PT, PTT, U/A, type and cross-match, hang six units of O-neg for now." This was no average trauma. This was personal, and for each wound Luka discovered, he winced away the worry so that he could focus.

"Looks like a good one, kids." A cocky Morris made himself available and walked into an awaiting trauma gown Lydia held open for him, gloves handed to him.

"Breath sounds diminished on both sides," Carter pitched angrily. "Why didn't you tube him in the field?"

"What have you got?" Kerry asked, adding to the chaos. "Somebody get Dr. Carter a gown," she ordered, noticing Carter's blood covered shirt and pants, but Carter, having zoned somewhat back into PCRC mode, ignored Haleh as she stood by him with the disposable yellow gown.

"We scooped and ran," Doris told them. "We got there before the P.D."

"Wait a minute," Kerry interrupted, "you entered an unsecured crime scene?"

"He was crawling out of his hotel room door," Zadro countered, "right in front of us. We couldn't leave him there while we sat in the bus. Uniforms were right behind us."

"I heard this guy got popped at the Bang Me Bonnie Motel," Morris joked with a smirk. "I'll be damned if he won't live long enough to confess to his wife."

"Get out," Luka screamed, as he pulled the infuser over to Sean's side.

"Hey, I'm supposed to run codes in here tonight," Morris said pushing himself between Carter and Lydia, neither one appreciating the intrusion. "Looks like I got here just in time for the party to begin."

"Leave," Carter added while struggling to get the central line started. "I don't want you in here."

Once Luka had passed off the infuser to Haleh, he stepped away from Sean and briskly walked into Morris, shoving him with his hands - once, twice - hard, not stopping until he had handily removed the resident from the trauma room. "Stay out."

"Hey!" Kerry stepped into the trauma, grabbing a gown of her own. "That's not necessary."

"Dr. Weaver," Haleh gently mentioned, "the patient is a friend of theirs."

Kerry moved in and looked down into the face of the Irishman who she had seen earlier having dinner with Carter and Luka in the lounge. "Are you sure you two want to do this?"

"What do you have?" Elizabeth Corday joined the trauma. "You called for surgery?" she asked again in her very British voice when she got no answer.

"Multiple GSW," Luka finally gave Elizabeth. "So far we have two to the chest, one to the abdomen, and one to the right hip." Luka assessed the readings on the monitors as they blipped on finally. "BP is at 75. Puls/Ox down to 88."

As the fluids raised his blood pressure just enough to make him coherent, Sean's eyes fluttered, he raised his hand in confusion and moaned loudly as Elizabeth palpated his abdomen, then rolled him to his side to look for exit wounds.

"Alright, let's get chest tubes in." The surgeon ordered. "Prep his right side first. Let's see what kind of relief that brings him. Take x-rays and consider tubing him on the left after we take him upstairs."

Sean reached up and grabbed Carter's shirt, pulling him down to speak to him. "Two," he got out. "Two… and like razz…." Groaning as the surgeon invaded his chest cavity, the large forceps clamping onto the drainage tube as it rudely forced its way between his ribs, Sean's eyes widened at the sight of his own bloodied hand holding Carter's ID badge that remained in his grip after he pulled it off, tearing the shirt's pocket in the process.

"Sean, you know what happened?" Carter asked. Sean nodded as he struggled to breath through his clenched teeth. "You've been shot at least four times. We're going to take good care of you. Okay? I promise."

Again, Sean nodded. "You're… the best… in all of Africa."

"Pretty soon I'm going to give you some medicine to make you sleepy," Carter added. "When you wake up, there will be a tube in your throat to help you breath."

"Intubate…" Sean corrected him as though telling Carter to use proper medical lingo instead of layman's terms.

"Yeah," Carter smiled at him, "I'm going to intubate you."

Sean struggled to get the words out as Haleh placed an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth. "Best friends… too. Best blokes." His eyes moved back and forth from Carter to Luka and back.

"Okay folks," Elizabeth announced, "we've got at least 800cc from his chest already. Considering the quantity of penetrating trauma here, that means we red-line him to the OR."

"You want a one-shot IVP?" Luka asked Elizabeth.

"No. We'll do that in the OR. Get in that foley, drop an NG, and stabilize that airway. He needs to move."

"Any allergies, Sean?" Luka asked taking Carter's place who had moved down to check on the hip injury. Sean shook his head. "Okay, you're not going to like this," he gently told him as he watched one of the nurses prepare the foley. "We have to put a catheter into your penis."

As the catheter was threaded up Sean's urethra it was obvious by his lack of response that he felt no pain at all, prompting Carter to move to the end of the bed and check his feet for reflexes. "Positive Babinski." Carter watched Luka's eyes for the same masked feeling of despair he was experiencing.

"X-ray - shooting," the tech yelled out as all but Carter and Luka stepped out while the shots were taken.

Luka's assessment with the SonoSite was not much better. "He has fluid in the subphrenic space and in Douglas."

As Haleh stood ready to inject Sean with the Propofol and Succs, Carter grabbed the laryngoscope and endotracheal tube from the tray next to him. "Okay, Sean, we can't wait any longer." He nodded at Haleh to begin the medication.

"Two…," Sean mumbled, "two and like razz… looking for…"

"Come on people," Elizabeth called out as Carter secured the tube in place, removed the stylet, and listened with his stethoscope for proper placement, "we have four entrance wounds and only two exits. We still have two inside and the bleeding isn't going to stop on its own." With the side rails of the bed locked up in place, portable monitors placed between Sean's legs, Elizabeth hurried to get him upstairs. "Call the OR," she ordered, "have them standby with ten units type specific and five of FFP. Page in the cardio-thoracic team and make sure bypass is available with a perfusionist. Page ortho too, but tell them they can come at their leisure. The hip will have to wait."

Rounding the corner to the elevator, Luka stopped Elizabeth long enough to ask one more question. "You think one of the bullets got his spinal cord?"

"Paralysis is the least of his worries at this point. Depending on the factors involved, it could be temporary, but highly unlikely. We'll know more when we get inside. Let's just concentrate on the next twenty-four hours." Squeezing in the elevator next to Haleh, Elizabeth stopped the doors from closing on her as she shouted out one more order to the nurses staying behind in the ER. "Tell radiology I want the wet reads of those films up in the OR before we cut."

With the elevator doors closed, the lack of commotion around Carter and Luka was suddenly and oddly deafening.

"Excuse me, you work on the shooting victim?" The voice came from behind them as they stood strangely transfixed on the elevator, both managing an abrupt drop in adrenalin.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, "did he make it?"

Two uniformed police officers with notebooks out, greeted them as they turned around to go back to…go back to…

"Did you get his name?"

"His name is Sean Griffin," Carter finally told them.

"Did you find any drugs on him, Doc?"

"No," Luka answered walking away, Carter close by.

"Any weapons?"

"No." As Luka turned around, the cop nearly walked into him. "No drugs, no weapons. He is a friend of ours. A humanitarian relief worker."

"Staying at the Blink Bonnie?" the cop smirked.

Luka shoved him into the wall with his forearm and managed to get his face within inches of the cop's. "What are you saying? Huh? That he was a druggie? A pimp? Does he even look like a gang banger?"

As the other cop tried to pull Luka away from his colleague, Carter stepped in, putting his hands firmly on Luka's shoulders. "Okay, okay." Looking straight into his eyes he managed to calm him enough to step away. "Let's just… let's just calm down." They were lucky that doctors and nurses, firefighters and cops worked close enough together to give each other breaks when need be. Otherwise, Luka would have been kissing the floor in cuffs.

"Gentlemen, let's move this in here," Kerry said as she held the door open to the empty trauma-2 adjoining the room where they had taken care of Sean, now being cleaned up. "Now, what can we do for you?"

"How about answer some questions, for a start?" the larger cop asked. His partner hung back, his ego still bruised by Luka's introduction. With silence as his answer, he started in. "Okay, you say you knew the victim?"

"We know him," Carter corrected him, "he's not dead." The cop nodded a reluctant apology. "He was in town on business, last minute. He didn't care where he stayed, isn't important to him."

"The Blink Bonnie…?" the cop repeated.

"It's a five star hotel compared to the bug infested dirt floors he's slept on in Congolese refugee camps." Luka was pissed. He was pissed and he was going to take it out on whoever entered his zone. "Ever been there? It's on the African continent."

It was a bad day to be a cop at County General. Luckily for them, a courtesy knock on the door broke the tension as it was opened by another man, clad in a tan overcoat, PD badge displayed on his belt buckle. "Hi. I'm Detective Bill Daniels, Chicago PD, lead investigator for the case. You guys can get back to the scene now." The two uniforms put their notebooks away and gladly left the room. "So you know the guy?"

Neither Luka or Carter felt like talking and stared elsewhere solemnly.

"Try to answer his questions." Kerry tried her best to level the atmosphere. "Help him out. I'll leave you alone and check on your friend's condition."

"Can't tell you much." Luka had waited for Kerry to leave before finally talking, his arms folded in front of him. "Sean is a regional director for the Alliance de Medecines Internationale, an agency that sets up medical clinics in third world countries. We last saw him five months ago at a refugee camp in Uganda where we were working."

"Why was he here?"

"Business," Carter jumped in. "My family's foundation sponsors the camp in Pakwach. Do you have any information about the shooting?"

"So far it looks like he walked in on a robbery. Can you tell me, is he traveling with anyone? Is there someone I should talk to?"

Carter avoided the question. "He had dinner with us here tonight and then he was going to get a beer. His flight out was supposed to be tomorrow."

"Alright, looks like your friend surprised them. Whoever it was went through his room and tore it up, probably pissed at the lack of loot. It was a sloppy robbery gone bad. Didn't even take any of his money." With his collar of his overcoat flipped back up, Detective Daniels was on his way back out the door. "We'll be in touch."

Luka and Carter were left in Trauma-2 to watch as staff cleaned the bloodied mess left behind in the other room. Sean's blood. Walking back in through the adjoining doors, Carter bent down and picked up his ID badge, rather humbled by the red fingerprint Sean left behind, and stuffed it in his pants pocket. Luka joined him and the two stood helplessly, all the while the gears in their heads turning over and over. Carter cocked his head slightly as things began to click. He walked out of the trauma room, then let his legs pick up speed as he ran out of the hospital into the ambulance bay in the pouring rain. "Detective," he yelled as the man was getting into his Audi. "Hey, stop. How about a cell phone? I loaned him my cell phone."

The detective sat in his car, ducking the rain, and looked at his notes. "No. Doesn't look like there was one recovered at the scene. Perps will probably score thirty bucks for it on the street." The guy started his engine and closed his door, not to eager to hang aroundthe hospital. "Look, don't read too much into it. Random crimes happen to the best of people. I gotta get back."

As the detective drove off, the two uniformed cops pulled up in their cruiser. The larger got out and handed Carter a bag as he stood under the awning over the entrance. "Thought you might like these. I'm sorry but your vehicle is going to have to be impounded as evidence."

Opening the bag, Carter found his scarf, a handful of coins and the driver's manual. "These were in my Jeep," he said confused as Luka came out and joined him.

"Yep. Since it got broken into, it's part of the crime scene now."

"Back up." Carter waved his hand in front of him. "My Jeep was broken into?"

"Yeah. The detective didn't tell you? We had to run the plates since you didn't have any paperwork inside. Looks like amateurs did this. The car key was left in plain site in the guy's room. A whole lot easier to steal a car with keys, if you ask me. Anything valuable in the car?"

"No."

"Well, that's all they recovered, so I guess you're lucky."

Carter watched the police car drive off before finally running back into the ER. "Lydia," he yelled as she was escorting a new patient into an exam room, "Sean's personal belongings. Where are they?"

"In an evidence bag at the Admit desk, right where I put them. There," she pointed at the large sealed orange bag behind Carter. "Wasn't much. His clothes and a wallet."

"No cell phone?"

Lydia shook her head and left with the patient, leaving Carter to break the seal and rummage in the bag.

"What are you doing?" Luka asked.

"No cell phone. My cell phone was taken, and the registration and insurance cards from my Jeep. That's all." Luka's eyes squinted as he slowly began to digest what Carter was telling him. "Nothing taken from Sean's room, his wallet isn't even touched." Carter opened Sean's wallet filled with at least three different currencies and a few credit cards. "But his room was gone over with a fine toothed comb."

"They're looking for something Sean didn't have, but you do?" Luka surmised before finally realizing what the valuable object was that was being sought after.

Carter bolted from the desk, through the maze of staff and equipment in the ER and into the lounge. He struggled to get his locker open, struggled with the combination, twice slamming the locker with his hand in frustration.

"What are you doing?" Luka asked.

"Shit!" This time he kicked the metal locker, before finally getting the combination right. "Gotta get home. I have to get to her."

Luka pulled his own cell phone from where it was clipped to his belt. "What was that detective's name? I'll call him."

"NO!" Abby and Susan walked into the lounge just as Carter found his car keys. "I'll tell you later."

"We thought you two might want some company," Abby said.

"You have news on Sean?" Luka asked nervously.

"He's on bypass," Susan reported. "They're dealing with damage to his heart and lungs. Anspaugh is working on the bleeding in his abdomen."

Both guys stood still taking in the information while also trying to keep their cool.

"It's going to be a long night." Abby put her hand on Carter's arm. "Kerry is going to stay on and finish your shift. If you want to go home…"

"Thank you, I'll… ah… take her up on that." Nodding once at Luka and raising his eyebrows, Carter walked briskly out of the lounge, eventually making it to the desk. "Frank, call your buddies at the PD and ask for a Detective Bill Daniels."

While Frank made the call, Carter jingled his car keys nervously. Luka was still perplexed and stood to the side waiting for Carter's explanation.

"Sorry. No Detective Bill Daniels on the force. Just a Cathy Danielson." Frank held the phone over his shoulder. "Want to talk to her?"

"No," Carter threw out as he practically ran out the door.

"John, wait," Luka called out, following him all the way to his car in the parking garage. "What are you doing?"

"Get in the car. In fact, you drive." Carter walked to the other side of the Jag and threw Luka the keys. "I need your cell phone. We're going to my house, but don't take Sheridan. I'll show you a short cut."

As Carter directed Luka through the city, he dialed up the house.

"Carter residence."

"Emily, listen, it's very important that you listen to me."

"Hello, Dr. John," Emily answered. "Can I do something for you?"

"Where is Amanda?"

"Playing in the library. Now, don't get upset. She likes to read…"

"Okay," Carter said, ignoring what Emily assumed would piss him off. "Please, just don't answer the… Emily? Hello?"

The house lights flickered as Emily held out the phone, then pressed a few numbers hoping to get Carter back. "Hello, Dr. John…?"

"Who's on the phone?" Amanda asked. "Is that Dr. Carter's friend again?"

"Never you mind. It appears as though we're having phone problems again." The lights flickered again, and Amanda raced to see who was knocking at the front door.

Carter redialed the number, then closed the cell in disgust. "Shit."

"What?" Luka asked.

"Line went dead. Now it's out of service."

"Call the police."

"No. Luka, that detective didn't take the evidence bag, yet he knew that Sean's money hadn't been stolen. The paramedics scooped him from the scene before the cops got there. So how did that detective know that Sean still had all his money? And if he was the lead investigator, why did he leave the evidence bag? Come on, Luka. We work with the cops every day. They would never leave that behind."

Luka squirmed nervously as he cut around corners, blowing one stop light at a dead intersection.

"He conveniently forgot to tell me that my Jeep was broken into. Uniforms gave me everything that was left in the Jeep, except the registration and insurance. So whoever broke into it didn't want to steal it, they left the key in the room. They have my phone, my address."

"The guy asked if Sean was traveling alone." Luka was catching on. "Wanted to know if he needed to talk to someone."

"And how many cops do you know that drive an eighty thousand dollar car?"

With each nail hit on the head, Luka pressed the accelerator a little more. He could drive fast cars, he had experience, but his emotions were beginning to dictate his speed.

"Frank called the PD and this Daniels isn't even on the force." Carter reflected back to what should have been his first clue. "Before I tubed Sean he said something like there were two, looked like razzers."

"Damn it," Luka yelled hitting the steering wheel with the palm of his hand, "That's what he calls cops - razzers. We were looking out for middle east terrorists like some bad movie."

"So are the security guards at the house. They aren't looking for cops."

Carter kept trying to call the Carter mansion but got the same canned 'out of service' recording. Finally, he plunged his hands in his pants pockets looking for something.

"What's wrong?" Luka asked.

"My wallet." Carter searched every pocket, finding nothing. "Shit! It's in my locker. The security guards' phone number is in it."

Traffic on the country road slowed just before they reached the entrance to the estate. Uncharacteristically, cars were stopped behind one another as the driving rain that had inundated the region finally tapered off to a light mist. Luka impatiently honked the horn as the car in front of him didn't budge. Poking his head out his window to see what was holding up the traffic, he could barely see two car lengths ahead of him through the fog rolling in from the meadows that framed the landscape.

"What the…?" Carter opened his own door and stood by the car, also unable to see anything.

"Looks like traffic is stopped on both sides."

"Drive on the left," Carter ordered, "just go up on the other side. The driveway is right up there."

Luka didn't argue, he just jerked the wheel and hit the accelerator, passing all of the other cars standing still on their right, hoping not to hit an oncoming car head on. As Carter told him to slow down in anticipation of the entrance to the estate, a police car with red and blue strobing rack lights parked across the road brought them to a stop.

"The phone is out at the house, a fake cop at the hospital, and now cops have the traffic blocked in front of the estate," Carter listed out loud to Luka. "Does this feel right to you?"

"I don't know."

A police officer approached the car and bent down to talk to Luka. "You can't be driving on the wrong side of the road like that," he said, his face obscured by his hat. "What's your hurry?"

"We're trying to get to my friend's house," Luka patiently started. "He needs to get to his family." Okay. Emily qualified as family for Carter.

The cop marveled at the Jaguar, then returned his attention to Luka. "This your car?"

"No, it's my friend's."

"I don't like this," Carter mumbled.

Grabbing his large Mag flashlight, the cop scanned Luka first, then shone the bright light on Carter. "And you are…?"

"John Carter. I live right up there," he said, pointing towards the estate entrance not ten yards away. "What's the problem? Why the roadblock?"

"Let me see your ID, diver's license," the cop said, maintaining his focus on Carter.

"I… ah… don't have my wallet with me. Really, this is my house."

"CX-12 to 657," the cop spoke almost secretly into his radio hooked to his shoulder, "I have a 10-48 at the south roadblock." Luka noticed his hand go to the gun holster and unsnap the leather buckle securing the firearm. "Sir, turn off the engine and hand me the keys."

"This really isn't necessary," Carter complained.

Luka did as he was told and gave the officer the keys.

"What are you doing?" Carter whined to Luka.

"In case you haven't noticed, his gun beats my pen light."

"Both of you put your hands on the dashboard." It wasn't difficult. The car was small enough that all they had to do was put their hands in front of them.

As Luka put his hands on the dash, Carter stayed put. "This is ridiculous. We have to get up there."

"Hands on the dashboard, sir. I'm not going to say it again."

Alarmed by the tone of the officer, Luka glanced at Carter, his eyes going straight to where the flashlight was aimed. "John, I think you'd better…"

Just as the second, then third officer arrived, Carter opened his door and stepped out of the car, not slowing down until he had reached the other side. He heard the voices of the cops yelling at him, but the blinding lights kept him from seeing anything.

"Sir, get down on the ground, face first."

"I'm going to go up to the house. You are more than welcome to come with me. Someone can vouch for me there." Yeah, Carter thought, like those two very large and well armed security guards.

"Carter," Luka yelled as he stayed in the car with the one cop against the door. "Just stop, stop!" He was no longer being heard by anybody. "We're doctors at County. See?" He held his ID badge out the window, but again, their focus was no longer on Luka who had a perfect view of what was unfolding. Three cops yelling at Carter, their lights blinding him. Then two more joining them. All with their weapons drawn and propped beneath their flashlights, aimed squarely at Carter… whose pants and torn shirt were covered in Sean's blood, some large spots streaking from the assault of the rain.

Carter didn't listen and instead obliviously turned to walk up the driveway. Tired, emotionally spent, not sure if it was a ruse like back at the hospital with the detective, he put his feet in motion and started striding towards the estate driveway. The sound of several feet close behind dipping in and out of puddles, the leather from the cops' holsters and belts, the assorted paraphernalia attached to their uniforms all rattling, failed to distract him as he hurried on, his focus solely on reaching Amanda. He thought of when he was a kid, when he and Bobby and their cousin Chase would race up the drive. He never won. He never won until after Bobby got sick.

"Stop - police officers - stop."

A rut in the driveway bobbled his feet. He caught himself, but felt something fall out of his pocket.

"Looks like he's on something," one of the faceless officers yelled.

As a few of the beams of light drifted from Carter down to the pavement where the two vials of medication lay, Carter sighed, put his hands on his hips and dropped his head in frustration. The thought that these cops were the genuine article began to sink in, and he knew that he needed to be calm.

"Get down."

With enough of the leftover artificial light still aimed at his chest, he saw for the first time what the cops were seeing.

"Put your hands behind your head and get down on your knees."

"You've got to be kidding," he mumbled to himself. Looking back up, he raised one arm to shield his eyes and recognized all of those guns pointed at him.

"Come on buddy, we don't want to have to use force."

"Hey look, I have my ID right here." Carter remembered the bloodied County General staff ID he had shoved in his pants pocket in the trauma room.

"He's going for his pocket."

The voices were closer, shouting at him on top of each other, and then suddenly he felt his body racked in pain.