The phone call was made.
There was no unringing the bell as the old proverb went. Frank wasn't looking forward to running headfirst into Connor's reaction when he came out to find that he'd called in the cops in spite of what the note said. Although, Claire and Joe weren't exactly 'the cops'. Not in this situation anyway.
The fact that they were coming at all meant that they had accepted the 'no cops' stipulation in the note, that they were coming as friends rather than as legal reps. There would be no grilling a barely responsive Miles or bugged phone lines or badly hidden police at the drop point. Not with Joe and Claire. He could trust them. Whether he could convince Connor of that or not remained to be seen.
With any luck Natalie and Stephen would come back out of recovery before they arrived and he'd have time to explain...
No such luck. Par for the course.
It had been two years since he'd seen either of them but then adults don't change appearance that much in that length of time unless it's intentional, and neither of them had. Claire, her curly hair piled on her head, pulled back too severely from her angular face, dressed as always impeccably. Joe in blue jeans, the same black leather jacket, half a week's worth of stubble on his face. He'd once told Frank it made him look older. That was debatable.
She put her arms around him and he leaned against her, grateful, just for that second to have someone to lean against.
"You okay, Frank?"
"Yeah." He forced himself to stand, scrubbing the heels of his hand against his eyes. "How you doing, Joe?"
"I'm good, Frank, thanks."
Joe shifted...uncomfortable. He'd never liked hospitals, never liked the smell, the taste of them. He nodded at the closed door of the room. "How's the kid doing, anyway?"
Frank glanced over his shoulder. "Not good. Bastard did a real number on him."
And he had Eva.
He swallowed hard, reached inside his coat. "He left this for Connor to find at Miles' apartment." He handed the envelope over to Claire, rubbing his fingers against the raised type.
Wondering if his friends, if his trust, had just gotten Eva killed.
xxxXXXxxx
Natalie managed to hold it in until Miles fell into a restless sleep, but the minute his eyes closed and his breathing evened out, her tears started. Shared pain for Miles, fear for Eva.
The instant her shoulders rounded and her breathing caught, she felt an arm around her pulling her close and she turned into Connor's embrace, being held as she let the tears come.
"Why? Stephen, why?" she murmured into his shoulder. "Miles never hurt anyone in his life. Who would cause him such pain?" She was afraid to even mention Eva yet, as if the mere sound of her name would make it all real. Eva should be there with them, worrying right beside her, helping find out what had happened, but there was this huge gaping hole where she should be and Natalie was afraid to even reach out and touch the edges of that hole yet.
"Let's get out of here, Nat," Connor said, still nestling her against him. "We don't want him waking up again, he needs the sleep. He'll be okay, I promise."
The look he shot at VanWingen said that he'd better be okay, but the young doctor merely met his eyes without flinching and said, "We're doing our best, Dr. Connor."
His arm still around Natalie, Stephen didn't notice the two people standing with Frank for the first two seconds after they stepped outside the room.
The door closed and Frank turned, quickly, stepping towards the room. "How is he?"
"Sleeping." Connor looked at Claire and Joe, fixing them with pale, intense eyes. "Who are they?"
"Old friends of mine." Frank reached out his hand, drawing the others closer. "Claire Maryland, Joe Kerrigan, this is Stephen Connor and Natalie Durant."
Connor didn't even bother with the pleasantries. "The note said no cops, Frank."
"We're here unofficially, Dr. Connor."
"Then she just might become unofficially dead, Ms. Maryland," Connor bit out, instinctively drawing Natalie closer. "Frank, what the hell were you thinking?"
"No, Stephen," Natalie managed to pull in enough air to protest. "If Frank called them, then we can trust them."
As if suddenly remembering that he had her sheltered under his arm, Connor eased her over to a chair and helped to a seat. She wiped her eyes, visibly pulling herself together, then brought too bright eyes up to the man and woman. "Eva's life could depend on our doing what they want," she said, "but what they want is impossible. There's no way I can do it. Not under any circumstances. If you have any way to save her..."
Joe crouched in front of her, speaking softly, keeping eye contact with her. "No way you could do what, Dr Durant?"
"They want me to…" Her voice broke, and she coughed, tears trickling down her cheeks, through her once perfect make up. She gestured at the note, her hand shaking. She couldn't do it?
How could they ask her to do that?
Miles….Eva….She rubbed at her eyes, smearing her make up a little more
He glanced over his shoulder, at Claire, reading through the typed note, biting at her lip. She looked up at him and shook her head. "It's a formula."
"A formula for what?"
"A weaponised virus." Dr Durant shook her head violently, her hair flying loose around her face. "I won't do it! I can't! Eva wouldn't…"
"How long would it take you to duplicate the formula?"
"Two, maybe three, days." Her voice, her eyes were dull now, raw, stained with weeping and tiredness.
That meant Eva would be in HIS hands for two or three more days. At least. If they didn't kill her.
Oh damn, what would they do to her?
"So we have two or three days." Claire tried a tentative smile. "Joe and I will go to your friend's house and have a look around, okay, see if anybody has been paying her place too much attention." She nodded at the closed door. "How is he?"
"Bad." Connor coughed, trying to banish the image of Miles, stretched out on the hospital bed. "He's been badly beaten. Punctured lungs, broken ribs, internal bleeding, ruptured spleen and concussion. He got a real job done on him." He clenched his fists. He'd like to collar that bastard, spend some time in a room with him, just the two of them.
Joe stood, scratching at his beard. "How many?"
"Just one."
Claire reached into her pocket, pulling out her notebook. "Was he able to give you a description?"
Connor laughed bitterly, humorlessly. "He's barely conscious, Ms. Maryland. He wasn't exactly in a fit state to tell us anything! He'd just had the shit beaten out of him!"
"He did say one thing." Natalie wiped her eyes. She had herself under control now, or at least able to pretend she had. "He said the man had a Boston accent."
"Okay." Claire wrote the details down in her notebook and tucked her notebook back inside her coat. "We'll take a look into that as well."
"We'll be in touch." Joe stood up, pulling his coat tightly around him. "You got the note?"
"Yeah."
Their words sank slowly through the haze of exhaustion and worry.
"What?" Connor stood up, jerked upright by invisible strings, as they turned to leave. "Why do you need the note?"
"In case we get lucky, Dr. Connor. It's the only thing we have to work with. He might have left fingerprints and we might be able to get something off it."
"No." Connor shook his head. "No. He said we couldn't involve you guys. I know you're friends of Frank's and I know he trusts you, but I won't take any chances with Eva's life."
"Neither will we, Dr. Connor." Claire brushed a strand of curly hair that had escaped its binding away from her forehead. "But her chances are better if we find her quickly, and this note is our best chance of doing that."
"No…"
"Stephen…" Frank stepped in between his two oldest friends. "Let them do their job."
Connor stared at them for another minute, and reluctantly nodded. He turned away from them, walking to the window, staring out at the storm, at the rain still beating against the window.
What a fucking night.
The formula was dancing around in Natalie's head, mocking her in the impossibility of it being any help to them. So simple to concoct what the damned terrorist wanted from them. So impossible to even consider it as a possibility.
Miles' battered young face taunted her, bloodshot eyes pleading with her to help him, help Eva. She could do neither. He wasn't her patient. Rightfully so. She was too involved, cared too much. And Eva was lost somewhere, way out of reach, in danger, probably terrified. The one time she wouldn't be able to talk her way out of something and the one time her life depended on it.
Not taking it to the police... was it a huge mistake? Or the only way to keep Eva alive?
That meant no police protection for Miles, what if they came back for him? She and Stephen and Frank could hardly be there every minute and even if they could, these were professionals. Stephen or Frank might have a chance but it would be ludicrous for Natalie to try to "protect" anyone, much less a helpless boy in a hospital bed. She remembered the first day she'd met him. She knew with one look that Stephen was going to eat him alive, that impossibly young face, all that idealism and enthusiasm. But Miles had stuck it out, wormed his way into all their hearts, become a valued member of the team.
His chances were only 50/50 according to VanWingen.
What were Eva's chances?
Their voices finally soaked through her thoughts and she looked up at them with reddened eyes in an exhausted face.
"Find her," she said softly. "Find her, and, please, God, help us keep Miles safe."
xxxXXXxxx