Chapter Sixteen
A few minutes later, Dr. Ramirez and Nurse Carson had finally gotten back into their patient's room. They didn't know what had gone on while they were outside. Barbara was lying still, and they could see from the monitors that her blood pressure was elevated, and she was breathing erratically. She had been through an ordeal, that much was clear. But they couldn't imagine why her gown was in disarray.
Ramirez nodded at Carson, who said soothingly: "Dr. Williams, let me help you." As she was closing Barbara's gown and repositioning the bed linens, Barbara smiled a little at the nurse, thinking how strange this must look.
She said: "I thought the scars would make them go away…." As Barbara's nurse, Carson was familiar with Williams' scars, but how showing them could make the men go away, that she did not understand.
McCall was heading back to Barbara's bed when he heard her comment. He did not know what had gone on in the room either, but he had no doubt what she was talking about.
Speaking to McCall and Barbara, Ramirez said: "I am very sorry this happened. When they arrived I told them categorically that they could not see you, but they refused to listen. Then they put a man on the door and would not let us in."
McCall nodded. "I know you did what you could, doctor." Barbara nodded in agreement.
When he had arrived after being called at his hotel, McCall had assessed the situation instantly and acted. Ignoring the man keeping watch, he had forced his way through the door. Dr. Ramirez could not be expected to do the same, McCall understood that.
Dr. Ramirez decided it was time for him to retake control of his hospital and his patient. He said: "Dr. Williams, you must get some rest. You've been here for almost twenty-four hours, and you haven't had more than a couple of hours of uninterrupted sleep."
Barbara rather resented what the doctor said, wondering if he thought it was her fault that she hadn't gotten any rest? All she'd wanted to do for the last day was sleep.
Before she could make a sarcastic remark, the doctor went on: "How is the pain?"
She considered it. Now that she didn't have to think straight, the last dose of pain medication was wearing off. Great timing, she thought. "I could use a little more," she told him.
"Right." Ramirez gave Nurse Carson instructions.
"After that's taken care of, you are going to rest. Mr. McCall, you are going to leave…."
"No, doctor, I am not going to leave," McCall said in a tone that brooked no contradiction.
Barbara smiled. She had hoped he'd say that.
"Mr. McCall…," the doctor tried again.
"Dr. Ramirez, twice I have left, and twice my wife has been assaulted in your hospital." He held up his hand as Ramirez started to protest. "I am fully aware that neither you nor the hospital was at fault. But I am staying. If you want to help, you can arrange for a cot to be brought in. If you do not care to help, I will sit in this chair. But mind you, I am not leaving." McCall riveted his gaze on Ramirez until the doctor was forced to avert his eyes.
"Very well," the doctor said. He knew he had lost the battle, so he decided he might as well surrender in the war, too. "I will have a cot brought in."
"Thank you, Dr. Ramirez," McCall said. "I will not disturb my wife."
"Doctor," Barbara broke in. "I will rest better with him here, believe me."
"All right, all right, I've already given in," Dr. Ramirez said.
Carson returned and added the pain meds to Barbara's drip. Ramirez filled the nurse in on the agreed-upon arrangement. Although it was irregular, Carson was glad the man was staying. She liked her new patient and didn't want her to be in danger again. She had enough scars on her body, Carson thought. She'd be safer with her husband, the one who carried a gun, in her room.
Soon the cot had been delivered, the doctor and nurse had left, and McCall was sitting in the chair at Barbara's bedside.
As for Barbara, she was just glad the men were gone and the ordeal was over…if it was over. To her it had sounded like the German from Washington had reprimanded the German from Bonn and forced him to back down. The FBI man from Washington would go along with what the Germans wanted, she was sure.
"Robert?" she asked wearily.
"Yes, Barbara?" McCall answered.
"Do you know any of them personally, other than Garcia, I mean?"
"Yes. Waldeck, the one I shoved…," McCall was a little embarrassed he had done that, "he and I have worked together in the past. An idiot. The second German, no, I don't know him."
"I think Garcia said he was from Washington, but I didn't get everything he said."
"Ah, yes," McCall responded. "Makes sense. The other American was George Sanders. He's somewhere up in the FBI chain of command. We've met, but I don't know much about him."
She gazed at a spot on the ceiling and said quietly: "It was all so pointless."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know what they thought I was going to do…," she said. "I would never have said anything about him publically, to the press or anything, you know that."
"Yes, I know, but obviously they didn't," he answered logically. "What do you want to do now?" He'd noticed she'd used the past tense.
"I still don't want to talk about him to the press. But if there were some other way to get back at them…," she speculated.
"We probably could get back at them. But are you sure you'd want to?"
She dropped her eyes from the spot on the ceiling to his face.
"I'll think about it," she said. She was getting very tired.
McCall had one more question. "Who was the woman, the one in your room?"
Barbara knew that McCall must have observed her and Marianne meeting earlier, when was it, yesterday? She was too worn out to talk a lot, and the meds were flowing, but she sketched her relationship with Marianne, and what the young woman had done to help her with Costa. That was about all the talk she had in her.
"I…I hope she gets out. She deserves better…." Barbara mumbled, just before she dosed off.
McCall watched his wife sleep and thought: You deserved better, too, my dear Barbara.