Lieutenant Commander, Daron S.Carl, M.D., served as a scientist and a pathologist with the Sovereign Security Marine Corps for almost fifteen years. He knew General Dan Quaid personally for nearly twice as long and saw his rapid, often disquieting advancement in rank in a short amount of time.
The Marine Corp. used Dr. Carl's expertise at home and abroad in the development and distribution of the IMS chip. He's now a key person in other more top-secret missions for the General and the SSU as well.
"Carl." He carried an unmistakable gruffness that the doctor recognized immediately.
"Dan, Sir. Good to hear your voice. So sorry to hear about Doris." The remark came with a hint of sarcasm. Carl could swear he heard the General grin.
"Thank you for your condolences Doctor." General Quaid got right into the reason for his call. "I assume you received the duplicate of the memoir that I sent you."
"Oh yes, I did, I did." The doctor hesitated as he looked down into the paperwork on his desk, and shuffled around unable to control his hands.
"And?" Quaid said rudely.
Dr. Carl breathed in and then his voice became more relaxed, "I have to level with you Dan. I'm a bit perplexed on the whole thing. Is this for real?"
"Apparently so. We've been going over the logs and records of our late English predecessor, and it seems that he was quite anxious about the whole thing before his assassination. More details should be coming. But in answer to your question, yes, he is real, and we think very much alive."
The General picked up a photo of V taken the night he saved Dominic in the alley. The eyes from the white mask glared back at him.
The doctor sat up in his chair and removed his glasses. He leaned his arm on the paperwork that cluttered his desk.
"Is that right?" A brief pause of disbelief and then the level of excitement changed in his voice. "That's great news. That's great news." He trailed off. He wanted to ask how close they were to his capture, but thought it best to let the General manage that part, feeling uncertain of the level of secrecy.
The moment triggered an answer that Dr. Carl was not prepared to hear. "The operation is already in its second stage, eventually he'll turn up."
"Already in its second stage?" He asked. "I thought for certain it would take longer. I…I guess I should congratulate you, General." The confidence that the General exhibited, made Dr. Carl relax and feel more satisfied that he would get what he wanted.
"That really won't be necessary," General Quaid became more authoritative. "I didn't phone you to gloat over my accomplishments Lieutenant. I merely want to know if it is possible."
Dr. Carl knew what it meant. He also knew too much about the questionable activities that the SSU was involved in. So much so that the General insisted on his being the first to receive the IMS chip. Not that it would matter anyway, if Quaid really wanted someone gone, he could make them vanish as if they never existed. An uncomfortable reasoning, but truth nonetheless.
Dr. Carl swallowed hard. "Wh…well, I think it will take ti--"
"That's not the answer I want to hear Lieutenant! Now is it yes? Or no?"
It had to be yes or he was a dead man. There was not enough reason to keep him alive with all this knowledge. He could almost hear the General roll his eyes on the other end of the phone.
"In my professional opinion? Yes, it's possible. But I test these types of hypotheses on scientific fact and physical evidence. These cellular anomalies, there's still so much that we don't know. Th… this could be just an isolated case. They have to be researched before I can give a full and complete report. That means tissue samples and blood samples--"
"I get your point!" Quaid spoke so forcefully it made the doctor recoil.
There was uncomfortable silence on the line. The doctor opened his mouth to speak.
"I expect your arrival at the hospital at Nineteen Hundred hours."
"Yes, sir."
The line clicked and the ring tone returned.
Dr. Daron Carl pulled the cell phone away from his ear pushed the off button. He felt excitement at the opportunity to examine such a case, and yet, felt an overwhelming urge to finalize things at home before his departure to London.
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General Quaid stood and moved the window blind behind him to peer outside across the River Thames at what was left of Parliament. The operation was going better than planned and he felt thrilled to be part of it. By this time next week, Phase Two will be complete.
With all of London blockaded, and of its residents immobilized as new recipients of the surveillance chip, Codename V will not be able to escape. An additional benefit that the General originally hadn't counted on. All defectors and wayward society would be taken into custody at his command. He turned around to face the door of his new office at the St. Thomas Hospital, eager now to see this through with one more small detail…
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The holding cell was once a prosthetics laboratory, now vacant of the forged arms and legs. Finch assumed this because only the dust and the paint marks from the cast moldings remained. There were abandoned workstations lined up on either side of the room and it seemed they allowed him to look at this now, or maybe they just wanted him with his back faced at the door.
He hadn't noticed that his hands were numb until he tried to wiggle his fingers. The pain shot up his arm from the tight binding used to tie his hands behind him. Finch stared at the grey speckled floor and then his eyes moved to the table in front of him. He had a throbbing headache from the hit on the head and he wondered if Dominic had received the same fate.
Up until he awoke, he wore a white bag on his head and now it was lying on the table spotted with his blood as a reminder. The military used white bags to cart away their prisoners of war and hostages. No carting people away in black bags or dead of night assaults here. No, certainly not. They were shooting people in the streets in the brightness of day as if they had nothing to hide, as if the whole world should witness. Finch wrinkled his chin. How ironic for him to be in this situation now. Finch wished they would just kill him and get it over with.
Just then, he heard footsteps approaching behind him. The door creaked open and shut He heard someone breathe behind him.
More footsteps outside of the room. This time whoever entered walked heavier with a slower stride. A highly decorated general passed and came around to face him at the other end of the rectangular table. He had a file in his hand.
The General stood straight. Male Caucasian, six foot four, with salt and pepper hair cut military short. His skin looked ruddy, yet he appeared polished, and pristine. The most intimidating thing about him was his blue eyes that didn't look away. The general looked down at the open file in his hands and then directly into Finch's eyes once more, the white pages reflecting on his face. Finch moved uncomfortably in his seat and lowered his gaze.
"Chief Inspector Finch is it?"
Finch's heart raced. He didn't answer and just stared at the floor.
The General laughed to himself and took in a deep breath. "Do you know what we do with government officials convicted of terrorism? Mr. Finch?"
Finch felt a fist slam into his rib cage. He yelled out, doubled over out of air, and coughed as he went down. The pain made him gasp for breath. "What do you want from me?" He paused to regain himself. "And what is a general from the SSU doing in London?" Finch glanced at him with his head down, his arm holding his stomach.
The general nodded to the person behind Finch.
His binds came off. Finch immediately brought his hands together to rub his wrists.
"See now? If we work together things will get much easier." General Quaid looked away. "All we want is information on Codename V."
The inspector cocked his head to the side and squinted. "He's dead."
"How do you know this?"
"I saw his body--"
"You watched him die?"
"No…I…he was on the train that destroyed the Houses of Parliament."
"Yes, I saw your report inspector. But you didn't watch him die did you?"
"No, but I'm certain he was dead." Where are they going with this?
"And what about Evey Hammond?"
The inspector said nothing. This time Finch felt a heavier blow in the same spot of his ribcage. He coughed, sure, that at least one of his ribs were broken if not more as he doubled over and screamed in pain.
"I don…ah." His eyes winced, "I don't know where she is. She disappeared the night he died." He wouldn't have told them anything even if he did know her whereabouts.
General Quaid sighed. "Very well, Inspector."
Finch looked at the General and knew what was coming. He held his stomach and closed his eyes as the image of Evey's sweet face came to mind.
The General collected the file, and walked around the table, past Finch. He hesitated, before glancing at Hass in the eyes, and then exited the room.
Hass pulled out his pistol.
General Quaid heard the thunderous sound of a gunshot echo behind him. He walked down the hospital corridor, so very pleased with the idea of handling this small situation himself.