Part 25
Tired.
He was so tired.
Sleep beckoned seductively, luring him to return to the warm embrace. But something held him back. Something was wrong. There was something he needed to know...before he could slip back into the dark mists surrounding him.
Ezra struggled to open his eyes.
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Chris woke suddenly, his heart pounding until a quick glance around the room revealed nothing changed. A look at his watch told him he'd been asleep almost two hours. A measure of just how exhausted he was, that he could sleep through the nurses coming in every fifteen minutes. He hadn't had any nightmares either. The sleep had cleared his head a little bit but only reminded his body how desperately it needed more rest.
JD still slept, one leg curled underneath his body in the chair, head on the bed next to Buck's hand, which he clasped tightly in his own even in sleep. Buck slept as well, peacefully for a change. He'd been terribly restless earlier.
Chris stood up and stretched, hearing and feeling the vertebrae pop up and down his spine. A soft noise reached his ears and he turned quickly to look at Ezra. The undercover agent moved again in his sleep, moaning a little. His eyelashes fluttered against pale cheeks.
Chris glanced up above the bed. The hospital staff was so concerned about a relapse that Ezra's cardiac monitor was set to alarm at the slightest change in rhythm. It had gone off twice since he'd been moved into the ICU.
But the heartbeat stayed steady. "Ezra?" Chris said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
Heavy-lidded eyes opened slowly, revealing glassy green orbs. Ezra blinked once or twice, then focused on Chris. Recognition sparked. "Chris?" Ezra's voice was faint-barely more than a whisper-and raspy. He frowned and swallowed painfully.
"Need some water?"
Ezra nodded. He tried to sit up a little but Chris gently stopped him. "Don't move around. You need to stay still." The nurses had impressed that upon both Chris and JD throughout the night.
Ezra frowned, but stopped struggling. He sipped some water through the straw tucked into a plastic cup, then shifted his head on the pillow. His eyes flickered around the room. Chris saw the exact moment he recognized he was in a hospital. "What happened?" The voice was still faint but not as raspy. Then Ezra's eyes widened in alarm. "Buck!" he hissed, trying to sit up again.
"Don't move!" Chris snapped. Ezra froze. Chris regretted his tone as soon as the words left his mouth, but at least Ezra stopped trying to sit up. "Buck's doing okay," he said, more gently. "He's right over there." He moved so Ezra could see across the room.
Ezra looked and seemed to relax. Then he frowned. "JD?" His eyes returned to Chris. "What time is it? How long..."
Chris glanced at his watch. "It's six-fifteen. Friday morning," he added. "You've been in the hospital about twelve hours. You remember anything?"
Ezra's forehead creased in a frown. "I...Vin was going to the airport. To get JD," he added, looking back over at his young friend. He frowned again. "I was...feeling somewhat unwell," he admitted sheepishly.
"Yeah, I bet you were." Chris shook his head. "You passed out in Buck's pickup. Down in the parking lot."
Ezra closed his eyes. "How embarrassing," he muttered.
Of all the words Chris could think of to describe the last few days, "embarrassing" wasn't one of them. "You're damn lucky you aren't dead," he said harshly. "You were poisoned, Ezra...someone loaded your water filter with enough of an experimental heart drug to have killed off your whole neighborhood." Nathan had told him the preliminary lab results just before he and Vin had left.
"The water filter?" Ezra murmured. His eyes were blinking sleepily.
"Go back to sleep, Ez," Chris said with a sigh. He patted his agent's shoulder again, reassuringly. "We'll tell you all about it later...when you can stay awake. Everything's okay right now. Just go back to sleep."
Agents from three federal agencies, and two Denver PD cars, converged upon the dark-brick and smoked-glass complex that housed Riverside Pharmaceuticals. "Nice place," Nathan said dryly as the security guard raised the gate so they could drive into the parking lot. The complex nestled up to a wooded park alongside the river.
In spite of the early hour about a dozen vehicles were scattered throughout the lot. Nathan let out a soundless whistle as he saw the two cars closest to the entrance: a brand new, bright red Mercedes convertible and a powder-blue, custom-designed Stealth. "Didn't know medical research paid so good," Vin said as Nathan parked his Blazer next to the Stealth.
"Me either."
They were obviously expected. As the two ATF agents-flanked by a trio of worried officials from the FDA and two wooden-faced FBI men-came through the heavy glass double doors, a young woman stood up from behind the marble reception desk. "If you gentlemen would follow me?" she said as if it weren't the crack of dawn and they weren't there to discuss the attempted murder of a Federal agent. "Dr. Hastings is waiting in the conference room."
She led them down a hall carpeted in silver gray. Soft white walls provided a backdrop for a collection of abstract prints interspersed with framed newspaper articles about Riverside Pharmaceuticals. She knocked and then opened double doors, saying, "The gentlemen from the government, Dr. Hastings."
Vin and Nathan stepped into the room, dazzled briefly by early-morning sunshine glittering through floor-to-ceiling windows. The long mahogany conference table was spread with pots of coffee, crystal pitchers of juice and silver trays of rolls, pastries and fruit. In spite of everything, Vin's stomach reminded him just how long it had been since it had received anything more substantial than coffee.
Two women stood up at their entrance. One looked to be in her early thirties, with shoulder-length dark hair. She wore a white lab coat over a soft wool dress that was the exact color of the Stealth outside. She came forward with her hand outstretched. "I'm Monica Hastings. Director of this facility." She took in a quick breath. Vin noted the pallor of her face and the dark circles under her eyes. "I can't tell you how shocked and appalled I am at what has happened. Thank God for Craig Baker. The thought that one of my employees could have-" her voice choked off and she sat down suddenly in a cushioned rolling chair.
The other woman touched her arm briefly and stepped forward in turn. She looked to be a few years younger, and stunningly beautiful, with short blond hair and vivid green eyes in a flawlessly made-up face. Her black suit with an emerald silk blouse showed off a perfect figure and when she extended her hand, Vin saw a gold and diamond Rolex wristwatch and a diamond tennis bracelet on her arm. A huge emerald ring in an antique gold setting glittered on her ring finger. "I'm Nina Wyerly. Attorney for Riverside Pharmaceuticals, as well as Dr. Hastings' cousin. We believe we have found our thief...and your assassin."
Sirens screamed and red and blue lights flashed demandingly as nearly a dozen law-enforcement vehicles screeched to a halt in front of a run-down olive stucco house only two blocks from Vin's apartment in the Purgatorio. Doors slammed as agents and police poured out of the cars, weapons drawn and ready. Neighbors stared as the house was surrounded.
Nathan and Vin got there just as the first officers were giving the "all clear". "No sign of him," a uniformed Denver cop informed them, holstering his weapon and walking toward his car.
"Looks like he left in a hurry," Bobby Fewell from ATF Team Three confirmed, standing aside so Vin and Nathan could enter, and grinning at the looks on their faces.
"Cleanin' house ain't his strong suit, I guess," Vin said, taking in the squalor in the living room. He turned toward the kitchen and shook his head at the roaches crawling over the repulsive collection of dirty plates in the sink. His building had roaches too, but at least the occasional one that escaped the bug bombs and roach hotels in his kitchen ran for cover when someone entered. These acted like they owned the place.
"Vin. Look at this."
Vin followed Nathan's voice into the bedroom. Clothes were piled on the unmade bed and a half-filled suitcase sat on the floor. "Interrupted while he was packin'?" Vin wondered.
"Look at this," Nathan insisted again.
"This" was a plaque hanging on the wall. Unlike the decrepit state of the rest of the house, this was carefully mounted and showed signs of being dusted regularly.
"That son of a bitch!" Vin swore as he read the engraving.
"All Saints College of Denver awards to: Kevin Michael Murine, the Marcus Hoyt Scholarship in the Field of Microbiology."
"Kevin Murine has a record. Petty stuff, mostly as a juvenile. But right after his eighteenth birthday he got picked up for B&E and did a year in prison. He seemed to pull his act together after that. Got a job when he was released, started going to City College. Transferred to All Saints when Hoyt gave him a scholarship. Graduated with honors, then went right to work for Riverside."
"Doesn't that damn place have any security?" Chris demanded. "How could someone just waltz out of there with a deadly experimental drug and no one notice?"
Nathan shrugged. "They have security, but it's more for protection from people breaking in, or industrial spies. It's a small company and the director, Dr. Hastings, seems to think they're a family. Doesn't seem to have occurred to her one of her own people might have another agenda. They do have a check in and out system, but Kevin Murine was the 'checker'. There was nobody to check him."
"Kinda felt bad for her," Vin chimed in. "The FDA was rippin' her a new one when we left. And the FBI guys were circling like sharks in the water."
"I don't," JD snapped. "Her crappy security could have got Ez killed."
"Well, you didn't see her, JD," Nathan smiled knowingly at Vin. "Neither of the ladies was exactly a strain on the eyes."
JD rolled his own eyes. "Jeez. Now you sound like Buck." Then the grin vanished from his face and he shot a worried glance toward the double doors leading back into ICU.
"He'll be fine, JD," Nathan said soothingly.
"But what if he's not?" JD demanded, concern clouding his expression. "What if they take out the tube and he can't breathe on his own?"
"Then they'll wean him off gradually," Nathan said patiently. "This hospital has the best trauma team in the state, JD. And Culver's a genius. They know what they're doing."
"But-"
"Shut UP, JD!" Chris exploded, flinging himself to his feet and striding across the room to stare out the windows.
Vin shook his head at the stunned and shaken JD. "He don't mean nothin' by it, JD. Chris is just way too tired right now and stressed out about Buck and Ez." Vin followed Chris across the room.
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Chris knew when Vin stepped up behind him but didn't turn away from the windows. After a long moment, Vin put a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You can't keep goin' without any sleep, Cowboy."
"I slept some."
Vin rolled his eyes. "Yep. Bet ya did. With one eye on Buck and one eye on Ez."
"Damn Hoyt," Chris muttered.
"Hoyt's goin' down, Chris. That nurse is going to turn states evidence, and even his own lawyer's rattin' him out. He's confessed to findin' out who Buck and Ez actually were and telling Hoyt about it. We'll find this Murine guy too. And even if we don't, we got enough that Hoyt'll probably never get out of prison."
"He'd better pray he doesn't." The feral tone of voice promised Marcus Hoyt wouldn't live too long if he did. Chris turned abruptly. "What about Bolo Orlowski?"
Vin shook his head. "Nothing there. Can't link him to Hoyt, can't even prove he was in Denver. Unless Buck knows somethin-"
"Chris!"
Both men turned at Nathan's voice. Dr. Culver was coming through the double doors. Chris abandoned the windows and headed toward the man. Still, JD got there a half-step ahead of him.
"How is he?" the younger man asked worriedly.
Culver grinned. "Anxious to talk to you."
JD's face lit up and he bounced through the double doors. Chris took the time to stop and shake Culver's hand. "Thanks, Doc. For everything."
The smile dimmed. "Don't thank me yet, Agent Larabee. Buck's got a long way to go before he's well again. Dr. Royal from Orthopedics will be up to look at his leg later today, but I suspect he's in for at least a couple of months of physical therapy after those ribs heal up. And he may always walk with a limp." He paused. "But as you said to me, he's a fighter. I have a feeling he won't be satisfied until he's 100%." He pointed to the doors. "You'd better get in there...he was very anxious to see all of you. His throat is really irritated from the tube so try not to let him talk too much yet."
Buck wasn't talking when Chris stepped into the room. He couldn't get a chance. The release of tension had hit JD and he was chattering like a magpie. Chris smirked. He shook his head firmly at Ezra, who was showing signs of wanting to climb out of bed-cardiac monitor, IV, and all-to join the group at Buck's side. Vin patted Buck's shoulder thankfully before he joined Nathan at Ezra's bedside.
"Hey, Pard," Buck grinned at Chris. It was a pale imitation of his usual lady-killer grin, but it was enough. Relief coursed through Chris, leaving exhaustion in its wake. He dropped into the chair.
"Good to hear your voice again," he managed to say. 'I was afraid I'd never hear it again.'
"Why does no one ever say that to me?" came a plaintive voice from the other bed.
"Hell, Ez, you talk even when you're unconscious," Nathan joked.
"Can't understand you then, either," Vin added.
"How do you feel?" Chris asked Buck, concerned about the lines of pain crossing his friend's forehead.
True to form, Buck shrugged it off. "I'm doin' okay." He grinned at Chris, then transferred it to JD, who was smiling like a jack-o-lantern. "Glad to get that damn tube out of my throat."
Chris turned to look at Ezra. "What about you? You feeling better?"
"I will be fine as soon as I am disconnected from these infernal machines and back in my own abode."
Chris shook his head, an evil smile crossing his features. "Don't even think about it, Standish," he said silkily. "I know all about your little legal trick with Dr. Baker. I hope you realize it won't work this time."
Nathan had been filled in on the details of Ezra's escape from Lakewood-St. David's as well. "Yeah. You try that 'competency' bit with us around and we'll just tie you to the bed."
Ezra snorted and looked to Vin for support, then Buck. Vin just shook his head and Buck actually laughed-a dry, painful sound. Chris winced and reached for the cup of ice chips next to the bed. He offered a spoonful to Buck, who took it greedily.
"So Buck...how did you know that Bolo Orlowski set the bomb?" JD asked excitedly, completely ignoring the glares shot at him by his teammates.
Buck's happy expression changed, darkened. He swallowed and coughed. Chris stood up anxiously and Nathan started over, but Buck waved his hand. After several seconds of breathing deeply from the oxygen tube in his nose, he looked back at JD. "Don't know what you're talkin' about, kid. Bolo Orlowski set that bomb? Hell, he was one of the big name bombers. Cost a mint to hire him. Kinda doubt I'd be worth that much to Hoyt...or anyone else."
Dead silence.
"You said his name," Chris said quietly.
"Actually, you spelled his name," Ezra clarified.
"You remember anything?" Vin asked.
Buck leaned back against the pillows. He looked tired and the lines of pain on his face deepened. "Not much..."
"But-" Ezra started, trying to sit up again.
"Okay, that's enough." Nathan took charge. "Buck needs to rest. And you," pointing at Ezra, "need to stay still. That drug is still in your system, and your heart got a powerful workout last night. You need to rest too."
Chris was staring at Buck with narrowed eyes. Buck met the glare. "Hell, Chris...you look like shit."
"What an excellent observation, Mr. Wilmington."
"Shut up, Ezra."
"Think that's your cue to go home and get some sleep, Cowboy." Vin put his hand on Chris' shoulder.
Chris continued to look at Buck. 'You're lying, Buck. I know it, and you know I know it. But why?'
tbc...