Caged Eagles (17 page)

“Okay, and if you are sure you can do this, I'll keep my big trap shut.”

“Are you sure about that?” Sarah giggled, her defenses had melted away.

“Maybe you had better remind me.” Trevor put his arms around her.

“Trevor, you are such a dork,” she giggled and hugged him as tightly as she could.

“Yes, but at least we are a couple of dorks together.”

“Hey, I'm not a dork.” Sarah pulled away but had a coy smile on her face.

“Say whatever you want, babe.” Trevor chuckled at Sarah's failed attempt to tickle him. He let her, simply because she was smiling again, and they were back to normal.

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“This is all the paperwork you will need. Don't let them look at anything too closely; you can never know if they could figure out it's all fraudulent. Here is the badge with your official name and job title. Again, this is all just props to help you act the part and get Blaine out.”

“Look, your name is Lula Dell, State Counselor of Corrections.” Laney poked at the badge.

“It's lucky one of our people, Kearns, was able to steal an actual badge a couple months ago.”

“Does that mean Sarah's in danger of getting accused of stealing?” Forrest asked.

“No, he was caught, served some time for it, but not before he made a perfect copy with a fake name.” An unpleasant smirk crossed Donovan's face. “Now, this paperwork will only get you so far in there. You need to rely on acting the part. That will convince them more than anything.”

“Okay, and what do I do if something actually does go wrong?”

“Don't worry, we have you covered.”

“How do I look then?” Sarah stood back from the group. She was wearing a gray suit much like the one Leslie would wear. Her hair was pulled back into a very tight bun and small wire glasses framed her eyes. She stood as straight as possible, holding her clipboard rigidly against her chest. A very arrogant look crossed her face; she was someone else altogether.

“Perfecto,” Donovan clapped his hands together. “You act like you look, you'll do fine.”

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Sarah managed to keep her nerves under control and contained deep inside. She needed to concentrate on the task at hand and nerves would only get in the way. She took a deep breath. The seal burned on her right ankle. Second thoughts came to mind when the silent oriental man burned the tattoo into her skin. After it was over she felt complete. Finally, she had become a part of something momentous. Would she remain brave enough to do this? Everyone else made the risks look easy. She never saw Laney sweat over doing anything dangerous. Why was she so scared? This was the most important move the organization had yet made. Sarah took another deep breath, she couldn't mess up.

Donovan had made a couple of frivolous stops, one to a costume shop, where he picked up a cheap suit which he changed into at the store, and another to a small coffee shop. Sarah waited inside the vehicle while he ordered the beverages. Donovan had somehow found an official state car to use. An unbreakable plastic substance divided the back seat, and the patrol radio was set up in the front seat. Every few moments a voice came over the line. She hoped Donovan hadn't stolen the car, though it wouldn't matter anymore if they got caught. Every secret operation always had some risks. Sarah thought of Trevor. He had held her so tight before she left. His eyes told her he wished to be with her, but Donovan and Forrest had convinced him to stay for everyone's safety.

“Alright, you ready?” Donovan handed her a small cup of tea. Another man got into the car. He was dressed as a security guard. Sarah had been introduced to him during the move but she could only remember his last name was Romero.

“Yes.”

She had finished only half of her tea before they pulled up to the doors. Suddenly a cluster of nerves exploded inside her body. Maybe that was another reason for the tea, to keep her calm.

“Here we are, Miss Dell. I will wait here.” Donovan nodded toward the door. Sarah gripped the file on her lap.

“Thanks, I'll see you in thirty minutes.” She stepped from the car. Suddenly the click of her shoes on the cement was audible as she walked toward the door. A man asked for her badge, and then allowed her inside. The lobby was a host for thirty giant hybrid plants. All the chairs were empty. The rehab spent an excessive amount of money on the lounge area when the use of it was so rare. A plump receptionist watched her every move, ready to assist in any way possible.

“Hello, miss, can I help you?”

“Yes,” Sarah presented the identification badge to her. “I'm here to talk to Dr. Lundstrom.”

“Do you have an appointment?” The words Donovan had made her repeat to him twice on the way to the coffee shop echoed in her head.

“Yes, I called yesterday, my appointment is at nine.”

“Yes, Miss Dell, please have a seat. He will be out in a moment.” The girl pointed to the chairs. Moments later a broad-shouldered man appeared. He towered over Sarah and in his booming voice introduced himself.

“Hello, I'm Dr. Lundstrom. Welcome to East Denver's Rehab Facility. I know,” the director bobbed his head in a knowing way. “We are located in the northern part of the city, but for some odd reason it was named East.”

Sarah wondered how smart this man was. He didn't appear to be very intellectual, which she hoped would work to her advantage. He guided her back through the security doors. The building was ten years old but the floor was not scuffed. Instead, it shined brilliantly from constant polishing. The walls looked as though they had been freshly painted but the hallways smelled like cleaning solution. Black windows exposed holding cells. One new inmate read a newspaper in the last room on the right. Dr. Lundstrom punched in the code to another door. An alarm went off the moment they stepped through. Sarah gasped and the paperwork slipped out of her hands, sliding across the floor. They both stooped to gather the material.

“It's alright Ms. Dell.” He raised his voice to be heard over the alarms. “It's one of the other security doors. I'm sure one of the managers entered the code wrong.”

The alarms went silent and Dr. Lundstrom directed Sarah's attention to another doorway. It had three different locks on it. “This is where new inmates are transported directly to their cells.”

“Do you have many problems with patients?”

“What do you mean?”

Sarah's mind raced. She was trying to sound like she knew what she was talking about. “Are the patients comfortable?”

“Oh yes. We take great care in ensuring our patients receive very accommodating rooms. They are equipped with new mattresses, T's …” Two janitors each stood on a polishing machine, making circles around the hallway. One was Laney! A man by the name of Volkov winked at her before he went back to cleaning the floor.

“ … and our counselors are the best in the nation, or at least the western states.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt, but is the help treated just as well?”

“Help? Oh you mean those two custodians we passed.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Yes, our support team is very well respected. We have only a couple of custodians on staff. Most of our help is Milo.”

“Excuse me?”

“Milo was an old man who worked here for fifty years. He died about forty years ago.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yes, it's a great loss to all in the rehab, but Milo still lives with us. Before his death he had himself cloned. Now we are gifted with ten of him.” The director pointed to a mousy-faced man leading an inmate down the hall in the opposite direction.

“Ten, that seems like a lot? I thought only one clone was permitted.”

“Yes, that is the law, but Milo fooled cloning clinics all over the States. Of course the government was not happy, but allowed all ten to live in a safe house until they were old enough to come work here.”

“How old are they now?”

“Nearly fifty.”

“They are all named Milo?”

“No, but we all call them Milo to keep things simple. Mostly because they all have the same job requirements, so it doesn't matter which of the men brings a prisoner to his counseling sessions, or breaks up a fight, etcetera.” He waved his hand carelessly in the air.

“They aren't looked down at as lower citizens?”

“Of course not.”

“They aren't the original though; doesn't that ruin some authenticity of the unique individual?” Sarah knew she had made a mistake by the horrified look on the doctor's face. She quickly covered, “As is the belief of some radicals. By the look on your face, doctor, apparently this question surprises you?”

“We do not often deal with such irrational people.”

“Good, that keeps the harmony of the work environment pleasant.”

He nodded to a fellow employee walking in the opposite direction. “Yes.”

“I'm curious though, such a large group of men looking the same. None of them want to leave to have their own life?”

“No, between you and me,” Dr. Lundstrom leaned in. An odd combination garlic and foul breath hit Sarah's nose. She held her breath and hoped he'd move away. “Milo was bright, but something happened with the cloning. They are … special … for lack of a better word. These Milo's have never thought about leaving.”

“I see. What about the staff? There are no mixed feelings about them?” He held his office door open for her to enter.

“Well, some believe they should be treated as separate individuals, but others argue they are all the same man and should be treated that way. It's an ongoing debate. I'm sure you know.”

“Yes, I'm aware of the argument.” Sarah threw her cup in the trash can. The doctor unlocked his door and they both went inside.

“Miss Dell.” He sat down comfortably behind his desk. “Are you here to evaluate our facilities? I will have ….”

“No, I'm sorry; I'm here on other business.” She set the folder on the desk. “My office sent you an electronic fax yesterday, explaining Mr. Blaine Martin's transportation to another rehabilitation center.”

“What?” He sat up alert in his chair. “I received no such e-fax, and where is your paperwork stating this?” She pushed her file across to him. He leaned over it so closely she thought his nose was going to touch it. Sarah knew she had to distract him, and talking was the only thing she could think of.

“My office feels that Mr. Martin has been here at East Denver long enough, and for everyone's safety he needs to be moved.”

“Is there reason for concern?”

“We feel that Mr. Martin is the type of individual to gain support here. He is very persuasive, and we feel we should move him so no problems are created in the future.”

“I feel that his counselor should be here to discuss this matter also.” Dr. Lundstrom immediately picked up his phone to call Leslie Taylor. Sarah felt another bundle of nerves shoot through her system. In only minutes she would be meeting the woman also in love with Trevor. Much to her surprise, Leslie was a pleasant-looking woman and she thought she'd probably have been friends with her under any other circumstance. She couldn't understand how Trevor wasn't drawn to her. She was attractive. She could see Leslie was a very serious woman–upon second assessment, too somber for her boyfriend.

“Dr. Taylor, this is Ms. Lula Dell. She is here with questions about Mr. Martin.” She shook Sarah's hand and warmly greeted her, clearly not realizing who she was. Sarah almost wanted to laugh at the thought. What if she knew? She would probably faint; at least she looked like the type to pass out.

Her voice was soothing, perfect for a counselor. “What can I help you with, Miss Dell?”

“I have been instructed to move Mr. Martin to another facility.”

“Why?” Dr. Taylor crossed her arms.

“Miss Dell's office is concerned that he might try to cause a problem for us, since he has been shown to be a very persuasive person.”

“He has done nothing of the sort here in rehab. I could show you his records if you would like.”

“No, Dr. Taylor, Miss Dell feels that if he wished, he could persuade a few of our patients to either support him, or to cause another riot. We don't need that happening.”

Dr. Taylor looked puzzled and worried. “Are you saying this could be possible?”

“It's always a possibility with these type of people,” Sarah replied.

“He is being monitored closely. I don't feel that there is any reason to be concerned.”

“I have my orders; here is a number to call if you feel apprehensive.” Sarah handed them one of the many papers she had taken off the desk. It looked official, but Laney's phone number was posted at the bottom. Encouraged by Dr. Taylor, Dr. Lundstrom called the number and spoke with the “professional” on the other end. After a brief conversation he hung up the phone and addressed the women.

“It's official, Dr. Taylor. I feel that if Miss Dell's office finds this necessary, then we should agree.”

“Do you mind if I examine these papers.” Dr. Taylor pointed to her file. Sarah nodded her head and smiled pleasantly. Dr. Taylor traced a finger along each sentence. Her brows came together and she picked up another form to compare the two. The paperwork was close to flawless but she didn't want to get caught because the counselor found a simple mistake. Sarah looked around the room for a distraction.

“May I have a cup of coffee?”

Dr. Lundstrom held his hand out. “Of course! Help yourself Ms. Dell. I'm sorry about the delay. Dr. Taylor is very meticulous when it comes to her patients.”

“She's the type of counselor to aspire to.” Sarah complimented her and walked to the coffee machine. Her hand shook when she grabbed the handle.

“Hmm,” Dr. Taylor expressed her confusion with only a sound. Sarah almost spilled the coffee. “Ms. Dell, I have a question about the wording on these two documents. They appear to contradict each other.”

“Oh, no, let me explain. Have you examined page three?” Sarah confidently walked forward, her eyes on the paperwork. Dr. Taylor had set the first to pages down and grabbed a third. Sarah set the coffee cup on the edge of a book. It fell over, covering all the forms in hot brown liquid.

“Oh no!” Sarah lifted the documents into the air. Drops of coffee dripped back onto the desk.”

“It's fine, it's fine. The transporting form you brought is still here on my desk.” Dr. Lundstrom held it up. “I find everything to be professional here Dr. Taylor, let's proceed.”

Dr. Taylor nodded out of conformity and dropped the tissues she used to clean up the mess. Sarah signed both forms and shook the director's hand. Dr. Taylor went outside to ask one of the Milos to go get Blaine. Sarah held her breath during the ten minutes she waited for Blaine in the lobby. It had all been so simple. What if something went wrong at the last minute? The doors behind her opened; one of the clones led a very large, muscular man. He looked around the lobby, searching, only giving Sarah one careless glance. She wondered if he'd ever thought about playing football.

“Mr. Martin, Miss Dell is here to transport you to another facility. We feel you will be more comfortable there,” the director told him. Dr. Taylor was nodding at the director's side.

“Why? I'm comfortable here.”

“Yes, but our new facilities will be better equipped to meet your individual needs,” Sarah replied.

“I don't have individual needs,” Blaine grumbled.

“Mr. Martin, please.” Dr. Taylor seemed to want to keep him calm. It was evident Blaine didn't even realize Sarah was a fraud. He did once they walked him out to the car, though.

“Miss Dell, thank you for visiting, and I hope all goes well.” The director shook her hand again.

“Thank you,” Sarah said to both Dr. Lundstrom and Dr. Taylor. Romero had somehow appeared at her side and clipped new restraints on Blaine's wrists and feet. She felt herself trembling as she passed through the front doors, went around to the other side of the car, and got in. Donovan got out of the E.V. and opened the back door. Donovan and Blaine's eyes met for a moment, but both remained expressionless. Sarah didn't think she could have kept such a straight poker face if she had seen a long-lost friend. Donovan didn't waste any time pulling away.