Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (16 page)

A few neighbors were watching with shocked expressions.

Marina and Smythe got back in their vehicle and sped off.

Once they were safely away, he said, "That could've gone better."

"We're alive, aren't we?" she replied. Her heart was still pounding.

"We weren't supposed to kill anybody."

"The two cops were a clear case of self-defense. We couldn't allow ourselves to be arrested."

"Granted," he said, "but the third guy didn't need to die. He wasn't doing anything to us."

She shrugged. "He looked like a bad person."

His expression showed plenty of doubt. She had to admit he had a point.

"Regardless," he said, "we're racking up a body count. Three, maybe four killed, and some more injured. White Flame will wonder what the hell is happening with their little science experiment. They'll come looking for us."

"At least you have a sick brain to examine, and I have a prisoner to interrogate. That's pretty good."

"How long will the prisoner sleep?"

"I'm not sure how much venom I gave him. I was in a rush. A couple of hours, maybe longer."

Smythe frowned. "We can't schlep him around in the ambulance. We'll have to stash him somewhere while I'm examining the woman."

"Yes." Marina nodded. "And not somewhere comfortable. I want him to be in a compliant frame of mind when we finally come back for him."

"You're a cruel woman."

"Just good at my job."

Chapter Ten

It was an hour later when Marina and Smythe arrived at the Champaign County Wellness Center. Smooth granite panels, polished to a glassy finish, covered the exterior of the hospital. The building was only two stories tall. By the standards of Chicago hospitals, it wasn't much more than a clinic, but Marina expected the locals were glad to have any medical facility at all.

There wasn't an emergency room, so Smythe parked the ambulance near the front door. He and Marina climbed out and went to the back of the ambulance. The rabbit woman was inside, still unconscious from the venom. They loaded her onto a rolling gurney.

"Just follow my lead," Smythe said. "Hospitals are my home turf."

Marina nodded.

They went into the lobby. Individuals and families occupied wooden chairs, and they all had bored, tired expressions.

Smythe rolled the gurney straight to the receptionist. "This patient needs an emergency MRI," he said urgently. "Can you tell us where it is?"

The receptionist was a middle aged, overweight woman with black hair. She looked at her computer and clicked on the keyboard. "I don't see an appointment."

"She could be dead soon. Do we need an appointment for that, too?"

"Why is she wearing a rabbit costume?"

"Does it matter?" he said. "Just tell us where the MRI room is, and notify the technician!"

She pointed towards a double door. "Through there, end of the hall, on your left. But the technician will need to see some paperwork."

"Thank you."

Smythe and Marina quickly rolled the woman through the doors. They entered a white hallway with bright fluorescent lights. The staff of the hospital gave them mildly curious looks as they rushed down the hall.

They entered a room divided into two sections by a glass screen. The MRI machine was shaped like a big, long cylinder with a hole down the middle. The hole was big enough to admit a patient, but it would be a claustrophobic experience. Controls for the machine were on the other side of the screen.

"Keep away from the machine when it's turned on," Smythe said. "The magnets are incredibly powerful, and you're carrying a lot of steel weapons on your body. You could literally get thrown across the room."

"I'll stay behind the screen," Marina said.

They transferred the rabbit woman to a plastic sliding table attached to the machine.

"Do you know how to operate this thing?" Marina said.

Smythe shook his head. "I can read the scans, but we need a trained technician to push the buttons. Here he is."

A skinny man with black skin and thick glasses entered. He wore a white lab coat that made his skin appear even darker by contrast.

"What's going on? I was about to go home."

"This should only take twenty minutes," Smythe said. "It's an emergency. We need a full cranial scan."

"You don't look like a doctor."

"He's on his way."

"Good," the technician said, "because I have to see a prescription before I do anything."

Marina put her hand over the gun in her pocket.
Here is your prescription,
she thought.

"The doctor told me to tell you to get started," Smythe said. "He'll sign all the paperwork when he gets here. In the meantime, the patient is dying. We don't even know what's wrong with her. Every minute counts."

The technician frowned.

"And," Smythe added, "the quicker we get the pictures, the quicker you can go home."

The technician lowered his head in defeat. "Fine."

He first checked the woman for metal, which required removing her bunny costume. She was naked underneath, so he covered her with a gown. As he slid her into the machine, Marina was reminded of how dead bodies were stored in morgues. Everybody went behind the glass screen, and the technician turned on the controls. Marina could see the patient's face in a little video monitor.

"Here we go." The technician pressed a green button.

The machine began to hum and click. Marina felt her weapons shift forward disconcertingly as magnetic fields filled the room.

The woman suddenly went into violent spasms. She banged her arms and legs against the side of the machine.

The technician immediately cut the power. "What the hell? That's not supposed to happen."

Smythe ran over and slid the woman out. He checked her pulse for several seconds before announcing, "She's dead."

"I don't understand." The technician shook his head. "An MRI is perfectly safe. There isn't even radiation." He backed away from the controls fearfully.

Smythe looked at Marina and tapped his own neck. She nodded. She injected venom into the technician's neck. As he fainted, she eased him to the floor.

Smythe locked the door and wedged a chair under the handle.

"What happened?" Marina said.

"I wish I knew," he replied. "The technician was right about MRI's being safe. This woman shouldn't be dead. I want to perform an autopsy."

"Here? Now?"

"I'll need a very sharp knife."

She drew a dagger from a scabbard hidden up her sleeve. The blade was about six inches long and slightly serrated.

He took the knife and tested the edge by slicing a sheet of paper. "This will do."

"I hope so. It's made of surgical steel."

He began the autopsy by checking every inch of the woman's skin.

"She's in decent physical condition," he said. "Late thirties. No obvious injuries. There are scars on her palms though. Strange."

"The twins mentioned Haykal had burns on his hands when he reappeared," Marina said.

"That's right."

He focused his attention on the woman's head. He checked her eyes, ears, and mouth.

When he looked at the back of her head, he said, "Whoa."

Marina leaned over for a closer look. The woman had a surgical scar on the back of her neck, just below the edge of her skull. The wound was healed, but it was still somewhat puffy and pink. Hair partially covered it.

"She had brain surgery," Marina said, "and not too long ago."

Without hesitation Smythe sliced open her skin. Dark red blood oozed out. He dug his fingers under the skin and peeled it back to expose the woman's skull. Marina could see how the sections fit together to form a solid piece. He jammed the sharp tip of the dagger into a seam and tried to pry apart the bones.

Marina had seen just about every horror known to man, but for some reason this one bothered her. Smythe was taking apart a human head like a puzzle box.

He broke off a big chunk of bone. Marina was surprised when she saw the brain underneath. She had expected a gray blob, but the organ had a tremendous amount of detailed structure. It was wrapped in a thin layer of translucent tissue with many fine arteries and veins.

"Shouldn't you be wearing rubber gloves?"

"Probably," Smythe said.

He used the knife to slice off paper thin layers of brain. He held each layer up to the light for a second before laying it gently on the woman's back.

"What are you doing?" Marina said.

"Performing a CT scan the old fashioned way. The
very
old fashioned way."

"Did they teach you this in medical school?"

"Kind of," he said.

After a few minutes he found something that seemed to interest him. He dug into the brain tissue, working more by touch than sight. All she could see was gray and red mush being pushed around by his fingers.

He pulled out a black object the size of a pea. Many fine wires, each thinner than a hair, were attached to it.

She stared at it. "I'm guessing you don't find those in normal brains."

"No," he said. "It's some kind of electronic interface. Very sophisticated. I have to assume White Flame Technology put this evil thing in her head. Can you find me a small bag? We need to send it back to headquarters for analysis."

She looked through drawers until she found a box of latex gloves. She held open a glove for him, and he dropped the device inside. She tied it off like a balloon.

"Is that what killed the woman?"

"I'm guessing the strong magnetic field generated high voltages in the wires," he said. "At least it was a quick death."

"We should go." She glanced at the door. "We've been here too long. Somebody will start to wonder what's going on."

He nodded. "I just need to wash my hands on the way out."

"Yes, and don't touch me for a while."

"It's just brain goo." He pretended to lick his fingers. "Tastes like chicken."

"Now I'm getting the creeps."

He smiled.

* * *

Marina and Smythe trudged over damp dirt, leaves, and twigs. Shafts of moonlight filtered through thick tree cover, but it wasn't nearly enough light. They needed flashlights to find their way. There was a small river on the left, and its waters seemed as black as ink. She heard a splash as a fish caught a bug. Insects droned all around.

They came to a large tree. The captive EMT was wrapped around the trunk, his hands and feet tied with lots of surgical tubing. It was a very uncomfortable position. His head was completely wrapped in white bandages like a mummy. Only his nostrils were exposed, and they flared as he breathed rapidly and grunted with effort. He was struggling to free himself, but he had no chance of success. Marina had done a thorough job of securing him.

She knelt down and whispered in his ear. "Hello."

Surprise made his whole body twitch. He tried to scream, but she had packed his mouth with bandage pads, and the sound came out as a muffled moan.

"I'll unwrap your head," she said, "but you have to promise to be quiet. If you scream again, I'll make you wish you hadn't. Do you understand?"

He nodded.

"Now hold still. I'm using a very sharp knife."

She drew one of her knives and sliced open the bandages. Smythe held the flashlights, but it was still hard to work in the darkness, and she nicked the captive a little. He was shivering even though it wasn't cold.

He spat out bandage pads and coughed. "Who are you?" he asked in a scratchy voice. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"I just have a few questions. If you answer them promptly and truthfully, I'll let you go. Otherwise, you'll spend the rest of your short life tied to that tree, and it will be pure hell while it lasts. What's your name?"

He swallowed. "Peter."

"I already know that White Flame Technology has a huge experiment going on in Lemonseed. They own the police and they own you. What is the purpose of the experiment?"

"I don't know." He shook his head. "They don't tell me anything."

"Do 'they' have a name?"

He cleared his throat. "They're just voices in dark rooms."

"You must know something." She dragged the sharp tip of her knife across his chest.

He shook his head. "No."

"The police indicated there is a procedure for cleaning up 'special' messes," she said. "What is it?"

"I..." He cleared his throat.

"You can answer that question at least. You're directly involved. Don't lie to me either. You'll stay right here until I confirm you're telling the truth."

Peter's eyes rolled back in his head. His whole body began to shake.