Degrees of Wrong (29 page)

He stood up. “Nothing. Lois wouldn’t be going without me, either.”

Cold and quiet fed off each other in the transport pod. The other pods maneuvered ahead of us through the currents, their cabins small, illuminated specks in the vast ocean.

I glanced at Nicoli, who stared ahead with unseeing eyes. He had chosen a small pod for the two of us, to brief me privately on the way there. I wasn’t sure if it was the truth, or if he was just catering to Lt. Horan’s sensitive feelings.

He spoke, startling me. “This man is wicked, Elyse. And highly intelligent. I don’t want you speaking to him, other than what is absolutely, medically necessary. I’ll be with you at all times.”

“No,” I told him, and he snapped his head toward me. I held up my hand to stop his argument. “He has patient-doctor privileges which would be violated if you were to stay in the room.”

“I don’t give a damn about his privileges.”

“The UN does.”

“He’s a prisoner. His patient-doctor privilege is—”

“Still intact,” I finished. “I looked into it before we left.” I was looking for a way to keep Nicoli from going altogether but would take this over nothing. I knew he’d be angry, but I could deal with that. I could
not
deal with his being injured or— I couldn’t even think it.

He scowled. I lifted my chin, ready to fight if need be.

“Why do you care about this man?”

“It’s not
him
that I care about. You
will
stay out of the room during the examination, Nicoli.”

His face softened when he realized my meaning. “I can take care of myself, love.”

“So can I.”

The prison came into view, and I took deep, concentrated breaths to keep from shaking. Beneath us, tiny dots of light outlined a square, multilevel building. The six other pods ventured ahead of us, descending to land on the roof. Before they touched down, the roof opened, drawing them into the top level. Nicoli eased us down as well, and as we dropped I watched the doors of the ceiling slide shut, enclosing us into the structure. We parked in the center of the other pods, and when the water receded, the teams began to disperse to the grated metal floor.

“We’ll wait for everyone else,” Nicoli said. “Let them get ready first. Then we’ll follow.”

I watched in apprehension as thirty men organized into a single-minded company with Lt. Horan calling out instructions in front. He nodded to Nicoli, who retracted the glass shield and lifted me from the pod. I followed him across the cavernous transport room.

The synchronized troops assembled around us in a deafening echo, creating a pocket in their ranks just big enough for the two of us. We moved as one to the door, which opened automatically with the commotion of us.

We were forced to bottleneck into the room, which turned out to be a large elevator. Despite its burdensome cargo, it descended us into the core of the structure without so much as a creak. When the doors opened, Nicoli motioned for me to stay behind him. The thunder of heavy boots plodded in front of us and behind us, and I felt the reverberation of our herd move through the hall.

Ahead of us I heard voices. Nicoli extended his hand back for me, and when I grasped it, he pulled me to the front of the ranks. Before we broke the line he dropped my hand, but I knew I should still follow.

We approached a stocky blond man, who was almost as tall as Nicoli. “Captain Marek,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting to see
you
here today. Thank you for coming. We were in quite a bind, as you of all people could imagine.”

I stole a glance at Nicoli, but he said nothing.

The blond man looked down at me and offered a smile so fake a tourist wouldn’t buy it. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Lieutenant Commander Emory Weston. The warden here. And you must be…”

“The doctor you requested,” Nicoli answered evenly. “Where is the patient?”

Lt. Weston eyed me again, then motioned for us to follow him down the hall. When he saw that the troops would pursue, he raised surprised brows at Nicoli. “Is this really necessary, Captain? We have an ample guard of our own.”

Nicoli shrugged. “Whether or not it’s necessary remains to be seen, Weston. The patient?”

Weston licked his lips, a nervous trait, I believed. We followed him to another elevator, where he turned to us. “Unfortunately, all of the cattle cannot be corralled into this one. Some will need to stay behind, I’m afraid.”

Nicoli crossed his arms. “We’re in no hurry today, Weston. Half of them can go first. We’ll take the second elevator when it comes back. Unless you have an alternate route that would accommodate all of us simultaneously?”

Weston licked his lips and shook his head. Nicoli gave a nod to Horan, who issued a silent order for the first outfit to load into the elevator.

As we awaited its return, Nicoli addressed the warden. “We’ve also made arrangements to transport Dr. Yomato’s body back to the
Bellator
for autopsy. You can speak with Lt. Horan regarding these arrangements.”

Lt. Weston fidgeted the taser on his belt. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Captain Marek. We’ve already disposed of his body just this morning.”

Nicoli didn’t appear surprised. “That’s interesting, Weston. Standard procedure requires that the death of an officer be investigated through autopsy if suspicious circumstances are present. You are, of course, aware of this.”

“I was not aware of any suspicious circumstances, Captain.”

“The regulation further states that any death occurring in the confines of a prison shall
automatically
be treated as suspect and given the benefit of further investigation. You have a negligible recollection of regulation and procedure, given a warden of your rank, Weston.”

The warden’s face grew red at Nicoli’s barely masked implications. His upper lip twitched, and his hand locked on the taser. Nicoli eyed him, raising a brow that invited him—dared him—to pull it. Weston let his hand fall as the elevator doors opened.

“After you, Warden,” Nicoli said.

We entered as a group. My stomach tightened as we dropped farther into the entrails of this ominous building. When the doors opened again, we followed the warden to the end of a long white hallway which was now lined with our own guard.

Lt. Weston pointed to the last door on the left. “He’s in there. Please let me know if you need further assistance.” Then he walked away, barely containing his malevolence.

When he was out of earshot, Nicoli turned, looking down at me with unveiled concern. “Remember, do not speak to him unless absolutely necessary. I’ll be right here if you need me. Leave the door open and please,
please
make this the quickest house call in the history of the earth.”

I held my breath as I opened the door that said
Infirmary
.

I walked in, wishing I had Nicoli’s capability of cloaking my emotions. The room was small, the usual hospital-variety utensils lining the white walls to accommodate the four beds. In the corner sat a large desk, with a name plate that read
Dr. Hiroshi Yomato
. Despite the sheer vastness of the desk, that it had already been cleaned and boxed made the room seem more empty.

“I was tired of lying down, so I decided to sit. I do hope that’s agreeable to you, Doctor,” a voice called from behind one of the beds, startling me. I walked slowly to it.

He sat in the chair next to the bed, adorned only in a smile, a hospital gown and some crepe-paper slippers. The bed beside him had either never been used, or was freshly made. My pulse quickened.

The man had undeniably Greek features, with olive skin, a large crooked nose and dark hair seasoned with the salt of age. Probably in his mid-fifties, and in very good shape. The Greeks, as a people, were renowned for their heart health. If this man had a heart condition, it was because he lacked a heart altogether.

“I would prefer that you at least sit on the bed. It will give me better access to the tools I need,” I told him with much more confidence than was really there.

He stood and scooted himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Tell me what’s been going on.” I walked to a large double-door cabinet to rummage through it for supplies.

“My chest has been hurting.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“Sometimes I can feel my heart palpitating. It feels like it beats faster, then slower. Sometimes it feels like it skips a beat altogether.”

“Hmm.” I pulled out a stethoscope and walked back to him. “What are you doing when you feel this way?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes nothing. Was that Nicoli Marek I just saw at the door?”

I stiffened.

He smiled the most unpleasant smile I’d ever seen. “You two make a good couple,” he whispered, as if he were divulging gossip.

“Does physical activity make it worse?” I asked, trying to ignore the turn in conversation.

“No. I bet he doesn’t like letting you in here to see me, does he? Probably still sore about the whole incident with his father. There’s something
different
about him though…can’t quite place my finger on it…” He tapped his index finger on his chin in dramatic contemplation. “Oh,
that’s
it. It’s the fact that he looks like a lovesick pup. Who would have thought, someone actually brought the mighty Nicoli to his knees—”

“I’m going to listen to your heart.”

He wouldn’t be deterred. “But then, I guess I’m not surprised to find you consorting with the likes of Nicoli Marek. You’re rather impressive yourself, aren’t you, Dr. Morgan?”

I froze.

“Okay.” He laughed softly. “You got me. I planned to drag it out for at least another ten minutes, but I never was good at suspense. We both know what you’re going to find when you listen to my heart, don’t we, Dr. Morgan?”

I lowered the stethoscope. I hoped he couldn’t see my pulse threatening the boundaries of the artery at my neck. The trap hadn’t been set for Nicoli at all.

He chuckled again, enjoying the element of surprise more than should be possible. “Oh, I’ve been trying to arrange this little meeting for weeks now. You’re a difficult person to track, Elyse. Of course, your little UN friends saw to that.”

I glanced back at the door. Nicoli still stood there, his wide back turned to us. Apparently, he’d complied with my wishes to keep at bay. If he were within hearing distance, Ares Petropoulos would find that he did indeed have a heart condition.

“Oh, there’s no need to alarm the boyfriend,” Ares assured in a whisper, his tone smug. “We’re just going to talk, you and I. If you’re anything like your father, you’ll at least be curious as to what I have to say.”

My head snapped back in rapt attention, apprehension vaporized, replaced with hatred, pure and raw.

“See? I know you better than you think. Shall we talk?”

I nodded. If this man had information about my father, I wanted to know it.

“That’s a good girl, Dr. Morgan. The stoic captain will be checking in on us, most assuredly. Why don’t you get an IV started or something? Let’s make it as convincing as possible, shall we?”

I walked to the cabinet and pulled out the ingredients of an IV. I brought it to his bedside and began to set up.

He eyed the saline solution. “Better let me have a look at that bag, Doc.” I handed it to him and after he inspected it, he nodded and handed it back. As I worked, he continued.

“Oh, at first, they really had me fooled. Setting up that monument on your island, burying that empty casket next to your parents. Even The University held a memorial to grieve the loss of their youngest graduate. I berated myself for sending those mindless goliaths to retrieve you. They’re renowned for their sloppy work.” He shook his head in disgust. “I thought I killed you myself. I was almost sad.”

I taped the IV to his arm with gritted teeth as I listened to his self-absorbed speech. I fought against his provocation, against the urge to attack him, against the urge to call for Nicoli. None of these things would get what I wanted. Not yet. Nicoli was right—Ares was indeed intelligent if he could orchestrate the circumstances surrounding this meeting from within the confines of this forgotten prison. Which meant he might have planned for an attack, since he obviously planned to provoke me. He could have a weapon hidden somewhere, ready to kill me. Or he could have no weapon—if I attacked him, helpless in the infirmary, a heart patient no less, he would get a free pass.

No, I had to do what he
didn’t
expect. I couldn’t allow him to surprise me again—or rather, I couldn’t allow him to
see
my surprise. I decided on nonchalance.

“Now, now, Dr. Morgan. You can’t just sit there. He’s already checked on you twice since you started the IV. Go see what you can find in that cabinet. I’m sure there’s a wonderful array of important-looking gadgets you could pull out.”

I complied, feeling the rage in my stomach begin to broil. Among my selections was a scalpel. I placed it with purpose on the metal tray beside his bed. Closer to him than to me. An invitation to make the first move.

He didn’t miss it. He smiled at me crookedly.

“I’m waiting for the
point
of all this,” I told him with double-meaning. He didn’t miss that, either. Still, he didn’t appear to fear me.