Enigma Black (31 page)

“It was the strangest thing,” I mumbled, half embarrassed. “I got out of bed to start my day, minding my own business, when this random pile of junk just jumped out of nowhere, completely taking me out.”

“Yeah. You have to watch out for those rogue bed posts; they’ve been known to take unsuspecting bystanders out by their knees.”

I stood up, dusting myself off. “You’ve had a pretty productive morning already. When did the transformation to Mr. GQ occur?” His face flushed, a sight of which I didn’t anticipate.

“Well, you know, have to go incognito and all,” he murmured, his face reddening. “Here.” Holding out his hand, he handed me one of the styrofoam cups of coffee. I took the cup, eyeing the box in his other hand, quizzically, greedily. “I didn’t know which one you’d like,” he said, noticing my fixated gaze, “so I bought a variety.” He smiled, handing me the box, which I happily opened, and was enthusiastically greeted by an assortment of brightly colored, heavenly confections. My stomach voiced its approval.

“Thank you, Blake. This is exactly what I needed.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.”

With the approaching daylight, I was able to locate a partially complete sofa. Eying Blake, I motioned to it. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” he responded. “Just watch out for those vigilante footstools. I’ve heard they’ve been causing all sorts of mayhem lately. Got caught up with the wrong crowd…Sad, really.”

I feigned a gasp. “No! Not the footstools…Alas, what is this world coming to? And to think they used to be such good kids. I blame those hedonistic barstools. Horrible influences they are.”

There was less couch than I’d initially thought. And as I sat down, I found myself gripping the edge to allow enough room for Blake to sit. His larger, muscular body naturally took up more room, causing our bodies to press together, his becoming noticeably tenser.

“I know you’re digging the very retro floral design on this bad boy,” I teased. “I wonder what they’d think about me moving this into the chic sitting room back at headquarters.”

He smiled. “Kara would have a stroke.”

“I don’t know,” I replied, patting the cushion. “She has character.” I balanced the doughnut box on my lap, selecting one that appeared to encase some sort of jelly.

“Don’t you want any?” I asked. The flustered visage returned to his face. “Blake, are you all right?’

“Wha…yeah…super.”

There was something he wasn’t telling me, a secret betrayed by his nervous demeanor. Nervous about what? Potentially having to face The Man in Black with me as his new partner? To tell the truth, I was nervous as hell over that prospect, too. No. It had to be much bigger than that. Something was swirling around inside his head, and I wondered whether I should try to pry it out or mind my own business. I decided that the latter seemed like the best option for the time being.

Blake grabbed a powdered sugar doughnut. Taking a bite, he stared off into oblivion. “I have a wig,” he finally uttered between bites.

“Really? I never noticed before.”

“No…not me…I bought a wig for you to wear along with street clothes for you to put on over your suit. You’re going to be a blonde today, if you don’t mind.”

“I hear they have more fun.”

“No. They’re kind of a drag, actually.”

“Not your type, are they?”

“You could say that.” I felt his gaze drift over to me as I swirled my coffee in my hand before taking a sip. Still feeling his gaze upon me, I turned my head to meet his stare. There was a new look in his eyes. A look of confusion, frustration, and a sort of… longing. It was the same look I used to see in Chase’s eyes. His body tensed further, and I quickly averted my eyes, prompting him to respond by practically jumping up from the couch.

“I’m going to go get your disguise,” he announced, clearly frustrated. His footsteps fell heavy on the floor as he all but ran out of the building. What the hell had just happened? Better yet, what the hell had
almost
just happened? I finished my coffee, gazing out the doorway. Intermittent cars traveled down the street in the direction of Hope Memorial. It was probably close to seven in the morning, which meant that the shift change was about to take place. Blake re-entered with a plastic bag firmly in his hand.

“Let me guess, this isn’t a headquarters-approved disguise?”

“Not exactly.”

I walked over to him, taking the bag from his grasp and opening it to inspect its contents. A long, lustrous blonde wig greeted me.

“Who am I, Lady Godiva?”

“It was the best I could do. I figured it was the furthest thing from your present appearance.”

“I’ll have you know that under this mass of auburn lies a blonde waiting to be revealed.” I pulled the wig over my hair, blowing the loose strands from my eyes. “Well? Do I look unrecognizable?”

“You look like Celaine in a blonde wig. But I think you’ll pass if you keep the bangs down and avoid making any direct eye contact with anyone. We just need to keep you away from the pediatric unit as much as possible.”

Taking the clothing out of the bag, I slipped the oversized sweatshirt over my head. “This thing could house a small country.”

“You’re carrying a gun. It’s not like I want you to be in something skin tight.”

I fastened the two-sizes-too-large jeans over my waist and tucked my helmet in the holster hidden entirely under the sweatshirt. “Are we ready?”

“As we’ll ever be, I guess.”

We exited the building, walking amongst the few who dared to venture out into the streets. The further we traveled down those two short blocks, the more nervous I became. And those nerves intensified with each familiar landmark we passed, coming to a head as we rounded the corner of the flower shop Chase frequented, until we finally beheld Hope Memorial in all its glory. The sprawling three story hospital was a Mecca of technology comprised of various wings separated by multiple breezeways. It was going to be next to impossible to anticipate where The Man in Black would attack first. In contemplation, we strolled up the shrubbery-lined sidewalk, following it as it led the way to the main entrance.

“My guess is that I’m going to have to enter the ventilation system from some access point in the boiler room,” I mused, keeping stride with Blake.

“I’m betting that would be a good guess.”

“Any guesses as to where he may strike?”

“He thrives on shock values and death tolls, so my guess is either the intensive care unit or the maternity ward.”

“They’re on opposite ends of the building.”

“That’s why there are two of us. My guess is that pediatrics is near the maternity ward?”

“We have a winner.”

“Well, then, I’ll scout around the maternity ward and you can take the intensive care unit.” Blake reached into his pocket from where he retrieved a small steno pad and pen. “Map, please,” he said, handing them to me.

“Don’t hold any of what I’m about to draw against me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Okay, but you may be sorry,” I laughed. Taking the pen and pad, I roughed out a cross-section of the pediatric unit as I recalled it and handed it back to Blake, watching as he folded it and tucked it into his pocket.

We entered Hope Memorial, where we purposefully avoided making eye contact with those among us. Once in familiar territory, I directed Blake down the hall towards the elevators. “I guess this is where we split?”

“It would seem that way. Try not to miss me too much,” he said with a wink, pushing the up button on the elevator.

“I’ll try to contain myself.”

“Are you nervous?”

“A little…okay…a lot.”

“Just keep in contact with me through your ear bud.”

Ding
,
ding
. The elevator door slid open, allowing Blake entry. Blocking the door open with his arm, he called out to me as I began making my way down the hall. “If it’s any consolation, there’s been a couple of times where the information they’ve gathered has been less than perfect.”

I nodded, giving him a half smile as he moved his arm back inside the elevator, leaving me alone in the hallway. Looking around, I felt as though a part of me was home. Sure, there had been changes in the décor; namely, the inclusion of an unfortunate flowery ambiance that bordered on gaudy. For the most part, though, it was still the same old Hope Memorial that I remembered from my childhood, complete with the same familiar odor of sterility and sickness.

Almost instinctively, I headed in the direction of the Intensive Care Unit, trying to avoid drawing suspicion while simultaneously looking for those whose actions warranted my suspicion. Not surprisingly, there was nothing out of the ordinary around me. Surely, The Man in Black wouldn’t make an impending attack too obvious as it would trim down the shock value, and, as such, I had a feeling that my investigation would prove to be fruitless. I wasn’t disappointed.

Everything appeared very business as usual. There were the contradictory feelings of hope intermingled with tremendous grief, flowing in unison throughout the halls. Visitors paced the linoleum wearing looks of relief, sadness, and anticipation, the only things on their minds being their loved ones either in surgery or recovering in the rooms by which they paced. The last thing in their thoughts was the idea that their own lives may be in jeopardy.

A visibly frazzled nurse nearly ran into me as she rushed out of one of the patient rooms. I glanced at her, immediately recognizing her as being one of the nurses who’d worked in close proximity to my father. Madison was her name. When I came to visit my father at the hospital as a child, she would take me by the hand and guide me to a secret stash of candy that she kept hidden in a desk drawer. As I grew older, she’d stop me in halls to chit-chat about current events and to
ooh
and
ah
over my having
grown up so fast
. After my father’s death, she would occasionally call Tasha to check up on me. When I moved back to Maryland, she couldn’t have been happier, and she was downright ecstatic when I began dating the new, premier pediatric surgeon in town.

Madison wore a look of uncertain recognition as she stopped dead in her tracks. And I quickly averted my eyes, hanging my head down towards the floor as I made a beeline out of the Intensive Care Unit, ignoring my name as she hesitatingly called it.

The jig was up. There was no way I was going to be able to adequately search the rest of the hospital without drawing additional looks of recognition from the staff and completely compromising the entire mission. It was time to head to the boiler room.

****

Using the hastily drawn map as his guide, Blake Cohen drew looks of admiration from the young nurses as he strolled down the halls. He was used to being stared at, and the stares he was receiving were the standard reaction he’d received from women his entire life. The flattery, however, bounced off him as though he were made of Teflon. He was on a mission and he was focused solely on that mission.

The Man in Black would make nothing obvious, for anything amiss in a hospital would most certainly draw attention and foil any prospective plan. If he were a betting man, he’d put his money on there being an outrageous attack, a taboo attack, even for the likes of him. An attack on the pediatric ward would inspire feelings of shock and outrage if it were struck while full to capacity. However, its inhabitants were sparse.

As throngs of people began removing themselves from the larger cities, many of the more populous locales had become virtual ghost towns, a fact which now screamed throughout the halls of the pediatric unit. Usually, he would have been happy to see so few sick children in need of hospitalization, but now he was confused. Why here? Surely, there were busier hospitals to attack. Perhaps the Intensive Care Unit was teaming with the injured and sick, putting Celaine right in the thick of it if anything were to unexpectedly occur.

He walked past the maternity ward. That, too, was more desolate than usual. At a viewing window, he stopped to watch a handful of newborns. So fragile and innocent, there was once a time in his life when he would have loved to have brought one of them into the world. However, now that the world was in utter chaos, introducing innocent life into it seemed cruel.

“Which one is yours?” A cute redheaded nurse asked him, pausing by his side.

“None of them,” he replied without throwing so much as a glance in her direction.

“Oh…well… is your wife about ready to give birth?”

“Don’t have one of those either,” he smiled. A glimpse at the young women’s reflection in the glass revealed a transparent look of interest reflected on her face. Rolling his eyes, he decided to put the young woman out of her misery.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said as he proceeded to walk back down the hall.

“Dr. Matthews,” another nurse called out.

Blake whirled around to see Chase Matthews do an about-face back to the triage near the entrance of the pediatric center.

What is he doing here now
? Blake wondered. There was no way he was going to volunteer this information to Celaine. The knowledge of Chase’s presence would only add that much more weight onto her overly burdened shoulders. Just the thought alone of this Chase guy being in any kind of danger would throw her over the edge.

Blake studied Chase. Sure, he was a good looking guy if you liked that clean cut pretty-boy kind of look. Obviously, he also had to have some iota of intelligence to be a doctor and, to be with Celaine, more than likely he also had wit to boot. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder how much the yuk could bench press and what the heck she ever saw in him anyway. Chase looked up and the two men locked eyes for a moment until Chase finally broke their gaze with a half smile and nod of which Blake reluctantly reciprocated. Flustered, Blake had begun to make his way to the Intensive Care Unit when a frantic, middle-aged nurse blew through the double doors, barreling towards Chase.

“There you are,” she said, breathless to the point that Blake wondered if she was having a heart attack.

“Geez, Madison, what’s wrong?” Chase put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her down.