Madeleine & the Mind (2 page)

"I will tell her to call you here. Will that ease your mind?"

Madeleine nodded, but her head felt like a heavy punching bag.

"Here is my card, Senorita. I will get in touch with the American Embassy after I verify your information. And I will make sure the proper persons in the United States are contacted. Is there anything else?"

Anything else. She was alone, trapped halfway around the world without a dime or a stitch of clothing, and her head felt as if it wanted to be free of her body. "I'm all right?"

The corners of his mouth tilted in a semblance of a smile. "You have a slight concussion and find yourself in a predicament, but I've encountered worse." He rose. "Stay here for two days. The doctor says this is advisable. I will keep in touch. When you are released, I will take you to the consulate. I'm sure by that time they will find a solution to your problem."

He left the room as the young nurse came back with two pills. Madeleine accepted a cup of water and swallowed the pills, smiled politely, and lay back. The nurse offered an encouraging smile and left the room without a word.

Not that it would help if she did speak. Madeleine's Spanish skills had proven unreliable throughout her trip. She closed her eyes and began to pray.

I need you, Lord.

Two days later, true to his word, Inspector Banderas, in another dark suit, arrived at the hospital to escort her to the American Embassy. He smiled when he stepped into her room. "You look much improved, Senorita."

Madeleine swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. "Thank you. They washed my clothes and gave them back. I don't suppose you located my purse?"

He shook his head, and thick strands of silver-streaked dark hair fell over his forehead. "Most unfortunate, but not exactly a surprise. It was probably discarded as soon as it was taken. Are you ready to leave? The consulate assures me they have a solution for you."

"I can't wait."

When they stepped out of the hospital, waves of heat accompanied by the unpleasant odor of exhaust hit Madeleine in the face. The late morning sun burned into her back, and beads of sweat popped up on her forehead, but it was a glorious improvement to the anodyne smells and fluorescent lights of the hospital.

As she stepped off the curb, the inspector gripped her arm against his side, propelling her toward a dark vehicle idling in a no parking zone.

Was he afraid she would make a run for it or that she would pass out?

He had nothing to fear. Where would she go? With no clothes, no money, no passport, and no way to speak to ninety percent of a foreign population, she hardly posed a flight risk.

She reflected once again on the gangly man who'd grabbed for her purse. If not for him…
Ok, Lord, so I'd like to shove my fist up his nose, but I'd probably only succeed in breaking my knuckles. And I really am trying to forgive him.

The inspector dropped her arm to open the car door, and they soon joined the flow of downtown traffic.

Not one topic of conversation came to mind as Madeleine held her breath while the inspector zig-zagged between cars. Her silence didn't seem to bother him. He kept up a constant stream of comments about the inability of Spaniards to drive.

Madeleine stared out the window, trying not to think about what the Embassy would do with her.
I know I shouldn't worry about it, Lord. I mean, I'm not dead or anything. I'm not even starving or hungry, but I feel so alone. I need you.

Inspector Banderas pulled into a long driveway lined with American flags. The bright red, white, and blue brought a lump to Madeleine's throat. Finally, a chance to speak with someone who understood English.

At the entrance, like brightly-colored toy soldiers, stood two stiff Marines. Neither met her eyes as she ambled by, but she didn't care. She felt safer already.

Inside, hovering like a hummingbird, waited a stocky, dark- haired woman with a clipboard. "Good morning, Inspector. Miss Price." The woman smiled revealing a mouth full of teeth more suited to a horse. "I'm Miss Phipps. If you'll follow me, please."

"Of course," said Inspector Banderas, settling his hand in the small of Madeleine's back to urge her forward.

Miss Phipps led them up a long, curving staircase. The gleaming wood of the banister begged Madeleine to run her hand along the edge. It felt just as smooth and satiny as it looked.

Nice, for a consulate. Certainly not your run-of-the-mill government office.

A large portrait of the current President loomed on her right.

Miss Phipps stopped and knocked at a door. A deep voice beckoned them in.

From behind the desk rose a bespectacled, middle-aged gentleman. He held out his hand and flashed an even smile at Madeleine. "Miss Price, how are you? Inspector Banderas, thank you for bringing our errant citizen to us. I'm Ward Jamieson. Won't you have a seat?"

He dropped onto a burgundy leather chair, his expression open and unhurried. "Would you care for a drink? Water? Café?"

The Inspector shook his head. "Nothing, thank you."

Madeleine crossed her hands in her lap and waited.

Mr. Jamieson settled a fatherly smile on her. "Now, Miss Price, we've arrived at a solution I hope you'll find satisfactory. Believe it or not, there's another family in similar circumstances. A bump on the head. Unfortunately, there's been a loss of memory, speech really. They aren't sure how much he can remember because he can't speak. Work…or something, prevents them from flying home."

He glanced back and forth as if gauging their reactions then settled his gaze on Madeleine. "Your employer in Houston said you're an accomplished therapist with just the skills required by this patient."

Inspector Banderas nodded his head and stood. "Bueno. This is most fortunate." He tipped his head to Mr. Jamieson then bowed over Madeleine's hand. "Now…if you'll excuse me, there are other matters which require my attention."

"Wait!" Madeline bolted from her chair.

The inspector paused just inside the door with a polite expression of resignation on his face. "Senorita?"

Madeleine gaped. Why had she jumped out of her chair to lunge at a stranger?

The inspector appeared trustworthy, more than that, he'd proven himself trustworthy, like a security blanket, and Mr. Jamieson…She turned back to examine the smiling diplomat. He just seemed to want to be rid of her.

"Senorita, you have my number should you require anything else, but I trust that will not be necessary."

"Uh, right. Thank you…for all you've done."

"My pleasure. We are sorry your stay has ended in such a manner. I hope it improves."

He inclined his head and left.

Madeleine fell back in her chair. The Inspector might be satisfied, but Madeleine's mind whirled with questions. "Mr. Jamieson, you're aware that my luggage has flown to Texas, and I don't have even one change of clothing?"

"Don't give it another thought. I believe you'll have all the surgical wear…er, scrubs, that you'll need. You'll be staying in somewhat of a hospital, I take it. But there are recreation grounds…a pool. You might get in a little more sight-seeing." He gave her a glare. "As long as you stay to the main thoroughfares." His eyes softened, and he smiled. "Well, if that's it…"

"Just a moment. How long is it going to take to earn my passage home? I'll lose my job if I'm away too long."

"I believe your employer was paid a stipend for your services. If the patient responds to treatment immediately, your flight home will be assured, otherwise, you will receive your usual salary, plus a bonus until you can return home. But…it's hoped you'll remain until the patient has fully recovered. Now…"

He stood up. Clearly, he considered their interview at an end. "A car is waiting out front to take you to your new residence." He held out a small white card. "Do not hesitate to call upon me if you have further questions."

Madeleine smiled to herself. She may not have two pennies to rub together but now she had two business cards.
Whoopee.

She climbed down the stairs, instead of sliding down the banister as she was tempted, to find Miss Phipps and her wide, toothy smile.

"The limousine is just outside. Have a wonderful stay at The Institute. I here it's a fascinating place."

Fascinating. That could mean anything to quite a number of people.

Madeleine raised her hand to wave and stepped out the door past the armed presence on either side. Once again, the Marines stared forward, unblinking. Quite an impression of strength and safety. If anything went wrong, she'd be back.

A long, black Embassy car, flags waving on either side, eased up to the curb. Madeleine climbed in, and they whisked away to points unknown.

Did the patient live in Madrid? She hadn't thought to ask.

She knocked on the window that separated her from the driver, another young Marine. The glass lowered.

"Yes, Miss?"

"Where are we going?"

A grin lifted the corner of his mouth, but he showed no surprise. "To The Institute. On the outskirts of Madrid."

The Institute. Sounded like a loony bin. Were they sending her to an asylum?

She shrugged and sat back to enjoy her first ride in a limo.
Lord, I know there's a point to this. All things work together for the good of them that love the Lord, and you know I love you…right?

More than half an hour later, they pulled up to a guard shack nestled beside tall wrought iron gates. The driver announced her name, and the gate opened.

Madeleine leaned forward to peer around the broad Marine, but tall hedges blocked any view save the long winding drive.

After passing what seemed an eternity of perfectly-shaped hedges and a never-ending lawn, they reached an imposing colonial edifice, red brick and white pillars.

In large gold letters on a black sign, Madeleine read, 'The Institute of Resource and Technology.'

"Do tell," she muttered. "At least it's not a loony bin."

Her Marine hopped out to open her door and stand at attention.

Madeleine climbed out and walked toward the large double doors then looked back at him.

She caught a glimpse of his back-side as he marched back to the driver's side. So much for Semper Fi.

Madeleine raised the heavy brass knocker on the front door.

A voice boomed at her from a speaker on the side of the wall, and she jumped.

"Excuse me, Miss. Would you look at the camera over your head, please?"

Madeleine obliged.

"Now…what is your name and purpose at the Institute? Have you an appointment?"

This was ridiculous. Did they want her or not?

She rose to her full five and a half feet and glared at the camera. "Of course, I'm Madeleine Price from the American Embassy. I believe you required a speech therapist."

A click sounded as the door opened automatically. She walked through.

It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust to the change in light. A wide lobby lay before her, clean and austere, sterile even. White and chrome gleamed from the chairs and a sofa along the window. Never in all her days had she seen a sofa so white. How in the world did they keep it that way? Maybe no one ever sat on it.

Madeleine pulled at her last reserves of courage and strode to the reception desk, her sandaled heels clicking on the tiled floor. "Madeleine Price."

The receptionist beamed and ran slender fingers through her long black hair. "Good morning, Miss Price. Dr. Hanover will be with you shortly, if you'd like to take a seat."

Madeleine retreated to the white couch and stared. It certainly did appear as if no one had ever used it. Well, she was going to sit on it.

She plopped down like she owned the place and picked up a magazine. It was in French. She dropped it and picked up another. German.

At last, she found an English tabloid and began to read. The President of the United States urged Americans to take care overseas. They were primary targets for terrorists and other unsavory characters.

"You're a little late." Madeleine told his picture. She still had the bump on her head to prove it.

"I beg your pardon."

Madeleine dropped the magazine. "Oh, sorry. I didn't hear you come up." She stood and held out her hand. She felt as if she'd been doing it all day. "Madeleine Price."

At first glance, the man appeared elderly, due in part to his long, white clinical jacket and the thick beard covering the lower half of his face.

Madeleine peered at him. His unlined complexion and lack of gray hair told a different story.

"I'm Dr. Hanover," said the red-bristled caterpillar covering his upper lip. "Pleased to meet you. Would you come this way?"

Madeleine followed him down the long hallway to an elevator. He punched a button, and the elevator lurched upward. Dr. Hanover stood stiffly against the paneled wall, staring ahead.

"So…Dr. Hanover. Has the patient fully recovered from concussion? Have you done a Cat-Scan? Do you have any idea why he hasn't spoken?"

The doctor remained curiously quiet.

Madeleine pressed on. "How long ago was his accident? And what, specifically, happened to him?"

He gave her a blank look. "I'm sorry, Miss Price, but I'm not a physician. I'm a scientist. I really couldn't say what goes on his mind. He just stares into space. We've tried everything, or rather, the other therapists did."

Madeleine felt her stomach churn. "Other therapists? How many have there been? Couldn't they help him? How long has he been suffering from this…malady?"

"Please." He held out a hand. "I'll tell you what I can, but it's not much. There were two men, but their English was poor. They left. The accident occurred almost a month ago. He got a bump on the head, and there was a small fire…lots of smoke. When he woke up, he couldn't say a thing."

The elevator opened, and Dr. Hanover waited for her to exit before leading the way. He stopped at a door and opened it.

Madeleine looked up and down the corridor. Lined with doors, like a dormitory.

"Here you are."

She followed him, and he pointed at the hotel-sized closet just inside the door. "There are some scrubs in there, various sizes. We weren't sure..." He looked her up and down and coughed. "You have a private bath and…" He walked to a door and knocked. Then he opened it. "Steven?" He glanced at Madeleine. "A connecting door to Dr. Faraday's suite."