Captain Underwood pulled his car into the parking lot in front of the GRIL building. He had tried to call Marie’s office but the line was busy. Anyway he needed to talk to her face to face, both about the problem at hand, and to commiserate about her father’s death. The guard at the front door knew him by sight and waved him through as he walked toward the elevators.
Marie’s lab was on the third floor. She did not have a secretary, although she deserved one. During her years at GRIL she had refused all promotions. Working under and with her father had always been more important than extra money and privileges. Underwood opened the door of the lab. Stepping in the doorway he could hear the sobs coming from the office at the west end of the room. Through the glass door of the office he could see her with her head down on the desk.
“Marie, what’s wrong?”
She looked up at him, then lowered her head and wailed even harder.
He felt so helpless, watching her. “Marie, is there anything I can do? I know you’re upset about your father’s death, but I did the best I could to protect him.”
“It’s not my father. It’s my brother.”
“I didn’t know you had a brother. Your father never mentioned him.”
She seemed to be calmer now that she was talking. “My father never talks about him. Well, talked about him. He disowned my brother a long time ago because he disapproved of him.”
“Drugs?”
Marie looked insulted. “No. Mark was an athlete and took great care of his body.”
“In this day and age, if someone becomes persona non grata with their family, it’s almost always drugs, honesty, or sexual preference. I can’t envision anyone in your family stealing unless they were on drugs, so I assume your brother was gay.”
She smiled through her tears and moved a stray strand of hair from her face. “Brilliant deduction, Holmes.”
He caressed her cheek. “But I must admit I have trouble believing that that was the problem. Your father always seemed so understanding and patient with people.”
Marie made a face. “It’s always incredible how understanding people can be until it affects them directly. My brother was a world class athlete and academically he was top in his class at Dartmouth his freshman year. My father doted on him and bragged incessantly. Mark was much older than I, so this was eighteen years ago.”
Suddenly the name rang a bell. “Wait a minute. Is your brother Mark Bell, the all-state fullback?”
Marie nodded as she made an attempt to smooth her lab coat. “Mark was all-everything during high school. Football, basketball, track. There wasn’t a sport he didn’t excel in. Add to that a 97 average in his academic classes. Every college this side of the Rockies was after him.
Jim nodded. “I still remember the uproar that year. I was just a freshman on the junior varsity football team, but I recall the circus-like atmosphere the fall of his senior year. You couldn’t walk five feet without tripping over a recruiter. He led our varsity to a perfect record that year.”
It was Marie’s turn to nod. “Things were fine until the summer after Mark’s freshman year of college, when he ‘came out of the closet.’ My father was the typical parent, living out his boyhood fantasies with his son’s body. Every award, every trophy was something to brag about.”
“I never made the connection between Mark and you back then. He was a teenage idol and you were just a skinny little kid. No offense.”
Another little smile tried to break through. “None taken. He just couldn’t comprehend that my brother didn’t choose his life style; he fought it all the way. But eventually he had to accept himself, and he hoped my father could accept the facts too. Fat chance. Father threw Mark out of the house ‘until he came to his senses.’ From that day on they never said a single word to each other.”
The tears had stopped but Jim could sense the girl was still on the verge. “A tragic and all too common tale, but why the tears today? Did your brother just find out about your father’s death?”
Marie’s voice shook as she replied. “No, he was at the funeral. You see, about six months ago he tested positive for the HIV virus. For the past two months he has had bout after bout of flu and other illnesses He’s survived pneumonia twice. It was just a matter of time.” Her voice broke as she continued, “That’s why I did it.”
“Did what? Called your brother and got him to come to the funeral?” He put his hand on top of hers. “I don’t think anyone would blame you for that.”
She started to wail again. “No, not that. He came for the funeral. That’s when I did it. I gave him the blood. I injected him with Patrick’s blood!”
It took a few seconds for the enormity of her statement to register. He shook his head to clear it, then said in astonishment, “You injected your brother with Patrick’s blood? Don’t you realize what that would do to him?”
“He was dying! His immunity was gone and I didn’t know what else to do. You know what AIDS is like. All of the body’s defenses collapse and the sufferer finally dies, not of AIDS, but usually of pneumonia. One bacteria cell or virus and it spreads like wildfire, and there is nothing to stop the process. Oh sure, the doctors can stop the first infections by pumping the body full of antitoxins and antibodies from someone else’s body. But having AIDS is like playing Russian roulette. If the first round doesn’t get you, sooner or later your luck is going to run out. The last time I saw Mark he was a strong healthy athlete. When he came off the plane at the airport, I didn’t even recognize him. Can you believe that? I didn’t even recognize my own brother. You saw him at the funeral. That incredible athlete could barely stand up by himself. My brother was dying, and I had in my hands something that would let him live.”
The captain looked grim and his finger went to work, “So we have another potential killer on our hands.”
New tears began to stream down her face, “No. That’s why I’m so upset. It didn’t work. Instead of saving his life, it ended it. My brother is dead, Jim.”
A cock of his head. “I don’t understand. The blood poisoned him?”
“No, but it killed him just the same. See, when I gave him the blood it seemed to have an effect at once. He felt stronger. By the next morning he looked like he did a year ago; strong, healthy, vibrant. I did a blood study and found that the white blood cells had all been replaced with the super leukocytes. The following day he felt so good he went to the gym for the first time in two years. Before the blood he could barely get out of bed. Within two days he was bench pressing two hundred fifty pounds. It was a miracle.”
As she talked about his recovery, her strength began to come back too. But just as quickly she grew quiet again. “After work last night, the third day, I stopped by his motel. He looked normal, but complained he was a little tired. I took a blood sample and took it to the lab. When I examined it I couldn’t believe what I saw. The leukocytes were turning into cannibals. No longer were they attacking foreign bodies. They were killing each other.”
She paused to let her words sink in, and continued. “When these super white cells began to multiply in the body, they not only wiped out the disease organism, they wiped out the normal white blood cells and other helpful bodies in the blood. With the super cells being consumed, there were no other defenses for his body.”
“When I went to my brother’s room this morning he couldn’t even get out of bed. The super leukocytes had destroyed each other. But it left him powerless against even the smallest germ. Overnight he had developed severe pneumonia. There was nothing to be done. By eleven he lapsed into a coma, and died before noon. And it was my fault.”
“Your brother had AIDS. How could it be your fault?”
“I gave him the blood. If I hadn’t, he would still be alive.”
Underwood reached over and pulled her to him. “But for how long? You may have shortened his time, but he’s been under a death sentence for quite a while. You know that. And you knew that this blood was a chance to lift that sentence. It was a gamble. You knew that and so did your brother. He was aware of the risks and agreed to take them because the alternative was a slower lingering death. He knew that either way it turned out he would be spared a lot of suffering.”
Jim continued, “I’m saddened by your loss, and it would be wonderful to know that AIDS could be cured. But at what cost? Each of the recipients of the blood would be turned into involuntary killers, preying on the rest of us.”
“Deep down I guess I do understand that, Jim. But it’s hard to know that you failed.”
“You didn’t fail. Someone was bound to make this attempt and you saved us the time and expense of the research.” His finger started doing circles in her hair, as an idea began to form in his head. “Besides, you may have found a weapon that can be used against them.”
The long black car pulled up in front of the Chatham County Courthouse on Liberty Street. The driver came around and opened the door for his passenger. Senator Maggie O’Mullens climbed out and greeted her aide who was hurrying to her side. Together they began to climb the courthouse steps. Two men, obvious plainclothes policemen, moved in on each side of the two and, with a few words, ushered them into a small office on the first floor, where Captain Underwood and another somber-looking man sat at a large conference table.
“What is the meaning of this?” Senator O’Mullens was not accustomed to someone else giving the orders.
“Thank you for coming, Senator. We won’t take up much of your time. I assume that your assistant is aware of the situation as it stands? May I speak freely?”
“State your business and be quick about it. I have a busy day planned and need to get a lot of work done before leaving town tomorrow.”
Captain Underwood was all diplomacy this morning. “Certainly, Senator. We don’t wish to waste any of your time. If you would be so kind as to roll up your sleeve and let Doctor Wright take a sample of your blood, you will be able to get on your way.”
“My blood? Why should I agree to this outrage? What if I refuse?”
“Should you say no, we have the authority to hold you here long enough for Lieutenant Jones here to go up to Judge Adler’s chambers and get a court order. In the meantime there would be enough of an outcry to alert the reporters in the building that there is probably a good story in here somewhere, and you know that once they start digging, they won’t quit until they have the whole story.
O’Mullens fairly screamed at her adversary. “You bastard! I should have known you wouldn’t leave me alone. I should just tell you to go to hell and let you spill the story. I can survive the publicity.”
“Very true. I have proof that you tried to kill me, but you could probably get off with a plea to aggravated assault, and the judge would undoubtedly give you a suspended sentence. But if the situation becomes public, your political life is finished. If they don’t throw you out of office, your effectiveness will have been destroyed, and the Foundation loses a valuable tool.”
Captain Underwood paused, then continued in a soft tone. “But Senator, I am not here to blackmail you, and I give you my word that this will be the last time I will ever approach you. We wish to know more about your ‘friends’, and we require a sample of blood to study. Unfortunately, you are the only one of the Chosen we know. We would be glad to get the sample from another. Just give us the names of some of the others and we will be glad to get in touch with them with our requests.”
The Senator sneered, “You son of a . . . You know what would happen to me if you informed anyone of my giving you even one member of our group. Never mind.” She was enough of a politician to know when she couldn’t win, and rolled up her sleeve. “Take your damn sample and get the hell out of my sight.”
The doctor worked swiftly to fill the syringe with her blood before she changed her mind. The three officers got to their feet and headed for the door.
“Underwood.”
Captain Underwood turned and studied the grim look on the Senator’s face.
“You know this isn’t over yet, don’t you?”
With that implied threat dangling in the air between them, the men walked out of the office door.
Two days later on Friday morning, Captain Underwood was sitting at his desk trying to make a dent in the huge stack of papers in his IN basket when John Hurst stuck his head through the door. “Got a minute, Captain?”
“Hey, John. Sure, come on in.” Secretly relieved to put the drudgery of paperwork aside, even for a few minutes, Jim motioned him to a chair.
John and his partner, Don Hamilton, came through the door and plopped down on the dilapidated sofa covering one wall of the small office. Their feet automatically came up and banged down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The captain had never been one for formality. Underwood finished signing the paper he had been working on, threw it into the OUT basket and turned to face the pair of detectives. “What ya got, guys?”
Hamilton flipped open his notebook and scanned the information. “We followed that old vampire broad to the airport this morning and watched her take off at 8:35. I called a friend on the force in Chicago and he verified that this conference is taking place at the Hyatt. He’s doing another background check on the group that’s sponsoring the conference. He should have more information this afternoon when he calls back to verify that the senator arrived.
“Did she seem okay? I mean did she seem to be coming down with anything? A runny nose? A cough?”
“Nah, she seemed in great health for a middle-aged blood-sucking elfette. Besides I thought that part of their power was that they never get sick.” Hamilton looked at his partner and back at Underwood with eyebrows raised. “Anything you want to share with us?”
The Captain shook his head and his finger started playing a tune. “Not unless it works. And if it does work, you’ll know it without my having to tell you.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Time will tell. Anything else new on the senator? More importantly, anything new on her buddy with the shotgun?”
Hurst scowled. “Nothing. We had the photos printed and run through the computer, but came up with zilch. We also lifted a couple of prints from the senator’s car. Same result. The guy apparently does not exist. No driver’s license or fingerprints on file anywhere. Either he’s an illegal in this country, or someone has done some file editing somewhere. With this group, I wouldn’t put it past them. They seem to have tendrils everywhere.”
Hamilton looked at his partner with exaggerated awe on his face. “Tendrils? Tendrils? I’m working with a man who uses words like tendrils? How can I take him into polite company?”
Underwood smiled for the first time in days. “Get your butts out of here so I can get back to work. How am I supposed to do paperwork with a smile on my face? Someone might mistake me for the mayor.”
Hamilton was still talking as they walked through the corridor. “Yeah, he’d probably go up to the mayor and grab him by the tendrils. Boy would that be a sight. The mayor’s tendrils hanging out for all the world to see. Man, wouldn’t I’d love to see him . . .”
Captain Underwood shook his head. Hamilton played the dumb cop so well, it was easy to forget he had a doctorate from Georgia Tech. His conviction rate was one of the highest in the state, partly because he played the dumb redneck hick part so well, but mostly because he had a knack for putting the pieces together. The captain got back to work.
The day drifted along with lots of routine annoyances interspersed with more serious matters but nothing out of the ordinary for a police station. Sargent Kerne brought in a limping man with one arm in a sling and bandages cover most of his nose and face. The man had been a suspect in a series of purse snatchings around the mall. His system of lightning quick snatches and changing his shirt as quickly as possible had worked to perfection so far. This time it seemed he was loitering around the back door of the mall as an elderly woman came out of Belks. As the little old lady neared him, he turned to her, grabbed her purse and spun around to make his getaway. Unfortunately his system caused him to forget one small item - his stupidity. As he turned to flee he took one step and smashed face first into a light pole that he hadn’t noticed. His other injuries were incurred as the little old lady proceeded to stomp the stuffing out of the unconscious man and beat him with her umbrella. Mall security had to pull her off, as other bystanders stood by and laughed.
Most of the matters didn’t require the captain’s intervention, so he was able to make quite a dent in the paperwork, but he knew the pile would be just as high the next day. He looked down at his watch and discovered it was already six o’clock. Suddenly he realized he had promised to meet his ex-wife for dinner. Another glance at his watch told him he still had time to get there if he hurried. A quick stop at the dispatcher’s desk to give her a phone number where he could be reached, and he was down the elevator and out to the parking lot.
A typically hot, humid evening in summertime Savannah, the parking lot sweltered with the heat. Underwood moved quickly toward his car and the air conditioned relief it promised. A glint of light from the roof across the street failed to register, but when it seemed to shift position, an alarm went off in his head. He dropped to a crouch, just as the windshield behind him erupted in a shower of glass. Two more shots slammed into the body of the car as the Captain flattened himself behind the vehicle.
Uniformed officers began exploding out the doors, guns readied, with all eyes searching for the shooter. Underwood pointed toward the spot where the flash of light had come, and officers moved cautiously in that direction.
A few minutes later, with no more shots fired, officers reached the roof and signaled that it was empty. Lieutenant Morris ran up as Underwood got to his feet, “Captain, Bradley and Waters were the first on the roof. They report that they found the rifle and two expended shells, but no sign of the shooter.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Underwood calmly walked the two spaces to his car, brushing off his clothes as he walked. Unlocking the car, he reached in and got his phone to call his secretary, “Martha, have my wife paged at the number I just gave you. Apologize for me and say I was detained. Ask her if we can do it tomorrow night. She’s used to it. She has probably been expecting some excuse anyway.”
An hour later, Captain Underwood pulled into the GRIL parking lot. Walking to Marie’s lab, he found her bending over a microscope, examining a fiber sample that was evidence in a coed strangling at East Georgia University. She looked up and smiled as he neared. “Jim, it’s so nice to see you.”
“Are you feeling any better?”
“Much better, thank you. I know there was nothing I could have done or would have done differently, but the guilt lingers anyway. You understand about lingering guilt, don’t you?”
Underwood thought about his ex-wife and the innumerable nights she spent waiting for him to show up and didn’t, like lunch today. “Absolutely. It sticks to you like glue.” The guilt stayed with him even now, but a policeman’s job was important and had to come first. He knew he wouldn’t have changed it even if he could. A policeman who doesn’t put the job first is a policeman who isn’t there when you need him.
She took his hand. “You look exhausted. Have you had dinner?”
“Well, no. I was supposed to, but something came up.” He didn’t want to go into details.
Marie nodded. “I know. Me too. Always the job. Well, I have the same excuse, but today we’re going to ignore the job for an hour and eat a slow relaxing supper at the best place in town.”
He smiled. “Where are you taking me?”
Her big eyes got even bigger as she grinned. “Why, right here, Captain.” She walked over to the refrigerator in the corner and opened it. A large sheep’s head filled most of the interior. As she reached for it, Jim grimaced. His eyes widened as she pushed something in the ear and the head split in two to reveal a six pack of beer. Marie turned to him and smirked. “A legacy of my father. He loved to have a beer with his lunch, but knew the taxpayers would frown on finding his stash, so he had this made. Most people who open the fridge close it in a flash. He could put the Crown Jewels behind it and they would be safer than they are now. Even in our department, almost no one has ever realized it’s a fake.” She took two bottles out of the case, snapped the case back together, grabbed a bag from behind it and closed the refrigerator door.
Leading him to two stools at her lab table, she opened the bag to reveal fried chicken and biscuits. “I usually keep some food in here, because I never know when I’m going to need to spend an all-nighter over some case or another.” Her eyes twinkled. “You know how those policemen are when they want results. They want them yesterday, if not sooner.”
He smiled back. “Yeah, I know how those policemen are, but it’s usually because the mayor and the victims want justice yesterday, if not sooner. Although I agree that the police department could sometimes be more gracious for the wonderful work that your agency does to help us.”
He turned serious. “But that’s not what I came here to say. There’s a group of people out there that are trying to remove anything and anybody that can prove that the Chosen exist. You and I are the last two people left that have seen the interview with Patrick, and you helped your father with the autopsy. They’ve tried several times to kill me. I’m afraid you might be next.”
She turned her beautiful emerald eyes toward him. “I promise to be careful.”
“I want to assign an officer to stay with you, at least through this weekend.”
“Why? Is something going on this weekend?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll rest easier if you have someone keeping an eye on you.”
She reached out and put her hand on his. “I know you’re worried, but I’ll be fine. I’ll tell you what. Suppose I stay here over the weekend. Lord knows I was probably going to be here all weekend anyway. I’ve got to finish the Sampson case. You remember that case? Sampson is the guy whose story is that he was walking near the Oglethorpe Mall late at night when this masked guy confronted him and demanded his money. Sampson claims he killed the man in self-defense, but I found that the dead man couldn’t have tied the mask on the way he was found. The knot was inconsistent with the way someone would tie a knot behind their back. I’m trying to prove that it had to be tied from above as he was lying on the ground. Because the mask was made of satin, we are looking for latent prints. We have at least three prints now, but we haven’t had confirmation yet as to their identity. If we can link Sampson to any fingerprints on the mask, his claim of self-defense can’t possibly stand up in court.”
Underwood nodded. He remembered the case. The detective investigating the case had smelled a rat early on, but had no proof. He would be pleased to find out his instincts were still sound.
Marie continued. “Besides there are several other cases I need to catch up on. It’s not as if this is the first time I’ve been here days at a time. Why when Dad was here, we once . . .”
Her voice faltered and broke. Her father’s death was still too fresh in her mind to talk about him. Underwood reached over, gathered her into his arms and held her.
In a few minutes she calmed down and tried to compose herself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t let it get to me, but once in a while . . .”
“Don’t be silly! Your father and brother dead within days of each other. Anyone else would be flat on their back. I’m the one who should apologize. I haven’t had much time to check on you since your brother’s death. I’m truly amazed that you are doing so well most of the time.”
“I’m not doing that well. The guilt drives me crazy sometimes. They made me Acting Director yesterday, did you know that? I feel like one of those princes that assassinate their fathers to gain the throne.”
“You have no reason to think that. Your father’s death was a calamity, but they needed the best person they could find to take over for him. You were the logical choice. Your record speaks for itself in terms of the brilliant discoveries you have made in the last five years. Just off the top of my head, I can name six cases that we wouldn’t have solved without your expertise. And the fact that you know your father’s policies and his entire staff didn’t hurt your case either. Finally add the fact that virtually every person that works here individually called the mayor and requested that you be named and there was never any question of who would ‘ascend to the throne’ as you want to call it.”
With each tally, Marie’s head rose a little, and a smile began to grow. By the time he finished, she was positively beaming. “And how do you know all this, sir?”
A shrug of the shoulders. “Well, it seems the mayor called me the other day. He had been inundated with calls about you and wanted to end the interruptions by appointing you. However he wanted to get my approval first, since I am the head of the Police Department, and I might have to spend hours working with you on various cases.”