If she was put off by his sarcasm, the woman didn’t show it. That actually impressed Web.
“All right, in your mind’s eye, picture the little boy. Do you remember any better exactly what he said?”
“Is that really important?”
“At this stage we really don’t know what’s important and what’s not.”
Web sighed heavily and said, “Okay. I saw the kid. He looked at us. He said . . .” Web stopped here because he could see Kevin
clearly in his mind. The bullet hole in his cheek, the slash across his forehead, he was a little wreck of a kid who had obviously
already lived a long, crappy life. “He said . . . he said, ‘Damn to hell,’ that’s what he said.” He looked at her excitedly.
“That’s it. Oh, and then he laughed. I mean, this really weird laugh, like a cackle, really.”
“At which part did you feel affected?”
Web thought about this. “I’d have to say when he first spoke. I mean, it was like this fog pushed into my brain.” Web added,
“‘Damn to hell,’ that’s exactly what he said. It’s happening again, I can feel my fingers tingling. This is nuts.”
Claire wrote some notes down and then looked at him. “That’s pretty unusual for a young boy to use that phraseology, especially
from the inner city. Certainly ‘damn’ and ‘hell’ would be used, but ‘damn to hell’? I mean, it sounds sort of archaic, like
from another era. Maybe Puritanical, fire and brimstone. What do you think about that?”
“To me it sounds like from the Civil War or around that time, actually,” said Web.
“It’s all very strange.”
“Trust me, Claire, the whole night was strange.”
“Did you feel anything else?”
Web thought hard. “We were waiting for final orders to hit the target. Then we got them.” He shook his head. “As soon as I
heard the orders in my earpiece, I froze. It was immediate. You remember I was telling you about the Taser guns we messed
around with at HRT?” She nodded. “Well, it was like I’d been hit with one of those electrified darts. I couldn’t move.”
“Could someone have actually shot you with a Taser gun in the alley? Could that be why you froze?”
“Impossible. No one was that close, and the dart wouldn’t have penetrated my Kevlar. And last but not least, the thing would’ve
still been sticking in me, right?”
“Right.” Claire made more notes and said, “Now, you stated before that even though you froze, you were able to actually get
up and move into the courtyard.”
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, Claire. It was like I weighed two thousand pounds, nothing on me was
working right. And it finally won and I just fell and stayed there. And then the guns started up.”
“When did you start to recover?”
Web thought about this. “It felt like years where I couldn’t move. But it wasn’t all that long. Right when the guns started
firing, I felt everything start to come back. I could move my arms and legs, and they were burning like hell, like when your
arm or leg falls asleep and the circulation starts going again? That’s what my limbs felt like. And it wasn’t like I needed
them at that point, I pretty much had nowhere to go.”
“So it just came back on its own? You don’t remember doing something that might have paralyzed you? Maybe a back problem suffered
in training? Have you ever had any nerve damage? That could immobilize you too.”
“Nothing like that. If you’re not in top-notch condition, you don’t go on an operation.”
“So you heard the guns firing and the feeling started to come back to your body?”
“Yes.”
“Anything else?”
“The kid, I’d seen a million just like him. And yet he seemed different. I couldn’t get him out of my head. It wasn’t just
that he’d been shot, I’ve seen kids like that too. I don’t know. While the guns were firing I saw him again. He was crouched
down next to the alley. Another step and he’d have been cut in half. I screamed for him to get back. I belly-crawled over
to him. I could tell he was scared to death. He heard Hotel Team coming from one end, me from the other, these damn guns firing.
And I could tell he was going to run for it, across the courtyard, and that’d be it. I just couldn’t let that happen, Claire.
So many people had already died that night. He jumped and I jumped and I caught him, got him calmed down because he was yelling
that he hadn’t done anything, and of course when a kid says that you know he’s hiding something.
“Like I said, I got him calmed down. He asked if my team was dead and I told him yes. I gave him the note and my cap and shot
the flare. I knew that was the only way Hotel wouldn’t kill him coming at them in the dark. I just didn’t want him to die,
Claire.”
“It must have been an awful night for you, but, Web, you should feel good about saving him.”
“Should I? What did I save him for? To go back to the streets? See, this is a special little kid. He’s got a brother named
Big F who runs one of the local drug ops. He’s bad news.”
“So maybe all this could involve some of this Big F person’s enemies?”
“Maybe.” He paused and decided whether to reveal this or not. “Somebody switched kids. In the alley.”
“Switched kids? What do you mean?”
“I mean the Kevin Westbrook that I saved in that alley was not the boy that delivered the note to Hotel Team. And the little
boy that disappeared from the crime scene was not the Kevin Westbrook I saved.”
“Why would somebody do that?”
“That’s the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, and it’s driving me nuts. What I do know is I saved Kevin Westbrook’s butt
in that courtyard and the kid he was switched for told Hotel Team that I was this big coward. Why would he do that?”
“Sounds like he was almost trying to intentionally discredit you.”
“A kid I didn’t even know?” Web shook his head. “Somebody
was
trying to make me look bad, that’s for sure, and must have told the kid just what to say. And then they waltzed right in
and waltzed out with the fake kid. He’s probably dead. Hell, Kevin’s probably dead.”
“Sounds like somebody put a lot of planning into this,” said Claire.
“And I’d love to know why.”
“We can only try, Web. I can help you with some of it, but the investigation part is way out of my bailiwick.”
“It actually may be out of my league too. I haven’t really been doing much detecting over the last eight years.” He played
with a ring on his finger. “O’Bannon gave me a little pep talk on combat syndrome when I came into the office this morning.”
Claire hiked her eyebrows. “Oh, did he? His Vietnam angle?” She seemed to be trying hard not to smile.
“I didn’t think it was the first time he’d used that line. But is that what you think it is—I mean, despite this other stuff
with the kid?”
“I can’t tell you that, Web, not yet.”
“See, I know soldiers get that way. Folks shooting at them and they freak. Everybody can understand that.”
She eyed him closely. “But?”
He started talking very quickly. “But most soldiers get a little boot camp and then they’re thrown into the firestorm. They
know
nothing
about killing somebody. They know nothing about what it’s like to be in the line of fire for real. Me, I’ve trained most
of my adult life to do this job. I’ve had stuff coming at me that you wouldn’t believe, Claire. From machine gun fire to frigging
mortar rounds that if they hit me there’d be nothing left of me. I’ve managed to kill men with most of the blood in my body
pooling on the floor. And never once, not one damn time, did I ever lose it like I did that night. And there hadn’t even been
one damn shot fired at that point. Tell me, how the hell is that possible?”
“Web, I know that you’re looking for answers. We have to keep plugging. But I can tell you that when we’re dealing with the
mind, anything is possible.”
He stared at her, shaking his head and wondering where the hell he could get off whatever road he was on. “Well, Doc, that’s
not a whole lot of help, is it? How much is the Bureau paying you to tell me nothing?” He abruptly got up and left.
Once again Claire didn’t try and stop him, not that she could have. She had had patients walk out on her before, although
never during their first two sessions. Claire settled back in her chair and started going over notes and then picked up a
recorder and started dictating.
Unknown to Claire, hidden in the smoke detector attached to the ceiling was a sophisticated listening device that ran off
the building’s electrical current and also had a battery backup. Every psychiatrist and psychologist who worked here had a
similar listening device secretly housed in his office. The phone closet in the office housed additional electronic taps,
one of which had broken down, prompting the “repairman’s” visit that morning.
These prying ears had swept up enormous amounts of intelligence on every patient who had come through the doors. Over the
last year over one hundred FBI agents from all divisions, including undercover, Public Corruption, WFO, uptown and HRT, and
over twenty spouses of those personnel, had come here expecting the utmost confidentiality as they revealed their secrets
and problems. They had received anything but that.
As soon as Web stormed out of the office, Ed O’Bannon slipped out as well, rode the elevator down to the garage, climbed in
his brand-new Audi coupe and drove off. He picked up his cell phone and punched in a number. It took a few rings, but the
phone was finally answered.
“Is this a good time?” he asked anxiously.
The party on the other end answered that it was as good as any if the conversation was short and to the point.
“London came here today.”
“So I heard,” said the voice. “My guy was there to repair a glitch. So how’s it going with old Web?”
O’Bannon swallowed nervously. “He’s seeing another psychiatrist.” He quickly added, “I tried my best to stop it, but no go.”
O’Bannon had to hold the phone away from his ear, so loud and angry was the response from the other person.
“Listen, it’s not what I intended,” said O’Bannon. “I couldn’t believe he would actually see another psychiatrist. It came
out of the blue. . . . What? Her name is Claire Daniels. She used to work for me. She’s been here for years, very competent.
Under other circumstances there wouldn’t be a problem. I couldn’t make too much of a stink without them getting suspicious.”
The other person made a suggestion that caused O’Bannon to tremble. He pulled the car off the road. “No, killing her would
only arouse suspicion. I know London. Too well, maybe. He’s smart. If anything happens to Claire, he’ll latch on to that and
never let it go. That’s just how he is. Trust me, I’ve worked with the man a long time. Remember, that’s why you hired me.”
“But that’s not the only reason why,” said the other person. “And we pay you well, Ed. Real well. And I don’t like it one
bit that he’s seeing this Daniels chick.”
“I’ve got it under control. If I know London, he’ll come a few times and then blow the rest of it off. But if anything else
comes of it, we’ll know it. I’ll keep on top of it.”
“You better,” said the other. “And the second you no longer have it under control is the time we step in.” The line went dead
and O’Bannon, looking very distraught, pulled back on the road and drove off.
W
eb had spent considerable time in the Vic cruising the streets near where the slaughter had taken place. He was on unpaid
leave and not part of the official investigation. Thus he could request no backup, should he need it, nor did he have a clear
idea of what he was looking for. The darkness of the streets was broken by the uniform glare of traffic lights. There were
cameras at many of these intersections ostensibly to photograph drivers who ran red lights. However, Web thought they actually
might be serving the dual purpose of surveillance devices in these high crime areas. He had to appreciate the ingenuity of
the local criminals, though, because many of the cameras had been knocked out of their viewing lanes. Some pointed to the
sky, others to the earth, a few at buildings, still others had been smashed. Well, so much for Big Brother.
Web kept checking messages at home. No more wives had called. Cynde and Debbie had probably worked the grapevine, informed
the others that they had done the dirty work of getting him clear of all their lives. Web could almost hear the ladies’ collective
sigh.
Web had finally made another appointment to see Claire. She did not mention his parting insult and second abrupt exit from
her office. She merely noted the time and said that she would see him then. The woman must have a really thick skin, he thought.
There were several other people in the waiting room when Web got there. None of them made eye contact and Web attempted none.
He supposed that’s the way it was in a shrink’s waiting room. Who wanted strangers to see you attending to your insanity?
Claire came out and got him with a reassuring smile and handed him a fresh cup of coffee, the cream and sugar already in it,
just like he liked it. They settled in her office.
Web slid a hand through his hair. “Look, Claire, I’m sorry about last time. I’m not usually that big a jerk. I know you’re
just trying to help and I know none of this is easy to figure out.”
“Don’t apologize for doing exactly what you should be doing, Web, which is getting all these thoughts and feelings out in
the open so that you can deal with them.”
He gave her a weak smile and said, “So where to today, Doc? Mars or Venus?”
“To start off with let’s explore post-traumatic stress disorder and really see if it applies to your case.”
Web inwardly smiled. Now, this he could handle. “Like shell shock?”
“That term is very often misused, and I want to get a little more precise. Now, clinically speaking, you have probably suffered
traumatic stress with the events that transpired in that courtyard.”
“I’d probably agree with that.”
“Well, let’s test that conclusion. If that is the diagnosis, then there are several proven methods of coping with it, including
stress management techniques, proper nutrition and sleep patterns, relaxation drills, cognitive reframing and prescription
anxiolytic medications.”