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26
Janice Saberhagen, RN, had not had a moment to herself all day, and she desperately needed to make that phone call. But she needed privacy for that, and there hadn’t been any, not since she came in this morning at 7 a.m. First Mrs. Muller had wandered off into the woods surrounding the facility, and then Mr. Gomez had gone into cardiac arrest, and suddenly there were no sterile latex gloves to be had—and it all fell on Janice to make things right, because the administration was so damn cheap they only had one RN on this shift—her. So Janice had been running through the whole facility just about nonstop, and her feet were killing her. It was the new shoes—she knew better, but they’d looked so cute when she tried them on.
Janice bought the shoes, and she wore them to work. It was stupid, an impulse buy, just like every other time she bought something stupid. Which, to be honest, was way too often, and the main reason she was in so much trouble right now. If anybody found out about the money she’d taken from petty cash—
But come on, nobody had discovered it so far, and now they never would, because she could replace it. Right after she made this phone call, her money problems were going to be over. At least for now. And she’d promised herself she’d be more careful about money in the future. Really, this time she meant it.
So Janice had been looking to find two seconds without a crisis when she could slip away and make the call—and finally, at almost 10:30, the moment came, and Janice walked briskly toward the staircase, her pace saying she was on another lifesaving errand. She made a hurried stop in the staff room and grabbed her purse. Then she strode off down the hall and took the stairs to the basement. There was nothing down there but some old furniture, the furnace, and the laundry room at one end. As long as nobody was washing sheets or something, it was the perfect place.
Janice stepped out into the basement and looked around cautiously. Nobody else in sight. Good. She took out her phone and then fumbled out the scrap of paper with the number on it. She dialed rapidly, got a digit wrong, and cleared it. She took a breath, steadied herself, and dialed again—carefully this time. It rang four times, and then she heard somebody click on.
“Yes?” The voice sounded weird, alien. It was obviously going through one of those electronic things that change your voice. Janice didn’t care. As long as the money came through, it could be Darth Vader on the other end for all she cared.
“It’s, um, Janice,” she said. “At Creedmore?”
“I know who you are,” the voice said. Coming through the voice-disguise thing it sounded really sinister, and Janice shivered.
“You said—you told me—” She paused and took a breath. “Somebody called. About—what you said. They asked about all the meds you named? And then they asked for directions to get here? So I t
hink—”
“When did they call?” It was a demand that she was sure would have sounded harsh even in a natural voice.
“It—they, uh . . . Last night? But I wasn’t here, at work, so I just found out this morning and I—”
“All right,” the voice growled. “Did they say who they were?”
“FBI,” Janice said in an awed whisper, and she shivered again. If she was doing something wrong, and the FBI was involved—but she didn’t know it was wrong, not really, and there was nothing she could tell anybody about who this person was on the other end of the phone, and she really, truly, swear-to-God needed that money, so—
“Good,” the voice said. “You’ve done well.” It sounded kind of like from a movie the way he said it, and with that creepy voice, but it made her feel a little better about the whole thing—like she was part of some story.
“I just, I’m sorry that—thank you,” she said. “Um—is it—will, will you . . .”
The voice chuckled, and the sound of it coming through that voice thing was the creepiest thing yet. “I have just wired the money to your account,” it said. “Let me know if there’s anything else.”
“I will, I promise, and I . . .” Janice stopped talking, because the line had gone dead. “Thank you,” she said anyway.
Then she put the phone in her purse and trudged back up the stairs to work.
27
Arthur Kondor was only scary when he wanted to be. It was true that he was well over six feet tall and broad-shouldered; it was also true that beneath his dark unibrow his face showed a number of scars that were almost certainly inflicted by knives and other dangerous weapons. But because Arthur was aware of what he looked like, he had cultivated a very mild neutral expression that he deployed in daily life.
He was showing this mild expression now, to Dr. Hannah Keller, who had been summoned when Arthur and his helpers had arrived at Creedmore Extended Care Facility. Dr. Keller did not like being summoned. She was the only MD on the premises right now, and her purely medical duties were many and vital. But this—Mrs. Cleaver was a special patient, in a persistent vegetative state, and she could not simply be moved around like a sack of potatoes—no matter how much her behavior resembled said sack.
So she scanned the documents Arthur Kondor had presented with a certain amount of care. They seemed in order, but . . . “Where are you taking her?” she said, looking up at the hulking figure who waited patiently in front of her.
Arthur smiled. “I am not permitted to say,” he said.
Dr. Keller frowned. “What kind of transport?”
Arthur handed her another document. “A licensed medical transport vehicle,” he said. “Fully equipped and custom fitted to care for Mrs. Cleaver.”
Dr. Keller, still frowning, looked at this new paper. It stated that the vehicle was indeed equipped with all the vital medical equipment and supplies necessary to maintain Mrs. Cleaver in transit, and that an RN was in attendance. It stated further that the vehicle was the property of Greeley Medical Transport, Inc., which assumed full responsibility for the patient in transit.
“It all seems in order,” Dr. Keller said, but she still hesitated. “But . . .”
A large and exceedingly scarred hand plucked the papers from Dr. Keller’s grasp. Startled, she looked up. The formerly mild face was no longer so friendly. For the first time, Dr. Keller noticed how cold the blue eyes were. “We need to leave,” Arthur said. His voice was neither loud nor threatening, but even so, Dr. Keller felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck. “I have instructions. We need to leave now,” Arthur said.
