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"Can you wake him?" I asked.
"I could try, but I'm guessing this type of exhaustion is hard to chemically combat. Time works in mysterious ways, Doctor."
I nodded my head. Leaning against a set of cabinets, I crossed my arms over my chest and watched the medic work.
"What did you see in there, Jones?"
"In the Orion?" I nodded. "Wylde was conscious, if that's what you're asking."
"I'd assumed so; you didn't bring her here with Bryan."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence in my duty of care, but Anderson wasn't letting your girl go anywhere. Conscious or unconscious, he was like a dog with a bone. No stopping him once he got started."
A cold chill washed down my spine.
"Got started?" I queried. "You mean the interrogation?"
"Interrogation. Yeah, that's what you'd call it. Guilty until proven innocent. Isn't that how it goes? He wanted Mouse to admit to something, and he wasn't going to stop until she did."
That chill became ice, encasing my heart.
"What did he want to know?" I asked.
"Didn't stick around long enough to find out, sorry. Anderson chucked me out of there when I tried to help your girl. He didn't even recognise Sergei Ivanov and wouldn't let Mouse get a gander at the git so she could, either. She couldn't remember what had happened at first and Anderson was making sure she wasn't going to have any visual clues to help her."
That son of a bitch. I wanted to pummel him.
"Was she hurt?"
"Minor concussion, cracked radius and ulna, some bruising. Nothing serious. I did suggest to Anderson that she needed a stint in here, so I expect she'll be along shortly."
"Mind if I wait here?"
The medic's eyes met mine. "As far as I'm concerned, Dr Evans, with Dr Crawford gone, you are the Chief Surgeon and allowed to go anywhere you bloody well like in this building."
"Thank you," I said, bemused at his vehemence.
"We're a family," he went on. "We stick together and we look out for each other. If I could have got Mouse away from that bastard, I would have. At least, I left Anderson with his unconscious sidekicks to remind him how good we are here at RATS at dealing out punches."
"His unconscious sidekicks?"
"Oh, didn't you know? Orion 2b's overseer and its assigned security guard were knocked unconscious and secured with handcuffs. Whatever Fawkes and Wylde got up to in 1966, it involved a fair bit of arse-kicking."
I had to stifle a grunt of amused satisfaction at that. Bryan and Mimi had taken out Black and his goon and then gone after Sergei. I wondered what had pushed Bryan to take that dangerous path. And then I reminded myself that this Bryan had lost the love of his life to his Sergei, and if he couldn't get justice for her by killing his Sergei, he would consider it fair play to kill ours.
Putting Fawkes and Wylde together as a Flight Team had probably not been the wisest idea ever conceived at RATS.
The minutes ticked by. Bryan remained unconscious. The medic turned his attention to checking the level of stock in a nearby cupboard, and the sounds of celebration began to seep into the quiet room and surround us. I could hear distant laughter and cheering. Someone had raised their voice in song. The smell of food being prepared for a celebratory meal tickled my nose, followed by the tinkle of cutlery being set out, reaching my ears.
The atmosphere outside the med bay was quite different from the tense, anticipatory atmosphere inside it.
"Where is she?" I muttered.
"Let me check," Jones said, stepping up to a wall-mounted comm unit. He dialled in the hangar communication code and activated a call.
"Cathcart," came abruptly over the speaker.
"Infirmary here, Technical," Jones said. "Where's my second patient?"
