Blood List(83)

"Yeah. And the sooner the feds catch those racist assholes and hang them by their balls, the happier we'll all be."

The elevator dinged a final time and came to rest. Gene heard the doors open, then he was on the move again. In the distance he heard the muffled drone of a helicopter. It got louder by the second, until it filled his world with throbbing sound and utter blackness.

Voices he couldn't understand yelled over the noise. He felt the gurney being raised, then rolled. A sliding rush marked the closing of the helicopter door, then he lifted from the earth.

Unlike Doug, Gene had never minded flying. He'd always found it relaxing. What he liked most about it was the view. This experience was different. The only sensations were unpleasant.

The noise was incredible. His body shook with the pounding beat. His stomach lurched with every change in motion. His left knee itched, and he knew he couldn't scratch it. Even his thoughts were unpleasant. Do we know these people don't work for Emile Frank? It would be just wonderful if, instead of being rescued, they were just minutes from being weighted down and dropped into the ocean.

Gene wondered if it was possible to spontaneously develop a simultaneous fear of the dark, drowning, enclosed spaces, infectious diseases, and flying. If any experience would do it, this would be it. He added paranoia and profound pessimism to his list of encroaching mental conditions.

The helicopter touched down with another lurch to his stomach. Even if they do drown us, this day can only get better.

Rough hands lifted him from the gurney. The world dropped out from under him, and he almost wet himself. This is it. We're dead. He hit the ground and suppressed a groan of pain.

"Careful! We don't need postmortem trauma!" It was the woman who'd injected Doug. "Just load them on the plane gently and be on your way."

"Sorry," said the female voice. "I thought he'd be stiffer."

"Rigor mortis is temporary. If you were good at your job, you'd know that. Now hurry up."

"Bitch," the girl muttered.

Two pairs of hands lifted him into the air and out of the helicopter. He felt himself hoisted, carried several dozen steps, then dumped onto something hard that sounded like metal when his head hit it. I guess gentle means something different when you're handling a corpse. He hoped that Doug and Carl were getting better treatment. Three more clangs marked the arrival of the other body bags.

Gene heard what sounded like a large van's sliding door. It closed and muffled the sound of the helicopter outside. He tried to quiet his breathing, but it was hard to do with an oxygen hose stuffed in his mouth.

Five minutes later the world lurched into motion. A minute more and he felt thrust. They had to be on the plane. Here we go. The moment the wheels left the tarmac, the Bangladeshi woman unzipped his bag. She stared down at him with cold brown eyes and tore the breathing apparatus from his mouth.

"I am Doctor Nazeem binte Saleh. Your nervous friend is fast asleep. The paralytic I gave him will dehydrate him. He'll wake with a bad headache and will be needing a lot of water. Welcome to life outside San Francisco, Agent Palomini. We'll be touching down in approximately six hours." She handed him a blanket.

He looked around the airplane. The cabin was empty except for Doctor Saleh and two of the doctors from the morgue, plus Carl, Doug, and the corpse. Doug slept in his body bag, the zipper down far enough that he could breathe easily. Carl stretched and let out an enormous yawn. It looked like he'd been napping. "Put your clothes on, Carl," Gene said, as he reached for his own. Gene's attention turned back to Doctor Saleh.

"Tell me, Agent Palomini, why was all this necessary?"

Gene buttoned his shirt. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. Maybe someday, but certainly not today. Or tomorrow." He let the implication hang in the air.

Her frown deepened. With a flick of her wrist she produced a business card, severe black lettering on a creamy taupe background. "When someday comes, you will tell me."

He took the card out of her hand, put it in his shirt pocket, and smiled. "I'll do that."

She smiled brightly then. "Yes, you will."

Carl walked over and sat on the plane floor between them.

"Nice nap?" Gene asked.

He leaned back, spoke around a yawn, "Either I'm especially tired, or those bags are especially comfortable." He looked over at Doug. "He's still asleep, huh?"

Doctor Saleh gave Gene an inquisitive look, then turned to Carl. "He is well drugged. Make sure to get plenty of liquid in him when he wakes up."

Carl smiled enthusiastically. "Will do." He looked at Gene. "Hey, where are we going?"

With a smirk, Gene turned to Doctor Saleh.