The Target(89)

“Dr. Andrews, thank you for coming in tonight,” said Reel.

Andrews gave a forced smile. “My pleasure. Wouldn’t have missed it, actually.”

Reel said to Earl, “I explained to Dr. Andrews her role in getting you and me back together. And also how that led to a very nice visit with your good friend Leon Dikes and his group of merry neo-Nazi freaks.”

“Yes, it was fascinating, Mr. Fontaine,” said Dr. Andrews, who looked like she wanted to pull a gun and fire a round right into Earl’s brain.

“I ain’t got no idea what you two gals are jabbering ’bout,” said Earl. “No idea a’tall.”

“Well, let’s see if I can make it crystal-clear for you,” said Reel. “First, Dr. Andrews has some terrific news for you.”

Earl looked at Andrews. “What news?”

“While your cancer is still terminal, it’s been determined that your condition has stabilized.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“That means that you can leave the hospital ward and this prison. You’re being sent back to solitary confinement on death row.”

Earl’s face collapsed. “But they can’t execute me.”

Andrews smiled. “Unfortunately, that’s true, but you can be cared for there, although I have to say it won’t be nearly as pleasant as here. And you will have no human contact with anyone other than the prison personnel.”

“You…you can’t do that,” Earl protested.

“Well, actually we can,” said another voice.

A man in a suit walked in with four beefy guards behind him.

“What the hell is he doing here?” exclaimed Earl.

Reel looked behind her. “The warden of this fine facility and his men are here to take care of your transfer back to death row at the Holman Correctional Facility.”

There was a flash of lightning at the barred window, followed by a vicious crack of thunder.

The warden waved his men forward. “Just roll the bed and all right out. The transport vehicle is waiting.”

“You can’t do this,” sputtered Earl. “You can’t.”

“Get him out of here,” ordered the warden. “Now!”

The guards unhooked Earl’s shackles from the wall and rolled his bed, with him screaming his head off, out of the room. They heard his shouts for another minute before a heavy door clanged shut and then Earl Fontaine was heard no more.

Reel turned to the warden and Andrews. “Thank you,” she said.

“No, thank you,” said Andrews. “To think that bastard used me to…to try and accomplish all these horrific things.”

“Damn right,” said the warden. “We might not be able to execute him. But we can make whatever time he has left as unpleasant as legally possible. And we will.” He marched off.

Andrews said, “When I got your call I really couldn’t believe it. I thought I was helping a father find his daughter. I should have known that Earl Fontaine was a man who didn’t care about that.”

“He took a lot of people in, Doc,” said Reel.

“But never again,” said Robie.

“No, never again,” added Reel.

After thanking Andrews again for her help, they turned and left the prison.





“Feel better?” asked Robie when they climbed into the car after running across the parking lot as the rain continued to pour.

“Actually, Robie, I don’t feel anything. And maybe that’s for the best.”

Robie put the car in gear and they left the Alabama prison, and with it Earl Fontaine, behind forever.





Chapter

49



THE NORTH KOREANS HAD NO facility like the Burner Box. They didn’t have the budget for it. No country spent what the Americans did on defense or internal security. But Chung-Cha felt like they made up with effort and dedication what they lacked in funding.

She ran through the streets of Pyongyang until she could run no more. And then she kept going. The State Security Department had a generic gymnasium facility where she built up her strength. They had shooting ranges deep underground where she worked on her aim, reaction time, and motor skills in the use of all sorts of firearms and other weapons. There, against only men who were far larger and stronger than she was, she drilled on certain close-quarter combat techniques, some of which she had employed to subdue Lloyd Carson in Romania.

Her training wasn’t only physical. She could speak fluent English as well as three other languages.

But what she really excelled at, in addition to remaining calm under the most extreme circumstances, was martial arts. There had never been a man to beat her. Not even several of them. She attributed this to her time at the camp. To survive the camp took herculean toughness. But that was not enough. To survive the camp and keep your human spirit, your belly fire, was nearly impossible. She had accomplished the impossible. And to survive the camp one had to think ten moves ahead. She had become adept at that. The same held true for the martial arts. She not only outfought her opponents, she outthought them as well.