CHAPTER 40

           Government needs people to govern and so creates a subservient class upon which it can thrive and rule.

        —LANCASTER R. HILL, A Secret Worth Keeping, SAWYER RIVER BOOKS, 1939, P. 64

From the earliest days of their friendship, Lou had kept no secrets from his sponsor. That included the news about the secret life of eccentric Humphrey Miller, and Lou’s decision to help him open his subbasement lab. Now he wished he hadn’t said anything. Cap had enough to deal with without having that rug of hope pulled out from underneath him.

It had been less than twenty-four hours since Lou was last in Cap’s isolation room, but there had been a noticeable change in the man. A change for the worse.

Lou and Vaill were together in the tiny antechamber. Both men had replaced their FBI caps and Windbreakers with the required safety garb. In spite of himself, Lou felt different swaggering around wearing the dark shades and displaying the iconic letters on his back. Special. Tough. Then he thought about the people Vaill and the other real agents had to deal with every day—people whose life or way of life often depended on killing them.

No thanks.

He checked Vaill over to make sure he was properly gowned before giving a strong pull against the negative pressure door. Vaill had wanted to wait outside, but Lou requested he come in. Like in the ER, it was always more motivating to put a face on the people one was dealing with, and he expressed that feeling to himself, then out loud.

This is the man you’ve heard so much about. This is the life we’re trying to save.

For an agent accustomed to clashing with dangerous criminals, Vaill seemed affected from the moment they opened the door to Cap’s room. Perhaps it was the purulent, blood-soaked bandages, perhaps the scent of pus that was hanging heavier than ever in the air.

“Are you all right?” Lou whispered to Vaill, soft enough not to rouse Cap, who was sleeping sonorously on his back, with a sudoku puzzle book splayed across his chest.

Vaill nodded. “Yeah, I just have a little thing about hospitals. Understandable considering I got out of one myself not too long ago. Believe it or not, it was my first time.”

Lou pointed to the rainbow scar.

“I imagine you’re in the minority of your profession to have made it that long.”

“Quick reflexes or incredible good luck. Probably both, combined with Kevlar vests.”

Since Cap’s ordeal began, the proprietor of the Stick and Move Gym had gone from a cruiserweight, just below the unlimited heavyweight rank, down close to a light heavyweight, and his wonderfully handsome face showed it. But as his eyes fluttered open, there was no mistaking the spirit in them.

No surprise.

“Hey, buddy,” Cap said, grunting as he reached for the adjustable bed controls.

As always since the infection began, Lou cringed. Watching his boxing coach and best friend struggle with even small movements was heartbreaking. Cap pushed a button and a motor whined as it elevated the bed to an angle more comfortable for him, although comfort, with his leg in a frame and up on pulleys, was certainly a relative term.

Cap gestured toward Vaill but was too weak to shake hands. Lou noted the flush in the agent’s cheeks and sensed he hadn’t given the man vivid enough preparation—probably by not accounting enough for the changes they were seeing in Cap’s condition.

“Looking pretty good,” Lou managed.

“Don’t bullshit me, Welcome,” Cap replied before being cut short by a brief coughing spasm. “Why don’t you just sell me some swampland in Florida. There’s a mirror in my tray table, remember. I look like crap and we both know it. They’ve even decided I’m too dangerous to take me for any more hyperbaric treatments.”

“You always did have a lousy self-image, my man. More meetings. That’s what you need. Cap, meet Tim Vaill from the FBI. He arrested me yesterday afternoon for obstructing justice, threw me in jail, and then changed his mind this morning about exactly what justice was.”

The two men greeted each other with their eyes and a nod.

“You don’t want to shake hands with me, even with those rubber gloves on,” Cap said. “According to Dr. Puchalsky, my charming mortician-turned-infectious-disease-specialist, this bug inside me has mutated again. He’s a specialist in infections you get from just being in a hospital. Believe it or not, there’s actually a name for that. I’m not a big fan of people who are full of themselves, even when they’re smart.”

“I have exactly the same take on him. Holier than thou doesn’t even cover it.”

“He thinks I might have to be moved to some kind of special facility in Wyoming or Nebraska or one of those other states that are all corners, in order to get me even more isolated than I already am. He said it to me like he was announcing what dietary was going to give me for dessert.”

“Great image of the man. I got it.”

“Believe it or not, when all this started, he actually asked me what kind of insurance I had, so he could find out if I was covered for certain experimental antibiotics.”

“What a strange thing to ask you. What did he say when you told him you didn’t have any?”

“The truth is, I was so upset by the question and his tone, I didn’t tell him anything except that he should check with you.”

“Well, he must have worked things out, because he never mentioned it.”

“He’s worried about the germ spreading to more patients, and for that I don’t blame him. But that’s going to be after.”

“After what?” Lou asked.

“After something not so good. So, what are you doing with the FBI anyway? Are you in trouble with the law again? Good gravy, I can’t trust you anyplace. Now, don’t you go bringing any heat down on me, buddy, I’ve got enough problems to deal with as is.”

“No heat,” Vaill said. “I’m here because this germ of yours was initially discovered by some very bad people, and now the government is interested in putting them out of business.”

“It involves our friend, Humphrey,” Lou said.

“Is he bogus? He seemed like such a sweet little dude.”

“No, not bogus. Not bogus at all. He’s missing. A guy killed the aide who was getting him ready for work, and kidnapped him.”

“Ouch.”

“I know about the lab in the basement, Cap,” Vaill interjected. “The doc, here, told me about it and said he had told you as well. We think the work Miller was starting down there is why they took him.”

“Damn,” Cap muttered, clearly grasping the significance.

No miracles.

“We think we know who did this, and we’re going to find him,” Vaill said.

“Better make it quick, brother.”

The way Cap said the words was ominous.

Lou put his gloved hand on the fighter’s forehead, feeling the burn even through the latex.

“Cap, what’s going on?” he asked. “What’s the not-good thing you mentioned?”

Vaill backed up a step, giving the two friends a little more space to connect.

“It’s ugly, Lou,” Cap said, his voice coming out like the hiss of air from a punctured tire. As he did during every visit, Lou poured a cup of water from the plastic pitcher and angled the straw so Cap could take a sip.

“What do you mean ‘ugly’?”

“I mean I got some news yesterday from Puchalsky and my surgeon, and it ain’t good.”

“Talk to me, big guy, what did they say?”

“I got a few days, Lou. A week at the most.”

Cap’s voice cracked mid-sentence.

“What do you mean a week? A week for what?”

“The germ is spreading to the rest of my body. If they can’t get the infection under control, they’re going to take my leg. Dr. Standish, my surgeon, says that if they do it, they’re going to cut it off way up here. He was going to let matters drop there for the time being, but fucking Puchalsky—excuse my language, officer—felt the need to add that the operations may not stop with the leg.”