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COSIMO WOKE with a raging headache to discover he was in a prison infirmary with about five of Alexandre's command staff in various states of injury. He was lying on a gurney. One of his wrists was handcuffed to the railing.
The doctor whose name tag read Lister, was a young woman with a trim body, short-cropped hair and shrewd eyes. She came over when she realized he was awake.
"Feeling better?" she asked.
"My head hurts, and I'm thirsty," he replied.
She went to the foot of the gurney and picked up the porta-tab attached to it, making a notation. The handcuff released and a restraining field snapped into place surrounding the makeshift bed. A plastic glass filled with water appeared on the low table next to the gurney.
Cosimo picked up the glass and sipped gingerly. He couldn't taste any drugs, but it didn't mean there weren't any.
"What happens now?" he asked.
"As soon as your tests show you don't have a concussion, you'll be processed with the other prisoners."
"Thank you," he said.
He laid back and reflected he'd certainly gotten himself in a hole this time. He had no illusions his father would admit it had been his idea for his son to join the Blades to try to find out what Marconi was involved in. Cosimo was fairly sure Gregory Militas had wanted Cosimo to find some kind of blackmail material he could use to make Boone and Marconi wipe out his gambling debt to them.
By the time he had figured out what the pair were planning, Cosimo was sure they would kill both him and his father if Gregory attempted to use their activities against them.
The Command staff was separated from the rest of the men and from each other when they were taken to the prison.
The second day he was there, a guard came and got him. "You've got a visitor Militas," the man said, unlocking his cell. "Come with me."
The visitor was his mother. Cosimo sat down in a chair across the interrogation table from her.
Christine Bedingfeld looked across the table at her oldest son in dismay.
"Oh, baby," she said, wiping her eyes. "How could you do this?"
Cosimo hadn't much hope she would be able to help him, but he told her the truth anyway.
"Dad is in debt again," he said. "He wanted me to find him something he could use against Boone and Marconi. He owes them a lot of money."
"I see," she said. She looked at her folded hands. "I don't know if I can help you—maybe Mathias..."
Cosimo winced. The last thing he wanted was to be in debt to his goody-two-shoes younger brother.
"What can he do?" he asked.
"I don't know," she admitted. "But I will ask him to try."
"Mom—" he said. "I was with the sleds chasing Ivette and the kids. He might not be willing."
She reached across the table, patting his hands. "You leave that to me," she said.
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