with more signs of his commitment to Karen’s case.
I tried to take Karen’s mind off the pain by talking. She answered briefly, but her mind wasn’t engaged so I let her be. I even dropped off for a couple of hours, my head resting on the foot of her bed. It wasn’t quality sleep, though at least I didn’t dream. No nocturnal journeys through the underworld-the pale-faced Dr. Brown would have been disappointed.
The contractions eventually got more frequent and Angel’s eyes and hands busier. Kitano came in a couple of times and examined Karen. He made no comment, which irritated me.
‘Don’t worry, Matt,’ Angel said. ‘Your lady’s doing real well.’
I smiled at Karen. She looked like she had run a marathon, her blond hair damp and lank, her face lined. But she smiled at me bravely.
‘Well done, my darling.’ I kissed her on the cheek.
‘What, nil by mouth?’ she quipped, then gasped as another wave of pain broke over her.
I put my lips to hers. ‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘Not long now.’ I sat back, holding her hand. It went limp when the contraction passed. She was exhausted. How much longer was this going to last?
When it happened, there was no warning. Angel had checked Karen’s dilation and had her hands on the bump. Then her eyes opened wide when she took in the monitors. She immediately hit the panic button and a loud alarm started to sound every few seconds. Karen moaned and her hand reached for mine. Angel was pressing buttons and unhooking cables.
‘What is it?’ the obstetrician demanded, arriving at speed. There were two auxiliaries with him, big guys.
‘No heartbeat from the fetus in the last thirty seconds,’ Angel said.
‘O.R.,’ Kitano ordered. ‘Now!’
The auxiliaries laid hands on Karen’s bed and pushed it toward the door.
‘Matt!’ she said, as my hand came away from hers. ‘What’s happening?’
I followed them down the corridor. Kitano took a set of scrubs from a nurse and pulled his white coat off, dropping it on the floor.
‘What’s happening?’ I repeated, my heart thundering.
‘Don’t worry,’ Angel said. ‘We know what we’re doing.’
‘Matt!’ Karen wailed. ‘Help me!’
The big man at the front of the bed crashed through the doors to the operating room and the others followed. I was stopped by a male nurse.
‘Sorry, sir. You’ll have to wait outside.’
I had no option-wait was all I could do. I strode up and down the corridor, never going too far from the doors to the theater. My mind was bucking like a mustang stung by a horsefly. I couldn’t hold on to any thought for more than a few seconds. Was Karen in pain? What were they doing to her? Why had the baby’s heart stopped? Would he be harmed? Would his brain be damaged? Eventually I realized I was panting. I stopped walking to get my breathing under control.
That didn’t help. All that happened was that the possibilities hardened in my mind. Karen was being operated on. At best, she’d be denied the natural birth she wanted. At worst, her life was in danger-as might be that of Magnus Oliver Wells. I cursed myself for allowing her to make decisions about his name. An atavistic superstition about tempting fate overcame me and I staggered against the wall.
‘Karen, I love you, I need you,’ I whispered. ‘Come back to me. Bring him back.’
Then a cruel fear lanced into me. The Rothmanns. Whatever Dr. Rivers said, the Nazis’ conditioning process could be doing this to Karen. If she’d been harmed, if the birth of our son had been jeopardized, I would seek Heinz Rothmann out and make him pay.
That cold fury was all that sustained me until Kitano came through the doors, pulling a white coat over his bloody scrubs.
Peter Sebastian was in an FBI plane that had taken off from Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport a quarter of an hour earlier. He was feeling pleased with himself. The Director had approved his plan, had even congratulated him on it, and had authorized him to fly immediately to the camp in Illinois.
Sebastian had always counted himself a devious operator. He wouldn’t have reached the illustrious level he had if he hadn’t known how to outflank the competition and cover his ass, but recently he’d exceeded his own expectations. At this rate, he’d have a shot at deputy director within the next couple of years. After that, even director would be within his range.
Then again, he thought as he sipped black and unsweetened coffee, he had to pull this scheme off. If there were any more hate-crime murders, if the so-called Hitler’s Hitman killer continued to run rings round him, the Director would be forced to replace him. You were only ever as good as your current cases, and Sebastian was running at 0–4. Still, that had its own advantages. Desperate measures were necessary and had been green- lighted. This was exactly the kind of situation that Sebastian flourished in.
A call came through on the secure phone. It was Arthur Bimsdale.
‘No sign of the suspect Gordy Lister, sir. Major Carstens has circulated the description to the whole of the Philadelphia force.’
‘Have you considered sending it to law enforcement at the previous scenes?’
‘Already done, sir. All four have got it out to their homicide departments and to the people on patrol.’
‘Very good, Arthur,’ Sebastian said. Bimsdale was beginning to shine, which might be problematical.
‘Em, where are you, sir?’
‘That’s classified, Special Agent.’ Sebastian looked out of the cabin window.
It was already dark, the only lights those of another aircraft in the distance.
‘I see, sir. What are your orders?’
Sebastian had thought about that. ‘Get back to D.C. I’ll be in touch.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Bimsdale paused. ‘There’s something else, sir.’
‘Spit it out,’ Sebastian said impatiently. One thing that his assistant had still to learn was to be more forceful.
‘Gordy Lister. I’ve accessed his file. He has a brother.’
‘Is that right?’ Once again Arthur had surprised him. ‘What about him?’
‘He lost his legs in a car accident thirteen months ago.’
‘Where’s this going, Special Agent?’
‘Well, I’ve run a check on him. Michael John Lister. He worked as an electrician, sir. Standard household repairs, that sort of thing. Except he recently bought a fully converted Jeep Grand Cherokee and moved into a condominium outside Tallahassee, Florida.’
‘Well, well,’ Sebastian said, surprised again. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve talked to this Michael Lister.’
‘He’s known as Mikey, sir. No, I haven’t. What do you think about surveillance by the field office down there?’
‘I think it’s less than likely that Gordy Lister will show, but it’s definitely worth a shot. Good work, Arthur.’
They concluded the call shortly afterward. Sebastian was satisfied. Bimsdale was like a dog with a fresh bone, which had distracted him from the issue of Matt Wells. When they’d spoken earlier in the day, his assistant had asked why the Englishman was so important. What would he say now that Sebastian was on his way to make Wells a major player in the investigation?
He looked out into the darkness again, the murk that lay over the eastern states. Desperate measures was right. If his plan misfired, the deleterious influence of Heinz Rothmann would spread across the land like a plague. Americans had always been prey to political extremists. Even more were attracted to religious fundamentalism. Rothmann’s combination of Nazi ideology and a perversion of Christianity could unleash a wave of violence much worse than the four murders he had so far inspired. There was no doubt in Sebastian’s mind that Rothmann was behind the killings, no doubt at all. The fact that the Nazi had pioneered a successful brainwashing technique made the situation even more dangerous, even if Dr. Brown’s process might negate it. That was why Matt Wells, with his history of conditioning, was such a vital link.
Peter Sebastian found himself thinking about what the Englishman was going through. He had been informed that Karen Oaten was in the medical center. Matt had been through the birth of a child before, although the FBI
