I went over to the wardrobe.
‘What are you doing?’ Sebastian asked.
‘Getting dressed. I want to be out of the camp today.’
There was a pause. ‘Matt, I’ve no idea how long this might last. What do you want to do about…’
I stopped fastening my shirt buttons. ‘About Karen and Magnus? Nothing for the time being. Can…can they be kept here?’
‘I imagine so. But what about the funerals?’
‘That’s what I’m saying to you, Peter. Afterward. Until I nail Rothmann, I can’t think about that.’ I pulled on my jacket and turned to face him. ‘You haven’t asked about my terms.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You tried to kill the President and you’ve got terms?’
‘Fucking right I have,’ I said, losing my cool. ‘I want a lawyer. Right now!’
Sebastian stepped back as if I’d spat in his face.
‘Just kidding,’ I said, without a trace of a smile. ‘Sergeant Quincy Jerome. I want him to watch my back.’
‘But he’s regular army.’
‘Fix it. You weren’t planning on putting Arthur Bimsdale on that detail with Sara Robbins out there, were you?’
He shook his head vaguely. ‘Is that it?’
‘I’ll need to be armed.’
‘Even with the sergeant in tow?’
‘Yes. Fix that, too.’ I headed for the door. ‘I have things to pick up from the apartment.’
‘Matt,’ Sebastian said, ‘Wait.’ He was fumbling in his jacket pocket. ‘I got this for you. I understand you might not want it now…’
I opened the blue velvet box and looked at the ring.
‘Platinum and three diamonds,’ he said. ‘As per instructions.’
‘It’s good. But you keep it ’til this is over.’ I managed to suppress the tears until I had passed him.
Fourteen
Dr. Lester Rivers wasn’t the kind of man who hit things when he was angry, but the conference room table nearly received a pounding.
‘No, Mr. Sebastian, this is not acceptable. I cannot agree.’
The FBI man stared at him stonily. ‘Your professional opinion is noted, Doctor,’ he said. His hands stayed away from the open laptop in front of him.
Rivers noticed that and wondered exactly what was going on. The Bureau paid his salary and funded his research center, but he had never been treated like a junior employee before. Usually a team of scientific officers reviewed his work and the atmosphere on their visits was cordial. Copious notes were taken and he was later sent copies of their reports. But ever since Matt Wells and his unfortunate partner had arrived, Peter Sebastian had run the show, despite the fact that he was a violent crime investigation specialist, not a scientist. Many things, it seemed, weren’t written down.
‘Mr. Sebastian,’ Rivers said, glancing across the table at Alexandra Brown. ‘My work with Matt Wells has shown that the conditioning he underwent was complex and profound. Although we have been able to access many of the trigger sequences, it is very likely that he is still subject to control.’
Sebastian raised a hand. ‘You used the word we, Doctor. Let me bring in Dr. Brown at this point.’ He turned to the female scientist. ‘What’s your feeling about releasing Wells?’
Alexandra Brown kept her eyes off Rivers. ‘Extrapolation from trials suggests that my process has been highly effective. I consider the Rothmann conditioning no longer operational.’
This time Rivers did bring his hand down hard on the table. ‘Extrapolation from trials? Wells was the first human subject you treated. You can’t extrapolate from rats and monkeys or computer simulations. Besides, you were brought in here over my head.’
‘Yes. By me,’ Sebastian said firmly. ‘Dr. Brown’s work has been well received by other scientists.’
‘But its long-term effects are unknown,’ Rivers countered. ‘What if there are triggers at a deeper level of Wells’s subconscious? He might turn into an even more deadly killer.’ He glared at the FBI man. ‘And recently you’ve allowed him to sharpen his combat and firearms skills, again without my approval.’
Peter Sebastian stood up and closed his laptop. ‘Your approval was not necessary, Doctor. I am responsible for Wells.’ He turned to go.
‘I don’t suppose you’re at all concerned about his state of mind after the death of Karen Oaten and the baby. Grief and the associated emotions can have a major effect on rationality.’
‘On the other hand,’ Dr. Brown put in, ‘it can increase empathy and certain forms of acuity, which may actually enhance the subject’s efficacy.’
‘Will you listen to yourself, woman?’ Rivers scoffed. ‘This is a distressed human being we’re talking about, not some automaton.’
Spots of red appeared on Alexandra Brown’s cheeks. She looked to Sebastian for support.
‘Please calm yourself, Dr. Rivers,’ the FBI man said. ‘That kind of language is inappropriate.’
‘Is it?’ the scientist shouted. ‘Well, try this for size. I’m going to send a formal complaint about your handling of Matt Wells to the Office of Professional Responsibility.’
Peter Sebastian sighed and walked back to the table. He opened his laptop and tapped on the keys. ‘Please come here,’ he said, eyeing each of the scientists. When they stood on either side of him, he hit the keys again. ‘This is a confidential authorization. You are at liberty to check its authenticity by calling headquarters and quoting the reference number at the top.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘You understand there may be disciplinary consequences if you do so?’
Doctors Rivers and Brown read the document in silence, the document that authorized Sebastian to determine the status of Matthew Wells as he saw fit, signed by the Director of the FBI.
I was lying on the sofa in the apartment, my face buried in the cushions. Karen’s scent was still on them. I breathed it in over and over again. Then I caught a glimpse of her. She had her back to me and was wearing a white surgical gown. She was in a narrow passage and she started to move downward, the lower part of her body disappearing.
I heard myself call her name and she stopped. When she turned, I could see that she was carrying a bundle in both arms. It, too, was shrouded in white. Our son. Karen looked at me sadly but she didn’t speak-she had lost that ability, it seemed. Then she continued walking and was gone.
Great sobs tore from my chest. I tried to stifle them with a cushion, wishing that I could find my way back to them, the ones who had been taken from me. Then I saw another face-the imperious features of the Nazi, Heinz Rothmann. The implication was clear. I had to kill him to get Karen and Magnus back.
‘Hey, my friend.’ The soft voice took me by surprise and I raised myself from the sofa.
‘Quincy.’ I wiped my eyes with my arm. ‘I’m sorry…’
‘Don’t be, man,’ he said, coming up to me and putting his arm round my shoulders. ‘Jesus, you must be suffering.’
I felt the need to sit on the sofa again to maintain that last link with Karen. I couldn’t speak for a while.
‘What’s this I’m hearing? They’re letting you out?’
I nodded.
‘You’re gonna work?’
‘There isn’t anything to keep me…keep me here.’
Quincy Jerome squatted in front of me. ‘You need to take it easy, my friend. Let it sink in. Come to terms.’
I appreciated his words, but they were meaningless. I had a mission. Peter Sebastian might have thought he was going to use me, but he had that wrong. I was going to take him for all he was worth.
‘Listen, Quincy, I don’t know how much you’ve been told about-’
