Ultimate Power (18 page)

"Let's start with her age, man."

"She's thirty."

"What else, man?"

Dumas scratched the table with his thumbnail. "She's solved many cases, received the highest accolades. She would have been a senior high ranking officer had it not been that Interpol will not promote anyone who is under thirty-five to a higher rank than captain."

Lewis nodded thoughtfully.

Dumas shifted around uncomfortably, loosening his tie. "She's being groomed to take over Laiveaux's job."

Collingwood turned in his seat. "Honestly?"

"She'll take over before she's thirty-five. She comes with one hell of a reputation."

Dumas flicked a braid behind his ear. "But why didn't you tell us about this stuff earlier, man?"

Dumas held an outstretched hand in the air, dropped it. "Look, these people fly under the radar." He hesitated, like he was trying to formulate his words. "There's no big newspaper exposes on them and they never give interviews to the news stations. The only way I could find out what I have was by talking to a couple of drinking buddies."

Lewis chuckled. "Typical, booze talk."

Dumas sighed. "Did you know she holds the record for the deepest free dive of all time?"

Lewis slammed his palm down on the table. "Bullshit."

"It's true. I confirmed it. She set it at Morocco a couple of years ago."

Collingwood smirked. "Who the hell is she: Wonder woman?"

Dumas shrugged. "Many people seem to think so."

Lewis Collingwood nodded, deep in thought.
 

Dumas shifted in his chair. "Want to know what else?"
 

"No, what? Humor me with another Wonder Woman tale."

"People seem to like her. They look up to her."

"Aw, please, Dumas."

"It's the truth. I like her."

"Well then we better get rid of this Miss Guerra before she becomes too much of a pain in our asses, I guess."

"I guess," Dumas said, not sounding too sure.

"One more thing, Mr. Sonti has decided to terminate your services."

Dumas' lips started trembling. "You going to fire me?"

Collingwood pursed his lips, turned to Dumas and nodded. "Sorry, man."

Lewis Collingwood lifted a hand and the barman sauntered over. "A round of Remi Martin's, straight up. And some of those fantastic little savory pastries your establishment is so renowned for."

The barman nodded.

Dumas shook his head, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. "I thought Sonti was going to give me a second chance."

Collingwood chuckled. "No he didn't, man. He told you to wait for your orders."

"But I thought—“

Collingwood grabbed Dumas' knee and squeezed. "You know Sonti doesn't give second chances, man."

Dumas closed his eyes and whimpered, nodding as he bit his lower lip.

The barman brought the drinks and Lewis let go of the man's knee and handed the waiter a twenty Euro note. "Keep the change."

The barman thanked him and turned away.
 

"Look, I may have something else for you," Dumas said, chewing his lip.

"What?"

"You need to promise to let me go."

Lewis put his hand back on the man's knee. "Tell me first, then I'll decide, man."

Dumas winced. "They're planning on infiltrating the Castle."

Lewis Collingwood stopped smiling. "How do they know about the Castle?"

Dumas shook his head. "East is singing like a bird."

"When?" Collingwood asked.

"I...I'm not sure. They're still in the planning phases."

He squeezed harder.

"You'll be the first to know, I promise," Dumas winced.

"You bet I will," Collingwood said. He scanned the room, stood up and headed for the exit, punching a number into his cell as he walked. "Sonti, Dumas says they're planning on infiltrating the Castle."

Sonti chuckled. "Impossible, this place is impregnable."

"Sam East is talking."

Sonti kept quiet for a while. "Okay, backup plan is a go."

Lewis Collingwood strolled into the hospital entrance and headed to the reception area. A grey-haired lady smiled sweetly. "How may I help you, dear?"

"I'm looking for a Mr. Sam East, please."

The receptionist studied her computer screen and punched something on the keyboard. "Are you family?" she asked without looking up.

"A concerned friend."

She peered at him over the rim of her bifocals. "He's in the high care unit." She pulled her head back, trying to read the fine text on the screen properly. "But it says here that he's under police guard, and he's not taking any visitors."

Lewis sucked his teeth, changing his weight between his feet, as if he was trying to make up his mind. "Honestly?"

"Sorry."

"Aw, damn," he said looking around. "Okay thanks, then."

He strode away. Okay, his suspicions had been confirmed. He stood outside the revolving door for a moment, made up his mind and strode towards the escalators. The signboard said that High Care was on the third floor.
 

He took the escalator up to the third floor and sauntered to the gents toilet, choosing a random cubicle. He unrolled a white jacket that he had tucked under his armpit and slipped it on. Next was a pair of thick rimmed glasses and a name badge that he clipped onto the jacket pocket. He completed the look with a stethoscope around his neck.

Lewis bustled out of the toilet and headed towards the staff canteen. He opened the door, scanned the room and saw Doctor Keys sitting alone, eating a sandwich.

He sauntered up to his table. "Hope I'm not bothering?" Lewis asked in his finest cockney accent. He stuck out a hand. "My name is Doctor Pemberton, I'm from London and I'll be locuming here for a couple of months."

Doctor Keys smiled and shook his hand. "So sorry to hear that, old chap."
 

Lewis Collingwood chuckled amicably. "I hoped that we would bump into each other sometime. I admire the research you have done on UV light assisted open heart surgery."

Doctor Keys nodded, chewing. "Please, sit down, Doctor Pemberton."

Lewis checked his watch. "I have five minutes, could I offer you a cup of coffee?"

"That would be great, thanks."

"I'll go get it."

Doctor Keys continued munching on his sandwich while Lewis walked to the coffee machine. He poured a cup for the man, emptying a sachet containing a fine white powder into the coffee and gave it a stir. He poured himself a cup, grabbed a couple of sachets of sugar and pods of milk, walked over to the table. He placed the cups and milk and sugar on the table as he took a seat.

"So how did you find out about my research?" Doctor Keys asked, tearing a packet of sugar and emptying it into his cup. "It hasn't been published anywhere."

Lewis smiled. "Ted."

"Ted Griffiths?"
 

Lewis chuckled. "No, no. TED, the TV channel. You know, Technology, Entertainment, Design."

Doctor Keys took a sip of coffee, looked up with a frown. "The presentation I did at UCLA?"

Lewis nodded. "Fascinating stuff."

"It's old research, really. Oxygenated blood has a different color in sunlight than unoxygenated blood."

"But your application of the theory is utter genius."

Keys took another sip of coffee, smiled nonchalantly. "So I tested the hypothesis of performing open heart surgery under a window with direct sunlight streaming in. The capillaries lit up like--"
 

Lewis's cell phone beeped in his pocket. He pulled a beeper off his belt and checked it, shoved the chair back dramatically. "Dammit, my patient went into cardiac arrest," he said and stood up. "Sorry about this, we'll chat soon."

Doctor Keys smiled, giving him a wave as he trotted away. "Good luck and thanks for the coffee."

Lewis nodded and rushed out of the cafeteria, marched purposefully down the hallway, then walked towards an intersection with another passageway. A sign on the wall said that High Care was to the right and ICU to the left. He continued walking and glanced right. A dozen people were sitting on benches, worried looks on their faces, but one man stuck out like a sore thumb. He was paging through a newspaper and was looking bored, not at all like the other people who looked anxious and confused. A Beretta nine millimeter was attached to his belt.

He walked on for another twenty meters and entered the toilet. A guy stood at the urinal. Lewis Collingwood opened the second cubicle and waited for the man to finish up. As soon as he heard the door click closed, he punched a number into his phone. "Good day. I need you to listen closely or people will die, you understand? I planted a bomb on the third floor of your hospital. It will detonate in exactly ten minutes."

"Why?" the hospital's receptionist asked.

Lewis slapped his forehead. "Why? Because I want to kill all your filthy French doctor's in there who are trying to save the lives of the bloody terrorists. Glory be to Allah," he said and disconnected the call. He shook his head. "Why?"

Lewis picked up the toilet tank lid and removed a silenced, semi-automatic nine millimeter pistol that had been stuck to the bottom of the lid. And then he waited.

Thirty seconds later an alarm went off, and he stood up and exited the toilet. He pushed into the running hoard and allowed himself to be swept down the passageway. He turned left towards High Care and scanned the area. The cop was gone.

Lewis pushed the intercom button to the ward.

"Hello, who is it?" a female voice asked.

"This is Doctor Pemberton, I'm locuming for Doctor Keys."

"You know that there's a bomb threat, right Doctor?"

"Yes, that's why I'm here. Keys is considered emergency personnel, and I'm here to replace him."

"Where is he?" the female voice asked, sounding suspicious.

Collingwood sighed. "Nurse, listen to me. He got called to theatre, emergency open heart procedure."

The intercom buzzed and the doors swung open. "Thank God," the nurse said, holding her heart.

"Get out of here," Collingwood said.

"You sure?" she asked gathering her handbag and jersey.

"Out now, there could be a bomb on the floor."

Collingwood scanned the charts on the reception desk before heading for bed thirteen. He slipped his pistol from the back of his pants.

Sam East was laying on his side, his face to the wall. Lewis sauntered up to him and aimed. The pistol whistled three times as he shot him in the head.

He stood and waited, a fine tendril of smoke swirling up from East's head. Something was wrong, there was no blood.

He froze as he heard the hammer of a pistol cock next to his ear. Shit.

"Drop the weapon," a female voice said.

He turned his head, trying to see her face.
 

"Drop it."

His gun clattered to the ground.

"Turn around."

Lewis Collingwood did as he was ordered. "I was set up, wasn't I?"

Captain Guerra pulled the sheets from Sam East's body. It was a full-length dummy, the type that doctors practice CPR on. "I guess so."
 

Damn you, Dumas. Lewis Collingwood smiled. "Had to get caught sometime, I guess."

She pointed the gun at the ground. "On your knees, hands on your head."

Sergeant Neil Allen appeared from behind a curtain and stuck a knee into Lewis' back, pushing him down towards the ground. Lewis
 
felt him tie a zip cord around his wrists.

"In a way I'm glad I've been caught," Lewis said uncomfortably, his cheek squashed onto the shiny linoleum floor.

"And why's that?" Allen asked with a grunt, pulling the cords tight.

"Because I can't wait to see what my boss does to you when he comes to fetch me."

Guerra laughed. "Well, we'll cross that bridge when we get to it, I guess."

"Always so confident about yourself, aren't you Captain?"

She kneeled down next to him. "Now why would you say that?"

"You're lucky streak is about end."

She chuckled. "Oh, I don't know, Mr. Collingwood." She stood up and holstered her weapon. "My
lucky streak
, as you call it, has been running since I was four." She nudged his shoulder with her toe. "I wouldn't call that a lucky streak."

"So what would you call it then?"

She laughed. "Life."

Sonti dabbed the cigarette in the ashtray and quaffed his Cognac. He checked the clock against the wall. He hadn't heard from Lewis for more than four hours. Which was three hours past his check-in time. He sighed and stood up.

It was time to make assumptions, and Sonti hated that. It was unnecessary. Calculated risks? Sure. But he hated assumptions.