| Subject: Whispered Identities - Chapter 198 |
Author:
Lynuslinus
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Date Posted: Friday, April 01, 08:50:36pm
In reply to:
Lynuslinus
's message, "Whispered Identities - Chapter 191 & forward" on Monday, March 07, 07:58:57pm
Raphael Esperanzo and a para-medic stood over Nikita. She had been fading in and out of consciousness for two days and now lay still, her breathing labored.
“Sir...I think the double dose of drugs she was issued on the boat and the smacking around by....well, whoever...may have caused swelling of the brain. Her pupils are dilated and I’m concerned about the irregular breathing.”
“Are you saying she may die?”, grimaced Esperanzo.
“She could....may I release her restraints at least...try to make her more comfortable.”
“Very well....she’s comatose so not likely to cause a problem. The storm that has delayed the members of the Society from flying to the island is turning out to be beneficial. I want this woman alive when they arrive for meetings. Do everything you can to revive her...do you have all the medical assistance you require?”
“Yes sir,” stated the para-medic as he untied the plastic bindings from Nikita’s hands and legs. He placed a stethoscope on her chest and listened. “Sir...I don’t like the irregular heartbeat I’m hearing....may I have your permission to try an injection to combat the affects of the strandium 90?”
“Of course! I told you to do anything that is required! You must keep this woman alive, do you hear me!”
“Yes sir.” The para-medic grabbed his mobile phone and punched in a number. “Get up to the room with the IV drip and bring the antidote for strandium....now!”
~ ~ ~
Michael darted back into the villa from the compound. He had been inspecting the munitions and vehicles stored in outer buildings at Dalton’s villa. He had been alerted by Rene Laval, that a high priority encoded message was arriving from Center. Michael strode into the computer systems room and waved Rene away from the console.
“Thank you Rene...I’ll take care of this...please go and check to see if any staff have a background with explosives.”
“You mean building bombs,” he smiled.
“Yes.”
Laval left the systems room and once the door clanged shut, Michael began to type the codes and passwords to receive the message from Center. Soon the words scrolled across the main screen.
------Samuelle-------
What the hell are you talking about! Nikita is not at Center! I have not heard anything from Nikita in months....thanks to you! If you have caused anything to happen to her...you are a dead man. And just what and where are you? Rumor had stated you were killed. I had received intel Nikita was alive along with a former colleague I worked with.
Intel arriving today, states the Society are closing in on you....it is my wish they destroy you. You took my daughter from me and if she has left your bed, I am truly grateful she has come to her senses.
I am now attempting a search for Nikita. When I locate her...she will return to Center, never to see you again.
--------JONES--------
Michael re-read the message twice, then erased all trace of the biting words. He sat staring at the glowing blue screen.
(('My God Nikita...where have you gone! If anyone has harmed you...they will die, slowly and painfully. Why! Why did you have to just up and leave like you did...your impetuousness may end up killing you!'))
Later that afternoon, Michael drove a Land Rover into the village. He parked outside the tiny restaurant Nikita had said she had first bumped into Adrian. He sat watching the few patrons eating their meals, then exited the vehicle and walked inside. The waiter smiled and waved him to a table; Michael pulled out a photo of Nikita he had printed from the laptop and showed the waiter. The waiter stated he had only seen the woman many weeks ago but not recently. Michael thanked him and left the restaurant, returning to the Land Rover. He drove slowly towards the marina where they had parked for their visit with Adrian. Michael wandered through the marina, eyeing the fishing craft and yachts anchored at the dock. Speaking in Portugese to a fisherman, he showed the photo of Nikita. The man shook his head, stating he had not seen the woman recently. He slid down from his boat and touched Michael’s arm, motioning for him to follow. The aging fisherman walked with a limp to the far end of the marina where old fishing craft had been pulled onshore, awaiting work on their wooden hulls. The old man pointed with an arthritic finger to a car, jammed between two old fishing boats. The man shrugged and began slowly following Michael as he increased his stride towards the Mercedes - their Mercedes, hidden from view by decaying, old fishing boats. Michael glanced quickly inside and used a key decoder to open the door. The vehicle was empty, except for a map of Portugal, lying on the floor. Michael popped the trunk open and darted to the rear of the car; again empty except for spare tire and tools. Michael looked at the old man who had now reached the Mercedes.
“Did you see anyone driving this car? Did you see a woman?”
“No I see nobody. The beautiful woman, she come many weeks ago in this car and park out in the lot but I see nobody move the car here. I think she park the car here so nobody steal it.”
Michael pulled out his cell phone and contacted the villa, giving instructions of where to locate the Mercedes and have it towed back to the villa. Michael turned back to the old man, handed him a few hundred euros and thanked him. He turned and raced back to the Land Rover, and drove to the front of Adrian’s cottage. Michael slid quietly into the front garden, his eyes darting around, his revolver glinting in the late afternoon sun. As he approached the front door, he stopped. The door was ajar, the wind catching the screen, making the door slam and open with each gust. Michael checked the garden shed and sides of the house before returning to the front entrance. He crept slowly into the cottage, pointing his gun in all directions. He darted upstairs into the bedroom, again thrusting his revolver around the room. Returning to the main room, he bent down to examine a broken chair and teacups on the floor. He knelt to touch the dried blood on the floor and squinted to examine a few strands of blonde hair caught in the blood. Michael rose slowly, his eyes fierce, his heart pounding.
“They are dead men! I should have known you would come to Adrian’s Nikita...I should have stopped you...I should have protected you.....NIKITA!”
Michael wandered outside into Adrian’s garden and pulled out his cell phone again.
“Rene...have the men left to retrieve the Mercedes? Fine...have that lab man come with them. Instruct him to bring a diagnostic kit. What? I don’t care if he doesn’t have the background....I will use the kit. I want you here also...bring everything Dalton has in the villa to perform a back trace. Not now Rene...I’ll explain once you arrive.”
Michael slammed his cell phone shut and wandered from the garden to the edge of the breakwater, overlooking the sea.
(('Please be alive Nikita....don’t leave me....I can’t....I can’t live without you.'))
The surf crashed against the breakwater; the sun disappeared behind the approaching clouds; the scream of gulls piercing the afternoon.
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