Chapter 1
Prologue
Los Angeles, California
The 10th floor boardroom of Glenview General Hospital looked out on the urban sprawl of Los Angeles. The large floor to ceiling tinted windows a physical barrier from the smog and noise most commonly associated with the city. This opulently furnished room served as the inner sanctum to the powers that be that controlled every aspect of the facility. Today, those powers were gathered to pass judgment on one of their own.
"Doctor Robert Foster, this board of inquiry has received several complaints about your actions. From those complaints we find you guilty of misconduct. Specifically the violation of patient rights pursuant to the Nuremburg Code, whereas it clearly states that any physician that conducts experimental procedures must have the consent of the subject. This code was placed in effect to prevent exactly the kind of abuse and disrespect that has been brought to our attention. Your use of terminal patients, those in a comatose or mental vegetative state, who are physically and mentally incapable of providing consent is highly inappropriate and not within the standards of care within this hospital. Not only have you violated patient rights, you've endangered the public trust and the reputation of this facility. This board hereby rescinds your right to practice medicine within the confines of this establishment and places you on administrative leave without pay pending further investigation into the allegations we have before us. Rest assured that based on the initial review of the evidence, we have more than enough to permanently revoke your medical license and pursue criminal charges." The director of the inquiry board paused while he glared over the top of his glasses at Foster. "I wouldn't get too comfortable in that new condo you purchased last month. And you might want to cancel any travel plans."
Foster sat with his attorney and watched as his medical research career ended. The temperature in the room seemed to drop suddenly even though it was computer controlled and never wavered less than five degrees. Foster knew what the risks would be if his after-hours research was discovered. But, this outcome was not one he had anticipated. When, not if, this case went to trial, his future in medical research was over no matter what the outcome. The AMA appointed attorney looked at him with a world weary stare and an unspoken apology. As the board members filed out of the room, Foster stood, gathered his files that he had hoped to present but never received a chance and left the room. A well dressed spectator followed him at a discrete distance. Strangely, Foster had not noticed this man sitting quietly in the back of the boardroom throughout the entire proceeding. They rode the elevator down in silence, Foster lost in thought as to what he would do next while his attorney advised him quietly that the best course of action would be to admit to the accusations, lose his license and hope to remain out of prison. When they reached the main floor, Foster looked up at the number then at the lobby as the doors revealed it. The attorney looked at him one last time and with a sad shake of his head, exited the elevator. Taking a step forward, Foster was grabbed on the arm just below the elbow by the unknown third party who had watched and listened intently during Foster's inquisition.
"Dr. Foster, if you'll step this way please?" It was more an order than a request and Foster felt himself guided to a waiting limousine already idling in the driveway in front of the hospital main entrance. He was hustled inside the darkened car and before he was fully seated, it pulled away from the curb. The shadowy figure seated across from him looked vaguely familiar.
"Robert, may I call you Robert?" Not waiting for a reply, the other man continued, "You may know me or you may not, it doesn't matter if you do. You could say that I'm very interested in your work in fact; I've followed it for quite some time. I'd like you to come to work for me, as an incentive you can continue your research at triple your current salary, you get a blank check for any and all research costs and this little legal problem of yours goes away." The figure waved his hand in the air as if he were a genie then turned his gaze to Foster. "Unless, of course you'd prefer sitting in prison, a disgraced, medical practitioner pondering how you got in that position and constantly wondering what might have been." The man dropped two ice cubes into a tumbler with a small set of tongs before covering them with whiskey and offering the glass to Foster. Eyes now adjusted to the heavy tint on the windows, Foster saw who the man was and realized what he was being offered. He stared at the other man as his mind raced; here was a chance to continue his work or step out of the car and quite probably spend the rest of his life in prison. Foster took the proffered drink and drank most of it down in one long swallow.
"I really want to continue my research." Foster replied hoarsely as the alcohol burned his throat. Nathan Bedford Conley, one of the richest men in the world, smiled a rather peculiar smile and then picked up the phone. "Sherman, take us to the airport."
Fort Bragg, North Carolina
"Dammit Alan, do you always have to volunteer for every single deployment?" Sara Hathaway formerly Richardson asked angrily. Alan Hathaway, her new husband of three months and the target of her anger sat at the kitchen table in their shared on base housing unit in the Biazza Ridge neighborhood. A large muscular man with short cropped hair per regulation, Hathaway liked to think he was someone who could handle just about any adverse situation. Having an argument with his new wife was not one of those situations. He looked up at her as she glared at him.
"Babe, you knew this was what I do when we started dating. I wanted to get this deployment out of the way." While that statement made sense to him, it obviously didn't to her. Sara stood with her back to the kitchen sink and digested what he had just said. She felt her face grow hot with anger and her eyes burn with unshed tears.
"Damn you. You deployed the day after we were married and you just got back yesterday. We never even had time for a real honeymoon and now you have to deploy again." She shook her head as if trying to understand the reasoning behind his decisions. "I know, it's the action, you're an adrenaline junkie, always have to prove you're the best." Frustrated, she turned away, long blonde hair flying and leaned over the sink gripping the edge of the countertop. She heard his chair slide on the floor as he stood up. Sara almost jumped when he touched her arms with his large capable hands and pulled her into a hug, her back against his firm, muscular chest.
"Babe, this is what I do; it's what I'm good at." He said softly into her hair as he lowered his mouth down and kissed the top of her head. She leaned back into him. Closing her eyes and for a second, she felt his heartbeat and everything was right in the world again. But, her anger at him resurfaced and she spun around to look up at him.
'Why can't you just stay here with me?' She thought as she felt the tears start to flow, angry at herself that she had let this get to her. "That's not the real reason. You and I both know the real reason. I'll always be the second choice no matter what. Your job will always be your number one priority. What was it that one of the wives said at the enlisted spouse's club? Oh yeah, we're not 'mission essential' so we had better get used to it." She spit out as she pushed him away and stormed down the hall to the bedroom leaving him standing there in shock then resignation that sadly, what she had just said was actually true. Master Sergeant Alan Hathaway realized that he had in all probability just watched their relationship and short marriage end.