Chapter 20: Blood Test Results

Friday July 11, 2008

At 4 o’clock my cell phone alarm went off, there were no bars but I needed some of the apps including the alarm clock. Besides, who wears a watch these day? It was time to call the hospital for the blood test results, so I went up to the “widow’s walk” on top of the hacienda with my sat-phone and called the hospital.

The results were as Mer expected - there were two extra, never authorized, drugs that were slowly killing the Chief. They matched the log of sample pills Mer had sent with the blood as the two that were not on the list of prescribed meds. I ordered that Rigo be given the paperwork for the results, he was waiting for it while hitting on every cute nurse in the place. He had a cuban flair that was extra charming when he was in the mood. He was to fly to the tribe right now, arriving just after 5 o’clock. We had a show to put on and he was closing the second act.

One of the added drugs caused some depression and decreased alertness, not a big deal by itself but it was a load on the kidneys and “dulled” the patient’s general mental sharpness and attention to details, making them suggestible. The second drug was usually given to inhibit the heart for young folks with an irregular heartbeat, but some older women took it as well. These drugs were NOT intended for older men or any patients at altitude (Denver was too high and the tribe was almost 3 times that). I assumed a lie had been used to get the scripts. (I was wrong, it was complicated, insidious and a real threat.)

While not normally fatal by themselves, when combined with one of the Chief’s prescribed drugs the heartbeat drug caused serious breathing problems for a man of age and at altitude like my Grandfather. They were never prescribed together. Besides getting him off the drug the doctor’s urgent suggestion was to get Grandfather on oxygen or to a lower level, or both, and stop the drugs. He would recover “in days or less” if that happened. When I asked about speeding recovery he checked kidney function and then said a saline drip would speed the process of flushing the poison, and it would be even faster with something added to the IV. Did we have a nurse handy?

We would soon - the helicopter pilot was an hour away.

Rigo had been trained as a medic in the Cuban military, medicine is one of the things Cuba does a better-than-average job at. He was more capable at general medicine than a nurse was. While serving in the military he was sent into the US twice before 9-11 to fetch Cuban operatives with medical problems who could not use a doctor or a hospital without the FBI showing up to ask the wrong questions. Both made a full recovery in Cuba and Rigo was decorated by Fidel’s brother.

Most of the Patron’s men in military service “retire” by driving off in a truck or jeep borrowed from their job. When Rigo retired from the Cuban military a jeep would not help - it is an island. So he decided to help himself to an old Guided Missile Patrol Boat that was slated for sale to a warlord in Africa. Rigo figured the Africans could not pay for it, and would only cause trouble if they got it, and it would likely break down in transit so it would wind up as a shipping hazard. Plus it looked like a sweet ride. So Rigo saved many people the hassle and used it for his retirement ride home.

He said that it was amazing the places where a guy sealing in a medic’s haz-mat suit carrying a large biohazard bags is allowed to pass without challenge. How to get the crew to leave? Whisper “contagion” a little too loud to the captain. Even the bravest run like rats off a sinking ship. It works every time. The boat, renamed “Rigo Brava” is now camouflaged a few miles down river from the Colony, they patrol with in regularly. The light, fast boat carries four freaking Styx missiles that can each sink a cruiser 40 miles away, so imagine what they would do to any Brazilian or Peruvian patrol that comes sniffing around. Those guys always cruise with radar active so our patrols can see them a long way away, long before they see us.

Once the doc at the hospital was convinced that Rigo knew his business he gave Rigo the IV bags and the extra meds needed. Then Rigo was off.

Mer had kept a record of when each drug was taken. Both of the added drugs, along with three essential drugs, were scheduled for 5 o’clock.

Over the next 15 minutes Marta and I talked on the com units to work out a plan. We needed to get both the Chief and Grisha to the hacienda for their health; which would have very different outcomes. For the Chief an oxygen tent would be set up. Grisha would meet some folks I trained to facilitate conversation with folks unwilling to talk.

Marta or Mer would give Grandfather the 5 o’clock drugs but would palm the troublemakers. Then the Chief would fake an attack and Marta would insist on bringing him down from the mountain at my order. They could not use the tribe’s small helicopter since Grandfather had to recline, but the MASH helicopter was originally designed (MAS*H) for these jobs. Grisha would insist on coming along so Marta would call for Rigo on her com. He would land by the chief’s home. Rigo would carry the Chief on the copter’s stretcher with Grisha and Marta in the seats. Normally that load would be too heavy to climb safely, but after the round trip to the hospital, fuel would be low (less weight) plus the copter would be dropping altitude. Rigo had done it before. Rigo’s bag held a needle with some cuare for Grisha, for everybody’s comfort.

Kwool would follow with Mer and Pur; for that load she would only have enough fuel in her tank for a one-way trip. Irene would stay on the mountain overnight, securing Grandfather’s bed and home on my order. Irene would also check Grisha’s home. With the excitement dinner might be a bit later than the Patron had planned. I went to him to clear the plan that was already in motion.

After he heard what was going on the Patron was furious, he was okay with shooting Grisha in the head as soon as she landed, but I wanted our interrogators to have a longer talk with her to see who else was involved. Why kill the flea when we wanted the rat? Plus, I insisted that shooting was too good for her, when the time came I expected her to beg for the “buzzards buffet” where the tribe does punishments. The Patron asked about shooting to wound, but I said that meant extra cleanup. We had people who could get medieval on her - and it was my right to do so if I got the Council’s permission. He agreed, and said that his friend would probably want to dictate a longer form of final punishment. “We have some fine whips, made the old ways.”

The Patron knew that the tribe only exercised one form of punishment, a short step to eternity.

The tribe knew nothing of water-boarding, which left no wounds and was hard to detect afterward. Plus, if Grisha’s testimony was to be used, the council members would feel bad if there were physical signs of torture. On the other hand, a few of our soldiers were experts in water-boarding, trained by the CIA to be some of the best in Latin America. We would have answers in a few hours, long before anybody died.

Although by then Grisha would wish for death.

At about 5:21 Rigo called in, he was “heavy” and coming in hot for an emergency landing to the hacienda. A needle had connected with Grisha. He landed smoothly a few moments later. As soon as the Chief, Marta and Grisha got out Rigo lifted off to his base and Kwool dropped in, carrying Mer and Pur. I had called to Pur on the phone line to bring the Chief’s 7-day “Pill Minder” which Grisha filled every day, so he had his prescribed medicines.

I learned later that Marta had slipped the cuare shot to Mer to do the honors, as a reward for Mer’s discovery of the problem and worked out the plan. Marta said to her, “My father said my daughter-in-law can have this honor, and I agree.” Mer slipped the shot to Grisha in the copter before takeoff, injecting her like a nurse so the witch hardly felt it. Grisha was already strapped in her seat and was surprised as she became paralyzed. She did not complain. This was the purest cuare, refined, amplified and slightly accelerated by our German scientists. We have faster mixes, but sometimes those go too far and relax the lungs, which limits the conversations we planned for afterwards. We didn’t want Grisha to miss anything for the rest of her short, miserable life.

Once they were all on the ground at the hacienda Pur and Mer eased Grisha into a wheelbarrow that smelled of manure. She was carted away to a soundproof building where she met the Garcia brothers we called the “honesty twins.” They made her comfortable tied securely to a plank at the proper angle, explaining that the ropes were to keep her from falling off. When the drug wore off they gave her plenty to drink and asked a few simple questions. Repeatedly. They eventually got, and double-checked, her answers.

Meanwhile the rest of us who were involved, including the Patron, gathered in the Chief’s room. I took Gracie with me, and the Patron invited Ernie’s family. Also, all the indians in earshot, about a dozen, came running when they heard the choppers coming down “heavy” from the Tribe.