Chapter 29

John didn't wake up the next day, or the next week! In fact three weeks later he was still in a coma.

The crew was now alternating the vigil, but Mary was another thing. She refused to leave her husband's side. Everyone was beginning to fear for her health as she sat beside the bed and stared at John—she even refused a cot. Choosing, instead to sleep sitting up with her head resting on John's and her own clasped hands. Over the time since John had entered the hospital she had eaten little and was loosing a great deal of weight.

"You can do more than just stare at him Mrs. Philips, talk to him. Talk just as if he were awake. He will hear you," said the doctor from the doorway.

Mary snapped her head around, glared at the doctor and retorted, "What do you mean, he will hear me? He's in a coma! He's unconscious! Any fool can see that!"

"Believe me when I tell you he will hear you. I've seen it way too many times, not to believe in the wonders of the human mind. Part of your husband's mind is indeed asleep, but there are other parts that are aware."

Mary softened and said, "I'm sorry, Doctor. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. It's just that I'm so afraid of losing him."

"I know, but please trust me when I say he hears you. I believe that with my whole heart! You, however, worry me much more than your husband does. You're not doing well. Not well at all, and I must insist that you get some food and rest. Your husband would not like to see you in this state, would he?"

"Nooo..." said Mary with a heavy sigh as she stood up—she was so fatigued that she was barely able to stand on her own. Immediately one of John's guards moved to her side to help the woman.

"You get something to eat and I will have a bed brought in for your use," said the doctor.

Mary nodded, as she let herself be led out of the room.

Before Mary made it to the door the doctor turned and asked, "Oh one other thing, Mrs. Philips. I was told that you're a Shaman. Is that true?"

"Of sorts. My father was the Tribal Shaman. I learned much from him, but he died before he could finish my education. Then I married and, well ... things sort of got in the way. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I thought that it couldn't hurt if you did 'the healing way' ceremony. I never discount the spiritual in cases such as this. There is one caveat, though. Because of the oxygen in use, here in the room, you must forgo any flames, sparks or embers such as burning sage or anything like that. There would be an explosion."

Mary brightened greatly and said, "Thank you, Doctor. I will perform the ceremony as soon as I rest and perform a cleansing ceremony for myself."

With a hopeful smile on her lips Mary let the guard assist her to get some food and much needed rest.

"Damn it! What the hell is going on?" yelled Malcolm at his computer.

"I just don't get it! I got everything on the flash drive but I still can't get into the off shore accounts. Damn it! DAMN IT! DAMN IT!"

The man had been hunched over his computer keyboard for hours trying to access the accounts. Not one of the accounts recognized the passwords the he had obtained from the flash drive. Finally with a scream of frustration he pounded his fists on the keyboard. Over and over his fists pummeled the keyboard, until it shattered and the parts scattered the floor. Not only was the keyboard a wreck but also Malcolm's hands were a shredded bleeding mess.

Walter sat at his desk, scowling. The telltale that he had left on the secret drawer was missing. A remnant from his spook days, Walter was in the habit of leaving a hair or a piece of thread that would show if someone had messed with his things.

Anger rose within the Senator as he watched the security recording of Malcolm searching for and then finding the secret flash drive.

"I thought that he was my friend, but I guess I was wrong," muttered Walter as he watched Malcolm upload the files from the flash drive. "It's a good thing that the real drive was in the second level of the drawer, and I'll bet that by now he knows that the information he uploaded was bogus. Best move everything out, just in case," sighed the Senator. Knowing that Malcolm would never see a penny of the secret funds calmed Walter's anger.

'Too bad, really. I was going to give the files to him; but the greedy, selfish bastard had to pull that thing with the Brandy. That was good stuff though," thought Walter with a big smile at the memory of the smooth, aromatic taste of the Remy-Martin Louis XIII.

Mary had one of the men drive her into the forest outside of town. Once there they prepared for the cleansing ceremony by building a sweat lodge next to a large, fast flowing stream. The fire pit was built and the fire started with driftwood that lay around the banks from the spring runoff. Once the fire was going well Mary and her helper gathered a large pile of wood—a large bed of coals would be needed.

When everything was ready Mary stripped and entered the hut. She sat near the fire pit and began her chant...

Several hours later she emerged and stepped into the icy stream, washed and then dressed.

That evening she performed a special 'healing way' ceremony for her man, as he lay unconscious in his hospital bed. Most of the extended Reapers family stood respectfully in the hall watching. Those that were absent were on assignment; Donna was gearing up for action.

"Yes that's right, Senator Malcolm Woodridge. Yes, he's turned on us. That's right, with extreme prejudice and the contract must be completed today! Yes, the payment will be at the usual drop off point within the hour ... half now and the balance after the job, as usual ... and remember that this must look like an accident. Good by."

Walter broke the connection and then took the throwaway phone apart. Next he took the circuit board and SIM card from the phone and ran them through his industrial strength shredder.

"There. There is no way anyone can trace that call back to this office. I need to protect the kids. They're a loyal bunch. Actually they've been the best lot of interns and staff that I have ever had," thought Walter.

Suddenly he grabbed at his head and moaned softly. The pains from the tumor were getting to the point of being unbearable. Through the pain Walter took a bottle from his pocket and, with trembling hands managed to extract and take two pills. In time the morphine helped and he sat back and took a long breath. He knew he was losing ground fast and knew in his heart that he would be gone a lot sooner than the doctors thought. The Senator opened a drawer and pulled out another throwaway phone and began to dial.

By the end of the afternoon Walter had burned Malcolm with everyone on the contact list, just in case. Everyone except Vezza's group that is, they refused to take his calls stating one excuse after another. Walter was beginning to get a bad feeling about the relationship that may exist between Malcolm and Vezza. Though Vezza was indeed, absolutely insane, it was a selective insanity. He was still a very savvy black ops man.

Walter leaned back and steepled his fingers against his lips and thought, "That bastard has known about my illness long enough to hire Vezza. The two of them could make a formidable enemy if they actually joined forces. I'll bet that's why he needed the money, or at least part of the reason, Malcolm is a greedy bastard when all is said and done. What to do? What to do?"

"Hello to you, too, Todd," said Donna with a smile.

"Look the reason I called is that I need to ask you a question. Do you still have those portable fuel tanks? Good! Good! The reason I asked is that I want to rent those tanks. I want you to top off all of our other fuels, as well as fill those two portable units.

"What?

"Oh yes. We have a big convention flying in and the customers want us to refuel their planes here. You know how some people are. They're tied in by tight schedules, and will simply not let the planes out of their sight.

"What? Yes exactly. Ha ha. Thanks, Todd. Oh, and, Todd we need everything by yesterday.

"What? Oh, sorry. We want the portable tanks filled with jet fuel. Oh! We need to double our order of hydraulic fluid, and engine oil, too."

"Yeah, each customer has his own plane. Quite frankly I don't know where we're going to put the things when they all get here. Ok. That sounds fine. I'll look forward to seeing those heavy lift birds of yours. Thanks, Todd. Goodbye."

Jacob sat and listened to the one sided conversation with a smile. Donna could get blood out of a stone, she always could. He felt a whole lot better working with the Reapers, than against them.

With the lodge acting as a way station, they should be able to come up with something that will bait Vezza, and draw him out.

"THAT SON OF A BITCH! HE TRICKED ME!" yelled Malcolm as he pushed away from his desk and began to pace rapidly back and forth leaving a trail of blood spatters on the Persian rug.

Finally, he calmed down and went back to his desk. He pulled out a bottle of Wild Turkey and a glass from the bottom drawer of his desk. He poured two fingers of the amber liquid, downed the drink in one swallow and calmed. It was then that he noticed the pain and the blood.

"Ohhhh, Mannn! I'd better get this taken care of," he muttered as he rose and headed to his bathroom. Once he had bandaged his hands he poured a second drink and just sat sipping and thinking, thinking and sipping...

An hour later Malcolm had come up with nothing. With a sigh he rose and headed for the door.

"I'd best go and see if I can talk the information out of the old bastard. Damn it! Why does this have to be so hard?" he thought as he left his apartment and took the elevator to the parking garage.

"Senator! Senator! Did you hear what happened?" asked his personal assistant as she ran excitedly into his office.

"Calm down, Clarice, calm down. Now why don't you start at the beginning? Then I'll be able to tell you if I've heard of which you speak," said Senator Lockhart.

Clarice just went to the sitting area of the Senator's office, and picked up the TV remote.

"It's on all of the stations, Sir. Senator Woodridge is dead!" she said as she turned the TV on.

Walter tried to look suitably surprised at the news, as he rose from his desk and went to stand next to Clarice. They quietly stood listening to the news anchor describe how Malcolm had been walking toward his car, in the parking garage of the apartment complex that served as his home when he was on the hill.