Chapter 18

After good old what's-his-name left and Roberta ran off to do whatever she does, I slept ... finally. Getting shot might be old hat to me, but the effects of getting shot still hurt like hell, and sleep helps.

When I awoke I wasn't alone.

The Deputy Secretary of State was sitting in the chair beside the bed, last occupied by Roberta and Aunt Fran. I knew who he was because I'd appointed him as assistant Deputy when I was President. He was surrounded by an assistant and two bodyguards, and he looked perfectly annoyed to be kept waiting. As soon as I was cognizant enough to speak, I tried to apologize, but I had difficulty getting my throat to cooperate. Apparently the drugs, combined with the significant blood loss and thirst, weren't helping.

He solved that problem by saying, "David Walsh. It IS good to meet you. I can see you are still suffering the effects of your ... adventures, shall we say. I am Geoffrey Keller, Deputy Secretary of State, and it is my pleasure to meet the young man who stopped the terrorist attack in Knoxville. Your heroics are being talked about all over Washington, and I can't tell you how proud we all are about how you handled yourself.

"I also understand that earlier today you were visited by a rather unusual foreign official. For some reason the General's staff failed to notify us of his intention to visit, or we would have gotten you better prepared, but they didn't and we didn't, so there you go." He was a TWIT! How did I fail to see what twit this guy was BEFORE I put in him in such an important position?

Geoffrey was so full of Geoffrey that he didn't need me to respond. As long as I was present, he was free to babble on pointlessly - which he did. "The whole State Department is atwitter about your heroics, and my people can't wait to meet you, when we bring you in for a ceremony honoring your achievement. My people will contact you about dates, and here's a phone number to call should you receive any more unscheduled visits from foreign dignitaries. Do let us know as soon as they depart, so we can record the activity properly.

"There's a good man. Have a wonderful day, and we'll see you soon..." I had fully expected him to sign off with, "Tootle-loo!" but he wisely damped down the urge. There is no way I could have resisted laughing in his face. I nearly did anyway.

How could I have had all these nuts working for me? The ones that weren't crazy were freaking nuts. Dryden must be banging his head on the Resolute Desk just thinking about the imbeciles working for the federal government.

I was still mad when the door opened, and a Doctor stepped in. She was old enough to have long since retired and seemed stressed in a mad-scientist kind of way. All-in-all, I liked her right off.

She got right down to it. "David, I am Doctor Steinmueller. We've been looking at your blood scans and can't explain your unusual blood chemistry. Someone your age would be expected to have rather active body chemistry, but yours is kind of off the charts. We need to try and figure out some explanation for the test results but frankly, we don't have a clue." She stopped and waited to see what I would volunteer on the subject.

"The pediatrician, back when I was little, used to tell my mother that I had a very strong ability to heal. My mother thought that was just great, and would brag about how fast my cuts and scrapes scabbed over, but beyond that, I can't imagine what you're referring to."

That was all she was going to get from me.

She waited, hoping I would offer more, but when I failed to deliver, she continued. "One thing I want to tell you is not to worry unless something dramatically changes. Though your blood chemistry is not the usual, there's not a lot in the test results that should be a problem. It's just different." Satisfied that she made her point, whatever it was, she departed.

I was visited by another representative of the Federal Branch shortly after Doctor Steinmueller departed. This one was a shark, and intended to make me her next meal. I caught her antipathy before she got fully in the door and reminded myself to give her nothing to work with.

This one was built for anger. Her blue eyes flashed at me when she opened the door and came in uninvited. She walked in like it was her room, and I was the interloper. The dark maroon business suit did nothing to soften the hard-nosed, angry exterior. Because I refused to make it easy for her by providing a greeting that could be misconstrued as permission to enter and interrogate, she was put off by my lack of manners. I was certain that intentional oversight on my part was added to her laundry list of good reasons to be mad at the world.

She eyed me like an eagle waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting field mouse, until she deigned to speak. "David Walsh, I am Special Agent Marilyn Forrester, of the Department of Justice."

She paused for effect but I wasn't at all affected, so she went on. "We have problems with your actions related to the alleged shootings in downtown Knoxville this week."

She paused again, and if she thought I was volunteering anything, she was definitely on drugs. This one was sent to take me down, and I wasn't participating at all.

Not getting any response got under her skin, and she plunged forward. "I NEED SOME ANSWERS and RIGHT NOW!" She shouted to get my attention.

It didn't work, and that got her attention. She grabbed my arm and twisted it quite viciously to get my attention and tried again. "You will answer my questions, or I will have you locked away in GITMO by this evening."

"If you refuse to cooperate, I will be forced to conclude that you caused a terrorist incident and recommend the DOJ going ahead with terrorism charges against you."

She finally got a response from me, but not the one she expected.

Very calmly, I said, "That's nice," which infuriated her.

She was working up a full head of egotistical steam when I stopped her cold.

"I will be sure to tell Federal Judge Mathers that you intentionally violated her order relative to her appointment of an attorney to protect my rights while I am under the influence of multiple pain medications, and unable to clearly think, much less remember any of the things you are screaming at me about."

That stopped the aggressive behavior, but not the agenda, so I added, "Now you will have to excuse me, I was sleeping off the effects of two operations within eighteen hours, and a host of preventative drugs, due to my compromised circulation system, along with the recent injection of multiple pain medications. I promise to share your concerns and threats with Judge Mathers, as soon as she returns, which she told me would be any time now."

She had just started to twist my arm again, when I felt an awful pain in my side, and heard, "What threats would those be, David?" Judge Mathers was standing in the doorway alongside Roberta, looking far past annoyed and well into contempt territory. I suddenly felt sorry for Marilyn Forrester.