The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jane stared at her screen, trying not to yawn.  For the last week, she had been gathering all of her notes on each of the detainees and trying to put them in some sort of order that she could use to present her case.  Who that case would be presented to, she hadn't figured out yet.  But as of early this morning, she was working with a renewed sense of urgency.  And her urgency was well founded.  As if four innocent detainees weren’t enough, Barrett had informed her that she would be receiving a new detainee to question shortly.

When she had tried to ask for more information about who and why, Barrett had snapped, "That's not important!  Just do your damn job and get the information we need."

Get the information we need. 

Her fingers stabbed at the keys.  Not find the information.  Get it.  This told her they had stopped caring about the truth and only wanted to prove their case.  The whole thing was a mockery of justice, a twisted version of a modern day witch hunt.  And like those caught in the sweep of hate and lies, innocent people were once again begin tortured and unjustly accused.  She needed to get these people free.  And hope that the damage they’d caused the detainees was minimal. 

That was something she always worried about when she did her work.  What was the damage?  Especially when physical and mental torture had been allowed, despite her telling people again and again that this did no good.  Out of all of them, though, Tommy bothered her the most.  She knew from experience that even if she managed to get him out of this mess, he was never going to be the same kid they had taken, and that saddened her.  It wasn't that she hadn't seen this time and time again, it was the fact that there was an innocence to him that had been ripped away entirely too early in life.  She wondered what would happen to him when this was all over.  Imprisoned or free, the kid was going to face a tough uphill battle.

Jane tried to console herself with the fact that at least she was going to get to this latest detainee before any other interrogations were allowed.  When that did nothing to alleviate her concerns, she turned back to typing until her words became a jumbled mess.  As she was trying to decide whether to give up all together and just go to bed, she heard a ding.

Assuming it was Foxtrot again, Jane was ready to ignore it when she noticed it was a private meeting invite.  She glanced at the handle but, not recognizing it, she declined it and decided to log out of the chatrooms all together.  With three glasses of wine in her and the fact that she was tired, she knew she had a good chance of saying more than she should.  And, as much as she wanted and needed to talk, she wasn’t sure if she could resist another ping should Foxtrot decide to try again.  Instead, Jane decided to put her work aside and open her eDiary.  Her other virtual friend.  Into it she poured the latest of her findings, doubts and inability to determine what she could do to fix it. 

It was nearly two in the morning before she finished.  Feeling only slightly better, she wearily headed to bed, never noticing the cursor on her laptop when it began to move of its own accord.  As she slept, the screen changed between her diary to her notes and finally to her assumptions.  After downloading all of these to an off-site location, the unknown user logged off.   

In the morning, Jane noticed nothing unusual as she sat down with a cup of coffee and logged back in.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ken stood in front of Commander Nathan Lee, with Sally Borne at his side, still reeling from the information she had provided him over the phone the night before.  He had been too shocked to even call Alex about the news.  From the looks of it, the police commander was as well.  Ken could still picture his expression when they had walked in together talking about a connection between the disappearances.  Commander Lee had stared as they talked, at first speaking over each other and then finally breaking into a rhythm of talking and filling in the missing pieces.

After they finished, Ken's first question was why the police hadn't already found the connection.  Lee explained the fact that the disappearances had occurred in different precincts and, even though he had been working in both - thanks to the staff shortages - there had been nothing outwardly that had connected them. 

Sally Borne confirmed that she had no reason to suspect that her husband had been kidnapped either, let alone by the FBI.  Ken had watched her face redden as she briefly explained her marital issues and why she had come to believe exactly what the commander had said.  That Frank had just decided to leave them rather than face a divorce.

Commander Lee took a deep breath.  "Is that all?"

"No, but isn't this enough for you to look into further?  That's now two disappearances connected to my son."

It was Mrs. Borne's turn to look shocked.  Ken realized he hadn’t even mentioned this to her last night and rapidly launched into the story of the night Ben had visited him. He went on to explain how he had come to the police but that, other than his son knowing Tommy, there had been other evidence that Wayne Bevels’ disappearance was connected. He tried to suppress his irritation at the lack of findings as he finished.

Sally Borne was quiet for a moment. 
No doubt trying to absorb everything as I am
, Ken thought. 

Finally she turned to Commander Lee and asked, "So now what do we do, Commander?  Is the fact that one boy is connected to three disappearances enough to launch something?"

Commander Lee nodded.   "Yes.  And I know you're not going to want to hear this, but I need to make some calls, and I'm not sure how long this is going to take."

Ken clamped down his initial reaction. 
Of course there would be more calls
.  What were the police going to do? Storm every FBI office in the state?  He gave an abrupt nod instead, noticing the commander visibly relax.

"Good.  Now.  It sounds like you two had a good long talk before you came here, and while I've got a lot of details, we'll want to get more." 

He turned to face Sally Borne.  "Ma'am, I know this has been hard on your son, but do you think we could ask him some more questions?  I can send a police officer to your house to get information from the both of you, if you think it would make it easier."

"He'll do it.  And I can give what little I know while I'm here."

"Thank you."

He reached down, hitting a button on his intercom.  "Jones, I need you to take a few people and get their statements, and send me Kowalski."

"Yes, sir."

"I am also going to reach out to Daren Kopeks the Denver Chief of Police.  I’ll update him on the situation and see what he would like to do."

They both nodded as he looked to each of them and then directed his gaze back to Ken.   Ken saw a flash of something in his eyes that he couldn't quite read before he continued with, "If they are with the FBI, I'm going to find your boy, Mr. Moore and your husband, Mrs. Borne.  And then I'm going to find out how something like this can happen right under my watch."

Ken did recognize the look that shot through the commander's eyes as he said this.  It was the same one Alex's eyes had held when he said he would find Tommy.  They both meant it and they both looked pissed.  He nodded in approval.  It was exactly what he felt and had been feeling since this nightmare began. 

By the time Ken got home it was past midnight.  He had meant to reach out to Alex with the news of Frank Borne but hadn't expected to be so long at the police station.  First thing in the morning he would call Alex and his PI with the latest information.  He was anxious to see what, and how soon, any of them found anything.

Chapter Thirty

Alex awoke in a foggy haze.  He was sure he had forgotten something, but his mind refused to supply the answer.  Flashes of waking to hear someone in his room, being held down, his fist connecting with someone's face and an explosion of pain in his head, added to his disorientation.  He must have been dreaming. 

What was he supposed to remember
?

Groggily he moved to roll out of his king sized bed only to find himself suddenly dumped onto a cold cement floor.  His eyes snapped opened and then instantly shut against the bright florescent lights.  Another flash of waking to someone yelling at him and getting hit repeatedly, shot through his mind. 

What the hell?

Slowly the fog began to clear and Alex recognized the remnants of a drug induced sleep. 

"Good evening, Mr. Moore." 

The voice was female and pleasant.  He tried to force his eyes open but they fought him.  Just a little more sleep-

"Ow!"  He winced from the sharp sting of a needle as well as the unexpected pain in his jaw.

"Sorry about that, but I had to give you something to counteract the near overdose of sedative they gave you.  Apparently they felt the need for excess precaution when dealing with you.  You’ve been out for over twenty-four hours.  You should start feeling more like yourself shortly."

Within minutes, Alex felt his mind clearing.  He pushed himself into a seated position, wincing from the lancing pain in his ribs.  He opened his eyes again and looked up. 

His gaze followed a pair of very nicely shaped legs to a white lab coat and then to the face behind the voice.  Wide brown eyes framed by a triangular face and dark blond hair stared back at him.  Her mouth was slightly pinched as if annoyed to see him.  For some reason he didn't like that she was annoyed. 

He looked around, getting his bearings.  From what he could see he was in a smallish cinder block room with no windows, one door, a table and two chairs, the small cot he had fallen out of and a tray with what looked like a doctor’s bag on it.  He looked back up to the woman, unable to discern her current expression.

Deciding he was at a distinct disadvantage, he moved to stand up when a wave of nausea caught him.  A small, warm hand reached down to help him. 

"You might want to take it slow.  And you're going to have a hell of a headache, but you'll be fine." 

Surprisingly strong arms helped him back to the cot, where he leaned back against the wall and tried to look a little more dignified.

"Who are you?  And where am I?"  More pain and another flash of someone's fist connecting with his jaw.  There had been a bright room and more yelling.  People asking questions.  Why hadn't he fought back?

Her mouth pursed in annoyance again.  He really didn't like to see that look on her. 

"You are being held in a detention center while they try to determine your part in all of this.  This is the interrogation room."

"In all of what?  Interrogation room?"

She glanced at what appeared to be a large mirror.  Two-way. 

They were being watched. 

When she looked back, she replied, "That will be answered. Right now, I need to check your vitals and make sure you are in good enough condition before I begin my questioning."

"You never told me who you are."

She sighed, reaching for her bag from which she retrieved a stethoscope.  She hung this around her neck as she replied, "You can call me Dr. Lyndsay."

Dr. Lyndsay. 
Where had he heard that name before?
 

He rubbed his wrists, trying to remember.  A stinging sensation made him look down.  Angry red marks and fresh bruising gave him the answer to why he hadn't fought back.

Lyndsay.  Lyndsay. 

"Wait.  Dr.
Jane
Lyndsay?"

She turned to him, a surprised look on her face.  "Do I know you?"

"No.  But I heard a few things about you when I was in Afghanistan.  None of them very nice."  Recalling some of the stories he'd heard, he suddenly decided that she really didn't have that pretty of a face.  Or legs.

"I wouldn't put much credence to rumors.  I am very good at what I do and I help to save lives."

"You mean by torturing people into confessions?"

"I'll have you know that, if it weren't for me, more people would be physically tortured and beaten, most likely to only give false information.  What I do puts a stop to that."  She shoved the cold stethoscope under his shirt.  "Now breathe."

He winced as he took a breath, realizing one of his ribs must be cracked.  "Doesn't look like you did much good in stopping someone from getting to me the old fashioned way first."

He sensed the sudden tension in her body.  "They assured me this wasn’t going to happen this time.  If I had known they had intended to start without me, I would have been here earlier.  Now be quiet and take another breath."

He did as asked, still trying to figure out where he was and why.  What could he have done, that anyone would know about, that would force them to bring in Doctor Babbles.

"Dr. Babbles?"

He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud.  "Ya.  That's the name they had for you in Afghanistan."

"Why that particular moniker?"

"Because no matter who they needed to talk they knew they could send you and you would have them babbling in no time."

"Oooh.  Sounds threatening.   They could have least have had the courtesy to give me a cool moniker.  Or at least something scary sounding."

"Trust me lady.  After the stories we heard, your name invoked plenty of scary."

Her face flashed from annoyed to hurt to slightly amused, the corner of her mouth turning upward.  She reached into her bag and pulled out a few more items, placing them on the tray. 

"I'm going to have to give you a few more shots and check a few things.  If you can manage to withstand the awesome and horrible powers of Dr. Babbles, I need you to remain quiet and only respond when I ask you to.  Do you think you can do that?"

He nodded. 

"Good.  Now first, another shot." 

He watched as she reached for a needle, first moving slightly to the right to hit what looked like a switch on a small black box.  His eyes widened slightly as he recognized the device.  He turned to say something but was stopped by a look. 

"I need you to listen and quickly.  I won't have much time before they realize their devices aren't recording accurately. If you understand, blink once."

He blinked, glancing at the mirror directly behind the doctor.  There would be no way they could see her talking the way she was turned.   He looked back at her, his gaze turning to one of slight admiration.  His gaze hardened at her next words.

"They have your nephew-"

"What?"  He shot to his feet.  She jerked him back down. 

"Shut up you idiot!"

The sound of the door lock sliding open elicited a curse word from her.  She turned to face the door.  When the guard popped in, she motioned him out.

"I'm fine.  I just misjudged where I was giving the shot and hit a nerve. We're good."

Alex took a moment to assess the guard, noting his military uniform, full metal jacket and build.  This wasn't an ordinary guard.  This was a soldier.  He gave Alex an assessing look and Alex stared back.  He noticed the guard had a bruise on his right cheek and didn't look too happy with Alex.  Alex suppressed a grin.  After giving Alex another hard look, the man gave a curt nod to the doctor and then closed the door, slamming the lock home.

"Now I only have a few minutes."  She hit him with the needle before he could reply.  "This is just saline.  It won't do anything to you but I need you to act drugged if anyone follows me in here to question you.  If you understand, blink once."

He blinked once, using every bit of his training and will power to not start asking all of the questions flooding his brain.  He was far from groggy now.

"Good.  I know your nephew is innocent.  So are the other three and maybe even you.  But I don't know how to get you guys out of here yet.  I'm working on it."  She glanced at her watch.  Noting the time, she turned slightly toward the door but kept her hair falling toward her face as she continued, "I will try to talk to you again, but for now, just play along.  If we do this right, no one else will get tortured again."  

No one else will get tortured.
  

He started to say something when she hit the switch on the box again, motioning him to silence.  Carefully she put the box and equipment back in her bag before glancing at her watch.  She then grabbed his wrist, feeling for his pulse.  A few seconds later, she gave a nod and began asking a series of questions.  He answered what he could, trying to sound as if he were still drugged, all the while biting his tongue to keep the questions
he
wanted to ask from spilling out.  When her questions got too sensitive, he made his answers up.

Sometime later, his head throbbing, the questioning finally stopped.  As the doctor stood up, the door immediately opened.  Turning to speak to the guard, she said, "He'll probably be out of it another hour or so."  She stared hard at Alex when she said this before turning back to the guard.  "Make sure he gets water and food when he wakes and then take him to his cell."

Judging by the glance the guard gave him, Alex figured the guard would rather do anything but what she asked.  But he nodded sharply as the doctor left and Alex swore he saw a slight look of fear in the man's eyes as she passed him.

Alex stayed where he was, willing himself to remain still until he heard the door close.

No one else will get tortured.
  

The thought that he had tried to push away came rushing forward. 
Dear God.  What had they done to Tommy?