Despite this, one did not grow up in Bridgeport, in the shadow of downtown Chicago, and not learn the hard way about a few of life’s truths. Those in authority did not always have your best interests at heart. And some people simply cannot be trusted.
Tommy didn’t trust Dr. Reischtal.
He shrugged. “Like I said, we did our jobs.”
“You, sir, are a liar.” Dr. Reischtal ground his teeth together.
“Did you seriously think that we would not watch you? We know you went to a club with a clientele composed exclusively of city employees. Then you attended a private event in the southern suburbs. I want to know exactly what happened last night. I want to know who came into close contact with both you and your partner. I want names and I want them now.”
“You know so much, you tell me.” Tommy hoped that sounded a lot more badass than he felt.
Dr. Reischtal shook his head. “Very well. As I have stated, I believe you are hiding the virus. Perhaps there is more than one patient zero. Perhaps this virus is working with an unexpected dispersal rate.” He got up. Knocked on the door. “Unfortunately, the only way I can be sure is to obtain a sample of brain tissue. Fortunately, modern science renders this procedure non-life-threatening. This is good news for you, yes?”
“Brain tissue?”
“Only a little bit,” Dr. Reischtal came back and leaned on the table next to the bed. “Relax. Only a tiny sample is required. We can obtain this without anesthetic, if you prefer. Only a needle is necessary.”
The door opened and three men walked in. One carried a tray, setting it up next to the table. The others interlocked their fingers over Tommy’s face, locking their elbows, and held his head perfectly still.
Dr. Reischtal pulled the blue cloth off the sterilized surgical tray, revealing a syringe the size of a robust cigar and a tiny drill. “Of course, we need to get through your skull first.” The needle on the syringe could suck up homemade spaghetti sauce. The drill made a whine like a dentist’s tool. He said, “See? Only a small hole. I find that if possible, it is far more useful to keep a subject alive, so we can talk. Perhaps after, you will be more inclined to tell me the truth.”
Sam could hear Arturo’s voice just as clear as Carolina’s. “Are you fucking serious? What is fucking wrong with you?”
Ed didn’t bother to answer. Arturo kept shouting. After a minute, Ed put the phone on the seat and started the car. He pulled into the early-morning traffic and they listened to Arturo the entire way home. He finally handed the phone over to Sam as he unlocked the front door to his building.
Sam said, “Listen, Commander, I know it looks bad—”
“Is this fucking Johnson? Is fucking Johnson trying to speak to me? I was in the middle of a conversation with Detective Jones. What the fuck are you doing on the phone?”
“We got some serious problems, Comm—”
“You’re goddamn right we got some serious fucking problems, Detective. How fucking astute.”
“When I say we, Commander . . . ah fuck. You know what I mean. This city. Us.”
“This city, Detective, has withstood almost a hundred and eighty years of everything God wants to hurl at it. How dare you align yourself with this city. And I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and involve your fellow brothers and sisters on the force.”
Sam hadn’t slept in thirty hours and he was stumbling through a fuzzy patch. He needed a moment. He needed a shower. He needed to sit quietly for about three hours and get up and make a pot of coffee. “Okay. Fine, absolutely,” and hit the END CALL button. He realized he was still standing on the sidewalk, long after Ed had gone inside. He tucked Ed’s phone into the inside pocket of his sport coat and stepped inside, firmly closing the door behind him.
The light above flickered and eventually broke apart in the reflections of a fluid sun on water. Tommy floated to the surface. They’d brought him out of his anesthesia and he had one hell of a headache, but he didn’t feel much of anything else. This was mostly because some tech had jammed a suppository in his ass, flooding his system with oxymorphone. He blinked as Dr. Reischtal loomed over him.
“We have samples of your brain now. We will learn the truth very, very soon.”
Tommy tried to move his mouth, hiss, anything. A low croak escaped his lips.
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Reischtal said and left.
CHAPTER 36
9:16 AM
August 13
Carolina poured coffee, then served them eggs, bacon, and toast. She said, “So. Sam. You got a girl yet?”
“No.”
“That’s your fault and you know it. Guy like you, you choose to, you can get a girl.”
“Sure.”
“Ed here, he’s got himself a girl. Too dumb to know how good he’s got it.” She slammed eggs on Ed’s plate. “But I bet you’d be a little more thoughtful, wouldn’t you, Sam?”
“Sure,” Sam agreed. He wasn’t an idiot.
Carolina turned to Ed. “Hmm-mmm. See that. Man smart enough to go out and find himself a woman, he oughta treat her with respect. Don’t you think?”
Ed nodded. He was no idiot either. “Sure.”
The TV on the kitchen counter caught Sam’s eye. Cecilia Palmers stood in front of County General with her concerned expression, the one she usually saved for major car accidents. The news crawl at the bottom read, BREAKING NEWS—POSSIBLE VIRUS OUTBREAK IN CHICAGO. SPREAD BY RATS, BUT IS NOT FATAL IN HUMANS. THOSE WITH COMPROMISED IMMUNE SYSTEMS SHOULD SEEK TREATMENT IMMEDIATELY. A PRESS CONFERENCE HAS BEEN SCHEDULED FOR TEN A.M.
Sam said, “Turn it up.”
Carolina caught the edge in his voice and didn’t argue.
“—want to stress that this is not contagious, nor overly dangerous to most adults. However, young children and the elderly can be susceptible. Authorities are simply warning the public to remain vigilant and report any rat sightings to the police.”
The male anchor broke in, “And Cecilia, is it true that they have taken to calling this the ‘rat flu’?”
Cecilia stuttered a moment, her eyes flicking to someone off camera. “Uh, this has not been confirmed at this time. . . .” She trailed off helplessly, waiting painfully for someone to say something to fill the void.
The female anchor recognized her panic and said, “We would like to repeat that this is nothing Chicago’s citizens should pan—for people to worry . . . unnecessarily about. This is simply a general warning, to keep everyone fully aware of the situation.”
The male anchor wouldn’t let up, though. “Is it true, as sources here at the station have said, that this is related to the escaped rat at City Hall two days ago?”
Again, Cecilia didn’t know how she should answer. “We cannot confirm anything at this time. . . .” Her eyes checked with her off-screen contact again. “But that event, at this time, would appear to be an isolated, unrelated incident. Again, I have been told that the authorities are emphasizing that this is a general precaution and should not interfere with anyone’s plans or daily routine.”
Carolina asked, “Is this bullshit? Or should I be worried?”
For several seconds, Ed and Sam didn’t answer. Finally, Ed said, “I don’t know, baby. I just don’t know. But I want you and Charlie to pack and leave as soon as possible. Get out of the city. Go visit your mother. I don’t care. Just get out.”
Work hadn’t been quite the same for the two paramedics, Scott and Vince, since they picked up the Streets and Sans guy. Ever since they’d gotten the call to bring the patient to Cook County General, not Northwestern, they seemed to get all the sketchy calls. They weren’t the only ones, of course, but pretty soon it seemed like the only calls they got were the weird ones.