Milwaukee Deep

“This can’t be right,” muttered Dr Jensen under his breath.

“What’s that?” asked Sam as he made his way over to the desk where Jensen sat.

“These tests – something must have happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

“This blood test – it’s telling me that Michael has no white blood cells.”

“No white blood cells – how can that be?”

Jensen looked over at Sam.

“I don’t know - it’s impossible. Even if Michael was suffering from leukopenia, he would still have white blood cells to combat infection. To have none whatsoever means he would be susceptible to all kinds of diseases – I mean, the common cold could kill him.”

“So how can this happen?”

“I don’t know. Low white cell counts can be associated with chemotherapy, leukaemia, and myelofibrosis to name a few. Even some medications can cause a decrease in white blood cells, but to have none at all, well I’ve never heard of it.”

“So the tests are wrong?” asked Sam

“They must be. I’m going to have to order a complete blood count – that and another CT Scan once Michael wakes up.”

“Another scan? Why?”

Jensen looked over to where Michael was to re-confirm he was asleep.

“I found what is called a cardiac mass on Michael’s heart. It’s sitting on the wall of the right atrium. It’s quite large, about double the size of a golf ball and I need to verify whether it’s benign or malignant.”

Dr Jensen’s nurse, Amy Gillart knocked on the door and entered the room.

“Yes, Amy?” Jensen asked.

“Sorry to bother you doctor, but your eleven o’clock has been waiting outside for almost an hour – would you like me to reschedule?”

Jensen looked across at Sam.

“Can you give me half an hour? I’ll see my eleven and I’ll push out everyone else till tomorrow. Then we’ll run another CT.”

“Sure – I’ll wait outside,” agreed Sam.

“No, stay in here – I’ll see my patient in the other examination room.”

Jensen turned back to Nurse Gillart.

“Amy, can you arrange for a complete blood count to be performed on Michael. He’s still heavily sedated, so just extract the specimen and send it off, okay?”

“Certainly.”

“Sam, wait here until I get back.”

Willow held the phone tight to his ear - the words, “I’m sorry, Sir”, rang out as his knees hit the ground.

Karidis stood silent as he knew what had just happened - the loss of a child an unbearable situation for any parent.

“No – no not my Hillary!”

Karidis made his way over to the Secretary.

“Sir,” he said softly, “it’s time to go. News will get out soon. The press will want a statement.”

“Tell them the truth – that he killed his own daughter,” said Myles with a trace of bitterness.

Karidis looked over at his prisoner but didn’t respond. Instead his focus returned to the heartbroken Secretary who lay on the floor.

“Sir, we must leave before the FBI gets wind of this.”

“We had him and he let him go,” Myles continued.

Karidis pulled out his phone. He dialled the number and waited.

“It’s Karidis here - put in the call for the ambulance. The Secretary is about to leave.”

Karidis closed his cell phone and looked over to Agent Cooper.

“It’s time,” he said.

Cooper immediately pulled out his weapon.

“What’s the hell’s going on?” Myles asked.

“We’ve got no reason to hold you any more, Agent Myles,” Karidis answered.

“So that’s it, you’ll just kill me? We’re supposed to be working for the same team, God damn it!”

“I’m sorry – but I have my orders,” said Karidis.

Agent Cooper began to screw the silencer onto his weapon.

“Orders? What are talking about! He hasn’t said anything! Look at him; he’s lying on the floor! He hasn’t given you any fucking orders!”

“It wasn’t the Secretary who gave me the order,” Karidis said as he nodded at Agent Cooper.

“Hold on!” Myles pleaded, “Please, we can-“

Before he could finish his sentence the agent fired his weapon.

Myles slumped to the floor – the shot killed him instantly.

Karidis looked at the body then turned to the Secretary.

“Sir, we’re about to put plan B into action. Be prepared – the ambulance will be here shortly.”

The two men sat silent in the Oval Office awaiting the call.

“Bill, I’m tired of waiting.”

The President of the United States, William S. Stoker didn’t react as Crane reached forward and picked up the phone.

The President’s secretary answered.

“Yes, Mr President?”

“No, it’s me – get me command on the line.”

“Yes, Sir,” she replied.

“Frank,” the call was patched through, “I’m here in the White House waiting for those idiots to get back to me on Ganton’s autopsy. Have you heard anything?”

“No, Sir. We’re still waiting for the clean up crew to come back to us.”

At that moment, the President’s aide, Harry Bell walked into the oval office.

“Sir, I think you need to see this.”

He handed an envelope to Crane.

“It was found in Ganton’s residence. It’s a letter addressed to you, Sir.”

Crane grabbed the envelope offered to him and pulled out the letter. He started reading it -

The President and his aide kept silent as he read the letter.

“If this ever got out,” he muttered to himself.

Crane looked up at Bell.

“Who else has read this?”

“I’m not sure, Sir. Tom Harding gave it to me to give to you.”

“Have you read it?”

“No, Sir, I wouldn’t.”

Crane looked up at the President’s aide and then across at President Stoker.

“Do you trust this man, Bill?” he asked

“Yes I do,” replied the President

Crane turned to Bell.

“Very well, bring me Tom Harding. Now.”