Patient Zero

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Baltimore, Maryland / Tuesday, June 30; 2:43 P.M.

“HOW LONG DID this take, Grace?” Church asked.

“Four-point-six seconds.” It sounded like the words were pulled out of her with pliers. “Or eight-point-seven if you count from close of door.”

The other candidates stared at Church and at me and one of them-Apeman-looked like he was going to say something, but he caught some look from Church and held his tongue and glared. There was not a whole lot of love in the room.

“Get up,” Church said to them. His voice wasn’t bitter or harsh, merely quiet. Sometimes quiet is worse, and I watched the faces of each man as they climbed to their feet. Jolly Green Giant and Sergeant Rock showed no trace of animosity on their faces, and the latter even looked amused. Joker’s face was cautious, guarded. Scarface looked equal parts deeply embarrassed and angry. Apeman stared hot death at me as he stood up; he rubbed his chest and gave me a sniper’s squint.

My hands were shaking, but adrenaline will do that. Plus the image of Rudy with a gun to his head wouldn’t leave my mind.

“I want to see Rudy,” I said. “Now.”

Church shook his head “No. There are other things you need to do first.”

“He’d better be okay-”

He smiled. “Dr. Sanchez is currently eating his way through an entire catering platter and probably psychoanalyzing Sergeant Dietrich’s rather complicated childhood. He’s fine and he can wait.”

No one said anything. “Okay,” I said, surprised at how calm my voice sounded. “So now what do we do?”

“Major Courtland will bring you up to speed. The entire staff will meet in the main hall in thirty minutes.” He paused and then held out his hand. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Ledger.”

“I don’t mean to offend you two,” I said, taking his hand, “but you’re both total assholes.” I gave his hand my best squeeze and damn if the son of a bitch didn’t match me pound for pound.

“I’ll cry about that later,” Church said.

We let go of each other and I folded my arms. “If I’m going to be team leader, where’s the actual team?”

“You just kicked the effing hell out of them,” Courtland said.

I turned and looked at the five men. Oh crap.

I’ve worked with street thugs, murderers, and the worst kind of lowlifes for years and have knocked in their heads, shot them, Tasered them, and sent them to prison for life, but none of them ever gave me the kinds of looks I was getting from my “team.” If they’d had a tree limb and a rope I’d be swinging in the wind.

I thought I heard Church give a quiet chuckle as he turned and left.

Maybe this was the moment where I was supposed to make some kind of speech, but before I could say anything Courtland beat me to it.

“Get cleaned up,” she snapped. “Ledger come with me.” She started for the door.

I started to follow her but sensed movement and turned to see Apeman coming toward me. His face was purple with rage, hands balled into white-knuckled fists.

“You suckered me, asshole, and first chance I get I’m going to wipe the floor up with you.”

“No,” I said, “you’re not.” And I punched him in the throat.

I stepped out of the way as he fell.

The room was dead silent and I deliberately turned my back on the other four as I said to Courtland, “I hope to hell you have a medic here, ’cause he’s going to need one.”