The Backup Asset

…73

Evgheni Smolin woke up a little disoriented and started looking around his hospital room. The smells of disinfectant and medication were his first sensory input, followed by the whiteness of everything in that room.

He was by himself; always a good thing. His healthy left arm was handcuffed to the bed rail, and an IV line was stuck in it. His right shoulder hurt quite badly, but it was bearable. His right arm was bandaged and immobilized. His mouth felt dry, probably from the anesthetics they had given him for surgery.

There was a chip in one of his molars. He felt around with the tip of his tongue, then grunted angrily. His cyanide capsule was gone, probably removed during surgery. Bastards…

He was hooked up to several sensors. A clasp sensor on one of his fingers measured his blood oxygenation. Several adhesive sensors planted on his chest conveyed electrical signals to the monitors next to his bed. The upper monitor beeped and displayed a healthy, steady heart rate of fifty-eight beats per minute, and a blood pressure of 112 over 74. The lower monitor showed his breathing rate at fourteen per minute, with 98 percent O2 sat.

The wall at his right was made entirely of glass and had a French door, which was wide open. He took a few minutes to observe the traffic in the hallway, and listen to the sounds — how distant they were and what kind. All was peaceful on that hospital floor, except the MP who guarded his room closely, leaning against the glass. However, that MP was bound to leave his post at some point.

Waiting for that to happen, he started checking out his own body. He lifted his head from the pillow and noted no dizziness. Great. He tensed the muscles in one leg, then the other, restoring a vigorous blood flow and waking those muscles up. He was ready, as ready as he was ever going to be.

The MP looked in his direction briefly, then walked slowly away. Smolin gave him a minute to disappear, then moved into action.

First, he leaned on his left side, reached out, and with a great deal of effort, grabbed the IV needle with his teeth, and pulled it out of his arm. Then he held his breath for as long as he could, sending one of the monitors into a beeping frenzy. After that, he started hyperventilating, and then held his breath again. This type of respiratory distress finally raised his heart rate above 120 beats per minute and spiked his blood pressure, causing the second monitor to join in the concert of beeps.

A nurse burst in his room and started checking his vitals on the monitors, as Smolin heaved, hyperventilated, and writhed on the bed, making it hard for the nurse to assess his condition. Vaguely, he heard a code call, and then the nurse’s voice, yelling from right next to him.

“Hey, you, come on in here and remove his handcuff, stat!”

The MP came in and did as instructed. The moment Smolin felt his hand go free, he grabbed the MP’s hand and jumped, headbutting him hard. The MP fell backward against the rack of monitors. The same second Smolin was on his feet, tearing his sensor wires away from his body, and kicking the fallen MP in the neck, sending him out cold.

He turned to deal with the nurse, who was leaping toward the exit. He grabbed her from behind and slammed her against the wall. She fell and lay senseless.

He leaned down, grabbed her ICU access card, and disappeared.