Page 101 of Borrowed Pain
Ma McCabe turned toward me. "Rowan, get me your Bureau friend again."
Victoria answered on the second ring.
"Agent Sadler," Ma McCabe said with quiet authority, "proper channels have been compromised. Someone fed you false intelligence designed to make you protect criminal activity. The only way to verify the truth is to go around the people lying to you."
I reached for the phone. Let me put her on conference.
Dorian gestured toward his workstation, where federal communication logs showed systematic manipulation of information flows. Someone had intercepted, modified, and redirected official communications to create false institutional consensus.
"They've been spoofing federal communications," Dorian announced. "Agent Sadler, the intelligence briefings you received were generated by the same network you've been protecting."
Victoria announced, "I'm calling NIH program officer Dr. Ivan Nunez directly. He signed off on Meridian's trauma research grants."
Hold music filled the warehouse while Agent Sadler navigated federal phone systems. Ma McCabe used the time to unpack her grocery bags, unveiling enough comfort food to feed a small army.
"Dr. Nunez? This is Special Agent Victoria Sadler, FBI Corporate Fraud Division. I'm calling to verify federal approval for trauma therapy research conducted by Dr. Celeste Harrow."Pause. "What? You've never heard of Meridian Wellness Group?"
The institutional facade was crumbling in real time.
Ma McCabe moved around the warehouse distributing sandwiches, ensuring everyone remained fed and functional. She handed me turkey and Swiss on sourdough.
Victoria spoke again. "Dr. Nunez confirms that NIH has no record of funding or approving any research conducted by Meridian Wellness Group. The documents we've been operating on are fabrications."
Michael looked up from organizing tactical equipment. "Agent Sadler, what's the timeline for modifying federal protection protocols now that you know they're based on fraudulent intelligence?"
"This changes everything. If the research isn't legitimate, then we're not protecting breakthrough therapy—we're enabling kidnapping and assault."
Ma McCabe spoke. "Agent Sadler, how quickly can you get my son out of that facility?"
"I'm calling hospital administration right now to demand immediate access to verify participant welfare. If Dr. McCabe can't demonstrate voluntary continued participation..."
5:07 PM. Half the sandwiches were untouched; none of us tasted what we chewed.
Ma McCabe sat beside me, pressing a warm cup of coffee into my hands. "Agent Sadler is going to help us," she said with quiet certainty. "She understands now."
I raised a question. "Agent Sadler, what happens if hospital administration continues to deny access?"
"Then we treat this as a federal crime scene and override their institutional protections." I heard new determination in her voice. "I'm mobilizing federal resources right now. The hospitaladministration has agreed to work with us to avoid facing obstruction of justice charges."
Ma McCabe smiled with maternal satisfaction. Sometimes the system did work when good people understood what was really happening.
Michael packed his tactical gear with systematic efficiency. "Agent Sadler, what's the extraction protocol? Are we treating this as a rescue operation or welfare verification?"
"Both. We document and withdraw if Dr. McCabe demonstrates voluntary continued participation and clear mental capacity. If he shows signs of coercion, impairment, or involuntary detention, we initiate immediate extraction with medical support."
Dorian pulled up building schematics on his largest monitor. "Miles's signal is still stationary in Sublevel 2, the medical isolation ward, but power consumption has increased significantly in the past thirty minutes. I'm in Harborview's building-management panel—Sublevel 2 just pulled enough juice for a small OR."
"Surgical intervention?" Matthew asked, professional dread coloring his voice.
Ma McCabe approached my chair and placed her hand on my shoulder. "Rowan, we're on this. You're not losing another partner, and I'm not losing a son."
Her hand felt nothing like Miles's fingers tracing the same path two nights ago, mapping the tension I carried between my shoulder blades. "You hold everything here," he'd whispered, thumbs working at knots I hadn't realized existed. I'd turned in his arms then, catching his mouth with mine, tasting the future we were building one kiss at a time. Now that future hung by threads in a basement I couldn't reach.
I addressed Victoria. "Agent Sadler, what do you need from us?"
"Medical consultation from Dr. Humphries—she's still on my line—investigative expertise from you, and a family liaison for victim advocacy. We're treating this as a coordinated federal operation with civilian specialist support."
It was the original plan in action. We were providing expertise to assist a federal investigation. Instead of circumventing institutional authority, we were working through properly aligned channels.
