Page 86 of Agency
“And, since it exists,” she continued, eyes still looking over the X-ray, “that means it can come out.”
“How serious of an operation?” Jericho asked in his normal, terse manner that had already begun to both grow, and wear, on me. “And how long? Because we ain’t got much time.”
“Trust me, I’m aware,” she said, her tone just as terse with Jericho as with me, which somehow made my estimation of her go even higher. “Unless you’ve already forgotten, Thomas is missing because of all this, too. Should only require a local, and then some stitches after we excise it. Seems to have been implanted deep enough to avoid surface detection, but not enough so to risk rejection by the surrounding tissue. No more difficult, I’d think, than the removal of a subcutaneous cyst.”
I looked to the guys, and they all nodded in unison, unanimously approving the plan.
“How soon?” I asked.
“Within the hour. We only need to prepare a space, and I can have my colleague who runs the clinic assist.”
I glanced to them. Jericho nodded. “We’ll set a perimeter.”
“Nothing obtrusive, please. These aren’t your average patients–if they get a whiff of something even barely approaching law enforcement sniffing around, they might skip their appointment. And their health is as much a priority as our safety.”
“Fine,” Jericho growled.
“Don’t worry,” Andrew replied. “We can do inconspicuous. You have our word.”
She nodded, then turned all her attention to me. “Okay, now that that’s out of the way, can I have a minute with my patient?”
The guys exchanged looks.
“Alone?” She was more forceful this time around, and the guys finally began to exit the room. Andrew was the last one out, and he gave me a wistful look that was both heartbreaking and warming.
I still couldn’t believe I’d fucked Morgan and him both last night. I also couldn’t believe I’d fucked them both over so badly, too. Not that I’d acted without cause. After all, I had been right, hadn’t I? Joergensen had been able to find me. I just hadn’t gotten out of there fast enough, and hadn’t been able to spot him in his hiding spot before he moved into the cabin. And, for that, I’d almost gotten all of them killed.
Which was why, after I got this tracker out, I’d be out of here. Recovered, or not. I was going to be gone. Because don’t even get me started on what our chances against the Agency were. After all, these people could get medical technologybeforethat tech was even on the market. Not to mention the fact that I was pretty sure they’d been the ones responsible for that hit-and-run car accident that ended up with my having both this tracker, and the plate, in my skull. After all, I’d woken up in a private clinic that was completely paid for by them, with a doctor likely on their payroll smiling and telling me how the accident hadn’t been that bad, but that the airbag had deployed with more force than it should have and given me a nasty enough concussion to knock me unconscious.
I wasn’t about to let Andrew, Morgan, and Jericho go on a suicide mission for me.
And then there were the feelings about dear Aunt Valerie, and the fact that sheknewthis tracker was in me and had never said anything. Had she been involved in the car accident where they implanted this thing during surgery? Had she repeatedly chosen the Agency over me? Or was she simply fed the information on my whereabouts, and never questioned how the Agency obtained those details?
Whatever the reason was, I had some serious questions for her, and she was going to deliver answers whether or not she wanted to.
Soon as the guys were out of the room, Dr. Thorne pulled out one of those backless rolling chairs that seemed to be mandatory in every medical office, and sat down so we were face-to-face.
“So, what’s up, Doc?” I asked.
“You know how many times I’ve heard that joke?”
“Never gets less funny, does it?”
“Not exactly my thoughts on the subject, no.”
“Understood. I’ll keep my Bugs Bunny quotes to a minimum, then. Question, though.”
“That’s what we’re here for right now. So, ask them. And, please, call me Alice.”
“Okay, Alice. How soon will I be able to take care of myself after the surgery? I know you said it’s a local, and all… But, I want to know if the guys need help, I can be there to help them. With these people, they’re going to need all the help they can get.”
The whole time I’d just been lying, she’d had her careful, clinical eye on me, and she now kept that truth-finding gaze trained on me for a moment longer. Suddenly, I knew what a specimen must have felt like under a microscope, and I began to squirm in my seat.
“Do you know how often I get people in here talking about their chronic pain, and trying to get opiates off me?” she finally asked.
My brow furrowed as I shook my head. “What’s that have to do—?”
“At least a dozen times a shift. That’s the nature of a free clinic, or even an emergency room. Do you know how many people actually need opiates for chronic pain?”
