* * *
Franny O’Rourke was pacing his office. He was perturbed that he had been unable to finish off Marcus. Damn delivery boy. Good thing he had spotted the lad before he was seen smashing Marcus’s face. One final blow would have done it, but now Marcus was in the hospital, being guarded by the police. Franny pounded his fist on the table. He was going to get even with Marcus one way or another.
He picked up the phone and called a buddy of his in the police force. Bribery knew no boundaries. It was as prevalent in England as anywhere else.
A chipper young voice answered. “And what can I do for you today? Need someone to look the other way?” Franny O’Rourke’s inside man had a burner phone that Franny would replace every couple of days by leaving one in a locker at the bus station.
Franny replied, “Nope. Need to find out where they’re holding Julian Marcus. Which hospital?”
The voice at the other end of the phone remained silent.
“Didn’t you hear me?” Franny was losing his patience.
“Er . . . that’s under a lid. Only the top brass know.” The cheerful voice had become somber. He knew the reaction he was about to get.
“You bloody well better find out!” Franny shouted and threw his phone across the room. He was going to finish off Marcus if it was the last thing he ever did. No one screws with me. No one.
About an hour later, his mangled phone rang. He walked over to it and gingerly picked it up. He was glad it still worked. These flip phones are a lot sturdier than the expensive smartphones. What’s so smart about them, anyway? You need an encyclopedia to figure them out. “Ye better ’ave some news for me,” Franny snapped.
“The Royal London Hospital.” Then the phone went dead.
Franny grabbed his cap and a slicker and headed out the door.
It had taken Eileen several days to get Franny’s location. She had followed the slimy kid around until he was able to lead her to Franny O’Rourke. Now Franny was on the move. She sent a signal to Avery, who forwarded it to Charles. There had been a BOLO, “be on the lookout,” on Franny O’Rourke for over a year. He was wanted for a number of crimes, but he was slick and always seemed to slip through the cracks. Whispers and rumors had been bandied about that he had someone on the inside of the police department, but there had been no chatter as to who it could be. Eileen tried to keep up without being spotted. Franny entered the Underground and boarded a train. Eileen was not far behind. Several stops later, Franny exited the Underground and walked toward the Royal London Hospital. Eileen signaled Avery again.
Through Charles’s and Fergus’s connections, they had been able to determine Marcus’s whereabouts long before Franny had. The relay of information had gone through the ranks. Eileen to Avery. Avery to Charles. Charles to whomever. No one was ever quite sure.
As he turned the corner by the entrance of the hospital, Franny pulled his cap down to the bridge of his nose, put on the pair of glasses he kept in his jacket pocket, and unfolded the collapsible cane he had tucked in his belt. He couldn’t risk being recognized. He also couldn’t risk letting Marcus breathe another day.
Eileen was moving quickly. If no one else showed up, she would have to tackle Franny before he could get to Marcus. She whipped out her fake security badge and swept past the gate, but she couldn’t get to the lift in time. She was frantically checking for the stairs when the door to another lift opened. She pushed her way forward, getting a lashing of remarks as to her rudeness. “Sah-ree, sah-ree, sah-ree,” she kept saying in her favorite Brooklyn accent.
One stiff-necked gent looked over at another and mouthed the word “American.”
Earlier, Avery had given Eileen the number of the floor on which Marcus was being held. He was in the room being guarded by a constable, who was sitting outside. When the elevator doors opened, Eileen rushed through the crowd and spotted Franny within a few feet of Marcus’s room. How is he going to get past the guard at the door? she wondered. But then she realized the cop was there to keep Marcus from getting out. There was no reason to try to keep people from going in, unless it was his unhinged wife.
“Franny O’Rourke?” The constable stood. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“What all?” Franny said with total surprise. He turned to run, but over a half dozen men in various uniforms surrounded him.
“Yer coming with us.” The mix of London law enforcement officers cuffed him and marched him to the bank of lifts, where an empty car waited.
And thus a Sisterhood operation, one that began with putting three doctors who preyed upon rich widows out of commission, brought about the arrest of one of the most notorious criminals in the UK.
Marcus watched in horror from his bed. He couldn’t tell if he was awake or having another nightmare. Or was this simply one continuous nightmare? The appearance of Nurse Ratched confirmed it for him. It was one terrifying moment after another.
Eileen pinged Avery. “All clear.”
“Roger that,” was the reply.
Marcus strained to hear what people were saying in the hallway. The buzz in his head subsided. He wasn’t dreaming.
“Sorry about the commotion, Dr. Marcus. Evidently, you’re not allowed certain visitors.” The cranky nurse snickered and walked out of the room.
Franny O’Rourke had been apprehended. But that left Marcus with another problem. If he was ever getting out of this hospital, he would be going to jail. It was all coming back to him. When the officers began to raid the office, he had bolted out the back door into the alley. The alley where Franny O’Rourke had been waiting with a cinder block. He started forming real thoughts. If I go to jail, Franny will surely finish me off, even if he doesn’t do it himself. Marcus concluded that he had to get out of the hospital without being seen. How? He was a hot mess. He had to think. First thing he would do was stop the pain meds. As much as he liked the high, staying alive had to be his priority. He rang for the nurse. He hoped it was the kinder of the two.
This time a young woman wearing a bright pink uniform stood in the doorway. “Yes, Mr. Marcus?”
He wasn’t able to form full words yet, so he motioned to the IV drip with his head.
“You want me to do something with this?” she asked.
He got off a weak nod.
“Do you want more?”
His swollen eyes almost bulged out of his head as he tried to shake it to say no.
“No?” the young woman asked quizzically.
He shut his eyes and nodded, as if to say yes.
The woman was confused. “Do you want more? Or less?”
Marcus was getting frustrated, but that was a good sign. That meant he was getting his wits back. He moved his hand sideways in a motion to cut off the supply.
“Oh, no more?” The pink lady smiled. He gave it his best shot. “Are you sure?” she prodded.
Marcus was feeling weary. It shouldn’t be this hard. He dropped the plunger that was in his hand. Maybe she would get the message.
“Ah. Would you like me to adjust your bed?”
Marcus tried to blink a message.
“You just let me know when to stop.” She approached the bed and pushed a few buttons to elevate him. Now he could get a clear look down the hallway. If someone was coming after him, he was a sitting duck. He had to get some mobility. He looked at one arm in a cast and a leg in traction. Impossible. He couldn’t imagine what his face looked like.