Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What?” Wes asked.
“I agree with you,” Zach said.
“With what?”
“We need to end this. If they try to hurt Ellie, in her condition, she won’t make it,” Zach said pragmatically.
“Set me up,” Wes said. “If there’s a plant, they know Ellie and I are close. We can pretend she told me everything, including where the sarin is.”
“No, they know you. And if you knew where the sarin was, the place would be filled with men and women in astronaut suits,” Zach argued.
Wes turned to face Zach. “You want to set up a female operator. Damn it, Ice. We almost lost Saoirse. Can you live with that again?”
“No. But it is the right way. We get a woman inside, and we can solve this thing.” Zach met Wes’s gaze.
“Who?”
“We don’t have a lot of time to bring someone up to speed. What do you think about Witch?”
“She’s been seen with Ellie, and she’s been seen around us.”
“And she works and lives at the Center; she fits a general composite of the missing women, and she’s been seen with Greece,” Zach reasoned.
“He can’t. He’s not ready.”
“He can be a front. Let people see them as a couple. One night, they go out to dinner, and say they have a fight. She walks out, and there she is: perfect bait to be taken by the baby makers.”
“Ice…he… She… He cares about her, but he won’t move on it. If something happens, he’ll never get over it. I can’t ask him.” Wes stepped all over his feelings.
Zach blew out a breath. “I didn’t know. Okay, we will find another way.”
* * *
Wes walked into the clinic. “Good evening, Mr. Crockett.” He was buzzed in, and Zach proceeded to follow. “Good evening, Mr. Wentworth,” another TC1 Eagle’s Talon operator said.
Zach nodded. “Some system.” His brow quirked up. “Too bad the damn thing can’t have a red flash that says, ‘bad guy.’”
“Yeah.” Wes’s shoulders tightened as he walked down the quiet hall.
Zach pulled up a chair beside the operator. “Call me if you need me.”
Wes nodded at Adina Ganz, who was standing in front of Eleanor’s door. “I appreciate this.”
“Mr. Bremen explained the situation. We will watch her like family,” she said.
When Wes slid the door open, his heart ached. Ellie’s fair skin was covered with the red rash, and even with the ventilator, her chest heaved with difficulty. “When did you get in?”
“I wanted to check on Troy,” Seth Brady, Facility Director for Denver Medical, said. “Nasty virus. The rash is starting to spread.”
“Does that mean things are worse?” Wes leaned over and kissed her forehead.
“No, just part of the virus. The pneumonia hasn’t worsened. We will repeat the brain scan tomorrow. Positives, her pupils remain reactive. And her temp hasn’t gone above 105 today,” Seth said, hanging a bag of antibiotics.
“Who would think a temp below 105 would be a good thing?” Wes asked.
“Troy….” Seth sighed. “How is he?”
