Part 45 (1/2)
Smythe searched the supply cabinets until he found a box of latex gloves, a permanent marker, a plastic garbage bag, and a tray of autopsy instruments. He put everything on the examination table.
”I'll need your help,” he told Nancy. ”Put on gloves.”
Both of them snapped on latex gloves.
He opened one of the refrigerator drawers marked with a biohazard symbol, and he pulled the sheet off the corpse. It was a young woman with blond hair. There wasn't time to be delicate or respectful, so he lifted the body and dumped it onto the examination table.
”I'm going to collect tissue samples,” he said. ”We'll store them in latex gloves, one sample per glove. Write a description on each with the marker, tie them closed like balloons, and put the samples into the garbage bag. Understand?”
Nancy nodded with an uneasy expression.
”I'm going to work very fast, which means I'll get very messy. There will be odors and fluids. Please don't throw up.”
”I'll do my best, sir.” She swallowed.
Smythe took a scalpel from the tray of tools and began to work. She held open the first glove for him.
”Skin,” he said.
She let him drop the sample into the glove. She tied it closed and wrote on it.
”Abdominal muscle... stomach... upper intestine... liver... lower intestine...”
Dark blood oozed as he sliced away chunks of flesh. Even though he was in a hurry, he made sure to keep his fingers away from the blade. The last thing he needed was a dangerous cut. The corpse was fresh so the smell wasn't bad. Occasionally, he glanced at the men on the floor to make sure they didn't move.
The last few samples were of joint and bone tissue. Smythe used a saw to collect these, which took more time than he liked. Nancy was beginning to look nauseous as he sawed away. When he was finally done, he threw away his gloves and washed his hands thoroughly. She did the same.
He took the garbage bag from her. It weighed a good ten pounds.
”Gentlemen,” he said to the orderly and the soldier, ”we're done. Thank you for your cooperation. Believe it or not, you helped save many lives today.”
He and Nancy hurried out.
The second soldier seemed troubled as they walked past but didn't say anything.
Smythe led Nancy down the hallway until they came to a supply closet. He pulled her inside and closed the door.
”What are we doing?” she said. ”I thought we were leaving, sir.”
”I'm sure the soldiers are alerting security right now. Every exit will be heavily guarded. We can't just walk out.”
”Oh.” She grimaced.
”Don't worry. I have a plan.”
”When you asked me to come along, you didn't make it clear this job would be so risky. We could get arrested.”
”Are you afraid?” he asked.
”I'm not supposed to do risky stuff. I'm not a legionnaire like you, and I don't have your training. I'm surprised Ethel approved of me coming with you.”
”Uh...”
Nancy winced. ”You didn't talk to her. That's not good, sir. She likes to know what her people are doing. She would certainly want to know about this.”
He inhaled deeply. ”I'll face Ethel when the time comes. That's my problem, not yours.”
He was putting on a brave face, but in fact he was worried. His respect for and fear of Ethel was profound.
”As long as we both escape unharmed, it probably won't be a big deal,” Nancy said. ”So, what's the plan?”
”First, we change our disguises.”
He looked around the closet until he found a stack of clean, blue scrubs. Both of them picked out tops and bottoms in their own size. The closet was too small to offer any privacy, so they just turned away from each other when they changed. He stuffed the old outfits into a dark corner. The only items he kept were his car keys, his phone, and a small container of theatrical makeup.
He showed her the makeup. ”Hold still.”
He carefully applied the greasy material to her face and hands, making her skin several shades darker. She did the same for him.
”Step two,” he said, ”is finding a janitor cart. Let's go.”
They left the supply closet.
Smythe walked confidently through the hospital. He still remembered the place from when he had worked here. Whenever he pa.s.sed anybody in the hallway, he gave them a polite, little smile. He made sure he never appeared hurried or nervous. Nancy walked beside him, clearly trying to emulate his behavior.
He decided a little conversation would help soothe her. ”I just realized we've never really talked,” he said. ”I don't know much about you. How did you become a Spear?”
She glanced left and right. ”Years ago, I was a mechanic in the Navy. I repaired fighter jets on an aircraft carrier.”
”Really?” His eyes opened wide. ”I had no idea you were so skilled.”
”Every Spear is skilled, sir. I was one of the best mechanics on the carrier. They would've promoted me to master sergeant, which is pretty special for a woman.”
”What happened?”
”A jet exploded during takeoff.” She looked down. ”It was a bad scene. Dead bodies and wreckage all over the deck. Somebody had to take the fall, and I happened to work on the plane, so I was chosen. I was dishonorably discharged.”
”Was it your fault?”
”No, sir. There was a design defect, but it was discovered years later.”
”Bad luck,” he said.
”After the Navy I bounced around for a while. I eventually went to work in a shop that built and customized exotic cars. The gig was very cool until I got arrested. It turned out the shop chopped up stolen cars at night and sold the parts during the day. The police thought I was part of the gang.”
”More bad luck.”