Chapter seventeen
Yvonne sat at a table in the supply room, a finger holding an earpiece to one ear. She could clearly hear the conversation in the hospital room containing the assassin and the two detectives. She doodled on a pad whilst eavesdropping. A large flower dominated the page with random words and small animals dotted around the main sketch. She traced cloud patterns around the words, connecting them to each other around the page, linking together her random words heard from the room.
'This weapon was found at the scene of the Starbucks cafe. The clip empty of seven rounds.' Yvonne listened to the interview in the assassin's room through a listening device she left in a half-open draw. Papa Doc was also listening to the conversation from an adaptor lead plugged in to her mobile phone. If she concentrated she could hear his deep, steady breathing.
She missed the rest of the Tonton Macoute. Having left the laboratory over three weeks ago with instructions to take a position in the Sacred Heart hospital. Papa Doc had assured her that it would only be for a short while, but that if she was going to be needed then she would play a very important role. She was the one best suited for the mission. Her background in medical training, and her special talents.
Prior to her indoctrination with Papa Doc and the Macoute she had been a nurse in the 'Ecole de Medecine' Health Clinic in Haiti. With a ready smile and friendly attitude, never too busy to empty bedpans, prepare patients for surgery and listen with a sympathetic ear. Being able to listen to the pains and agonies of the patients was never a problem for Yvonne. She would smile, eyes brim full of sympathy, absorbing the hurt of these people. Inside, she fed on the misery of the patients, sucking on their experiences like an empathic leech, enjoying the discomfort, the pain and the fear.
Her medical knowledge was uniquely applied to the hygiene of hospitals. The cases of Legionnaire's disease, MRSA and a few other nasty viruses were going to rise in the next few years, thanks to Yvonne's careful replacement of medical supplies and sterile equipment around the supply rooms in the hospital. This was her talent. The creation and nurture of deadly diseases within such places of healing.
The interrogation was interesting. The woman detective revealed fact after fact about each of the trustees, of their untimely deaths and the tenuous connection of the assassin. The woman had relentlessly pursued the line of trustee's deaths, stumbling from one to the other, until she sat before the accused in a secured hospital room and had to build a case in minutes to somehow connect the assassin to the deaths. Other governmental agencies were interested in the assassin and she knew that her time on the case was limited. She probably didn't suspect how limited.
Yvonne wanted to kill the police officers and the assassin immediately upon arrival, but Papa Doc had wanted reassurance that the policewoman had acted alone and that the investigation would halt with her death. So Yvonne sat in the supply room, Papa Doc listening in to the interrogation, to assure himself that the detective knew nothing and that they were stumbling around grasping at smoke.
'I kept hold of that letter, unopened, for over two months.' the woman detective was speaking in a low tone. Not tearful, but heartfelt. Yvonne felt pleased that she didn't resort to self pity. The pain in her voice was genuine and palpable and a succulent treat to the eavesdropper. The detective wasn't spinning for sympathy to get more information out of the assassin. This was just the story of a defining moment in her childhood.
'I think I have heard enough,' Papa Doc's voice broke through the transmission. 'Please kill all three. The two detectives you can kill in your own fashion. Rapid disease, MRSA, heart attacks - I don't care so long as it is fatal. By the time the serious crimes unit sort out the scene and unravel the mystery enough to get an investigation along in the right direction, it will be too late. We are accelerating the plan, despite my reservations. Once the remaining trustees are dead and the board resumes the next sitting in two days, there will only be Professor Anderson left. Once the monies start moving from the bank accounts it will cause a huge amount of interest so we have to be prepared and free from distraction.'
'So I can kill the coppers my way?' Yvonne warmed to the instruction.
'Yes. Quick, mind. But the assassin must be dealt with specific consequences required.'
'Specific consequences?'
'The package that was couriered to you this morning - I want you to open it now.'
Yvonne checked for the DHL pouch on the shelf behind her. She ripped open the seal and removed a water canister wrapped in cloth. A white and red cross patch was stitched on one side.
'The bottle contains corrupted Ganges water,' Papa Doc said, 'Handle it very carefully.'
Yvonne gingerly placed the bottle on the table, checking her hand for moisture. There was no leakage. 'Report back to the laboratory when complete.' Papa Doc ended transmission.
Yvonne removed her earpiece and busied herself amongst the shelves. She prepared a tray with two syringes and carefully slipped the Ganges water cask into her coat pocket. She straightened her white hat in the mirror on the door before walking out into the corridor, balancing the tray in one hand like a restaurant waiter.
She opened the door to the private room and both the assassin and the female detective noticed her entrance. The male detective remained absorbed in the electronic device in his hands. The female detective looked especially annoyed, her face flushed and her eyes sparked dangerously. She spoke, but Yvonne was busy and only half heard what she said.
'This won't take a moment, sweetie,' Yvonne said as she took hold of a syringe, gripping it like a dagger and placing her thumb over the plunger. She yanked the male detective's head to one side and stabbed the needle into his carotid artery. The black juice flooded into his system and she stepped back, almost clapping her hands together in the excitement of anticipation.
'Watch,' she said. 'This is my favourite part.'