A green and white Land Rover equipped with a roof bar of rotating yellow lights parked ten yards from the security gate. Four uniformed guards and one man dressed in a charcoal grey power suit emerged just as the gate’s electric motor hummed to life and swung the chain link barrier inward.
The five men moved toward Robert like a troop of soldiers with Power Suit in the lead. Sarah and Big Shorty remained in the car.
Power Suit introduced himself to Robert. “My name is Stephen Lonebear. I represent the hospital in the matter of our missing client.”
Robert liked the name Lonebear. So many members of the civilized tribes had adopted the British, Scottish, and Irish names.
When the attorney with the Indian name asked for the warrant, Robert took it from Sarah. He held the piece of paper as if he were about to relinquish it, but he pulled the document back while Stephen Lonebear’s hand was still reaching out.
“Missing client?” Robert held the fake warrant against his chest. He traded looks with Sarah and Big Shorty. Shorty rolled his window down and glared at the attorney, but didn’t say a word.
Attorney Lonebear asked for the warrant again, but Robert had some questions.
“Maybe the FBI should be involved,” Robert suggested. “Maybe Marie Ferraro wasn’t illegally transported from one mental hospital to another. Maybe she’s been kidnapped?”
Maybe I’ll slap the cuffs on your delicate Lawyer wrists and lead you off to prison where you will be a bad man’s girlfriend. All implied with an intense stare.
The lawyer swallowed hard, but said nothing.
Big Shorty spoke from his seat in the stolen SUV: “Where is Dr. Selene? He should be able to straighten this out.”
The lawyer swallowed hard again. He told them Dr. Selene was missing too. “That’s why I’m here, evaluating the hospital’s liability in the matter.” There had been no institutional negligence as far as he had been able to determine, just the criminal act of a rogue psychiatrist.
“Stupid bastard.” Shorty spit a wad of mucous-loaded saliva out the window. He didn’t specify the target of his insult. He flashed the lawyer an alligator smile. “Hazardous waste crew can clean that up later on,” he said. “Tell us what you know.” Shorty drummed his fingers on the door panel. It made a sound like horses galloping over a wooden bridge.
“Now!” The force of Shorty’s order knocked the Lawyer and the security team back a step.
Robert told them, “The Baron took his training at the University of Rwanda. They take a more direct approach over there. Best if you don’t make him get out of the car.”
“Well.” Stephen Lonebear had the look of a man who just remembered an important appointment somewhere far away. “I’m not sure I should say.”
When the lawyer saw Dr. Samaday’s hand moving toward the outside door handle of the SUV, he got sure right away. “Dr. Selene’s behavior has been somewhat erratic. Now may I see your warrant?”
The wind picked up as the hospital’s attorney reached for the document. It rearranged his carefully combed hair, revealing the doll-head pattern indicative of hair plugs acquired at bargain basement prices. The lawyer pulled his hand back and brushed it over his hair, hoping to conceal his shameful secret from this unwelcome trio of intruders.
Sarah lifted her cell phone, punched a series of keys and held the instrument to her ear. “This is Assistant State’s Attorney Connie Rubirosa. Yes, I’ll hold for the Attorney General.”
Stephen Lonebear made a time out signal with his hands. “I’ll tell you what you want to know. Don’t involve the Attorney General.”
Sarah listened to the time and temperature and then ended her call. “Let’s hear it.”
The hospital attorney was a fount of information for about two straight minutes. Marie Ferraro had been brought to the hospital as Dr. Selene’s special client. She had been admitted without the proper paperwork, and Dr. Selene had taken her away from the hospital without discharging or transferring her.
“Since the disappearance, it was brought to my attention that Dr. Selene has made some statements to staff and clients that cast doubt on his stability.”
Robert pressed for details.
“He claimed he was being stalked by an African god.” The wind continued to blow through Stephen Lonebear’s hair making his plugs stand out like rows of corn. He needed a comb and styling moose to keep the hair in place; his hands were totally insufficient. Finally he admitted defeat.
“A Voodoo god who walks on amputated stumps.” The wind twisted into miniature vortices between the plugs of hair. The lawyer seemed to be wearing a fright wig manufactured for Rastafarian consumers. When he made another reach for the warrant, Robert let him touch it, but the wind pulled the paper from the lawyer’s hand and carried it into the sky.
Robert asked, “Any idea where the doctor took Marie?”
“He said he was taking her home,” attorney Lonebear said. “That’s all I know.”
Big Shorty opened his car door. The rescue team had learned everything they could from Stringtown Mental Health Facility. It was time to end this gathering.
The wind stopped blowing when Big Shorty stepped out of the SUV and lurched toward the lawyer and the guards. Chaos descended quickly after that.
One of the guards shouted, “Oh, my god it’s all true!” Before he finished the sentence, the uniformed staff was off and running toward individual vanishing points on the horizon.
Attorney Stephen Lonebear tried to conceal his fear, but that was difficult to do as he walked backward. He put a dozen steps between himself and the African god then turned and ran until Big Shorty, Robert, and Sarah couldn’t see him anymore.