Chapter No. 35 First Resurrection

Eric Hauptman sat on the couch as if it were on fire. Most of the time, he paced back and forth, stopping occasionally to peer out the window.

Waiting is a bitch.

He hasn't heard from his wife for five days, and he's beginning to think that he'll never see her alive. Stram had said he was going to get in touch to arrange an exchange, but he hasn't called.

Why? What the hell is he waiting for? Damn him!

God, time goes so slow. I can't stand this.

The phone rang, startling him. He jumped up and started to run to the door before he realized that it was the phone.

"Hello."

"Dr. Hauptman," the voice said with no emotion. "Listen to me very carefully. Place one of the creatures in a water-filled container, securely fasten the container to the floor of your truck, park the vehicle near the fountain in Mendoza park, arrive at one-fifteen on Wednesday morning, leave the keys in the ignition and wait by the fountain. You will find your wife there. Do not attempt to lay a trap. Your wife will have explosives strapped to her and only we will have the means to deactivate them. Do you understand?"

"Yes . . . How is my wife?"

"She is unharmed."

The caller hung up.

He didn't know if he wanted to cheer or cry.

Oh well, there's no time for either.

Eric ran to the Institute. He found Willis and Anderson waiting in Anderson's office.

"Did you get it?" he asked as soon as he burst into the office.

"Yes, Hauptman, we did," Willis said. "We will need to execute our plan tonight."

"Why is that?" Anderson asked with no outward manifestation of stress.

"If we wait too long, we may not find Hauptman's wife at the warehouse. They'll probably move her to a new location right before the exchange."

He unrolled an architectural drawing on Anderson's desk. "This is the plan for the warehouse where Hauptman's wife is being held." He pointed to a small building near the back of the main building. "There's an underground tunnel that goes from this old steam boiler building to the main structure. The tunnel has an entrance here near the office area. I believe they're holding her in one of these small rooms." He pointed to three small squares with single entrances.

"How do we know that the tunnel is still open?" Eric asked.

"We don't. But, we have no alternative."

Anderson rubbed his forehead. "How many men will you have?"

"Five, not counting me and Hauptman."

"Will that be enough? What if you encounter resistance?"

"We're not a hostage recovery team. If this were a FBI operation we'd have helicopters, swat teams, and sharp shooters. We'll have to rely on our wits instead. Besides, we can't go in there with an army. Too large a force would be hard to hide and would more than likely tip them off. We want this to be a quick strike--get in and get out. Surprise is what we're hoping for."

"I see," Anderson said in a soft voice.

He gestured to Eric. "Are you sure it's a good idea to take Hauptman along? He may be captured."

Willis gave him a toothy grin. "Don't worry, we won't let him be taken alive."

Anderson returned a brief smile.

Eric appeared ready to voice an opinion, but Willis beat him to the punch.

"Ok, Hauptman," Willis said to Eric, punching a large finger into his chest. "Get your ready on. We make our move tonight. Wear dark clothes and dark sneakers. Be here at twelve midnight. Don't be late, or you lose."

"I'll be here. Don't you worry about that."

There's no way I would miss this.

###

The night air seemed colder than normal, typical winter weather in the Imperial Valley. Well, perhaps a bit colder than normal. The chill added to Eric's anxiety. He had prayed for this time to come, this time when he would be able to rescue his wife from that bastard Stram, but the realization of it made him nervous.

Very nervous.

I hope and pray she's still alive. What if she isn't here? I can't go on without her. She's--

I hate this.

Willis turned to prod the straggling Eric. "Keep moving, Hauptman. We don't have time to spare."

Eric quickened his pace, but he found it difficult to make his way through the narrow service tunnel--over old pipes, valves, unrecognizable junk, abandoned equipment, and lots of debris. Much of the old tunnel had three to six inches of water and it was contaminated with oil and dirt. The air felt heavy, damp, and even putrid. He breathed a sigh of relief when the he and the team arrived at the ladder that led to a hatch in the main building.

He was the last man to climb that ladder, and he found himself in a dark corridor. Two men with flashlights took the point as the rescue team worked its way down the hallway toward the main plant area. Eric's heart raced. He had trouble controlling his feet and trying not to make any noise, or worse--fall.

Willis stopped at a door and motioned to Eric. He quickly made his way to Willis' side.

"I think she's in here," Willis whispered, pointing at the door.

Eric looked at the door and then back at Willis as if he wasn't sure what to do next.

"Call to her, Hauptman."

"Margaret," he called with a volume a few notches above a whisper. "Margaret. Are you in there?"

"Eric?" a feeble voice came from inside the room. "Is that you?"

Eric nearly cried from joy, but he bit his lip instead. The door had a simple lock: a board across two hangers mounted to the frame. He pulled the board out of the hooks and pulled on the handle.

"Eric, I can't come out."

"Why? What's wrong? Are you tied up or something?"

"No." She paused for several seconds. "I don't have any clothes."

"Nothing?"

"Not a stitch."

"We don't have time for this, Hauptman," Willis said, sounding as if he were scolding.

Eric looked at Willis and the other men with an expression that advertised his embarrassment. One of the men removed his backpack, pulled a folded object from it, and handed it to Eric.

"What's this?"

"It's an American flag. I keep if for good luck."

"How big is it?" Eric asked.

"Would you give it to her," Willis nearly yelled.

Eric held it into the room. "Put this on, Love."

"This looks like a flag," she said.

"Yes it is, Love. Just put it on."

Margaret wrapped the flag around her body and stepped out. Eric hugged her, but she was unable to return the gesture because her hands were busy holding the flag together. Not much larger than a standard bath towel, the cloth barely covered the essentials, and she had to maintain a tight grip on it to prevent the two halves from separating.

"Get them the hell out of here," Willis growled. "Murphy. Go with them. I want them out of this goddamn place right now."

"Come on," Murphy said, gesturing in the direction that they had just come from.

Suddenly, a shot rang out, and then several muzzle blasts flashed from down the hall.

"Goddamn it," Willis yelled. "They're blocking our way out." He began returning fire with his AK-47. "Take cover!"

Eric and his wife backed into her former cell. Several bullets struck near the door, encouraging them to hug the floor. One of Willis' men tossed a smoke grenade down the hall and everybody hugged the floor. The explosion lit up the hall with an ominous red flash that quickly faded to billowing smoke. Willis gestured to Murphy and then pointed to the end of the hall opposite from that which they had entered. Murphy waved at Eric and his wife while Willis and the rest of his men went the other way. As Eric and Margaret hurried after Murphy, they heard more shooting and yelling.

Since they couldn't go back through the tunnel, Murphy and his two charges exited from a back door that led to a fenced-in back lot. They quickly ran to a fence, but it represented an unusual problem.

"I can't climb over that," Margaret said, scanning the eight-foot-high chain link fence.

"It isn't that high, Love."

"It isn't that . . . I would have to let go of the flag."

"Look," Eric said. "We'll turn our backs. You climb the fence and I'll fold up the flag and toss it over to you."

After the two men turned around, Margaret removed the flag and passed it over her husband's shoulder. He immediately began to fold it. Both men heard the fence rattle as Margaret climbed it. Eric turned his head to sneak a look. He smiled. A naked woman climbing a fence was amusing, but if he had wanted to laugh, he thought better of it. If she caught him taking a peak, he would never hear the end of it.

She wasted no time in announcing her success. "I'm over."

Eric turned and heaved the flag over the fence. He watched his wife retrieve it and drape herself in it.

"Let's go," he told Murphy.

The two men climbed the fence as quickly as they could. They heard no more shooting, but the tactical situation in the warehouse was unknown.

No need to take any chances.

The three made their way around the old boiler building to a Chevy Suburban. Murphy slid behind the wheel, and Eric and his wife jumped into the back. At first they remained silent, listening for any noise that would indicate further conflict. They heard none.

"What happened to your clothes?" Eric asked, breaking the silence.

"Well . . . Let's just say that I'm going to need a visit to Georgio's."

Eric cringed. "Ouch! That's going to hurt in the ol' pocketbook."

"Yes it is. Those bastards cut up my special edition Cosabella bra and my Christian Dior control panty. It made me sick."

"Why do you buy expensive stuff like that?"

Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. "Because expensive stuff like that is well made and it lasts."

He tried a calming smile. "At least you're ok."

She slouched down in the seat and sighed. "I'll never be ok after what I went through. I think it was Nietzsche who said: 'That which does not kill me will make me strong.' Well, I can assure you that I am stronger than hell."

"Did he really say that?"

Her brow wrinkled. "You're never serious about anything. Are you?"

He lowered his eyes for a second. "I am serious about one thing, Love."

"What's that?"

"That I love you."

Her eyes narrowed for a split second and then she smiled, but it was tempered by pain.

The Suburban's door opened and Willis jumped into the passenger seat. "Move it out. Let's get the hell out of here."

The vehicle's engine roared to life and Murphy pulled out, spinning the tires. A second van followed them. As they sped down a gravel road, Willis turned around to look at Margaret.

"Are you ok, ma'am?"

"Yes. I'm fine." She pulled the flag up to reveal less cleavage. "A few bruises and a terribly bruised pride, but I'll survive."

"What did those bastards do to you?" Willis asked without turning around again.

"They interrogated me, as they euphemistically put it. I spent a wonderful day hanging by my ankles while those bastards cut all my clothes off."

"That's awful."

"That wasn't the worst of it. I enjoyed a fun evening sitting in a medieval torture device."

Eric's face twisted with imagined pain. "Why didn't you just tell them the truth?"

"I did, but they didn't believe me. So, I lied to them, and they believed it because it's what they wanted to hear. They're idiots, pure and simple."

"I'm surprised," Eric said. "Stram is purported to be an accomplished Marine biologist." He shook his head. "All they had to do was wait for our journal publications. They would be able to discover everything they wanted to know about them."

Eric turned to Willis. "Did you find Stram?"

"No. Goddamn him, anyway. That bastard's harder to catch than a greased pig." He turned around. "We did capture a woman, though."

"A black-haired woman in her mid forties?" Margaret asked.

"Yes. Do you know who she is?"

"That's Marion Stram, Stram's wife."

Willis slapped his thigh. "Hot damn! Now we have a trump card in case that bastard tries something again."

"Are you going to turn her over to the police," Eric asked.

"Hell no. They'd just end up releasing her. We'll take her some place that can't be traced."

"Before you do that," Margaret said. "I want you to take her to the Institute and have Dr. Stoddard examine her. Tell him to remove all of her clothes and check her body cavities."

"Ah," Willis said. "You suspect that she's hiding something?"

"Yes I do. I want you to go over her clothing very carefully, and have Harriet run her through the MRI."

Eric's right eyebrow rose. "Why?"

"She may have a listening device, perhaps a poison capsule, maybe even a bomb. I don't trust her at all."

Willis twisted around in his seat to look back at Margaret. "We can run a residue probe over her. If she's carrying a bomb, it'll pick it up."

Margaret continued. "When you're done examining her, I want you to give her clothing--a T-shirt, shorts, and soft slippers. Don't give her anything with straps, belts, or tie strings. Then, after you take her to wherever you're going to hold her, I want to come there and interrogate her myself."

Willis laughed. "Are you sure you didn't have security training, Mrs. Hauptman?"

"Just being cautious. These people are dangerous and they're mentally unbalanced. No telling what they might try."

Willis had no time to react to her statement. The Suburban pulled into the Institute's underground parking garage, sped to the entrance, and screeched to a stop. All of the doors popped open at the same time.

Eric gestured to his wife. "Come on, Love. The sooner we get you out of this cold air, the better."

Willis, Murphy, Eric, and Margaret entered the building as the other van pulled in back of the Suburban. Willis inserted his security card into the elevator control panel, and when he saw a green light flash, he punched his personal code into the keypad. The elevator door hissed open and four tired humans filed in.

The elevator rose to the main floor and the door slid open to reveal a smiling Dr. Anderson.

"How did it go?"

"Ok!" Willis told him. "Harris got a flesh wound. I told him to let Stoddard treat it."

Anderson nodded before he turned to Margaret. "How are you, Dr. Hauptman?"

"A little worse for wear, but otherwise, I'm fine."

"Why are you . . . wearing that flag?"

Margaret waved her hand in the air with a theatrical flare and smiled. "I am American Super Woman!"

Eric gave her a concerned look. "You make me nervous, Love."

"What's the matter, dear?" she said with a teasing grin and a tug on the flag to better protect her modesty.

"How can you be so jovial after what you've been through?"

"Good thing it wasn't you they kidnapped," she said. "That bitch would have had a field day with you."

Anderson's brow furrowed and he looked at Willis. "Who's she talking about?"

"We captured Stram's wife," Willis said, jutting his jaw out. "We're going to have Stoddard check her over."

"What are you going to do with her?" Anderson asked him, and then he symbolically covered his ears. "On second thought, I don't want to know."

"Well," Willis said, "We're not going to mistreat her--Margaret's orders."

Anderson cracked a brief smile. "Good." He turned to Margaret. "You had better let Dr. Stoddard check you out."

"I agree," Eric said. "Let's go see the doctor, Love."

Eric hated waiting, but he had no choice. Dr. Stoddard was thorough and he took his time. He could only guess at what Stram had done to his poor wife. He had noticed the ugly bruises on her ankles, wrists, and especially on her leg. He also noticed how she limped on that left leg and he could only imagine the pain that she had endured.

Goddamn that bastard!

The door to the examination room opened and Stoddard stepped out. Eric stood up but he still had to look up at Stoddard's face, a friendly but stern face, framed by white hair.

"How is she?"

"Not bad for the horrible torments she endured. Margaret has multiple contusions and abrasions on her ankles and wrists, but the worst are on her right leg, along the line of the tibia, on the second cuneiform of her right foot, as well as on top of the metatarsals and phalanges. They are at very small points and involve deep trauma, in some cases to the muscles and periosteum. I've never seen anything quite like them. Fortunately, there were no fractures. I gave her a painkiller for the contusions, but she also complained about back pain. I gave her a muscle relaxant and it should serve as a mild sedative."

"Can she go home now?"

"I would prefer to have her stay here tonight. We're running her blood for drug residuals and I want to keep her under observation in case we missed something. When you come in tomorrow, bring her a change of clothes."

Eric lowered his eyes. He was disappointed but he knew it was for the better. "Ok, Doctor. Thank you."

He turned to leave, but he hesitated. "What about the woman?"

"She's in good health for her age. Her weight is below normal for her height, her muscle tone is fair, and her skin is in good shape for the most part. I removed a questionable wart from her back, and treated some cuts on her arm. She had an intrauterine implant, but I removed it . . . for safety reasons. I checked her for breast tumors and we took blood samples and a Pap smear. I won't have the results for a few days."

Eric hadn't expected a thorough report, but, then again, that was Stoddard's style.

"Did they find anything when they searched her?"

Stoddard's expression turned much more serious. "Yes. She had three capsules in the lining of her bra. Mr. Willis believes they contain cyanide. They also found an RF transponder sewn into her brief."

Eric shook his head. "Margaret was right. We can't trust her at all."

Stoddard thinned his lips and lowered his eyes.

"Is my wife still awake?" Eric asked.

Stoddard smiled. "I believe she is. If you wish, you can tuck her in."

Eric entered the examination room and went through another door to a small recovery room. Margaret gave him a big smile when she saw him enter the room.

"Well, Love. Doc here says that you're bruised up a bit."

"I'll survive."

They stared at each other for a minute. Eric's eyes expressed his relief when he saw his wife's smile, but he could see the fatigue and pain in her face. He wanted to know what she had endured, what they had done to her, but he felt that now wasn't the time.

"What do you want me to bring you to wear?"

"Bring my white slacks and that pink top. You know which ones I mean."

Eric nodded.

"Don't forget my undies."

A brief flush invaded his cheeks. "I won't."

Silence. He really didn't know what to say. In fact, anything he said could never really assuage his wife's pain.

"Well, I had better let you get some rest."

She grinned. "You know when I climbed over the fence?"

His facial muscles tightened. "Yes . . . why?"

She wagged her finger at him. "I saw you and Murphy taking a peak. Naughty boys."

Eric's eyes widened. "I didn't know . . . did he, really?"

"He sure did. Just as I swung my leg over the top, I glanced back to see his grinning face."

"He got to see the best part of the show," Eric said with a teasing smile.

She gave him an amused expression of shock. "Why Eric! You're a bad boy."

"Well, he did. Right?"

"You men are all the same. You would go out of your way to sneak a look. Although, I'm surprised he wasn't turned off . . . I'm not exactly in good shape."

"You know what they say, Love: Boys will be boys, no matter what." He kissed her on the forehead.

She gave him a smile as a reward.

"You get some rest, Love. I'll see you first thing. Ok?"

She pointed at a table near her bed. "Give Harris his flag and tell him thanks."

"Good thing he had his lucky flag with him. Murphy wouldn't have been the only lucky guy tonight."

Margaret waved her hand at him. "Go home, dear."

He smiled, and he thanked God that he had something to smile about.