managed to scramble out of the door and get to the pay phone, his heartbeat thudding madly in his ears. He could feel his shirt clinging to his body. His hands were covered with blood. He fumbled ineffectually for a couple of quarters. He dialed Homicide and gave the bare outline of what had happened. This time they wouldnât be casual about sending someone. The nurse on duty returned with a cup of coffee.
âAre you okay? You look a bit pale,â she said, and then she saw his hands and screamed.
âDonât go into Room 4308 whatever you do. Donât let anyone into that room unless I say so. Send me a doctor immediately.â
The nurse thrust the cup of coffee at him, forcing
him to take it, and ran down the corridor. Mark made himself go back into Room 4308, although his presence was irrelevant. There was nothing he could do except wait. He switched on the lights and went over to the bathroom; he tried to remove the worst of the blood and vomit from himself and his clothes. Mark heard the swinging door and rushed back into the room. Another young, whitecoated female doctor ⦠âAlicia Delgado, M.D.â said her plastic label.
âDonât touch anything,â said Mark.
Dr. Delgado stared at him and then the bodies, and groaned.
âDonât touch anything,â repeated Mark, âuntil Homicide arrive; they will be here shortly.â
âWho are you?â she asked.
âSpecial Agent Mark Andrews, FBI.â He instinctively took out his wallet and showed his credentials.
âDo we just stand here staring at each other or are you going to allow me to do something about this mess?â
âNothing until Homicide has completed their investigation and given clearance. Letâs get out of here.â He passed her and pushed the door with his shoulder, not touching anything.
They were back in the corridor.
Mark instructed Dr. Delgado to wait outside the door and to allow no one else inside while he phoned the Metropolitan Police again.
She nodded reluctantly.
He went over to the pay phone, two more quarters; he dialed the Metropolitan Police and asked for Lieutenant Blake.
âLieutenant Blake went home about an hour ago. Can I help you?â
âWhen had you been planning to send someone over to guard Room 4308 at Woodrow Wilson Medical Center?â
âWhoâs speaking?â
âAndrews, FBI, Washington Field Office.â Mark repeated the details of the double murder.
âWell, our man should be with you now. He left the office over half an hour ago. Iâll inform Homicide immediately.â
âIâve already done that,â snapped Mark.
He put the phone down and collapsed into a nearby chair. The corridor was now full of white coats. Two gurneys were being wheeled up to Room 4308. They were all waiting. What was the right thing to do?
Two more quarters, he dialed Nick Stamesâs home. The phone seemed to ring for a long time. Why didnât he answer? Eventually a female voice came on.
Mustnât show panic, he thought, holding on to the phone box. âGood evening, Mrs. Stames. Itâs Mark Andrews. Can I speak to your husband?â An even tone, no sign of stress.
âIâm afraid Nick is not home, Mark. He went back to the office about two hours ago. Funny, he said he was going to see you and Barry Calvert.â
âYes, we saw him, but he left the office to go back home about forty minutes ago.â
âWell, he hasnât arrived yet. He only managed to finish the first course of his dinner and said he would come straight back. No sign of him. Maybe he returned to the office. Why donât you try him there?â
âYes, of course. Sorry to have bothered you.â Mark hung up, looked over to check that no one had gone into Room 4308. No one had. He put two more quarters in and phoned the office. Polly was on duty.
âMark Andrews. Put me through to Mr. Stames, quickly,
Amos Oz
Charles de Lint
Chris Kluwe
Alyse Zaftig
Savannah Stuart, Katie Reus
William C. Dietz
Betty Hechtman
Kylie Scott
Leah Braemel
The war in 202