Silently Forever

Chapter One

Look, the agitated female complained over the phone, you said I had to get you inside. Here’s your chance. Pinkie called and said to get my ass over to the Bingham, Suite 1501 and to take another girl along. He didn’t say which girl. So I called you. Pinkie ever finds out... I’ll be a dead girl.

I understand all that, she replied.

No, I don’t think you do, the caller snapped, cutting her off. Pinkie kills people! I wouldn’t be the first of his girls to disappear forever. So I’m only going to stick my neck out this one time. You get your ass over to Suite 1501 in the next thirty minutes or I’m calling a real working girl and I ain’t never gonna try and set you up again. You got that, honey?

I’ll be there, she answered, not knowing what else to say.

The phone went dead.

Okay, goddamn it! she said aloud, wondering how the hell she was going to get the ball rolling in thirty minutes. She dialed Brad. No answer. Went right to voice mail. She left a message, asking him to call her back immediately, then headed for the closet. She had no idea what to wear. Something sexy. But not too sexy.

She stripped naked while eyeing her options. The black-lace underwear, just in case. Short gray skirt, the white blouse that showed a little cleavage, black heels. She briefly considered the stilettos, but wrote them off as too much, though they did show off her legs rather nicely. No, she didn’t want to attract too much attention going through the lobby. Better to go with the black heels she’d bought for work. Not as sexy as the stilettos, but still very attractive.

Dressed. Called Brad again. Left another message, this one more detailed than the first. Then out the door before she could change her mind. They’d worked a long time for this break, couldn’t blow it now. Brad would get the message she told herself while hailing a cab. He’d be there. He had to be there.

Goldie was standing outside the elevators, done up like a fashion queen, one hand on an impatient hip, a tightness to her facial features; worried. And scared. ‘Bout time, was all she said before whacking the up button. Thought I was going to have to do a twofer. Be a hard time explaining that to Pinkie, let me tell you. He don’t like it much when his girls don’t do exactly as he ordered.

What’s the story, the newcomer asked as they waited for the elevator.

Story? Ain’t no story, girl!

The, ah, customers. What’s their story? What do you know about them?

I know they’re two guys with money in their pockets and a hard on, Goldie shot back. That’s all I need to know.

The newcomer reached out and grabbed Goldie firmly by the shoulder. That’s not all I need to know, she said forcefully. You know the deal. You have to get me inside this group or else you’re in a world of hurt. Are these guys in the group or aren’t they?

Goldie shook her hand off her shoulder. Jeez, bitch! Don’t be bruising me up!

Are they or aren’t they?

They’re in, goddammit! Wouldn’t have called you otherwise.

Okay then. We’re good to go.

They studied each other in silence for another thirty seconds before the elevator dinged its arrival. Then Goldie looked past her, down the short hallway towards the lobby. Where’s the other one? she wanted to know.

On his way, the other girl replied with a confidence she didn’t feel. Don’t you worry none. He’ll be here.

It’s your funeral, Goldie warned her. If only she’d known how prophetic her words would become.

Hello ladies, a man of obvious Indian descent greeted the pair at the door. He took a moment to let his eyes run up and down both women before nodding in appreciation. I think we’re going to have a good time. My name is Raji, by the way.

I’m Goldie, Goldie informed the man with a practiced smile as she stepped into the hotel room, her companion close behind. And this is... she hesitated just long enough to confuse the man.

Gwen, Cookie offered quickly, flashing what she thought was her own best seductive smile. She’d practiced in front of the mirror for the last couple of weeks, trying to get it just right; sultry, inviting.

The G girls, the man grinned happily as he stepped aside. How appropriate.

The Indian ushered them into the hotel room. It was a two-bedroom suite, the bedrooms separated by a decent-sized sitting area with two couches facing each other and one of those fake fireplaces in a nearby corner. The effect was a cozy, intimate conversation pit. The drapes were open revealing a nighttime panoramic view of the city. Easily five hundred bucks a night, Gwen reckoned. These could be the guys...

Raji gestured the women towards the couches. Please, have a seat. Just throw your wraps on the arm. Roger will be with us in a second. He’s freshening up. He had a long flight in.

Charming, Gwen thought to herself, taking a seat alongside Goldie; clean-cut, well-dressed, polite, educated. Handsome in a friendly way. A very slight British accent, but you had to pay close attention to catch it. Can I get you ladies something to drink? he offered with a smile. I was in the process of pouring myself a martini when you knocked, but you can have whatever you want. The bar is well-stocked and room service is only a phone call away.

Whatever you’re drinking, honey, Goldie replied, again with that inviting smile.

Martini for you then, the Indian smiled back, studying her closely for just a second before he turned for the bar. And you? he asked Gwen over his shoulder as a second thought.

A martini would be fine, she answered quickly, hoping that the drink wouldn’t be too strong. Had to keep a clear head. Unlike their host and Goldie, Gwen was not at ease, though she was doing her best to hide it. She could probably relax if she knew Brad was on station. But their communication was one-way. For safety’s sake.

The bedroom door opened and another man joined them. He was tall, well-built, middle-thirties, clean-cut like Raji. Nice smile. Like Raji. Disarming smiles, Gwen realized suddenly. Professional smiles. Put the patient at ease.

Raji made the introductions as he passed out the martinis. Roger appeared startled when Raji introduced her as Gwen. Almost as if he’d been caught red-handed doing something he wasn’t supposed to. His reaction puzzled her. Had they met before? Had he recognized her from somewhere else?

Roger, unlike Raji, was tentative, as if unsure how to act towards the two women. Maybe meeting up with hookers wasn’t something he’d done before. Or at least something he hadn’t done often. That realization made the man more endearing to Gwen; made him seem almost vulnerable. Vulnerability. She liked that in a man. Up to a point.

They made small talk while Gwen and the two men sipped their martinis. Goldie polished hers off in two large gulps, as if belting back a shot of moonshine before running away from the revenuers. She was black. Sort of. But it was hard to tell in the dimly lit room. Her father had been black, her mother white. The racial mix colored her skin like a deep tan and softened her features. Her hair was dark and long, highlighted with streaks of auburn. And she’d been an expensive call girl since college. Gwen had learned that from her earlier run-ins with Goldie.

Personally, I’d like to sit here and converse more with you charming young ladies, Raji said apologetically when the small talk lagged. However I feel a real pressing need to, uh, enjoy your favors.

Whatever favors you want to enjoy, honey, Goldie assured the Indian with that inviting smile. I know lots of ‘em.

That sounds very exciting, young lady, the Indian grinned lecherously.

Roger? How about Goldie and I slip into my bedroom for awhile, Raji said as if they were debating what pizza to order, his eyes never leaving Goldie. You and Gwen can do whatever you want. But why don’t we meet back here in a couple of hours, have a few more drinks,  recoup our strength, so to speak. Then when we’ve recharged our batteries, we can switch partners. Is that agreeable with you?

Roger’s eyes widened nervously. Uh... sure, Raji.

They watched Raji and Goldie disappear into his bedroom, the door closing quietly behind them, Goldie already giggling as if about to do something she rarely did.

Gwen and Roger exchanged a nervous glance, neither one sure of what they should do next. Gwen especially. Had Brad gotten her message? Was he on station right now, getting a team ready to break in and protect her? If only she knew he was there...

Can I refresh your drink for you? Roger asked politely.

That would be nice, thank you, Gwen managed to answer without her voice betraying her nervousness. Stall, she told herself. Question this guy and stall. Brad will be here soon. He has to be.

If you don’t mind me asking, Gwen began after accepting the refreshed martini from her date. But what do you do for a living? Not that it’s any of my business... I just like to get to know my clients.

I’m a doctor, Roger admitted with a reluctant shrug. A pediatrician actually.

Wow! Gwen blurted in feigned amazement. A pediatrician! I like little kids myself. It must be wonderful helping the little tykes feel better.

It is, he admitted with a real smile, his nervousness disappearing now that he was on more familiar ground. Relieving their pain, their fear... it’s a reward all in itself.

There was real sincerity in his voice, mingled with a touch of pride, too. Strange that such a man, a man that worked with little kids, could be involved in something like this, Gwen thought. But then money has a way of corrupting even the best of us she realized.

So where are you from? she asked, doing her job but also wanting to know more about this strange man.

D.C, he admitted with another one of those reluctant shrugs. He was either apologetic, as if embarrassed by admitting he lived in the nation’s capital, or nervous about revealing so much about himself. Gwen couldn’t help wonder if Roger was his real name.

There was a dull thud, followed by hearty laughter from Raji’s room and both Gwen and Roger, if that was his real name, traded shy, embarrassed looks.

Uh, should we... you know... go into my room? Roger stammered nervously.

Gwen found his uneasiness comforting, and a little exciting. No, not exciting she told herself, blushing slightly. Frightening. What would he expect of her once they were in the other room? Could she put him off, delay things long enough for Brad to show up and save her?

Keep your mind on your job, she ordered herself. Remember why you are here. Get the information you need and be done with it. Goddammit Brad! You’d better be damn close!

Roger caught the blush, was flattered by it. She was very attractive, pretty. With a body made for sin. The fact that she seemed almost as uncertain as him was reassuring. Somewhat of a confidence builder for him. Maybe Raji’s idea to line up a couple of girls was going to be okay after all, despite his initial reluctance.

Perhaps another drink first? Gwen suggested, stalling for more time.

Roger gave that some thought. They could sit right here, have another drink or two until Raji and Goldie returned. But then what? Then he’d have to trade with Raji. If he couldn’t relax with this woman, this Gwen, how would he feel about the other one? What was her name again? Goldie? She seemed a little rougher around the edges. A little coarser. Gwen was definitely more his type. He wondered if he could keep Gwen out of his mind while he was with Goldie and his buddy Raji was using Gwen in the next room. No. It would be much easier if he started with Gwen. And kept her.

I think I would like to take you into the other room, he heard himself say.

He held out his hand, she took it tentatively, smiling up at him. He lifted her to her feet and led her into his bedroom, closing the door lightly behind them as he had seen Raji do just minutes ago.

Gwen glanced nervously about the bedroom. What the hell was she doing? What the hell should she be doing? There were rules about this... protocols. If she violated the rules, actually had sex with the man, that was pretty much entrapment. But if she didn’t do something, he would soon suspect she was not who she pretended to be.

Roger stepped close to her, lifted her head and placed a tentative and gentle kiss on her lips. You are very beautiful, he heard himself whisper.

Thank you, Gwen whispered back. She could smell the aftershave on his cheeks, the male muskiness of him and she felt a strange stirring in the pit of her stomach. The newness... the thrill of doing something different... being with a handsome stranger... It was exciting, though she tried to tell herself it wasn’t. That the stirring she felt was fear, not sexual arousal. He kissed her again, still tender, but yet more passionate. She caught herself wondering what he looked like underneath the silk shirt he was wearing...

Stop it, she ordered herself. Get a goddamn grip! This is not what you’re here for. You can’t do this! I’m not quite ready for this, Brad, she objected, deliberately using the wrong name, hoping her partner would take it for what it was; a pleas for help.

Roger, he smiled, correcting her. But we’ll go slow, he promised. Slow is always better anyway.

He slowly ran the fingers of one hand across her cheek, down her shoulder, then lightly across her breast, startling her. She shivered and he mistook her reaction for eagerness. Perhaps we should get out of these clothes, he whispered.

Oh my God! Oh my God! Gwen screamed silently as Roger slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She could hear his breathing quicken, feel her own breathlessness. This was not supposed to happen! Where the hell was Brad?

He slipped her unbuttoned blouse, the one that showed a little cleavage, over her shoulders. She felt the garment slide to the floor, betraying her, lying innocently against her ankles as if it had nothing to do with the passion that was growing inside her despite her efforts to quash it.

Roger leaned towards her, found her lips again, parted them with his tongue.

I have to stop this! I have to stop this right now, she tried convincing herself, but this time it was her own tongue that betrayed her. She felt her arms encircle him as if they had a mind of their own. Then his arms surrounded her and pulled her tight against him. Their tongues probed, straining as if trying to short-circuit the heightened tension between them. But there was only one way to release that tension, and they both knew it.

Gwen felt Roger’s hands behind her, grasping for the clasp on her bra, the bra that concealed the wire that was supposed to prevent things like this from happening. But how could she end this without revealing who she really was? How could she make this man stop doing what he was doing and instead answer more of her questions? Then there was a sudden release, a freedom to her breasts, and the wired bra joined her blouse on the floor at her feet. She kicked it away.

Roger, the DC pediatrician, stepped back to admire his handiwork. Oh my God! he breathed in excitement. They’re beautiful; perfect!

Gwen stood there, her hands at her side, her breasts fully exposed, torn between covering herself with her arms and running to hide in the bathroom or allowing this strange man to fondle her. He reached up and lightly ran the fingers of both hands over her nipples and all thought of running for the bathroom evaporated. It had been so long...

He leaned closer, cupped her breasts, and nibbled on her ear lobe. She moaned and turned her head slightly to allow him access to her neck. He ran his lips down her neck and slowly towards her left breast. She gasped when his tongue caressed her nipple and she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him to her breast.

He kissed his way from one breast to the other and by the time he reached her other nipple she could no longer hold herself back, could no longer fight it. She wanted him, needed him and found herself hoping that the missing Brad, the late Brad, would no longer show up to rescue her. It wasn’t rescue she now craved. And the hell with the consequences.

She reached for his shirt, groping wildly at the buttons, while his hands found her naked breasts, squeezed them, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. She felt them stiffen as twinges of pleasure ran through her. He squeezed her aroused nipples between thumbs and forefingers and she felt a spasm of pleasure radiate from her breasts, down through her abdomen and into her loins. She moaned again, unwittingly, low and seductively.

She pulled his shirt from inside his pants, feverishly ripping off the last reluctant button in her haste. If they did this quick, before Brad arrived...

Her skirt was the next thing to go, then her panties. She was naked except for the not-as-sexy-as-the-stilettos heels. Roger ran his hand over her pubic mound, dipped a finger inside her, testing her excitement. She groaned in anticipation as her hips arched reflexively. Take me, she pleaded.

Roger, the stranger, the man whom she’d only met a few minutes ago under false pretenses, again stepped back to better admire her; to drink in her beauty, to relish her before he satisfied her desire. Oh, God, Gwen! he moaned himself. You are so beautiful!

She reached for his belt, undid it with a quick jerk, unzipped his pants and found his own excitement. It sprang from his shorts, rock hard, pulsing as if it had a life of its own. Take me now, she pleaded again, using his erection to pull him towards the bed.

They collapsed on the bed; Gwen on her back, her legs wide, Roger falling on top of her. She grabbed him, guided him into her, and they simultaneously groaned with abject pleasure as he entered her. All thoughts of life outside the room were gone, erased in a second by their pleasure.

Until the bedroom door burst open.

Chapter Two

And why should I let you live? the heavy set Russian asked in an amused tone. You are of no use to me. You are just a witness. I don’t like witnesses.

I’m a pediatrician, Roger pointed out hurriedly. Like Raji, the doctor your men just killed. Perhaps I could take his place.

The Russian studied Almherst as if seeing him for the first time. Then he turned his head slightly to let his eyes run over Gwen’s naked body one more time. And this is another hooker?

No! Almherst exclaimed. This is my wife, Gwen.

Wife, Grolankov repeated, again looking her over, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

Gwen said nothing, made no attempt to cover herself. It would do little good anyway. She was naked, totally exposed. Instead she concentrated on trying not to show the fear that was squeezing her heart like a giant stone fist. She had never felt so helpless; so hopeless. Her gun was in her purse, in the sitting room beneath her coat. There was no way she could get to it. Not with four men staring at her. If Brad had been listening like he was supposed to, he would have arrived by now, with plenty of help. But he hadn’t. Gwen was alone. At the mercy of these animals.

You are lucky to have such a beautiful woman for a wife.

Yes, Almherst replied. I am lucky.

Grolankov stepped towards Gwen, a sickening grin on his face, his pistol aimed at her heart, and reached up and squeezed her left nipple. She flinched, fought the urge to slap the man’s face, knowing that if she did he might kill both of them.

Roger moved as if to try and stop him, but the man with the scar across his cheek stepped forward and pressed his knife to the doctor’s throat. You move, you die. Like your doctor friend, he spat in a thick Russian accent.

One of the men behind Grolankov snickered as their boss pinched Gwen’s other nipple. You do not say much, he sneered at her. Perhaps your man had not yet satisfied you. Or perhaps you are not satisfying, eh?

Gwen’s heart was beating a hundred miles an hour. If she had a gun, a weapon of any kind, she would attack this pig. Do what harm she could before he used his pistol to kill her. But she was empty-handed, naked. Totally at his mercy.

So, Doctor, Grolankov said to Almherst, but his eyes never leaving Gwen’s face, his free hand remaining on her breast, kneading it. Squeezing it. You are offering to replace your friend Raji?

Yes, Almherst struggled to answer, his neck twisted slightly back and sideways from the pressure of the knife Scarface held to the side of his throat. Just leave my wife alone.

But you don’t know what your friend was doing for me, do you?

No, Almherst admitted.

Grolankov slid his hand slowly down Gwen’s abdomen, over her pubic mound, watching her eyes closely for her reaction. A flicker of fear ran across her features as his hand found her vagina. He poked a finger in her, causing her to flex backwards at the hips, startled by the invasion even though she had expected it.

All three men snickered this time, all except Grolankov who merely grinned wolfishly. She is well lubricated, he remarked over his shoulder.

Leave her alone! Roger shouted, again trying to move to Gwen’s protection, but again was held back by the knife at his throat, the blade this time drawing a trickle of blood.

Grolankov spun to face him, seemingly forgetting Gwen for the moment. Your friend was laundering money for me, through his clinic, the Russian barked. Several hundred thousand at a time. Can you do that for me? he demanded.

I... I don’t know. I’d have to change our bookkeeping system, come up with some phony accounting codes... Yes. I can do that.

Very good, Doctor. That you figured out how to do that under such pressure. I like a man who can think under pressure. However I do not like men who do not keep their promises. Men who as soon as they’re under, shall we say, less supervision, start trying to think their way out of their predicament. Or in the case of the late Dr. Raji, come up with a way to steal some of my money from me. Such thinking angers me.

Yes. I can see that it would, Almherst managed.

Luka? Grolankov asked the scar-faced man holding the knife at Almherst’s throat, Do you believe Dr. Almherst is a man we can trust with such great amounts of money?

I believe, Mr. Grolankov, the man replied, smiling wickedly, that we need to test both the doctor’s resolve, as well as his wife’s. It would not do us much good to have either of them decide to tell our story to the police. If we cannot be sure of their loyalty, it would be far better to slit their throats right now.

Hmm. I’m afraid, Dr. and Mrs. Almherst that Luka is right. We must be sure of your continued loyalty.

How do we... Almherst began helplessly.

Grolankov turned back to Gwen. What will you do to save your husband’s life?

Gwen shot a scared look at Almherst. She barely knew the man, but he had already tried twice to protect her, save her. How could she not return the favor?

Anything, she said softly, hoping the Russian would not put her to the test.

Anything, the heavy man repeated, looking her over yet again. Cross to the other side of the bed, he ordered.

Gwen stifled a protest, the hardness in Grolankov’s eyes telling her it was either comply or die. She did as instructed, not daring to wonder what would happen next.

My men have worked hard lately. They deserve a treat, Grolankov told her. Bend over the bed and hold yourself up with your hands.

Stop this! Almherst protested loudly. I’ll do whatever you want, just leave her alone!

You will shut your mouth or I will have Luka slice your throat! Is that clear. Doctor?

Then kill me, Almherst said emphatically. Just leave her alone.

You do not understand, Doctor, Grolankov pointed out with that evil grin. This is a test for both your lives. If you will not follow orders in this room, how can I believe you will do as you are told if we allow you to return to your own lives?

Do as I said! the Russian barked at Gwen, his eyes still boring into Almherst’s.

Gwen dropped into position, tears of helplessness forming in her eyes.

Vadim! Do your best to satisfy this woman, Grolankov snapped.

Gwen heard the man approach her from behind, heard him open his pants, then felt something hard poking at her. She braced herself as she felt him slide inside her. Embarrassed, she dropped her eyes to the bed as the man began pumping furiously.

Look at me! Grolankov ordered and Gwen lifted her head dutifully. She met Grolankov’s eyes and stared at him with all the hatred she could muster. I don’t think your wife appreciates what I’m doing for her, Doctor, the Russian said over his shoulder to Almherst. Tell her to smile.

Almherst said nothing.

Tell her! Grolankov barked in a tone that suggested there was no other option.

Smile, Almherst said softly.

You heard your husband, Grolankov grinned like the Devil himself.

Gwen looked past the Russian to Almherst, saw the knife at his throat, the trickle of blood running down his neck and across his naked chest, the helplessness on his face and forced herself to smile.

Grolankov reached down and squeezed her breast. I love watching their breasts swing when they’re taken in this manner, he said to no one in particular.

There was a series of grunts from the man behind her, then several deeper thrusts as he reached a climax. Gwen felt him shake involuntarily, then linger for several seconds before he withdrew. She began to push herself up from the bed when Grolankov ordered her to stay where she was.

I have other men, he informed her. And you have not reached a climax yourself. It is not gentlemanly to leave a woman unsatisfied. Don’t you agree?

Mikhail? the mob boss said when Gwen didn’t respond. See what you can do for this poor woman.

Da. It will be my pleasure, Mikhail answered with great anticipation.

They were alone. Finally. Alone with their shame and humiliation. But alive.

We need to get you to a hospital, Almherst said weakly, his face contorted with a mixture of rage and helplessness.

A numbed Gwen nodded, her eyes on the floor. She could still feel the men inside her, even though they were gone, knowing in her heart that she would always feel as if they were still inside her. Forever.

Gwen? Almherst asked gently, worriedly. Why don’t you lie down? Cover up with a blanket. I’ll call the EMT’s. Get an ambulance...

No, she managed in a feeble whisper. This is a crime scene. We need to call the cops. Gather... evidence. She added the last as she suddenly became aware of their sperm oozing down her legs.

We can’t call the cops! Almherst argued. You heard what they said. They’ll kill us.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. There was fear in his, resolve in hers. There’s two murdered people in the other bedroom, Roger. There’s no way we can walk away from that. It’s smarter to report the murders up front then to be arrested later for fleeing the scene of a crime. Fleeing will only make us the prime suspects. Besides, it’s my duty.

Your duty?, Almherst asked, puzzled by the hooker’s answer. Why is reporting murder your duty? And how will we convince the authorities we didn’t kill those people without telling them about the Russians?

We have to tell them about the Russians, she asserted. If we try to keep them out of the report how are we going to explain Raji and Goldie to them? They’ve been murdered, remember? Somebody had to kill them. And how am I going to report a rape if there was no one here but you and me?

Think about it, Gwen. The Russians warned us about reporting them, Almherst warned. And the local cops won’t have a reason to believe the rape. You’re a... prostitute.

The prostitute shook her head. My name’s not Gwen, Roger. It’s Colleen O’Shaughnessy. And I’m not a prostitute. I’m an undercover cop.

An undercover cop? Jesus Christ! You mean what we just did... what we started to do...,

Wasn’t supposed to happen, Colleen finished for him. My backup was supposed to be here before... well before things went that far. This was supposed to be a sting, Roger and you got caught right in the middle of it.

But the Russians...

We tell the cops everything, Detective O’Shaughnessy insisted emphatically. Except the part about you agreeing to launder money. That should keep you safe from the Russians.

But they’ll still force me to launder their dirty money!

Better that than getting your throat slashed, don’t you think?

Yeah, but...

Roger, leave it to me. I’ll figure out a way to get you free from the Russians. We just need to keep you alive for now. Okay?

Chapter Three

Captain Collins stared at her in disbelief from the bedroom doorway. Colleen Cookie O’Shaughnessy stared back, unable to speak, clutching the white hotel bathrobe around her as if it could ward off any more humiliation.

Two men, purportedly FBI agents, had asked her a few questions about the Russians; would she recognize them, if they showed her pictures of known Russian mobsters could she pick out her assailants, did she catch their names? They kept at her until this stranger she had almost made love with, Roger Almherst, informed them he was a doctor and ordered them to leave her alone, that she needed to be transported to a hospital immediately.

The agents left then, reluctantly, but only to eyeball the technicians working the other bedroom, the room with the bodies.

Lieutenant Rawlings from her precinct showed up then and took over the crime scene, chasing everyone out except Cookie, Almherst and two lab techs. Rawlings asked Cookie for a report, but her mind locked up when she tried to explain the rape. Her lips moved, but no sounds came out. He patted her on the arm and left her standing there, alone. Everyone avoiding looking at her. Except Almherst.

Lieutenant Rawlings interrupted his instructions to the two crime scene techs when he spotted the captain out of the corner of his eye and quickly advanced to meet his commanding officer at the door. They whispered to each other, Rawlings flinging an occasional glance at Cookie over his shoulder. But the more Rawlings whispered, the angrier Collins appeared. Eventually he blurted What’s Cookie still doing here! in a voice that carried throughout the room.

All activity ceased.

I thought we should de-brief her before...

You get Detective O'Shaughnessy to a hospital right now, Lt.! Right goddamn now!

But the FBI...

Fuck the FBI! Get her to a hospital right now if you have to drive her there yourself!

The nurses in the emergency ward were empathetic and handled her gently. The emergency room doctor however gave her a perfunctory examination behind a partially closed curtain until Captain Collins arrived and again flew off the handle. The captain lit into the doctor for his casual indifference and chewed his ass out in front of everyone within hearing distance.

O'Shaughnessy was quickly moved from the emergency ward to a private room, where another doctor, a woman who identified herself as a gynecologist, took over the examination.

I’m sorry, Miss O’Shaughnessy, the gynecologist began after she finished poking and prodding.

Detective O’Shaughnessy, Cookie quickly corrected the doctor. For some reason it felt important for her to re-establish her identity; to let the doctor know she was a unique person and not just another patient, another statistic.

The shocked gynecologist stepped back from her new patient and blinked her eyes at the revelation. I was told you were a prostitute.

Cookie shook her head, fighting back tears of frustration. Undercover cop.

Those stupid bastards! the doctor exploded. She forgot what she was about to tell Cookie and instead picked up a phone that immediately connected her to somewhere else. Tell the admitting nurse I expect to see her immediately after I’m through here, she barked into the mouthpiece. And that goes for whatever asshole doctor is working emergency tonight, too!

What I was about to say, Detective, the doctor went on in a calmer voice after hanging up the phone and returning to her bedside. "Is that there appears to be little physical damage to you internally. There’s some minor tearing and you will experience some irritation and soreness as a result, but that should subside over the next week. Are you using any contraceptives?

I’m on the pill, O’Shaughnessy reported.

Good. That helps. But I would like to prescribe what is commonly referred to as the morning after pill. Just to be on the safe side. Do you have objections to that?

Colleen Cookie O’Shaughnessy shook her head.

Did they administer a rape kit in Emergency?

I don’t think so... but I’m not sure. I’m kind of numb. Like part of me isn’t here.

That’s not uncommon after a sexual assault, the doctor assured her in a gentle tone. And a very understandable reaction. I’ll check with Emergency to make sure it was done. If not, I’ll send someone in to take care of it. I’m sure you want to get the bastards who did this to you and it’s very important we get whatever DNA evidence there is. Okay?

Cookie nodded.

Captain Collins was allowed in to see her after everything was done. He walked quickly to the bed, lifted her hand in his and apologized profusely until Cookie convinced him he didn’t need to blame himself.

You’re one of my officers, on an assignment I gave you, he countered. I blame myself anytime one of my people gets injured on the job because I put them there. But this... this is the worst, Cookie. I’ve… because you’re one of my favorites.

Thank you, Captain, Cookie smiled.

Collins stood there for several long seconds, looking embarrassed over his own remarks, before he could find the words to continue. Then once he turned that corner he was all business. Where the hell was Brad? he asked, anger simmering in his voice; anger not directed at her, but rather directed at the man who was supposed to back her up, protect her.

Cookie shrugged. I don’t know, Captain. I got the call from Goldie... Her voice wavered there, remembering the hooker was dead, remembering how she’d looked lying in that bloody bed alongside Dr. Raji... her throat slit...

It’s okay, Cookie, Collins assured her, guessing correctly why she had stopped talking.

It’ll never be okay, Captain, Cookie began crying. Never again.

It will. It will, the cop insisted. Just give it some time.

It took several minutes before Cookie was able to get her emotions somewhat under control and before she could continue with her story, Collins all the while softly patting her arm and waiting patiently for her to gather herself enough to continue.

I got the call from Goldie, she sniffed. She said I had to be there in thirty minutes or she couldn’t get me in. I called Brad on his cell several times as I was getting ready, left several messages when he didn’t answer, but he never responded.

But you went ahead anyway, Collins said non-judgmentally.

Cookie nodded. We worked so hard to get inside that convention... I used up all my contacts. Goldie was our only shot. I figured Brad would eventually pick up, get in position. I kept expecting him to show up, all through the... all through...

It’s okay, Collins repeated, patting her hand consolingly. "It’s over now. You’re safe here in the hospital. You just rest. Take some time off. We’ll cover all this later, go over the details when