Saturday, March 1, 2008

The Star Spangled Intersect, Chapter 3: "Somewhere Along in the Bitterness"

Big Mike was aggravated.

It was not advisable to aggravate Big Mike. He often broke things when he was aggravated.

Right now, his wrath was directed toward the Nerd Herd. Jeff and Lester were busy trying to avoid him, while whining about how unfair it was that they were being targeted for their supervisor’s indiscretion.

Anna was too busy with Morgan in the break room to care. Nobody wanted to go anywhere near the break room.

As Big Mike sat stewing in his office, a beeping sounded from the fax machine. Big Mike turned and growled at it.

Instead of growling back, the fax machine simply spat out a piece of paper. Big Mike grabbed it.

Big Mike – sorry I didn’t call you. I had to go out of town unexpectedly. I need to take a few days off, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. – Chuck Bartowski

“What the hell, boy!” Big Mike yelled. He looked for a phone number in the fax header, to see if he could figure out where Bartowski was – no such luck; it was just XXX-XXX-XXXX. “Damn!”

“GRIMES!” he shouted, bursting out of his office like a small hurricane. “GRIMES, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

He threw open the door to the break room – and his eyes nearly burst out of his head.

“Oh, that’s not right,” Big Mike whined. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”


Ellie, Devin, Sarah, and Casey finally left the hospital just after four o’clock. All four turned their cell phones on as soon as they exited the hospital.

Shortly thereafter, Ellie’s and Sarah’s phones both beeped, announcing new voicemails. Ellie held her phone to her ear to hear the new voicemails; Sarah used her iPhone to read the voicemail.

Ellie’s face broke into a huge smile as Sarah’s face creased in concern. Sarah hit the voicemail button and pressed her phone to her ear as Ellie started talking.

“I had voicemails from Chuck and Morgan,” she announced. “Chuck just wanted to let me know he’s okay, and Morgan was calling to say that a letter requesting a brief leave of absence was faxed to the Buy More.”

“That’s fantastic!” Sarah said, trying to be enthusiastic. “I got a voicemail from Chuck, too. I guess he’s okay.”

Sarah waited to get into the car as Ellie and Devin got in. “What is it, Walker?” Casey asked, noticing her reticence to get in.

“Somebody’s doing a very good fake job,” Sarah replied. “Back when Chuck and I first met, I taught him some code phrases to say every time he was on the phone with me, even if the message was completely unrelated to a mission. Some phrases say he’s okay, some say he’s under duress.”

“Was there a duress code in there?”

“No. There were none of the codes at all. It wasn’t Chuck.”


General Beckman had just about had it with Chuck Bartowski.

He was being such a pain in her ass, it wasn’t even funny. The fact that he had called her a “fucking bitch” and then kicked Director Graham in the groin aside, he was making her life miserable.

After disabling Director Graham, he’d gone back to his cell. He had taken the McDonald’s hamburger he’d been brought, took the patty, and rubbed it all over the doorknob, turning it into a greasy mess. The Army guards who brought him his dinner later had discovered this the hard way, not being able to get a grip on the door to open it when they tried to leave.

Chuck had then gone on another crotch-kicking spree, taking down two US Army soldiers, taking one of their M-16s, and getting the doorknob open by wrapping his hand in one of their berets. Beckman swore she was going to insist on all male visitors to Bartowski’s cell wearing protective cups.

But then it got worse. No, he didn’t take the M-16 out into the facility and go postal. Rather, he had just walked up and down the hallway outside his cell, firing short bursts into rather expensive electronic equipment, and making it quite clear to the surveillance mikes that he was going to continue to do so every ten seconds, unless…

Unless he got a copy of Guitar Hero.

So they got him a copy of Guitar Hero. Unfortunately, by the time they got it to him, he’d caused almost $200,000 worth of damage.

So what did he do? He started up Guitar Hero, and played it for four hours straight. General Beckman was convinced she was going to have Pearl Jam’s “Even Flow” stuck in her head for the rest of her life.

Then, when he was done assaulting her eardrums, he watched Apocalypse Now and The Departed back to back.

It was now 2:00 AM.

General Beckman didn’t dare leave the facility, because she knew that at some point Casey and Walker were going to call in. She was actually at a loss as to why they hadn’t yet. The only thing she knew was that they were ignoring all calls from both her and Director Graham.

When Director Graham came into the office, he found General Beckman with her head in her hands.

“I don’t know why you’re still here, if he makes you so crazy,” he said. “I’d have just left a long, long time ago.”

“Director Graham?”

“Yes?”

“You can feel free to tell me how to run this operation when I have my nuts on ice as well. Until that time, kindly keep your opinions to yourself.”


Sarah felt miserable. She had woken up with a roofie hangover, and now she’d been up for twenty-two hours straight. On top of that, she was scared to death for Chuck’s well-being. The guilt inside of her was almost unbearable.

“You should get some sleep, Walker,” Casey told her. It was probably the tenth time since they’d figured out what was going on that he had told her that.

Sarah had spent all afternoon trying to analyze the message from Chuck. She had come to no conclusion other than that Fulcrum or the Agency had taken him in.

Fulcrum agents had an ego problem. They would’ve contacted her or Casey right away and gloated. It had to be the Agency.

Her Agency had betrayed her. Worse still, it had betrayed Chuck.

“Seriously, Walker.”

“Alright, John,” she said. Then she stopped short. “I must be really tired if I’m calling you John.”

“My point exactly,” he replied. “Good night.”

He exited her hotel room and headed down the hall. As he did so, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

“Beckman.”

“General, this is John Casey.”

“Major Casey, it is about goddamn time you made contact. What’s your situation?”

“Bartowski’s been abducted, ma’am.”

“And why didn’t you report this immediately?!”

“Because you did it, ma’am.”

There was silence at the other end of the line.

“Yeah, that silence was the wrong answer, ma’am.”

“It’s for his own good, Casey.”

“Respectfully, I don’t think you’d recognize his own good if it hit you in the face with a two by four, ma’am.”

Casey disconnected, turned on his heel, and headed back to Sarah’s hotel room. He pounded on the door.

She answered, having already changed into pajamas and put a sleep mask on her head. “That was quick.”

“I just got confirmation from General Beckman.”

Sarah immediately became alert again. “Well, that settles that,” she declared. She turned around, headed to the dresser, and began pulling out guns and ammunition. “I am not letting them keep him penned up in some facility just because he got hit with the unlucky stick one day.”

“What are you gonna do, Walker? Walk into whatever facility he’s in and pull him out? You don’t even know which facility he’s in!”

“It doesn’t matter, Casey. He’s getting out.”

He sighed. He shook his head. “Well, you’re gonna need backup.”

She stopped. “What?”

“You’re gonna need backup, Walker. You can’t go into an Agency facility by yourself and expect to walk out unscathed.”

“And you of all people are going to help me. Casey, half the time you can’t stand Chuck.”

“Walker, let me ask you something. Did you swear an oath when you joined the CIA?”

“No. What difference does it make?”

“When I received my commission in the United States Air Force eighteen years ago, I swore an oath,” Casey informed her. “That oath said that I would, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States of America. So help me God.

“Bartowski is an American citizen. His Constitutional rights have been strewn from here to next Christmas. I cannot simply stand by and watch that happen.”

“So you’re going to go help break Chuck out because he isn’t getting life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?”

“That’s about the long and short of it, Walker,” Casey growled. “At least I’m not going off on some rash jailbreak simply because the guy makes me horny.”

Sarah turned to face him, a look of shock on her face. “Let me tell you something, Major Casey,” she hissed, stepping toward him.

“What, Agent Walker?”

SMACK.

She stepped back. “I feel better now.”

Casey rubbed his right cheek. “That’s gonna leave a mark.”

“Good.”

“You ready?”

“You’re not getting the last word, Casey. Get out. I’ll tell you when I’m ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“GET OUT!”

The Star Spangled Intersect, Chapter 2: "I Lost a Friend"

He felt like he was swimming upward through a mud puddle toward the sunlight.

Finally, he reached the top.

His eyes cracked open. He felt like a ton of sand was stuck in them.

Chuck brought his hands to his eyes and rubbed the guck and crap out of them, wiping it away.

“Dammit,” he muttered, his head pounding. Then, he realized something was wrong.

He was not in his bedroom. He didn’t remember getting here, either. The last thing he remembered was the Viper Room. Jack Johnson on stage. And now…

“Where the hell am I?”

He sat up slowly, taking in his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the nightstand. A glass of water, and two Advil cold and sinus. A note.

Mr. Bartowski – Take these. You’ll feel better quickly.

So he did. No immediate effect, but he hadn’t expected it.

He looked around more. King size bed. Comfortable one, at that. All white linens. In fact, the whole room was white. The sofa halfway across the room was white. The refrigerator in the corner was white.

He got up and slowly staggered to the refrigerator, pulling it open. Water, Mountain Dew, Coke, Red Bull. Snacks. Stuff he enjoyed. Pretty well stocked.

There was a white sixty-inch plasma TV hanging from the wall, a white cabinet below it. He opened the cabinet – all his DVDs. A Blu-Ray player. A PS3 and a Wii with all his games.

“Goddammit,” he muttered. “Tell me I’m not where I think I am.”

Chuck went back to the refrigerator, pulled out a Red Bull, collapsed on the couch. He picked up the remote, turned on the TV.

The image of General Beckman appeared on the screen, facing away. As if she was alerted to the fact that the television had been turned on, she turned to face Chuck.

“Mr. Bartowski. Good morning.”

Chuck didn’t say anything, just stared.

“I trust you’re comfortable?”

He still didn’t say a word, raising his Red Bull in response.

“I’m sorry about the measures we had to take to get you here. Agent Walker managed to severely injure two NSA agents before we were able to extract you.”

Chuck’s eyes widened at Sarah’s name.

“She’ll be fine, Bartowski.”

He crossed his arms, but still didn’t speak.

“By the way, your family and friends are quite efficient. They’ve already reported you missing to the LAPD, and your sister and her fiancĂ© have already gotten Agent Walker to City of Angels for a rape examination.”

Chuck’s breath caught in his throat, and his eyes went wide. He finally spoke.

“You fucking bitch.”

“Do calm yourself, Bartowski. We wouldn’t subject one of our own agents to that simply to extract an asset.”

Chuck went silent once more.

“Do you have nothing else to say, Bartowski? Or is that it? Calling me a ‘fucking bitch’?”

He said nothing. Then, slowly, and purposefully, he raised both hands, and extended both of his middle fingers.

General Beckman cocked an eyebrow. Chuck lowered his hands, picked up the remote, and turned off the television.


Ellie came out of the exam room into the waiting area. “She wasn’t raped,” she informed Devin, Casey, and the detectives.

“No sign of it?” one of the detectives asked.

“No.”

“So whoever administered the Rohypnol probably did so in order to disable her so that they could abduct your brother,” the other detective mused.

“Can we question Ms. Walker now?” the first detective requested.

“Actually, can I speak with both of you a moment?” Casey interrupted.

He pulled the two detectives over to a corner of the waiting area and spoke with them quietly. After a moment, one of them said, “Alright, I understand.”

They walked back over to Ellie. The one who had spoken to Casey said, “Ms. Bartowski, we’ll be in touch regarding your brother. We may have to involve the FBI.”

She nodded. “Please, do whatever you have to,” she replied quietly.

As the detectives left, Devin said, “I think we should go in and talk to Sarah a moment. John, you too.”

With a puzzled look on his face, Casey walked in to Sarah’s exam room with Ellie. Devin walked in behind them, shut the door, and locked it.

“Alright,” he began. “I think it’s time for the truth.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” Casey said.

“You’re not a Buy More salesman. Sarah’s not a fast-food cashier. I think it’s about time that the two of you told us what the hell is going on and what it has to do with Chuck.”

Sarah looked at Casey. He shook his head almost imperceptibly, but she just shrugged.

“This all started on September 25th of last year,” she started.

For the next fifteen minutes, she told a shocked Ellie and Devin the story of the last five months. Casey would occasionally interject a comment.

“And that’s pretty much the whole story,” Sarah finally finished.

“Yeah, except that the CIA wasn’t counting on their agent to come out here and fall for the asset,” Casey grumbled.

Sarah looked daggers at Casey, but Ellie cracked a small smile. “I knew you really did truly like Chuck,” she said quietly.

Sarah sighed the sigh of a defeated woman. “I… I guess I really do,” she answered with a shrug. “Unfortunately, that turns out to be a liability sometimes – like last night, when we were supposed to be identifying a target. When it turned out he wasn’t at the night club we were at, we decided to stay – just for fun. I wouldn’t have done that with any other asset, but Chuck…”

She paused a moment. “I can’t look at him and just see an asset anymore. He’s a person. He’s… an incredible man. I’ve never known anybody else like him. I look at him, and I see the life I could have. I…”

Sarah stopped. She had almost said something she didn’t know if she was entirely sure of, but the more she thought about it, the more sure of it she became.

“I could see myself very happily spending the rest of my life with him.”

Casey groaned. “Oh, for God’s sake, Walker.”

“Hey, I think it’s pretty awesome,” Devin rebuked him.

“And yet, I’m entirely unsurprised. By both of you,” Casey continued. “First of all, you think everything’s awesome, Devin. And Sarah, I could see it on your face that very first night on the helipad.”

Sarah didn’t say anything. She didn’t confirm it. She didn’t deny it. In fact, as they watched, her eyes started to brim with tears, and they began to roll quickly down her face. Her face crumpled as she was overcome by guilt for letting Chuck be taken and fear that she might not ever see him again.


The door opened. Chuck looked up from the bed. He had laid down after his “talk” with General Beckman, and had just stared at the ceiling.

Two men entered the room, one with an M-16, one with a tray of food. In fact, it smelled a lot like McDonald’s.

But that wasn’t what interested Chuck. No, it was the open door that interested him. He got up, and walked toward the door.

“Freeze, Mr. Bartowski,” the armed one said, as the M-16 swung toward him.

“Please,” Chuck replied. “I’m a priceless government asset. If you shoot me, you’ll be spending the rest of your life cleaning toilets in Greenland.”

The agent hesitated, and Chuck walked out the door.

He had gotten no more than fifty feet down the hall, when a group of agents, accompanied by Director Graham, no less, appeared to block his path. One of the agents held a syringe.

“Oh, come on. You’re going to drug me?” Chuck asked.

“If we have to,” Director Graham replied.

“You mean, like you drugged Sarah?”

Graham looked at him curiously. “How did you know about that?”

“General Beckman told me that my sister had done a rape exam on Sarah, but she personally assured me that no harm had come to her. Therefore, I can only assume that somebody slipped Sarah a roofie to knock her out while you people extracted me.”

Graham was quiet for a long moment. “You’ve got quite the mind there, Bartowski, beyond just the Intersect. So, it would be a shame for us to have to potentially damage it with sedatives.”

“Oh, there’ll be no need for sedatives,” Chuck replied. “I’ll go back to my cell without protest. I just need to do one thing first.”

“And what’s that?”

Without warning, Chuck’s foot swung upward. His Converse-clad right foot slammed into Director Graham’s crotch at a rather high rate of speed. Graham’s eyes bulged, he clasped his hands to his groin, and he collapsed to the ground, doing his best not to gag.

Chuck leaned over him just a little bit. “THAT was for kidnapping me, for drugging Sarah, and for likely scaring the shit out of my family and friends.”

And with that, he executed an about-face, strode back to his cell, and slammed the door shut behind him.

The Star Spangled Intersect, Chapter 1: "Where Did I Go Wrong"

At the suggestion of some of my readers, I've decided to put all my crossover fics on hold and write something that's purely a Chuck fic. This first chapter went a totally different direction than I had intended, and it is considerably darker than I had planned. Nonetheless.


Ellie wasn’t quite sure when she first realized something was wrong.

Maybe it was the stillness of the apartment when she got home from the overnight shift. Maybe it was nothing at all.

But there was definitely something wrong.

“Chuck?”

No answer.

“Chuck, are you awake?”

Maybe he was in the shower. But no, she couldn’t hear any water running. Then a thought hit her –

Maybe he had slipped and hurt himself in the shower. The doctor in her spurred her into action. She burst through his bathroom door –

Empty. Nobody.

She peered around the door into his bedroom. Nobody. Empty. Bed looking like he had just woken up, clothes strewn about, his Buy More outfit draped over the back of his chair.

Ellie was getting very concerned. She opened the medicine cabinet in his bathroom.

Everything was there. Toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, shave gel, razor, hair gel, CK One –

Since when does my brother wear that?

She pushed the irrelevant thought from her head. It was as if Chuck had just disappeared.

Ellie went back into his bedroom. His computer was in sleep mode, his iPhone still attached to it. Unplugging it from the computer, she scrolled through the call list. Nothing she could see that might’ve made him just up and leave in the middle of the night.

She scrolled to Morgan and hit the talk button. It rang, and rang. No answer. She tried Sarah next. Same result. She left her a message, asking her to call as soon as she got it.

Ellie went back to the living room, picked up the phone, and dialed Devin. “Yo,” he answered.

With no preamble, she said, “Can you check around and see if Chuck’s been admitted to the hospital, or to any of the others in the area?”

“Babe, what’s up?”

“He’s not in the apartment. It’s as if he just disappeared.”

“Did you call Morgan or Sarah?”

“Yeah. No answer from either of them.”

“Did you check with John? He might know.”

“No, I haven’t yet, but I probably should.”

“Okay, babe, you do that. I’ll check on hospitals.”

Ellie’s composure was starting to unravel. “Okay,” she forced out, her voice breaking.

“Hey, babe, listen. I’m sure Chuck’s okay. He’s a good man. He knows how to take care of himself.”

Ellie just nodded. “I’ll talk to you later, babe. Love you,” she heard, and then the phone disconnected with a click.

Taking a deep breath, she collected herself. Crossing to the door, she walked out of the apartment and across the courtyard to John Casey’s apartment. She knocked on the door, and waited. Knocked again. No answer.

Slowly, Ellie turned back to her apartment. Returned to the apartment. Picked up the phone again. She knew she should wait. She knew she was supposed to wait twenty-four hours. But something just seemed so terribly wrong.

She dialed.

“Los Angeles Police Department, Rampart Division. How may I direct your call?”

“Yes… I need to file a missing persons report.”


“GRIMES!”

The unmistakable voice of an angry, hulking black man echoed across the Buy More. Customers looked up in surprise, then returned to their shopping.

“GRIMES!”

Morgan sprinted across the store, trying to get to Big Mike before he could yell again.

“GRI- oh, there you are. Where the hell is Bartowski?”

“What?”

“Are you deaf? WHERE THE HELL IS BARTOWSKI?”

Across the store, the head of another Buy More associate perked up. John Casey’s ears had caught Big Mike’s demand.

He started making his way across the store to where Big Mike and Morgan stood.

“I don’t know,” Morgan said. “I haven’t seen him this morning – I thought maybe he’d called in sick. I haven’t heard from him, and he’s not answering his phone.”

“No call,” Big Mike rumbled. “This ain’t like his ass. What the hell is going on?”

Casey reached them at that point. “Did you say that Bartowski isn’t here? And you haven’t heard from him?”

“That’s what I said. What business is it of yours, exactly?”

“Never mind.”

Casey stalked off, went into the home theatre lounge, and pulled out his phone. He dialed Chuck. Rang several times, no answer. Next call.

Rang several times, no answer. He tried the land line.

Finally, after that had rung ten times, it was answered.

“’lo?”

“Walker?”

“’sey? What’s goin’ on?”

“Is your cell phone on?”

“Yesss…”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Hangover, I think…”

“Do you have any missed calls?”

He heard her slowly shuffling around in the background.

“Uhh… Chuck… ‘bout twenty minutes ‘go…”

Casey’s eyes widened. “Did he leave a message?”

“Jus’ a minute…”

A moment later, she came back on the line. She still sounded under the influence, but a certain coherent edge had entered her voice.

“That was actually Ellie calling me from Chuck’s phone. She asked me to call her as soon as I could.”

“Walker, listen to me. Chuck didn’t show up for work today.”

There was silence.

“Walker?”

“Sorry… I tried to get out of bed… I’m having trouble walking.”

“What the hell did you drink last night?”

“Not now, Casey. Listen. I need you to come over here, pick me up, and then we need to go to Chuck’s apartment.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll call the director.”

“No! I think that’s a bad plan.”

“We shouldn’t tell our superiors that we think there’s a problem with Chuck?”

He heard the sigh from the other end. “What if they’re involved?”

Casey hadn’t considered that. “Shit.”

He looked around, made eye contact with Morgan, gave him the “come hither” sign. “Alright, I’ll get out of here. I’ll be at your place in ten.”

He disconnected as Morgan reached him. “What’s up, Casey?”

“I’m gonna go look for Chuck,” Casey said. “I need you to cover for me, and I need you to not tell Big Mike that I’m looking for Chuck.”

“It’s gonna cost you, John,” Morgan smarmed.

Casey rolled his eyes. “There’ll be a pallet of grape soda in your apartment when you get home.”

“You got yourself a deal!”


Casey’s retired cop car rolled to a stop behind a very active cop car in front of his apartment complex. It was one of several sitting in the street, lights flashing.

“This does not look good,” he muttered.

“You think?” Sarah shot back, eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses.

Casey didn’t reply, just got out of the car. He helped Sarah out, and walked with her to the door of the Bartowski apartment.

When they entered, they were greeted by the sight of a red-eyed Ellie Bartowski, sitting on the couch, Devin’s arms around her. She was being questioned by a pair of plainclothes LAPD detectives.

Her eyes widened when she saw Sarah. “Sarah! Oh, thank God you’re here!” she cried, leaping from the couch, wrapping Sarah in a hug that almost toppled her.

“Easy, there,” Casey warned, catching the two women before Sarah lost her balance.

As Ellie sniffed a little and backed away, Devin rose from the couch, approaching Sarah. “Are you feeling okay, Sarah?” he asked.

“Just a hangover,” she insisted.

“Are you sure? Your skin is awfully pallid, and you almost fell over just there – let me see your eyes.”

Without warning, he reached out and pulled off Sarah’s sunglasses. She tried to squint. “Open your eyes wide, Sarah,” Devin said, shading her eyes with his hand.

He stared into her eyes for a moment. “Bloodshot is normal for a hangover, but…”

He removed his hand from her forehead. “Lack of dilation is not.”

Devin’s hand went back to her forehead. “You’re running a temperature, too…”

His hand pulled away again, and the switch from dark to light and back repeatedly just got to be too much for Sarah. Without a word, she staggered to the kitchen, and vomited in the sink.

Devin shook his head. “There’s something wrong,” he said. “A hangover shouldn’t fix her pupils and give her a temperature.”

“What are you saying?” Casey asked, a note of concern entering his voice.

“I’m saying that I want her to get in my car so I can take her down to the hospital and do some tests,” Devin replied.

Sarah came back out of the kitchen, looking incredibly weak and unsure of her footing. “No… Devin… you can’t leave Ellie…”

By this point, though, Ellie had gone into doctor mode. “No, Sarah, Devin’s right. I’ll be okay. I want you to go to the hospital with him.”

One of the LAPD detectives finally spoke. “Dr. Bartowski, I think we’ve asked you all the questions we need to about your brother… but I do need to ask, do you think that we’re going to need to talk to your friend here?”

Devin answered for her. “I would say that you’re almost certainly going to need to talk to her.”


As soon as they had walked in the door of the E.R. at City of Angels Medical Center, Sarah had been loaded onto a gurney. Devin had started calling out orders left and right, and within minutes, he was in an exam room with Sarah. Ellie and Casey had come with them, as had the two Rampart detectives.

“Your blood tests are back,” said an orderly, walking into the room and handing Devin a printout. It had been the first thing he’d ordered on entering the hospital – a vial of Sarah’s blood had been drawn, and had been sent for tests.

Devin looked at the sheet, and his face darkened. “Goddammit,” he muttered.

“What?” Ellie looked at him, concerned.

Devin’s voice was tight as he said one word. “Rohypnol.”

Ellie and Casey’s eyes widened, the detectives pulled out notepads, and even Sarah took notice, forcing herself up onto her elbows.

“There’s no way Chuck could’ve…”

“It couldn’t have been Bartowski…”

“He wouldn’t know where to get it!”

“I’d know if he’d gotten something like that…”

“Hey.”

The weak interjection from Sarah caused everybody to take notice. “It wasn’t Chuck. You’re right, he wouldn’t have known where to get it.”

She paused, trying to form the right sentence. “He wouldn’t have needed it.”

Devin shook his head. “I’m not sure whether to be relieved or even more concerned.”

He crossed to the wall, picked up the phone.

“I need a rape kit in E47.”