Rule pried more information from her as they proceeded to the foot of the stairs and down two more hallways. And pry was the right word. He couldn’t tell if she disapproved of him because he was lupus, because he was a civilian, or if the disapproval she radiated was more about herself and the sexual buzz she did not want to feel. Still, Lily had told her to fill him in about Ruben, so she answered his questions.
It had been a major heart attack. No word yet on how much damage had been done to the muscle. Brooks had been in his office when it happened. Ida had responded with her customary efficiency, summoning an ambulance, summoning Croft, and putting an aspirin under Ruben’s tongue … possibly all at the same time, Rule thought. He’d met Ruben’s secretary a time or two.
Rule had never and would never experience a heart attack, but he knew pain. He knew how it felt for your body to turn into a hostile zone, as likely to kill as to sustain you. He knew how alien and terrible the tubes and beeping machines of ICU felt. And he knew what it was like to wait while someone you loved was tied to those tubes and machines. He ached for Ruben’s wife, Deborah. And as they turned down yet another hall, he began to tense up.
This was clearly not a patient section. Labs and storage, from what he saw and smelled. “Cobb is supposed to be a patient,” he said sharply. “Where are we going?”
“Um … the room he’s in … it was used for your people back when the government registered you.”
“Gado,” he said, disgusted. “They put him in the room where lupi were held so they could be injected with gado.” It might even be the same room where Cobb had been confined years ago when he was given the drug. “No wonder he’s refusing treatment.”
“No, no, he knows he isn’t here for that. They explained, so he knows.”
“I doubt very much he believes them.”
One more turn in the hall, and he saw Lily. She was at the end of the corridor, standing in front of a steel door with a small, barred window. She was talking with a uniformed officer. The instant he saw her, she turned her head—met his eyes—and started toward him.
Rule stepped up his pace and met her several feet from the door. He touched her arm. “I heard about Ruben. Are you all right?”
She waved that aside. “I called Nettie. She said it would take her too long to get to D.C. and the timing’s critical for this kind of thing. Most healers can’t do much about damage unless they get to the patient within an hour of the attack, but she knows someone, this healer who’s kind of a recluse. He’s good, he’s powerful, he’s not far from D.C., and he owes her a favor. She’s going to get him to go to Ruben. Ida’s making the arrangements. She has to make sure this guy isn’t seen by the press—he’s fanatic about his privacy. I don’t know his name. Nettie wouldn’t tell me his name. But she thinks he’ll do it.”
She was shaken. It was clear to him, maybe not to others. He wanted to wrap his arms around her, but she’d call that unprofessional—which he translated as don’t look weak. He understood the need to conceal weakness in public, but the urge to hold and comfort was strong. He settled for squeezing her arm. “You’ve done all you can.”
She nodded, but the pleat remained between her brows. She glanced at Sjorensen. “Thank you for escorting Rule. Excuse us a moment.” She jerked her head at Rule—come on—and went through the nearest open door.
The room appeared to be used for storage of old office furniture. Lily stopped a few paces inside and looked at him. “You know what that room is where they’ve got him?”
His mouth tightened. “Yes.”
“It’s a bad place for him, but I see why they did it. They’ve got a violent lupus, a killer, but he’s wounded. The law says he gets medical treatment. Where else can they put him? But that’s a really small room.”
“You’ve looked in on him?”
“It’s small,” she repeated. “Eight by ten, maybe. No furniture, nothing he could break up to use as a weapon, so he’s lying on the floor. I don’t think he’s dealing with confinement well. That’s why I told Lieutenant Matthews he couldn’t go in with us. Too many people, too small a space.”
Ah. That’s what she’d argued about with the lieutenant earlier. “Is Cobb mobile? Agitated?”
She shook her head. “He’s just lying on his back, staring at the ceiling. According to the guard, that’s all he’s done since he came around. He’s not responsive. The only time he did speak was to tell the doctor not to touch him and to get out.” Her frown deepened. “I’m thinking you’d better go in first.”
That was both sensible and atypical. “You’re worried about something you haven’t mentioned.”
She lowered her voice. “They’ll have to shut us up in there with him. It’s a small room, Rule.”
Oh. He felt foolish. He admitted—to himself, not out loud—he was already a bit uncomfortable simply because he was underground. That was a relic of Dis, when he’d done a good deal of crawling around in small, underground spaces. He didn’t think Lily was aware of that mild, lingering discomfort, and didn’t intend to tell her. “I’ll be all right.”
“You’ll hold my hand.”
Appreciation and amusement bloomed into a smile. “I am always happy to hold your hand, nadia.”
Lily spoke briefly with Sjorensen, letting her know what they intended to do—some of what they intended, at least. The police officer guarding the door had the key. He gave that to Lily, but insisted on keeping his weapon out and ready. Lily didn’t roll her eyes, but her voice suggested she wanted to. “Just don’t shoot Rule.”
Rule turned his attention to the mantle coiled in his gut, preparing himself to use it, if necessary, to subdue Cobb.
Lily used the key. The lock clicked audibly. She opened the door and let Rule in.
TEN
LILY was right; the room was small. Painfully so. And it stank of terror, blood, and despair.
Fear is an acrid and distinct smell. Even humans were aware of it sometimes. Despair is a subtler scent, an amalgamation of flattened fear, guilt, and abject submission. The second he inhaled, Rule knew Raymond Cobb wouldn’t erupt in violence. He was already beaten.
Cobb lay on the floor, as Lily had said, a beefy man with bandages wrapped around his chest and abdomen, with a thin blanket covering him from the waist down. His hair was short and dark, graying at the temples. He had a square block of a head, his features crowded together beneath a high forehead.
He turned his head, met Rule’s eyes briefly, then closed his own. “Thank God. Thank God you came.”
“Our Rhej is coming, also. She’ll be able to help you.” Rule didn’t speak directly of Cobb’s pain, which must be great. Others could have, but not the man’s Rho, not without giving insult.
Cobb made a soft sound, too breathy for a proper snort. “Waste of her time.”
“You can come in, Lily,” Rule said, and took two steps inside before sitting cross-legged on the floor. He put a hand on Cobb’s shoulder. The mantle recognized the man in a way he knew Cobb would feel, too, and take some comfort in.
Rule heard and felt Lily enter behind him. He heard—distinctly—the door shut and the lock click. The muscles across his shoulders cinched.
Lily moved up quietly and sat beside him, sliding her purse from her shoulder to the floor. She’d placed herself near Cobb’s feet, while Rule was near the man’s midsection. Even if Cobb confounded reality by attacking, Rule would be able to stop him.
She placed a hand on Rule’s thigh. The touch helped. He glanced at her. She nodded once: You take it for now.