Wormhole (The Rho Agenda #3)(47)

Heather fought to clear her head, but the fog refused to lift. Her glance shifted to the plastic IV bag. The white tape that normally held an identifying label was blank.

“What’s that?” Heather’s words came out slightly slurred.

Once again Dr. Sigmund smiled. “Don’t worry about that right now. The important thing is that you are lucid.”

“Where am I?”

“You’re a very fortunate young lady. Thanks to the generosity of an anonymous benefactor, you’re a patient in the finest facility of its type in North America. The Henderson Foundation Psychiatric Research Hospital.”

“Henderson House?” A wave of dread swirled her mental fog.

Dr. Sigmund laughed, a soft chuckle, meant to be reassuring, that failed to produce the desired effect. “That name has suffered a bit of bad press over the past few months, hasn’t it? Let me put your mind at ease. The psychiatric wing is completely separate from the experimental facility that housed Dr. Frell’s research, although it shares the same grounds. It’s sad that a man like Frell could damage this fine institution’s reputation.”

Heather closed her eyes, trying to bring the facts into focus. “Why am I here? Where are Mark and Jennifer?”

Dr. Sigmund pulled up a chair and sat down beside Heather’s bed. She reached out to pat the back of Heather’s right hand, just below the leather cuff that secured it to the stainless steel rail.

“Heather. You’ve experienced a severe psychotic episode, brought on by the fact that you stopped taking your medication. For the last several weeks, you’ve been locked deep in one of your trances. Until you were transferred here, I was beginning to think we’d lost you forever. As for your two friends, they’re still back in Los Alamos, of course, finishing out the school year. I hear Marcus is quite the basketball star.”

Lies. But how could Dr. Sigmund be involved in all of this? It didn’t make sense.

“But Mark was banned from sports. And what about Bolivia?”

“Well, as for Mark’s suspension, the local communities of Los Alamos and White Rock raised such a fuss the school board ended up rescinding the school activities ban for all three of you.”

“Prove it to me. I want to see my parents. I want to see Mark and Jen.”

Dr. Sigmund pursed her thin lips. “I’ll discuss it with your doctors, but I don’t want you to get your hopes up, at least not right away. Any little variation in your treatment could send you right back into deep psychosis and, next time, we might not get you back.”

“My doctors? Aren’t you my doctor?”

That laugh again. “Me? Thank you for thinking of me in that light, but you’re now under the care of some of the world’s finest mental health researchers. They only flew me out here so that you’d see a familiar face welcoming you back to reality. Someone to ease the stress. Now that I’ve accomplished that task, I’ll be returning to my Los Alamos practice.”

“But...”

Dr. Sigmund rose to her feet. “But nothing. You need to rest and focus on getting better. Trust me. Trust your doctors. They really are the very best.”

Dr. Sigmund paused at the door, her gaze lingering on Heather’s prone form. For a moment Heather thought she would speak again. Then the psychiatrist turned and walked out of the room.

As the door closed behind her, Heather heard the heavy electric lock snap into place.





The two federal agents who met Gertrude at the next door led her down a long hallway and then a shorter one on the right, stopping to punch an illuminated elevator call button. It turned red, but she noticed the lack of floor indicator lights. If this whole episode hadn’t been so surreal, she might have thought that odd.

As the elevator doors whisked open, the taller of the two men, the one who’d introduced himself as agent Sampson, stepped in beside her, pressing the topmost of five unmarked buttons. The doors closed and the elevator accelerated upward. When it stopped, the doors remained closed.

Agent Sampson extended his hand. “Dr. Sigmund. You’ve done your country a great service.”

“Have I?”

“And I’m sure I don’t need to remind you not to mention your visit here, subject to severe punishments specified under the Patriot Act.”

Gertrude ignored the hand and Agent Sampson withdrew it.

“May I go now?”

He pressed the middle button and the door slid open. Walking her to the guard desk, Agent Sampson waited as she turned in her temporary security badge and signed out.

As Gertrude stepped out of the building into the underground parking garage, she let her gaze wander to the waiting government sedan. Agent Sampson let her slide into the backseat and closed the door, slapping the roof to signal the driver he was clear to go.

As the black sedan drove out through the gates of Fort Meade, Gertrude cast one more glance over her shoulder.

“Would you like to stop for something to eat or should I take you directly to the airport?”

Gertrude shook her head.

“Just take me to BWI.”

She hadn’t eaten today, but a wave of nausea wiped away all traces of hunger. All she wanted to do was get on her airplane, take an antidepressant, go to sleep, and hope she didn’t still hate herself when she awakened.