Callahan, still holding the bags from outside, stayed with the body as it was loaded onto a gurney and then wheeled down to the Infirmary. He didnt flinch when they stuck an IV into an arm, but left the room when they removed the shoes and socks to check for spinal damage. The stench was overpowering and made his eyes water.
The doctors were professional and crisp, with little joking around. They took samples, drew blood, called for X-Rays, MRIs, CAT scans and bunches of other test known only by their acronyms. After a furious first few minutes their pace slowed down and one of them approached Callahan.
They tell me you found him, no? asked the doctor. His name, according to the name tag, was Ali Ibn Rabban. Callahan called him Poindexter.
No, replied Callahan, but my partner did, right after sunrise, just over a small hill near the East Entrance.
No signs of struggle?
None. Is he going to be allright?
Probably. It appears he is suffering from a mild concussion, though his white blood count is low also, indicating fatigue or infection, we dont know which. He should be okay once he wakes up, but he will have a severe headache when he does. Bah, we can treat that. So, yes, to answer your question, he will be allright.
Who is he?
We think he might be Robert Duckworth.
Duckworth? Whats a Duckworth?
The doctor paused, and Callahan knew he had asked the wrong question.
About $100 a pair for the rare breeders, such as Butterscotch colored Mallards.
Silence.
Well, you asked and I own a duck farm, so there!
Callahan grimaced.
Okay, so who is this Robert Duckworth then? Some two bit drug lord?
No, we think he is better known as CommandoBob.
Him? It just doesnt seem possible.
Were waiting on a DNA test right now to confirm his identity. But as you know, CB has been gone a long time and a lot of people have forgotten about him. There was a rumor years ago that he was seen swimming out to a Saber ship. Another rumor was that he was abducted by winged space aliens.
Yeah, and it could be he just took a vacation, too, but that wont make headlines.
Probably not, but at any rate, we wont be sure of his identity for several hours yet. He will shortly be in ICU and he will stay there until he wakes up and then we can see who he says he is. Well have some hospital guards standing duty outside his door to keep trouble away.
Well, I can save you some trouble. I can stay with him and then your boys in blue can help old ladies across the street and not advertise the fact that weve got some potential big shot in here. You see, having two uniforms stand outside a door just about guarantees some nut-case or smart aleck will see a chance to get his name in the paper, and try to pull some stupid stunt, like unhooking a catheter line and we dont want that, do we?
Uh, no we dont. But allow me to send in a pot of coffee for you, Officer
Callahan. Harry Callahan.
Well, Officer Callahan, let me take to the ICU room youll be in for the next few hours, said Rabban, taking Callahan in tow and keeping up a steady stream of pseudo-medical mumbo-jumbo. It may have been brilliance revealed, but Callahan wasnt a medical man and the allusions and illustrations just made him glassy-eyed. Once he got to the room he pulled the curtains, set down the bags he was still carrying, turned down the lights and picked up the local newspaper that someone had left in the room. He pulled out his weapon, the beloved Smith & Wesson Model 29 .44 Magnum revolver, with his right hand and sat down in a chair, the revolver covered by the newspaper. In less than a minute he was sound asleep.
He awoke briefly when they wheeled in the man Callahan thought of as a suspect. The attendants did their thing and left and Callahan fell back to sleep. He awoke later to hear voices talking.
So you found out there is a connection between life and electricity? asked one voice.
Well, there appears to be a causal connection of the two, but we dont know if life causes electricity or electricity causes life. The relationship is there, but much work remains to be done to determine the exact nature of that relationship.
Would a lot of electricity help? the first voice inquired. As he focused in, Callahan saw that this voice belonged to a young person in the standard white lab coat of a doctor. He was talking to his suspect.
It would take a lot of electricity to do even the smallest amount of research. More than all we produce in 20 or 30 years. In theory it could be done, but in practice I dont see how.
Ive got an engineering friend that has been toying with ways to mass produce electricity. If the government would fund him
Not a chance. Look how long it took to complete the that boondoogle in Kazgungudom, that Theory of Evolution. Something like what youre talking about is the work of two or three dedicated, really dedicated people, not a bunch of office drones pushing around little scraps of colored paper.
Well, you may be right. I dont think so, not yet anyway, so Ill try what I can to prove my point.
Sounds like a good plan, Victor. I wish you luck.
Thank you, sir. I hope Im lucky, too. Ill close the door carefully so that I dont waken Sleeping Beauty over there. Thanks.
And who was that supposed to be? growled Callahan as he stood up and holstered his revolver. Prince Charming?
No, that was Victor, uh, Frank-el? Or was it Frank-em? Maybe Frank-en? Anyway, Victor Frank-something-in-line; I didnt really understand his name. He said he was good friends with Ali Ibn Rabban, the director of this facility, a first rate doctor and scientific genius. This guy seemed a little wacko and I hope his is not too friendly with Rabban. That could be bad for everything Rabban has worked for.
A short time later, near the city of Kazgungudom, in the inner recess of his family estate, Victor and Ali made ready the last steps of their great experiment. Victors friend, Hoover, had been able to drain almost all of Victors money into a massive concrete edifice that dammed up a mighty river and generated gazillon units of electricity. This has been done very quickly, but the structure was strong and solid and not far away. The first place the electricity went was to Victors house.
Ready, Doctor? asked Victor.
Ready, replied Ali.
Goggles on.
Goggle on.
On three, said Victor. One, two, three!
Both men pulled down massive knife switches that in turn powered the heavy equipment in the room. Lighted dials lit up, turbines spun and the smell of hot metal filled the air.
Five seconds to go, yelled Victor. Four, three, two, one.
This time the men pushed up the massive knife switches and slowly the large room returned to normal.
Nervously, hoping for the best and yet fearing it, the young doctor walked over to the large slab that contained the subject of their experiment. He took out his stethoscope and listened intently. He thought he heard it, but he waited for the sound to be repeated. And it was. And again, and yet again, louder and stronger each time.
He turned to face Ali, his eyes wide with happiness.
Its alive. Its alive. I tell you its alive!
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