April 20th, 10:30 p.m. Chelsea-Clinton, New York City

The paramedics arrived at the club within five minutes after the 911 call. One removed a Naloxone syringe-like container and inserted its plastic atomizer tip through one of Kate's nostrils, still ringed with powdery residue. Weak, Kate started breathing. More doses would be required to maintain a steady rhythm until they reached the hospital to access the damage to her brain and respiratory system. Danny knew that although she'd just earned a reprieve, the paramedics still had to find the correct dosage. Too little would mean repeated doses; too much could mean violent withdrawal-like side effects.

Danny rode along with her in the ambulance headed to RooseveltHospital while Monique and Shannon trailed behind, briefing Joanne on the evening's events. A light rain fell as the ambulance rolled up Tenth Avenue. Inside Danny brooded, wanting to help but powerless to do anything. Joanne had given him the syringe to encourage Kate's penchant for drug seeking activity. The pure form was supposed to be just enough to impress Kate, but that plan went terribly wrong when she added cocaine to the equation.

One paramedic motioned Danny to remain seated as they continued to monitor her vital signs. As the ambulance pulled up to the emergency room entrance an excruciating seven minutes later, Kate's breathing stopped, causing one paramedic to administer another burst of Naproxen. Amidst a flurry of voices, they wheeled the stretcher out onto the ground. Danny saw Kate's torso convulse upward, back arched, body held in place only by the straps tightened around her chest. Her body suddenly went limp. She expelled a sickening wheeze. The heart monitor's blip-blip pulse turned into a long, high-pitched drone.

"Code!" shouted the ER doctor on the receiving team. He and a nurse at his side accompanied Kate and the paramedics through the double doors.

Danny was told to stay in the waiting area, which was almost filled to capacity and the cries of infants. Having taken a seat, he opened his wallet and stared at Kelly's photo, looking for answers.

After she died, he withdrew and was no longer viewed as a reliable government agent, being a no-show at briefings on a consistent basis while wallowing in despair. The investigation into the tragedy resulted in an inconclusive report. It all happened in a distant Afghan mountain village during the dark of night, a 50-pound bomb dropped from an F-16 fighter jet, killing most of her platoon, having mistaken them for hostiles. The rumor was that the friendly fire was caused by the ineptitude or corruption of a private mercenary contractor, yet no one was implicated, let alone court marshaled. His relationship with the CIA severed, unresolved grief led to a depression and pain killer dependency, then heroin addiction. He could thank a former Delta force buddy for that. He was too ashamed to admit to the habit and retreated inward. Only through the generosity of an anonymous source was he able to join a rehab program in the SmokyMountain foothills of North Carolina—near his original home. Last he'd heard, his mother still lived in a trailer park. He never knew his father, who—he'd been told--perished in a training accident while serving in the army.

The tap on Danny's shoulder returned him back to the present. He flinched and quickly shut his wallet.

"Come," the familiar voice beckoned. Joanne led Danny to a hallway leading to a mezzanine overlooking the front entrance of the hospital. "How is she doing?" she asked, more, he thought, out of concern for the operation than for Kate. "Did they say anything about her condition?"

"Nothing yet. She crashed when they brought her in."

"What happened? The dosage shouldn't have been strong enough to do this."

"She was speed-balling and I missed it. She stopped breathing at the club."

He knew Kate needed counseling, but this assignment counted on furthering her addiction. "I'm okay. She's a mark," he said with stolid resolve meant more to placate Joanne. "But how long do I need to...?" he started, but his voice sounded like he'd just swallowed a toad.

"We just confirmed the time frame. We monitored Vanessa Carrie and her investment banker having lunch the other day. Put it on your calendar—May 4th at midnight."

She drew closer, her voice even and soft. "Once this is over, we'll do everything we can to get her what she needs. But now, I need you focused and committed."

"If she pulls through, you mean," he said with a sullen breath, burying his face again under both hands.

When Danny finally looked up, she was gone.

He sat in the waiting area for another hour. A nurse eventually came to find him, calling out, "Eric Stone." Danny stood up and approached her. "Are you Eric Stone, the one who came in with Ms. Carrie?"

He nodded and followed her inside.

The emergency room hallway was lined with closed curtains and murmured with the drone of beeping machines. They stopped just outside of Kate's room, the doctor speaking low.

"She had a close call. We had to resuscitate her and put her on a ventilator for a while until she could breathe on her own again." The doctor stopped to read the expression on Danny's face, gauging his reaction, but found none. He continued. "She had traces of cocaine and opiates in her system. That's like playing Russian Roulette while diving off a diving board into an empty swimming pool.

"She's as strong a patient as I have ever seen, but I have to warn you that her apparent addiction to heroin is causing rapid deterioration of her bodily functions. Even if she were to stop now, she'll most likely develop severe liver damage at a very young age. If you like, I can direct you to places that will help her."

"No, Doctor, that won't be necessary. We'll handle this in our own way."

They reached the examination room. "You are free to see her now if you like, but she's still very groggy," the resident said, as he drew open the light green curtain.

When Danny pushed it aside, he saw Kate lying there with her head slightly raised. She was conscious but slow to react.

"Can you hear me?"

With eyes shut, she said, "I'm so stupid. I should have listened to you."

"Get some rest, Kate," Danny murmured.

After another minute, she opened her eyes and found his. "I'm so glad you were there with me. I guess I owe you a big 'thank you'."

He knew that it was a lie, hoping his expression wouldn't indicate his suffocating guilt. "I need the high all the time. It's better than the shit life I'm leading now." Kate's dreary voice was outdone only by her ashen face.

"Don't say that."

"But it's true."

Incredibly, her fear of death at the hands of the drug still lost out to the desire to continue the habit. He couldn't fathom that someone as brilliant as Kate could be so self-destructive. Maybe her brilliance was a burden, even a curse.

He saw her eyelids grow heavier.

"You'll get out of here. But now, stay right here until you get your strength back."

Kate didn't hear him because she'd already drifted off to sleep.

This woman can be saved. She must be saved, Danny thought.

He pondered whether she served as just a 'project' for him. He found himself identifying with her plight, seeing his reflection in her. Then he became so disgusted, his stomach churned.

This is so wrong.

Thinking about her only raised more questions. He'd been in faux-relationships with other women on several assignments without all this angst, solely to secure vital information, so why would this assignment feel any different. He'd rationalized his motives by convincing himself none of them were really hurt, but thought about how he would have had any clue as to what they felt. A flash of memory placed itself front and center, the one assignment that stuck in his craw from long ago, before Kelly had departed. The one he'd rather forget. The one where an innocent subject paid for her attraction to him with her life.

Returning to the present, Danny leaned forward and kissed Kate on the forehead. Rest now. You'll need everything you've got to get through this.

Copyright © 2016 by Alan Field. All Rights Reserved.