Mike had sat for three hours as he waited for a chance to speak to Vincent. He needed to bring him up to speed. Jane had worked wonders on Sean’s requests. In fact, probably too well. There were a number of points that were probably going to see Vincent back in hospital when he found out what had been done. Partly Mike’s fault, he had made it clear to Jane that having Sean back was a matter of National importance on a scale not seen since the darkest days of the cold war. Jane, taking Vincent’s stress into account and his resultant heart attack, believed Mike and did whatever it took, no matter how distasteful the consequences to clear the way for Sean to resolve his problem.
The only positive was the 20 percent take that would help fund some of the CIA’s less public activities. Something that Mike was sure would temper at least some of Vincent’s anger.
“You can go through now, Mr Ritter,” offered the consultant, his tone clearly unhappy.
Mike walked into the room and was shocked to see how pathetic Vincent looked. Just four hours earlier, he had been the powerful, untouchable and impressive boss of one of the CIA’s most powerful and important divisions. Now he was an old man in a hospital bed, wired to a gaggle of machines, beeping and blipping almost continually. An oxygen mask covered his mouth as if even breathing were beyond his capabilities.
Vincent smiled weakly and pulled the mask aside. “Mike,” he struggled.
Mike smiled and suddenly realized he was on his own. There was no way he could bring Vincent up to speed in his current condition. Hearing what he and Jane had done would most likely kill him.
“Some good news,” he offered. “Sean is OK!”
Vincent nodded slightly. “That boy’s invincible, didn’t doubt he wouldn’t be.” He waved Mike closer.
“Get me out of here!” he pleaded.
Mike stepped back and looked at him like he was mad.
Vincent lifted his hand and caught Mike’s arm and with the strength of a paraplegic pulled him closer again.
“They’ve pumped me full of drugs! There is too much going on, my mind needs to be clear!” he struggled to form half of the words.
“How are you, Mr Black?” announced the doctor loudly as he entered the room.
Vincent let go of Mike and looked him directly in the eye. Vincent’s stare was as deep and as intense as ever. His mind was working just fine, the link between his mind and his actions were the problem. The medication.
“Fine,” replied Vincent.
“Hmm,” scoffed the doctor as he checked the charts and readout. “You have had a heart attack, I’m not sure I’d define that as fine!”
“Doctor, when will Vincent be fit to leave?”
“The first twenty four hours are critical. If he makes it through that and with no complications, I’d say maybe a week or so!”
“I’m not sure we can manage without him for a week!” Mike was being egged on by Vincent, behind the doctor’s back.
“No,” the doctor laughed. “That’s out of hospital. He won’t be back at work for the next six weeks. You’ll need to work out how to manage without him!”
Vincent pulled a face behind the doctor’s back that had Mike biting his tongue not to laugh. He wasn’t sure Vincent would be able to remove it quickly enough should the doctor have turned around.
One thing was very clear, they needed Vincent back and from his antics, he needed to be back. However, there was absolutely no way Mike was going to argue against the twenty-four hour critical period. Jane, Sean and himself were on their own at least until the next day. He just hoped none of them ended up in prison before Vincent could protect them and even then, he might even decide to put them in prison himself.