A Stone Cut without Hands Ch. 03

Note to Readers

This story has a surprise ending. I am posting it for you to read in the hope some of you will be willing to help. I need you to guess who/what the swarm is order for me to determine if I have given enough clues so you'll feel you should have guessed, but not enough to give away the ending. Please send your guesses tome via the CONTACT tab on my profile.

The Other Side of the Story

Chapter 3

Swarm Time

The Swarm was unique in its ability to perceive time over an enormous range. The limit for human perception is from about 1/30 of a second to a minute. A faster change is invisible and appears instantaneous. One that requires a period longer than a minute can be observed only by looking away and back. Considered against a scale from trillionths of a second to a billion years, these limits demonstrate that humans are virtually blind to the passage of time.

The Swarm with its dual sentience was also nearly blind to some events, even though the range of its perceptions, from millionths of a second to thousands of years, was vastly larger than a human's. Despite its range, events spread over an intermediate period of time were difficult to identify as to which were causes and which were effects.

That fact had been one of the reasons for the swarm's decision to create carriers IN THE BEGINNING.

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After jail, George relaxed in a diner next to the courthouse. It had been a good place to eat and wait while he searched. He'd met the owner several times and they'd become friends. When the waitress came, he asked to talk to John, hoping he'd get a deal on the pies and dinner. He needed to cut the cost and wanted a better quality than the grocery store.

Although he'd had more money than he thought he'd ever be able to spend several times in the last 40 years, he'd also had several encounters with the "Establishment" and each skirmish had reduced the depth of his pockets. Right now they weren't much deeper than Courtney's. Until he could convert inventory to cash, he'd have to hold on to every dollar as if it were his last.

"George, you're late. Court was over hours ago. We'd given up on seeing you today. What happened?"

George looked up as the owner approached. "Can you sit for a minute?" he asked, waving at a chair. Seeing John's intention, he continued, "I'm committed to a small venture and I need some help. I agreed to supply a dozen pumpkin pies and a Thanksgiving dinner for four to inmates in the county jail and I was hoping you could help me without breaking the bank."

"Damn it George, you can't afford that. How did they rope you into something like that?" John asked, clearly alarmed at George's request. The way George was so tight with his money had given John the impression that he was a lot worse off than he really was, an impression that George tried hard to perpetuate.

"It's a long story and you probably don't have time for it." Of all his acquaintances, John was least likely to shoot him if he learned of his scheme. Even so, he wouldn't voluntarily risk exposure. They actually had lot in common, each having a rare ox-moronic character trait of cynical optimism.

"Actually, this is a perfect time for a long story," John replied grinning. The dinner rush won't start for a half-hour and it will probably be much lighter this evening. I have a sneaky suspicion that whatever the story is, it's going to be good. So quit stalling and start talking."

With a sigh, George settled back and described what had happened to Courtney, her prospects and his intention to help her. During his description, George was once again disturbed by the inconsistencies in the police report and the mystery of Courtney's behavior, though he didn't say much about them to John.

The smirk on John's face as the tale ended left little doubt that he had his own suspicions about what George was doing and why. "So George, there is only one more thing I need to know, and I'll be glad help you all I can." The smirk was threatening to dissolve into raucous laughter as John finally asked, "Is she cute?"

"Well," George grinned and lied, "I'd say she's as cute as it is possible for a girl to be while dressed in a prison jumpsuit, having no makeup, dirty hair and facing 10 years in prison." In spite of his words, the only thing he could think of was the erotic flashes, the feel of young breasts against his chest and the exquisite texture of fingers and palm under his caress.

Apparently, John was paying more attention to his face than his words. "My God, if your expression is any indication, she must be a doll. I want to meet her as soon as you spring her." John's voice had dropped to a hoarse whisper. More loudly, he added, "Okay here's what I can do. If you can be here at 4 tomorrow morning and help me cook, I'll only charge you the cost of the ingredients.

"Spend a couple of hours tonight writing up her story and we'll make sure everyone in the county knows what the county attorney is doing. Then Monday, we'll see if we can get a couple of hundred prominent citizens to take him to task."

Feeling like there was a loose cannon on deck, George pleaded, "Please, John, this problem needs a surgeon, not a butcher. With too many people involved, there'll be no way to predict or control what happens." What he didn't say was that if the county was forced to drop the charges, Courtney wouldn't need him any more.

"There are a lot of details we don't have yet. Before we wave a red flag at the bull, we need to know what Courtney actually did. We don't even have her medical reports and we need to know why the County Attorney is taking such a risk. Remember, in a court of law, there are two sides to every case. We'll have a better chance if we understand them both.

"It's wise to never back an enemy into a corner where he has to fight. He is a dangerous enemy with formidable weapons at his disposal. It'd be better to entice him to do what we want him to."

Although he didn't believe it, George tried to describe the problem optimistically. "My best guess is that he thinks she's withholding information. He's using the bogus charges to scare her into cooperating. If she has what he wants, it's possible that the fight could be reduced to bargaining. What I'm trying to say is that we should know who we're fighting before we go to war." What he was really worried about was the possibility of her being involved in some kind of sexual impropriety.

"So you don't want me go off half cocked", John grinned again. "At least I can help with the pies and dinner. You should know that if you need help, there are good people who are willing." George could tell John was convinced that there was a lot more to the story by the pat on the shoulder John offered as he got up and promised, "We're here if you need us."

With a feeling of relief that he was back in control, George expressed his heartfelt gratitude. "Thanks John. I'll see you in the morning."

After paying his check and leaving the restaurant, George drove to the local hospital, or at least, what passed for a hospital in this backwoods county seat. As small as it was, George was amazed that they performed operations and maintained an emergency room. He wasn't surprised in the least when, after entering the emergency room, he observed that not only weren't there any patients, there wasn't anyone on watch either.

Wandering down the hall, he finally found a nurse coming from a patient's room. "Are you the only person working this evening, ma'am?" he asked with a smirk that had joke written all over it.

"As a matter of fact, there are two of us here, which is three times as many as are actually needed," she answered with a smile just shy of breaking into laughter. "How can I help you?"

"My name is George Marshal and I'm helping a young woman by the name of Courtney Dobson who was a patient here a few days ago. Are you the one I need to see to get copies of her medical records?"

"I could help you, but Courtney isn't a minor, so I'd need to have a signed release," the nurse replied.

"Do you have a copy of the form? And could you fax it to the county jail?"

"Sure thing. Please come down to the admitting office with me and I'll send it right off. I can't believe they're still holding her. You can't expect someone to give you a coherent account of a crime they witnessed while under the influence of the date rape drug for at least a few days and I've seen some who never remember what happened. The stress of being in jail will only delay the cognitive processing of her experience. Here we are. Do you have the fax number?"

George caught the comment about rape without betraying a hint of surprise. "I need to call Deedee Haloway at the jail to get it signed, so I'd appreciate it if you could look it up. I hope she's still on duty."

"I have the jail's number programmed in," the nurse said, pushing a couple of buttons on the phone before handing it to George.

"Hello, is Deedee Haloway still there? .... May I speak to her please? .... Hello, Deedee? .... This is George Marshal, the one trying to help Courtney Dobson. I'm at the hospital trying to get copies of her medical records and they need a signed release. If we fax a copy over, can you have her sign it and fax it back? ... Great, what's the fax number? ... Yeah, I'm going to bake the pies and dinner in the morning so they'll be fresh. I'll bring them in around noon. ... Yeah, I'm really hoping that will cheer her up. ... I think the hospital records will make a big difference. ... Okay, thanks and be sure to tell Courtney we're doing everything we can. ... Bye"

George handed the nurse a slip with the fax number and asked, "Can you please include the fax number they should use to return it?"

"So, you're trying to help Courtney. Family? Or just a friend?"

"Just a friend," George admitted, as warning bells echoed between his ears.

"My daughter goes to school with Courtney and I was given to understand that she didn't have or want friends. It's so sad that we have girls who are ostracized like that. How did you meet her?"

In spite of the warning bells, George plastered on a disarming smile and waved his left arm as he answered. "I couldn't breach a confidence without Courtney's permission. That's a story you'd have to get from her." Then realizing that the best defense is a good offense, he added, "Not that she'd tell you, unless she considered you as much a friend as I am."

To blunt his slight and make his retaliation more devastating, he added, "But I will tell you this, I'd help my worst enemy if he was being railroaded the way this county is hammering on her. To be threatened with 10 years in prison for being drugged, raped and left for dead is despicable. The prosecuting attorney is the one who should be facing the threat of prison for treating a rape victim the way he is. Even if she were guilty, the way he's persecuting her is a crime worse than those he's charging her with."

The nurse's face blanched and she slumped into a chair. "Oh God, please not another one. They charged her?" she asked, her voice rising to a squeak.

George opened the file folder he was still carrying, took out the sheet that listed the county's charges, and held it out without a word. His alarms were silenced as soon as he saw tears running down her cheeks. His cynical side noted that he was a knight in shining armor, no matter what his motivations, when compared to the county's legal department.

After staring at the sheet for a minute with the tears streaming, the nurse covered her face with her hands and groaned, "How could I have been so negligent? This is my fault. I'm the county's agent for dealing with the victims of rape. It was my responsibility to shield her, to keep this from happening. I'm so ashamed," she croaked, her tears turning into a flood.

George was amazed. He'd worried at the way she'd questioned him like a feminist, but now she'd handed him her puppet strings, giving him the power to make her dance. He'd probably never need to pull them, but now he could pull the rug from under her by simply using a word or two to reawaken her guilt. Deciding to test his control, he tugged on her puppet strings, "Pull yourself together. I'm here to help Courtney, not assuage your guilt and I need your help for that. Quit blubbering and do your job."

As he finished, they heard the fax machine and the nurse reached for the output tray. Turning back, she responded, "You're right." Restoring her professional demeanor, even though it was marred by red eyes and tear tracks, "The release seems to be in order, so I let me get her file."

"I need a copy of the release for my files too if you can do that while you're copying the file." George's request followed her out the door.

After she disappeared, George ruminated. He was too vulnerable. The problem was that Courtney's plight was appalling. Anyone who found out about it was instantly sympathetic. If his scheme was going to succeed, he needed to tell those he asked to help about it in a way that didn't make them want to drop everything and run to her rescue. The problem was he didn't know a way to tell the story that wouldn't make a decent person cry.

Thinking of those he'd had to deal with so far, George reviewed his prospects. Mabble Housen was a bloodhound. She'd follow a scent to the end of the world if she ever got started, but any threat of a public scandal involving the court would send her running, her tail between her legs. Deedee Haloway was a hard-as-nails prison guard with blinders who had a soft spot for the truly innocent. If she was convinced that he was doing what was best for Courtney, she wouldn't try to see what her blinders hid.

John was a friend, and would do as he was asked as long as he believed appropriate action was being taken. If he received information that he felt he had to act on before they could discuss it, he'd be a problem. If he ever did act on his own, he'd be a loose cannon shooting at everybody, no matter who it hurt.

The nurse would have been extremely dangerous if she hadn't just tied herself up in neat red ribbons of guilt. George felt sure she'd been a victim or was closely related to a victim in the recent past and that she'd dealt with it by trying to assert her authority. He had no doubt that anyone she suspected of crossing the politically correct line she'd drawn in front of her patients would pay dearly. Her weakness was that she held herself to an even higher standard and she couldn't attack if she felt she hadn't lived up to her own ethics.

So, he was lucky. The people he'd asked to help were people he could manipulate, if not control. But he couldn't depend on that luck. He couldn't afford for anyone else to hear the details of the case. That would also eliminate the risk of an encounter with someone who knew about the sex.

Shortly after he'd reached his conclusion, the nurse returned. After sitting behind the desk, she handed George the release. Noting that the space for the recipient was blank, George asked, "Shouldn't my name be on the form as the person receiving the records? Please give me both copies so I can fill it in."

Acknowledging the warning that he would hold her responsible for any mistakes with a wary glance, the nurse handed over the other copy. George filled in the blank with to and only to George Marshal. Then adding to the warning, he cautioned, "I think it would be wise to restrict access to these records to myself or Courtney unless the county serves you with a court order. When people demonstrate that they can't be trusted, it's wise to limit their ability to use our own words and records against us."

He handed a copy back and was pleased to see the ghost of a smile. When she spoke, the last trace of emotion was gone and she was a professional again. "OK, here's a copy of the file. It isn't complete, because I couldn't find the hospital's copy. And here's a copy of the Rape Crisis Center's file. The medical file is actually the copy we keep for the center."

Another odd incident, George's intuition screamed. Aloud, he asked, "How often are patients' files misplaced?"

"After a patient is released, almost never, but this case is unusual because the patient still hasn't been discharged. The doctor was delayed almost 30 minutes in reaching the emergency room, so I had plenty of time to collect all the evidence of rape as required. I observed blood and semen on the victim and so I took it upon myself to treat her as a rape victim. I'm certain that neither the doctor, nor the County Attorney is aware this exists. I can verify that neither the police, nor the attending physician requested the evidence of rape be preserved."

With an expression of malice, she continued, "I want you to know that if I had my way, those responsible for Courtney's treatment would all be castrated. You now have the resources to make that happen professionally, if not physically. As long as they don't know that the evidence of rape was preserved, they're vulnerable to all sorts of pressure, even blackmail. Please don't put the hospital on the hot seat, but I'd get a great deal of pleasure from any financial or professional pain you can inflict on those responsible.

"Now let me give you a quick review. Courtney was raped by at least five men. When the tests are finished, the semen collected will give us DNA evidence that could be used to identify all of them, but for now, all we can say is that there were at least five. Besides the semen collected from her vagina, traces were also found on her lips and breasts. Traces of saliva, not hers, were found on her feet, hands, belly button, breasts, ears, eyelids, cheeks, behind her knees, the inside of her thighs, and in her rectum. Scrapings from her nails showed traces of fecal matter on three fingers and one toe. An examination showed significant trauma to both vagina and rectum.

"Even though my examination showed that Courtney was a long way from being a virgin, it is my professional opinion is that it was rape because Courtney was given a heavy dose of the date rape drug, Rohypnol, in the early evening hours of the 19^th. After that, she was incapable of making a rational decision, so she couldn't have given her consent. The size of the dose made any memories unreliable. She might not even have any.

"The presence of Rohypnol was established by two separate tests. It is filtered in only one direction from the bloodstream by the kidneys into the urine until the concentration in the urine equals that of the blood. At that point, the body's only process for disposing of the drug is to metabolize it in the liver at a slower rate. That reduces the concentration in the blood. By testing both the blood and the urine, we can tell the size of the dose and when it was given. That time was approximately 5:20 PM on the 19^th.

"She was also given cocaine, and the tests indicate that this was at least two or 3 hours after the first drug. The combined effect is what caused her to lose consciousness. If we could determine the size of the cocaine dose, we would be able to determine the time it was administered, but lacking that, all we know is that there is a window of time with a large dose at the beginning and a small dose at the end.

"The blood tests also showed low levels of alcohol, THC and 2 prescription drugs. The level of THC was low enough so that it could have been absorbed from second hand smoke. There is a high probability that the alcohol was added to the drink that was used to administer the date-rape drug. The blood test did not identify the prescription drugs.

"Although I don't have any evidence to support it, my best guess would be that someone offered Courtney a soda with the date rape drug and alcohol already added to it. She would then have followed them anywhere they told her to go. You might find out where that happened if you were willing to show her picture around in the convenience stores that sell sodas.