Read Readers,

Here is chapter 8 of my story. The next couple of chapters may be delayed for a few days as I am finding a need, and desire, to take some vacation time. I will continue to work on the story, but the work will take a little longer to complete.

MT

The Princess of the Desert

By Melodie Thomas

Edited by Holly Hart

Chapter 8

Friday, March 27, 2009
I have always hated waking up in hotel rooms, always seem to start the day off a little disoriented. However, now I have to admit that waking up in a hotel room is a whole lot nicer than waking up in a hospital. Talk about disoriented. When I first woke up it was dark. I just lay there, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. My left shoulder and arm were all wrapped in bandages but nothing hurt. My right arm seemed to be fine and since nothing hurt, I should be able to get up. I tried to roll up on my right side. I think I got my left shoulder about an inch off of the bed before I realized just how bad of an idea that was, and dropped back down with a groan. After a couple of minutes of letting my body settle back down, I fished around with my right arm, hoping they’d put a nurse call button near me. I was only moving one arm, but by the time I found the call button and pushed it, I felt I like I had just run a marathon. A few minutes later a nurse entered the room.

I don’t want to complain, but one of the most rhetorical questions that I think I have heard, is to walk up to someone in a hospital bed with bullet holes in them and ask, ‘How do you feel?’

The nurse got me some water, checked the IV that was also in my left arm, told me it was 4am and then left me in the dark again. Somewhere after she left I fell asleep again. The next time I opened my eyes, light from outside was coming through the window and someone was sitting in the chair next to me but I couldn’t really see them.

“Good morning,” Tina said, “Good to see those eyes open.”

“What the hell happened?”

“We got hit trying to get to the Police identification room. Three gunmen, all three were taken out. You saved her life, Dan.”

“Is she okay?”

“No, she is worried sick. Just like the rest of us.”

“But not hurt?”

“No, she is not hurt.”

I sighed at the relief that. Stephanie was okay. “Anyone else hurt?”

“One of the Secret Service guy took a hit in the vest, he is okay, just a cracked rib.”

Tina stood and walked up to the bed where I could clearly see her face. Tears were running down both cheeks. “You told me to take care of Stephanie, and I will take care of her, but don’t you scare me like that again.”

Tina picked up my right hand and held it to her cheek.

“How bad am I?” I asked as I rubbed the side of her cheek.

“The doctor will have to explain it, but it looked a lot worse than it turned out. You were in surgery for a couple of hours. They told us last night that you should not have any trouble with recovery. Oh, and your Mom and Brenda are here, too. Mike flew them in last night.”

“Wow, the whole family reunion.”

Sometime later the doctor came in making his rounds. I had been hit 3 times but two of them hit my vest, which saved my life, though they caused a couple broken ribs. The last one was actually a ricochet off the floor which entered at an upward angle, under my arm, on the edge of the vest. According to the doctor, I would have been better off getting shot straight on. When the bullet hit the floor, the ricochet was tumbling, which tore a bigger hole and a gave me a broken shoulder but the bullet didn’t pass through. The surgery was to remove the bullet and pin my shoulder back together. I guess my left arm is out of action for a while. The doctor guessed that they would be ready to release me on Sunday.

After the doctor left, Tina went down to get some breakfast, and I lay back and closed my eyes. I don’t think I went to sleep but suddenly I had this image of the door to my room bursting open and a red eyed banshee flying in. The banshee flew face first into my neck, which caused me to flinch, but I didn’t move, I heard they bite if you move. Instead, I wrapped my arm around her and let her cry.

Stephanie pulled her face out of my neck, but just far enough to see my face. I brought my hand around and used my thumb to wipe her tears. “You know, those would be some pretty blue green eyes if they weren’t so red.”

Stephanie gave me a half laugh and tried to smile. I saw a movement behind her as Brenda came into the room and walked up next to Stephanie. “I take it you two have met?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Brenda gave me a weak smile, “we met, and we decided you make a boring conversation topic. Talking about you took two boxes of tissues.”

Behind Brenda, Mom and Mike came in. Of course I had to answer the ‘how are you feeling’ question a couple more times than I really wanted to, but it was good to see them. Tina came back up later and joined the party, she also told me there were more secret service people in the hallway than she had seen around the president. After a while, Mike whispered something to my mom and she asked Brenda and Steph to go have coffee with her. Brenda almost had to pry Steph away from me, but I knew Mike wanted to talk shop, so I asked Steph to go have coffee and come back in a little while.

“So, tell me Mike,” I said after they left, “How did they get guns in the courthouse?”

“We don’t have a clue. I can tell you that our Mr. Smith is one mad hornet right now. He and the Vasnevs will be up to see you a little later; they wanted to let the family have time first.”

“They got the guns into the courthouse,” a voice came from the door as Mr. Smith walked in, “by paying off two security guards. We know who the guards are and we are looking for them. Once we find them, we will have a little chat. Sorry, Mike, I just found out.”

The thought of having a ‘little chat’ with Mr. Smith sent shivers through me. I don’t think I would want to have one of those chats.

Smith walked to the foot of my bed and looked at me. “Son, I have known a lot of good people in my time. Anyone that will throw his or her body into the line of fire to protect someone else moves right to the top of that list. You ever get tired of the Bureau, you give me a call.”

I gave him a half smile, “Thanks, but I would really like to know what name to call first.”

Smith smiled back, “I may have to think about that at some point.”

“Can someone tell me,” I asked “exactly what went down?”

Mike spoke first, “Tina has already told you about the hit. We are running the ID’s on the bodies but, I think we are going to find they are local talent, street thugs or something like that. The guns appear to be throw a-ways, no serial numbers or prints, beside the shooters.”

“Why,” I asked, “Would three guys corner themselves like that and go up against the Secret Service with just a couple of pistols?”

“I don’t think they knew about the Secret Service detail.” Smith answered, “No one knew I was bringing them with me until the last minute.”

“If it had just been you and Tina on the escort detail, ” Mike added, “ the outcome may have been a whole lot different.”

That was an outcome I didn’t want to think about, so I changed the subject, “How about the identification of Garcia?”

“After the shooting,” Mike stood, “the U.S. attorneys threw a shit fit in front of the judge with huge conspiracy theories about how this whole thing was a setup to kill their witness. They even threw out innuendos that the defense attorneys may have had some involvement because they insisted that Stephanie be brought here. Of course, the defense team totally denies and rejects the claims as ridiculous, but in the end, they consented to just letting us do the identification based on a photographic lineup.

“They took twenty pictures of different men, one of which was Garcia, over to the hotel and laid them out on a table. Stephanie came in the room and picked our man in less than five seconds. The judge accepted the identification and bound Garcia over for trail. The trial date is set three months out.”

“What we are hoping now,” Smith picked up, “Is the lawyers can work out a plea deal if Garcia turns and tells us the story.”

I flinched at that. I still wanted to kill the bastard.

Smith smiled, “I understand, son. If she was my girl I would be the same way. However, we need to look at the bigger picture here. We need to find the core of this cell, and I don’t think Garcia is it. He’s not smart enough.”

As much as I did not like the idea, I understood it. We need to get the people behind this, not just the front men, and if turning Garcia accomplished that, then it was the right decision. Besides, I’d also received an unspoken message from Stephanie while sitting on the patio the other night. If she is strong enough to survive what she went through, then I needed to be strong enough to face it as well.

“Mr. Smith,” I asked, “If Stephanie is still in danger, why is she still here?”

Smith actually laughed aloud. “Because I didn’t bring enough men to get her on that damn plane until she knew you were going to be okay. That one is one hot little pistol, let me tell you.”

Mr. Smith scares me, and I don’t really trust him. I have the feeling that he would be willing to sacrifice anyone one of us if he felt it was necessary to reach his end goal. I really did not like having Stephanie in his control, but I had no idea what to do about it. The conversation went on for another half hour, until I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Everyone decided to leave and let me get some rest, which I did as soon as the door closed.

I woke sometime later, alone. Lying there, staring at the ceiling I was becoming pretty overwhelmed with all of the complexities going on around me. My relationship with Stephanie, the search for the trafficking organization, the messages I was getting from the Vasnevs, Smith’s involvement in the case, and the relationship between Smith and the Vasnevs. I had no idea where all this was headed and it seemed like a giant whirlpool that kept sucking me in deeper and deeper, and very little of it was within my control.

I didn’t understand all of the agendas that seemed to be going on. I didn’t understand the Vasnevs or what they are trying to do. I got the feeling that not only the Vasnevs, but Smith, were trying to push Steph and me together, and neither one of us was fighting it. Steph seems to change each time I see her, and not bad changes either. She seems more mature and confident. She acts feminine, but not over the top, like she had been. She is the kind of girl I could take home to meet mom, but she is not a girl, and she has already met mom. I wonder how that went?

I had probably studied every spot in that ceiling for about an hour when I heard the door to my room open slowly. I saw a face peek around the door and I raised my right hand in that direction.

“I know you are getting tired of this question,” Stephanie said she entered the room, and walked over to me, “but how are you doing?” She took my hand and sat on the edge of the bed.

“Well,” I responded, “seems like we have done a role reversal here, doesn’t it?”

She smiled at me, “I think we need to stop this. We are both pretty tired of hospitals.”

“Oh, so true!” I responded, rolling my eyes. I studied her face for a moment. “How are you doing?”

“I’m better.” She was looking down at my hand that she was holding with her right, softly stroking the back with her left. “I thought I was going to lose you.”

She sat quietly for a couple of moments then spoke softly. “I have suffered a lot of pain in my life, but I have never felt a pain like what I felt, seeing you on that floor while they were carrying me away, thinking I may never see you again. That was the most brutal pain I have ever felt.”

“I’m sorry, I forgot to duck.” I tried to make her smile.

She did smile, “But it really made me do some soul searching last night. Oh, and I love your sister, by the way.”

“I am not really sure I want to know about that conversation.” I returned her smile.

“I don’t know why I am attracted to you, Dan. Even more, I don’t know why you are attracted to me.” She paused, “Maybe it is some kind of fate. But in that moment, when I saw you on the floor bleeding, in that split second, there was no doubt in my mind what, and who, I wanted to be. Then, realizing that my chance of being that person, may have just passed me by. I have never felt a worse pain in my life.”

“Steph …” I didn’t know what to say.

“Don’t worry, I’m okay. You don’t have to say anything; I know how you feel from your actions, and your eyes. I also know we are both looking at the impossible dream. I just don’t know what to do.”

“We have to find these people, Steph.”

“Yes, we do.” She nodded, “and I have to leave. I don’t want to, but I know I have to.”

“It’s for your own safety.”

“So many people have given so much to me over the past months; I don’t know how I can ever repay any of it, especially you …“

Before Stephanie could finish her thought, the door opened and Vivian Vasnev entered the room.

“Stephanie, “Vivian started, “We need to be going.”

Stephanie nodded her head, bent down and kissed me on the forehead. Moving her mouth to my ear she whispered, “I love you”. Sitting back up straight, “You get better, Dan. I will miss you from the minute I walk out that door.” She gave my hand one more squeeze, then stood and followed Vivian out the door.

The door had not quite closed behind Vivian when it reopened as Ivan Vasnev walked through, using his cane, as a temporary door stop.

“Hello, young man,” he said as he approached the bed, “I guess we will be leaving soon, and I wanted to check on you. How are you doing?”

“I am very confused, Ivan.”

“Ahh, with your feelings for our girl?”

“Well, that is part of the problem; she’s not really a girl, is she?” I asked.

Ivan chuckled. “That is where you are wrong, and she is very much a girl. Perhaps her body does not quite reach the mark, but trust me; she is all girl in here,” he said, pointing to his head.

The puzzled look on my face prompted further laughter from Ivan. “How I know that is not something you need to trouble yourself with right now. You need to focus on getting healthy again, and when we have more time we will talk.”

“However,” Ivan continued has he sat on the edge of the bed, “there is something I would like to leave with you to consider. There is a phenomena in the world known as the rescuer/rescuee relationship. This occurs when two people meet under very traumatic circumstances, and the shared emotions from the circumstances are redirected to each other. These redirected emotions can be very powerful, and very passionate. However, the only common ground in the relationship is the traumatic event. Once the traumatic event is past, there is nothing left for the relationship to survive on, and it fails, painfully. I would like you to ask yourself, how your relationship with Stephanie, would fare under less stressful conditions.”

I was confused. “Then why do I get the feeling that you and your wife are kind of pushing us together if that is a concern?”

Ivan smiled, “Because you are good for her, and she is good for you in many of the same aspects. Follow your heart young man, but make sure your brain is asking your heart where it is going. As we are working to make Stephanie understand, do not hide from your emotions, embrace them, but also make sure you understand them. The heart and the brain must work together to choose the right path, one cannot go without the other.”

I just nodded my head. I was not sure I understood what I had just been told, but I knew I had a lot to think about.

Ivan stood and patted me on the leg, “Take care, young man, I am sure we will be seeing you again soon.”

“Thanks, take care of Stephanie for me, please.”

“That we will do,” as he left the room.

Monday, April 13, 2009
I was released from the hospital on Sunday, as the doctor had predicted. The bullet had hit my left arm first, traveled up my arm into my shoulder. As a result, I had a deep gouge on the inside of my arm, and a hole in my armpit, along with a broken rotator cuff. The arm and shoulder were wrapped in gauze and padding, then my arm was placed in a sling that was strapped around my body to avoid movement of the shoulder. For the first 10 days, the bandages needed changing daily; this meant removing the arm from the sling, and moving it slightly away from my body. This activity was excruciatingly painful and changing the dressings was not something I could do myself. To help me through this period, Brenda took 2 weeks off work and moved to Tucson to, as she said, baby sit her little brother.

Having Brenda around for two weeks was great. Not just for helping me, but we had a lot of time to talk and to get to know each other again. I still have a very hard time having a sister. As I explained to Brenda one evening, I have 28 years of memories of having a brother, and I can’t just plug a girl into those memories. Even though I know they are the same person, connecting the memories to the present day is just not possible for me to accomplish. The interesting part of having her around was some realizations that occurred while watching her for a few days. I would see body language, posture and behaviors that, today, look very feminine, but were also the same mannerisms that I remember Ben doing. These actions hadn’t looked so feminine then, but today they do. Maybe some of the memories are starting to reconcile. We also had many conversations about Stephanie. The biggest difference between Brenda and Steph was that I’ve never known Steph as anything but a girl. I have no memories of her as a boy, so even if my mind knows she is male, all I have ever seen is girl. This may be part of what Ivan was trying to tell me. However, I don’t think I’ve totally understood anything the Vasnevs have told me.

Though I am off on injury leave for six to eight weeks, I still call into the weekly conference calls just to keep up on what is happening on the case. The legal wrangling is still ongoing with Garcia. As the federal lawyers have explained; the defense will not consider any discussion of plea agreements until enough of a case is build that shows a strong possibility of a conviction. Background research on Garcia shows a number of past run-ins with the law, mostly assault charges. Evidence has turned up in the efforts to trace Garcia’s movements in the weeks prior to his arrest, during which he was in fact, in Arizona and in the area of Tucson. There is strong concern that Stephanie’s mental condition will prevent her from being that powerful an eyewitness. The lawyers do not feel they have a choice but to call her, even knowing the defense may destroy her on the stand. Until more evidence can be found against Garcia, Steph is really the only hope for the case.

Garcia is being confined in the maximum-security wing of the county lockup facility in Albuquerque, awaiting trial. There does exist some concern for his safety, considering the attempt on Stephanie. A possibility exists that whatever organization Garcia was working for may attempt to silence him. However, this concern does not seem to bother Garcia, as he shows no interest in talking to our investigators.

I have received no news from, or about Stephanie.

“McNeil, Tucson” I announce as I connect into the conference bridge.

“Hey, Dan, how is the arm?” Mike was already on the line.

“Hasn’t fallen off yet, but some days I wish it would.”

“Okay, this is Wilson in Washington, let’s start the agenda.”

“This is Cally in Labs. I would like to break the agenda. We have hits on two sets of prints from the compound.”

“Okay, Cally, the floor is yours,” responded Wilson.

“First set of prints belongs to Miguel Garcia, and are matched against the set collected for the current arrest. We missed them in the search because all we have is partials. Now that we can compare to a known set, we are 90% matched.” Cally reports.

“Outstanding!” Mike exclaimed, “The lawyers are going to love that.”

“Second set,” Cally continued, “belong to a Ryan Whisler, last known address, Tucson.”

“Whisler!!” Tina cut in, “Whisler is the Mayor’s PR Rep!”

“Tina, go get him!” Mike ordered.

“Warline, Tucson, off.”

Two hours later, Ryan Whisler was in federal custody with a confirmed finger print match to those found at the compound. Whisler was charged with accessory to murder, and accessory to attempted murder. He requested a lawyer immediately.

Thursday, April 16, 2009
This arm is driving me crazy, because all I can do right now is sit back and watch as the case starts to open up.

Federal prosecutors went to work on Whisler right way with offers for plea deals if he would become a witness against Garcia. In this case, it appears Whisler hired a smart lawyer. His lawyer told him his best option was to come clean on his involvement and make a deal with the government. Whisler is not a hardened criminal, and being in the court system was the one place he did not want to be, so he started telling his story.

He claimed to have met Garcia in a bar in Tucson, and over a number of drinks they’d started talking about sexual fantasies. He’d told Garcia one of his fantasies was to have sex with a shemale, and to be able to dominate her. Garcia told Whisler he could set that up for a price. A couple of weeks later, Whisler decided to take Garcia up on his offer. Garcia drove Whisler to the compound, where he was able to fulfill his fantasy. He returned to the compound a second time, but on this second trip Garcia showed him a video tape from his first visit. Garcia told Whisler if he wanted to keep the tape out of the news, then Whisler would owe Garcia a favor once in a while. Those favors included calling Garcia if any police activity was going to occur in the area of the compound.

Whisler said he once asked Garcia where the shemales came from and Garcia told him he did not know. Garcia only knew they were to be run through certain training activities that his boss had instructed him to follow. Garcia told him these girls would follow any instructions they were given and even demonstrated that once. Whisler said that Garcia brought one girl to the room they were in.

Whisler said the girl was crying and struggling against the ropes until Garcia said a word too her. The girl suddenly stopped crying and stood still. Whisler ask Garcia what the word was, and was told that Garcia did not know, it was something he’d heard his boss use. Garcia thought it was Russian or something. Whisler then told the interviewers that Garcia told the girl to go to a wooden stool, put her right foot on it, and then drive a nail through her foot into the stool using a hammer. Whisler commented that he was totally shocked when that was exactly what the girl did without making a sound.

Saturday, May 2, 2009
After almost 5 weeks of wearing my stylish sling, I got introduced to a legal form of torture, called physical therapy. Yesterday, I went for my first session, where a cute 23 year old redhead spent thirty minutes trying to remove my arm from my shoulder. A couple of times, I thought she had accomplished her goal.

It took a couple of weeks of work by the federal prosecutors to convince Mr. Garcia that we had a high probability of a conviction and if he was hoping for any kind of a deal, now was the time to make it. Garcia’s lawyers drew the process out a few more days by negotiating better prison conditions as well as sentencing agreements before they would allow Mr. Garcia to talk. Finally, however, Garcia started talking.

The prosecutors focused first on the video tapes that had been collected, as that was the other main evidence that needed collaboration. Garcia told the prosecutors that the videos were not part of the organization he worked for, that he, Mr. Garcia made those tapes to sell on his own website. Garcia gave the prosecutors the IP address for his website.

Garcia was then questioned about the organization he worked for. Garcia responded that he only worked at that specific compound, and his boss went by the name of Charlie. The lawyers then showed Garcia a still image from the first video tape identified by Stephanie, and Garcia confirmed the man with the red lightning bolt tattoo was Charlie. The lawyers asked if Garcia could describe Charlie well enough for an artist to draw it. Garcia confirmed that he could, and the lawyers stopped the interview at that point to call in the sketch artist. The artist and Garcia spent the rest of the day completing a drawing of Charlie.

I was sitting in my living room waiting for the Advil that I just taken to take the edge off of my throbbing shoulder when my phone rang.

“McNeil.”

“McNeil, Smith, I need your ass in Albuquerque an hour ago. A plane will be touching down in Tucson in one hour. Be on it.”

I started to say something when I realized that Smith had just hung up on me. I sat and looked at the phone for a couple of seconds, trying to make sure what I’d just heard registered. When it did, I stood up and got ready to travel.

On hour later I was watching a familiar Lear Jet taxi into the private parking area for charter flight companies. As the Lear stopped in front of me I noticed the engines were not shutting down but the door was opening and the steps extending. I climbed up the steps and entered the plane. The steps were retracted and the door closing before I was in the aisle way. I was the only passenger on the jet, which started moving again as soon as I sat down.

Two hours later, we were wheels down in Albuquerque and taxiing to a black SUV that appeared to be waiting for me. Once we reached the SUV, the jet’s door was opened and the steps lowered. As I exited the plane the rear door of the SUV opened and I climbed in.

“Sir, Mr. Smith is waiting for you at the crime scene.” The driver said.

“What crime scene?”

“Mr. Smith will explain when we get there, Sir.”

Traffic laws did not seem to be a concern to the driver, as I think we broke every one of them on the way. Within twenty minutes we were pulling up to the front door of the county jail. I could see Mr. Smith standing outside the door, waiting for me.

“Son, how is that shoulder?” Smith asked as I exited the SUV.

“Still hurts, but getting better. What is going on?”

“Good. Let’s walk, I’ll talk.”

Smith started talking as we entered the front door. “This morning our Mr. Garcia was complaining of a toothache. Being the caring society that we are, we let the pervert go to the infirmary to see the dentist before meeting with our team. A dental assistant that has worked here for two months had Garcia in a dental chair, leaned back to examine his tooth. Instead, she pulled out a scalpel and slit his throat all the way to the bone. While Mr. Garcia was bleeding out, our friendly dental assistant sat in the chair next to him, took a 9mm Glock, put it under her chin and blew the top of her head off.”

“Holy shit!” was all I could get out.

“That is an understatement. I hope you have a strong stomach,” Smith said as he led me into the infirmary.

I have a strong stomach, but not that strong. There was blood everywhere, a huge puddle under Garcia and I don’t want to describe what was sitting next to him.

“Christ.” I whispered.

“Oh, you ain’t seen nothing yet,” Smith said as he walk up to the dental assistant, who had a towel across her lap. “Your trafficking problem just went nuclear.”

Smith pulled the towel off of the assistant’s lap, and I froze. The dental assistant was a transsexual.

Smith signaled to a couple of other guys who came over. “Lift her up.” he ordered.

As they turned her up on her left side, I think my heart stopped, as the brand ‘Slut7’ came into view.