Incident
on G Street: Part 12
*****EXTRA WARNING***** This part alludes to a rape occurring. There are no graphic details of it actually happening, but there is a mention which is necessary to the story. As this is not in my original warning, I wanted to forewarn any readers who might be offended by this particular subject.
Dr. King presses a button and the alarm is silenced. He looks over to Dr. Berlin and notices the
slight smile. "Good afternoon,"
he says softly to the man on the bed.
Face turns confused and blurry eyes towards the doctor. His lips start to move, but the tube down his throat prevents any speaking. He tries to focus in the people hovering over him, looking for a familiar face, but sees none. His vision grows cloudy and a sudden sharp pain in his head forces him to close his eyes and jerk his head to the side.
"Hold on a second there. Not the best time for you to be moving," Dr. Berlin says to his patient. He finishes his check of Face's vital signs. Still not perfect, but worlds better than this time yesterday. He confers with Dr. King and the head ICU nurse for a few moments. "We are going to take you for a cat scan. We want to determine how you are healing. Once we have that information we will inform you on your medical condition. We will also call in the orthopedic surgeon to explain what is going to happen to your leg. If the scan is favorable, I will clear your for surgery on it tomorrow morning." Dr. Berlin leaves the room with a nurse to ready the equipment.
Dr. King leans over Face and smiles down at him. The blue eyes are open again. "You are very, very lucky. In more ways than I think you or your friends
realize. Thank you for keeping me from doing
something I believe I would regret for the rest of my life."
***
The team, along with Ellen, Stockwell, and Kathryn, stare through
the glass at the people in the adjacent room.
Two nurses are blocking their view of Face directly, and they are
anxious to find out what exactly is going on.
The anger present just seconds before has vanished as each holds their
breath as they wait. The two nurses finally
move to other pieces of machinery in the room as the group notices the doctors
and a nurse conferring. Face still
unmoving on the bed with his eyes closed.
Then Dr. Berlin and a nurse depart.
They watch Dr. King lean over Face and apparently say something to him. As the doctor rises, the opened blue eyes
belonging to Face are noticed by the team.
A collective sigh of relief from all present in the observation room can
be heard an instant before joyous shouts erupt. Stockwell uses the diversion to quickly exit the room unnoticed.
***
Charles Rike looks at the bustling street scene below him. A smile playing on his lips. After some planning and a little luck, the past 24 hours have passed liked a dream come true. The A-Team was ruined, just about all of Stockwell's employees suspect him for one recent 'mishap' or another, and within the next few hours, the lovely Carla will be his. Oh, she may put up a fight at first, and proclaim her loyalty to Stockwell, but Charles believes after a fair amount of damning evidence, Carla will come around. And loath the man called Stockwell.
Charles Rike had been the same way as Carla upon his first meeting with General Hunt Stockwell. Of course, Hunt had only been a Captain then. And although technically still with the United States Army, Stockwell's name was well known in other circles as a man who could get the job done. Regardless of the mission. He had the ability to get the best people together to obtain the requested objectives. Time and again. For money and privileges, of course. But never against the government of the United States. Stockwell had amassed quite a fortune just after the end of the Vietnam War. And there were very few people who would not return his calls. Many up-and-comers such as Charles Rike wanted to be under this man's employ. Charles had called in many favors with people who had connections to Stockwell, just to set up a meeting between the two of them. The meeting had gone well, and after 6 months, Rike was one of Stockwell's most trusted assistants.
Those had been an idyllic few years. Until that little incident with the cocktail waitress. Charles had had a drink or two too many, and being a rather handsome man, just expected the young, buxom woman to fall for his flattery and charm and service him in the rest room of the bar. Although she had flirted back at first, the more his intentions became known, the more serious she became with her refusals of his advances. Charles had eventually left, to the relief of the waitress. But when her shift was over and she was walking to her car, he suddenly appeared from behind the dumpster and attacked her. Threatening her with his gun, Charles was able to 'persuade' the terrified woman to comply with his wishes. He certainly didn't consider it rape; just having his needs satisfied by someone who obviously never learned to respect the true power a man held over any woman. "Don't ever forget that you were brought onto this earth to service me and my brothers. And before you think you are special, remember that all women were created for the sole purpose of making men happy," Charles had told her as he zipped up his pants. He didn't think twice about the incident once he left the parking lot. However, a policeman showed up at Stockwell's compound a few days later looking for someone who matched his description. Fortunately for Charles, Stockwell was out, and after a little fast talking, soon had the officer on his way, satisfied Charles was not the perpetrator. That evening, Charles Rike went back to the bar and eliminated that small problem. No police bothered him about the waitress again. But somehow, Stockwell found out, and approached him a few days following the disappearance of the waitress. It was an ugly scene, and Stockwell wanted him to leave immediately. Charles pleaded his case, promised to stop, to seek professional help, anything Stockwell wanted to keep him aboard. And for some unknown reason, Stockwell did.
The cocktail waitress wasn't the first, and she definitely wouldn't be the last for Charles Rike. He spent the next few weeks trying to ascertain who had ratted him out to his boss. Finding the person, he arranged for an unfortunate accident to occur on the man's way home. Charles had learned his lesson and immediately took more precautions the next time the situation arose. He made sure that she would have nothing to say against him ever. Or anyone else. As the attacks continued over the next year, they increased in violence. The authorities in Washington, DC, northern Virginia, and southern Maryland, came to Stockwell for assistance with this sudden surge in sexual crimes against young women living in the area. Knowing it wasn't exactly his specialty, they appealed to him as an outstanding member of the community to help. It wasn't a terribly hard assignment for someone with his resources, and soon Stockwell had his chief suspect. He confronted him later that evening in his private office.
"Charles," Stockwell acknowledged the man in the doorway with barely restrained anger. "No. Do not say anything. Let me speak. So far my men have linked you to over 10 rapes over the past year. Why, Charles? You said you would stop. You swore to me. You saw a shrink. What did these women ever do to you?" he asked in a eerily calm voice.
Charles Rike looked down at his boss in disgust. The man in front of him just did not
understand. "Because they deserved
it.
Because they are women who do not know their true purpose in this world. Because they need to be a lesson to all of the others," he replied.
Stockwell had always respected women in both his personal and professional lives. Some of his most trusted agents were women. And he beheld his own wife with utmost esteem until the day she died 4 years ago. What the man in front of him had done was inexcusable. The knowledge that he had had the chance to stop this monster several months ago, made him physically ill. "Charles, you are sick. You cannot go around thinking like that. It is not right. It really hurts me to have to do this to you. I have thought of you as one of my most trusted friends and advisors. But now..." Stockwell paused and cleared his throat. Two Abels came to the door. "Please take Mr. Rike here down to Inspector Jensen's office. He will know what to do with him. Charles, there will be no trial, no press, no coming back. I cannot have someone like yourself sully my reputation and the reputation of my operation. You will be sent to prison immediately and evaluated there for a probable move to a mental facility. Unless something major happens with your recovery, I believe you will be stuck there for the remainder of your miserable life," Stockwell had bitterly said before he quickly left the room.
As Stockwell had predicted, Charles Rike was sent to a mental health facility in North Carolina. Over the years Charles Rike was in residence, corruption amongst the managers set in and many security features were discontinued. Charles had quickly learned that good behavior would merit additional privileges such as time by himself and a cut back in supervision. It also got him into one of the only private rooms at the facility. Using his charm to its utmost potential, he had managed to convince the night nurses to keep his door unlocked at night. He waited until everyone was comfortable in their routines with him then he slipped out and ran away one night. As his arrival had been hushed up from the start, and an alias given, his escape passed equally as quiet. No one involved with his original incarceration ever learned of his escape or of the complete lack of a recovery attempt.
Charles looks around his lavishly furnished office and thinks back to the relief he felt upon finding his chief money hole still intact after his 7 year absence. Several thousands of dollars greeted him when he opened the lock box. Out of all of his carefully located hiding spots, only 2 had been disturbed. He thought about changing his name or appearance with some of the money, but decided against it, knowing his name was common enough and no one would recognize him from 7 years ago unless they had really known him before. And there was one person he really wanted to make sure recognized him. Hunt Stockwell. It had been a cakewalk to set up this meaningless telemarketing venture. Meaningless, but extremely profitable. Not needing to hire anyone of any intelligence, meant he could keep an endless stream of bimbos in his employ while he worked on his plan to exact revenge. The best of both worlds as far as Charles Rike was concerned.
And now the final pieces of the plan are coming
together. Charles Rike doesn't think he
could be any happier. He debates taking
all of his 'girls' out to dinner to celebrate his victory. 'No. Better wait until I actually watch
Stockwell crumble,' he says to himself as he pulls out a bottle from the bar in
his office.
***
Dr. King walks in on the celebration in the observation room. He smiles at their happiness, glad he stood up to that snake, Rike, and didn't kill the well loved man in the next room. Murdock notices his entry and claps him on the back. "You did it! Face is awake! Thanks, amigo!" he shouts.
Dr. King smiles at the praise and clears his throat as everyone
quiets down enough for him to speak.
"Your friend has awakened.
Dr. Berlin is going to take him now for a cat scan to see what's going
on. After we have those results we will
let you know our findings. Please be
aware that although he is awake, it may only be temporary, and he could slip
back into a coma. But his vitals are up
and he seems responsive," he says.
"Both of which are very good signs."
***
Hunt Stockwell quickly walks down the corridors towards the billing
office. He tried calling Carla from a
pay phone here at the hospital, but her phone rang without answer. He wants to get to the bottom of Hannibal's
accusation of his payment of Ms. Collins' hospital bill. Because to the best of his knowledge, he
didn't suggest or authorize any payments at all.