Sheep's Clothing - Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Oliver shifted on the sofa, trying to get comfortable and failing miserably. His bruised ribs and the torn muscles that were slowly knitting back together simply would not let him rest, especially not on the hardest piece of furniture known to man. It was worth it, however, to be close to Chloe. At his insistence, she had been put in one of the hospital's premium suites which had the sofa he was currently stretched out on. Emil may have released Oliver, but he had yet to leave the hospital. He needed to be near her and in truth he wasn't feeling well enough to do more than lie where he was and watch her sleeping form.
Chloe, at least, was doing better. Emil had been secretly giving her minute doses of the experimental drug that Oliver had used to heal himself when he was shot all those years ago. Emil had been tinkering with the formula to lessen the side effects, but he was still giving her far less than Oliver had been using. In such tiny doses, her recovery wouldn't be overnight, but faster than normal, and as long as she didn't continue taking it past when it was necessary, there was no reason that the side effects would become a problem.
Oliver, however, had refused to allow Emil to do the same for him. He'd been given a dose after he was burned, which had prevented him from being permanently scarred, but as a precaution he'd been forced to stay away from other people, including Chloe. He certainly wasn't going to risk another dose so soon after the last one. He knew exactly how he reacted to the drug and he didn't need another round of near psychotic rage to mess things up.
In Chloe's case, she might, at worst, become a little irritable. She was a far more stable, emotionally well-balanced human being than Oliver. He knew that underneath his veneer of cool, confident pseudo-respectability, he was really an angry, often disturbed man who had a tendency to go off the rails, even without the help of a rage inducing drug.
His temper certainly hadn't improved in the past two days. Lois and Clark had come back from the apartment the shooter had used and they'd found absolutely nothing helpful. Members of the press were still making periodic attempts to sneak into Chloe's room, especially since the staff had leaked that Oliver had yet to leave it. Patient privacy had apparently gone out the window as soon as his name had popped up. At least they didn't have Chloe's name yet, which was the only good news he had. The guy he'd kneecapped had already filed suit and Oliver had instructed his lawyers to settle as well as to pay anyone who'd used their cell phone to take pictures of him as he carried Chloe to the car. At last count, they'd already paid off eleven people to keep the photos out of the press and off the internet.
Oliver's eyes once again roamed over Chloe's motionless form. The chest tube was gone and she was once again completely breathing on her own, but she had yet to wake up. He wasn't sure what he would say when she did. If he thought he'd been scared out of his life when Checkmate kidnapped her, then this… It was hard for him to even pretend that their relationship wasn't something far deeper when the thought of how close he'd come to losing her was almost paralyzing.
But at the moment, she was safe, and he still had a little while to come up with a way to apologize appropriately, or more correctly to beg her forgiveness for nearly getting her killed.
Oliver dozed lazily, his tumbling thoughts never allowing him to sleep for long. His eyes popped open, however, when the door to the room opened very quickly and was pushed shut just as fast. He was relieved when he saw it was one of Chloe's normal nurses and not a reporter trying to sneak in, although she wasn't acting normally. Her movements were nervous, almost furtive. Usually, the nurses just barged in not caring whether they woke their patient or not. They just did their job and left. This one, however, and Oliver couldn't quite remember her name, looked… twitchy.
Oliver watched as the woman, average height, late twenties maybe, dark hair pulled back in a severe pony tail, stepped toward the bed, but stopped abruptly. She then backed up against the wall and simply stood there for several seconds, her expression troubled, her eyes glued to Chloe.
All of Oliver's alarms were going off and he tensed his muscles, preparing to move. After another moment, he saw her reach into her pocket and pull out a syringe. The nurse brought her other hand up to remove the cap from the needle and Oliver saw that it was trembling. Still she didn't move, nearly plastered to the wall. Finally, as if coming to some sort of resolve, she pushed away from it and marched toward the bed. She grabbed Chloe's IV line and held the syringe to the port.
Without another thought, Oliver was across the room, knocking the syringe out of her hand and slamming the woman back into the wall. "What do you think you're doing?" he growled.
The woman's terrified face suddenly crumpled and she began to sob. "Please. Please," she said through her tears, pushing against him. "I have to do this."
"Do what?" Oliver demanded. He had her pinned with his forearm across her upper chest pressing her into the wall and he felt no pity as he put his full weight into it. The nurse had been trying to kill Chloe, of that he had no doubt.
"Please," she sobbed, "they took her. They took her. Please!"
All of a sudden she was a tigress, shoving him back with strength he never would have guessed she possessed. Nevertheless, she was no match for a man who'd been grappling with crazed psychotic, super-powered killers for the past several years. It took one flick of his wrist and she was down on the ground with his knee pressed into her back, her arm twisted up behind her. She was gasping and sobbing, still talking, but it was now completely incoherent.
"All right," Oliver said calmly, his injured side throbbing after the unexpected workout. "Now, I'm going to let you up and you're going to tell me what's going on, ok?"
The nurse nodded and Oliver warily eased her arm back down where she could use it to rise from the floor. When she didn't immediately begin to fight him again, he released her and rose. His side once again protested and he lifted his shirt to see that his bandages were showing pink.
"Chloe's gonna kill me," he muttered under his breath. The thought made his chest suddenly throb although not from any physical pain. His eyes traveled back to the bed where she was lying. He should be so lucky to hear Chloe give him a hard time for getting hurt.
Oliver ignored his side and helped the distraught nurse to her feet. He led her toward the sofa and more importantly away from Chloe. The woman slumped onto the couch and put her head in her hands, tears still streaming down her cheeks.
"Hey," Oliver said gently as he crouched in front of her. He tipped her face back up with a finger beneath her chin, then took one of her shaking hands. "Angela," he read from her hospital ID, "who did they take? Tell me what's going on."
"My daughter," she whispered, abject fear and desperation written on her features. "They took my little girl."
"Who did?" he asked. She shook her head and Oliver gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Angela, you know who I am. I have serious resources. I can make this right, but you have to tell me what you know."
"That's just it." She began to weep in earnest. "I don't know! He sent me a picture of her and told me that I had to… that I had to ki…" She broke off, unable to even say the word. "He told me to hurt Miss Sullivan, or I'd never see my baby again." Her eyes suddenly focused on him and she reached out with her free hand, latching onto his shirt. "Please. He'll kill her. She's only three," she sobbed. "She must be so scared."
"Angela," Oliver said softly, "I will get your little girl. I promise you. Just tell me what you were supposed to do."
"I had until a certain time to… do it. Once it was verified, he would call to tell me where to find my daughter."
"He called your cell?" he asked.
"Yes." She frowned, confused. "What difference does that make?"
"Ok." Oliver stood. He began to pace back and forth, thinking furiously. Quickly, he pulled out his cell phone. It was against hospital policy, but then again so was trying to off their patients. "Give me your number," he ordered and punched it in on his own, setting Watchtower to work. While that was processing, he quickly dialed his publicist.
"Mr. Queen?"
Oliver's publicist was a very steady, sophisticated woman who was almost impossible to ruffle. She'd been with him through every idiotic public scandal of the past several years and never once told him he was a screwed-up mess who made her life difficult. For that she was paid an unconscionable amount.
"Deidra, I need you to make a statement to the press."
"Yes?" He could tell she had her pen poised to take notes.
"Tell them that the employee who was shot in the attempt on my life has died. We are not releasing the name out of respect for the family. I have already left the country to recuperate abroad. We would appreciate that our privacy be respected at this time. The investigation is in the hands of the Metropolis police. It's a great loss for Queen Industries, etc, etc." He made a whatever gesture with his hand although the woman on the phone couldn't see it. She had the gist and would embellish as needed. It was what he paid her for.
"When do you want this given to the press?"
Oliver looked at the woman now curled up on the couch with her knees drawn up to her chest. "Now would be good."
"I'll have it on air in just a moment. I have several reporters outside my office now waiting for a statement."
"Good. Thanks." Oliver disconnected and walked toward the nurse. "You should get your phone out," he said. "You'll be getting that call in a few minutes. You pretend you took care of your end of the deal and I'll take care of the rest." Oliver had a moment of desperately wishing that Chloe was awake. He knew he could get this done. After all, he'd been hacking computers long before Chloe ever made an appearance in his life, but he also knew that Chloe was a lot better and a lot faster than he was. Nevertheless, he was on his own if he wanted to make sure that Chloe stayed safe.
Oliver set to work on his phone. Watchtower had run down the original call the kidnapper had made, but had come up with nothing. It was a pre-paid phone with no personal information attached, paid for in cash, and it was turned off at the moment, so there was no signal for him to ping to find a current location. Since that was a bust, he had to settle for trapping the kidnapper with the next call, if there was one. It took him several minutes, but he had everything in place, ready to track down the info. All he needed was for the bad guy to call.
In the meantime, Oliver found the remote and turned on the TV. He then once again tried to make contact with Clark or any of the other JL members. Unfortunately, he knew they were currently tied up on a little problem in South America, and as expected he got no answer to his calls.
Just as he was hanging up, the TV channel he was watching broke into the soap opera with breaking news. The camera showed Deidra stepping outside of her office, followed by her making a simple statement parroting what Oliver had told her, although phrasing it more carefully, and adding a few publicist-type flourishes.
Now came the tricky part. Whoever had taken the child could very easily just kill her and have done with it. However, if the person really had no intention of the hurting the kid, then they should be hearing from them soon.
Just when Oliver was beginning to think that it was a lost cause and the child was most likely dead, the cell phone rang. The nurse jumped, fumbling to take the call. While she spoke to whoever was on the other line, Oliver used Watchtower to trace it. Now that the phone was on, it was only a matter of seconds before he had an answer.
The nurse disconnected and looked up as Oliver stood. "He told me to come to the corner of 12th and Meridian."
"Stay here," Oliver ordered. "I'll get her back for you."
"But-"
"No," he said firmly. "Stay here. You stay with Chloe. You make sure no one else goes near her until I get back. Promise me."
She nodded and Oliver ran for the door.
In a matter of minutes, thanks to a stash he kept near the hospital, Oliver was in his Green Arrow gear and on his way to where Watchtower was still tracking the kidnapper's phone.
Oliver had rarely been this angry. He'd assumed the gunman was aiming for him, which just showed what a clueless, self-absorbed, arrogant ass he was. Someone was trying to kill Chloe. His Chloe. He was the one who just so happened to get in the way.
The phone he was tracking hadn't moved since it made the call. It was coming from the area of a huge empty warehouse near where he'd told Nurse Angela to pick up her little girl. Oliver vaulted onto the roof from the building next door. He grunted through the pain as he rolled to his feet and promised himself that when this was over he and Chloe were going to take a nice, long vacation on a private island in the middle of nowhere.
Oliver broke open the lock on the emergency exit door to the roof and crept down the stairs. The guy wasn't even trying to hide. He was sitting on an old crate near one of the oversized doors to the warehouse. A little dark-haired girl was huddled up against the door. She was in a plaid dress that she had tucked over her legs and she was shivering from the cold. She'd pulled her little pink cardigan tightly around her, her tiny shoulders up around her ears she was so anxious.
Taking down the kidnapper was painfully easy. A Taser arrow to the shoulder and the man was face down twitching on the ground. The little girl screamed and stood to run. Oliver quickly intercepted her and scooped her up in his arms. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he soothed the desperate, flailing child. He quickly took off his sunglasses and turned off the voice modulator. "It's ok. Your mom sent me."
Immediately, the child stopped struggling in his arms and turned her tear-stained face up toward him. "Mommy?"
"Yup." Oliver smiled his most open smile, the one that promised he was absolutely trustworthy. It worked on the big girls, even when they knew he was probably up to no good. He could only hope little ones were as susceptible. "Your mommy's at work. She knew you weren't happy here and asked me to come get you."
"We can go see her?" she asked.
He brushed a hand over her wispy shoulder-length hair, smoothing it back into place. "What's your name, honey?"
"Tammy."
"Ok, Tammy. I'm Ollie and I promise I'm going to take you straight to your mommy, but I have to talk to the man over there first. Can you wait for me?"
The little girl looked very uncertain, and glanced around the warehouse nervously. She rubbed her hand underneath her runny nose, then set it right back against his chest. Oliver wondered absently if there was something special required to get little-girl snot out of leather.
"Tammy, I promise. If you can be brave for just a few more minutes, we'll go straight to your mommy, ok?"
"Ok," she finally answered, hardly louder than a mouse.
Oliver kissed her on the forehead. "Good girl." He quickly looked around and spied what looked like an old office. "Let's go over here, all right?" He took her inside the office and set her down on a chair after dusting it off. He crouched down in front of her. "Is this ok?"
The little girl once again rubbed her pudgy fingers under her nose, but she nodded. "I want my mommy," she whispered.
"Soon, sweetie," he promised. "I'll be fast, ok?"
Not wanting to wait any longer, Oliver quickly left the old office and closed the door behind him. He walked straight back to the man who was still face down on the floor. The arrow had run out of punch, but it took a little while to get over a mini-electrocution. Oliver put his glasses back on and switched on the voice modulator.
"All right," he said as he kicked the man to roll him over onto his back. Oliver put his boot in the middle of the man's chest and pressed down, leaning over him so that even though the guy couldn't really move he would get an eyeful of one very, very pissed off Green Arrow. "We need to have a chat."
Chapter Five