Good left-handed power, Lou Welcome. You gonna hit homer to opposite field like that.

The lion’s head gave him more than enough heft. Arcing in a golden blur, it smashed Vicki squarely in her jaw. There was a volley of nauseating cracks—multiple bones shattering at almost once. The force of the blow sent her spinning into the door frame. She slammed against the wood, then fell over Humphrey’s heavy wheelchair, and smacked the back of her head against the other side of the doorjamb, before tumbling unconscious to the floor.

Driven by an intense rage, Lou whirled and raised the cane at Harris. “You come at me and you die!” Lou snapped, battling back a wave of light-headedness.

Behind him, Kazimi had started moaning.

At least he was alive.

Lou leveled the cane at Harris once more.

“Get some pressure on the wound right now.”

“Yes, sir,” Harris said. “There’s an emergency medical kit under the desk. I do have some training, sir.”

Bacon was moaning now. From where he stood, Lou could not tell if Vicki Banks was breathing or not. Her once-interesting face was a mass of blood.

Damaged goods. Is that what you said you were?

Fighting unsteadiness and working for every breath, Lou opened his wallet, pulled out a card, and dialed. It only took a minute for him to get connected.

“FBI, Atlanta. How may I help you?”

Chapter 55

CHAPTER 55

Like a splinter, the longer entitlement programs are allowed to remain in place, the more the chance that they will begin to fester.

—LANCASTER R. HILL, MEMOIR (UNPUBLISHED), JUNE 1933

The first trial of the Janus therapy—code named Phagecil for the three types of bacteriophages being used—was about to be completed. A crowd was gathered in the Great Room awaiting the big announcement. It had been three days since Lou swung the lion’s head cane that had shattered Vicki Bank’s jaw, nose, and orbit. Under guard, she had been evaluated at the hospital in Bangor, and then shipped to Portland, where two teams of surgeons had begun the series of operations that would reconstruct her face.

Kazimi was airlifted to Bangor as well, and successfully underwent seven hours of surgery. Ron Jessup, burned beyond recognition, followed along by ambulance. Lou expected Kazimi would be bedridden for days, but to his astonishment, the government flew him back to Red Cliff almost a day ago, with a tube still in his chest, so he could continue his work with “Mr. Miller,” as the formal Muslim still insisted on calling him. The scientists were both in wheelchairs now, although Kazimi could walk for short distances.