Page 70 of Booked for Kidnapping

“You haven’t eliminated their involvement?” I asked, unable to keep the surprise out of my tone.

“No. It’s entirely possible that the doctors are being funded by corrupt politicians, the killers—or the doctors are the killers, and they had one group of them take out Islanney while securing you for their surgical endeavors.” Bradley’s father shrugged. “Honestly, that is my favorite of the possibilities. It’s morally bankrupt in terms of lost lives, but a bunch of doctors would not want these bills passing. The number of deaths that would result from the draft system would be staggering—and medical care would become the purveyance of the rich. More than it already is. The military would keep the useful soldiers alive and the rest would end up dying in battle.”

“Isn’t that a bit extremist?”

“Not particularly.” Bradley’s father snapped his fingers at his son and pointed at the laptop, which Bradley handed over. After some typing and scowling, he handed the computer to me. “Read that article.”

I obeyed, noting it came from one of New York’s predominant neutral newspapers, which made it one of the better sources of news in the city, as they presented both sides of the fence rather than embracing a specific bias. The newspaper had gotten a hold of the latest rendition of the bill, printing it in its entirety along with an analysis of what every single clause meant. It had taken a hundred and fifty pages in fine print, along with a complementary digital version to the public, not counting against the newspaper’s typical view limitations meant to earn them revenue. I whistled.

Somehow, in the time I’d been missing, the bill had gotten worse. Exsanguinators had gotten removed from an immediate death sentence, with the first true exemption being made.

Any exsanguinator who opted to provide at least fifty hours of donation time to a hospital every year would not be drafted.

“I hate that this clause is here, but I love this clause,” I complained.

“The exsanguinator clause is something else. It’s making waves through the nation, actually. Someone got the brilliant idea that any talents suitable for the medical field should have the same exemption, which would majorly augment hospitals. Even our familial talent would be useful.”

“Because you can prove rape?” I asked.

Both men nodded.

“The identification of medical trauma, like rape, would fit into the proposed bill,” Bradley’s father said. “And it’s being proposed by the people; it’s definitely made some waves in the congress. It was not on the agenda, and it looks like it better be on the agenda or there’s going to be an uprising.”

“An uprising?” I blurted. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, at least twenty percent of the populace has realized they’re inevitably going to be drafted, and they don’t like it. There’s a lot of talk of rebellion and revolt now, and there are even whispers of civil war.”

I sucked in a breath, staring at the laptop and the lengthy article the newspaper had printed, covering the entire bill in detail. “Civil war? Are you serious?”

“Unfortunately. I think that’s part of why the serial killers haven’t hit again after your disappearance. Everything is in flux. Senators and representatives are claiming that the bill is under discussion for modification. The individual who leaked the original bill was killed in a car accident. The government attempted to claim it was an accident, but the FBI called it suspicious and is investigating a probable murder—an assassination. The President attempted to announce it was not an assassination, but the FBI is no longer dancing to Castillo’s tune. We expect the lead of the FBI to disappear under mysterious circumstances, too, at this point. As do the people. The news outlets aren’t pulling punches, either. It’s a problem.”

“What about the CIA?”

“Completely mute. They’re probably afraid of sharing Senator Jamesville’s fate. That’s the man who gave a copy of the bill to the newspapers. And he didn’t just send to one paper. He’d mass mailed a digital copy to every single news outlet with a contact form or email address—and he’d contacted reporters to share the bill with.” Bradley’s father sighed and shook his head. “Jamesville had the least to lose.”

“What do you mean?”

“Jamesville had cancer, which had not been announced publicly, nor had he informed anyone of the diagnosis. He informed the newspapers, stating as much. They ran a piece about his probable murder, and that he had volunteered in case it led to his death. That supports what Westonhaus told you, though. That politicians who stray from the game plan end up with a severe case of dead.”

The idea that the government killed politicians who stepped out of line sickened me. “Westonhaus told me that was how it worked. Do you think he expects to be killed?”

“I don’t know what I think,” Bradley’s father admitted. “Either that or he wanted to see if the game could be changed if he had you on his side—or as a random element in the game. Or if our cell is a part of the government’s efforts to find the killers so they have control of the situation.”

“It’s okay as long as the government is the one doing the killing?” I resisted the urge to beat my fist on the desk, gave Bradley his laptop, and attacked my Chinese food instead. “Why have there been no killings since my disappearance, then?”

Bradley closed his laptop and set it aside. “I think it may have been due to Senator Jamesville’s actions. The media has brought a lot of what’s going on to light. With the bill in full view of the public eye, do they need to plan any more murders to draw attention to the situation?”

I acknowledged his point with a nod, nibbling at a piece of orange chicken and basking in its heat. “Where does that put us with the doctors, though? Do you really think a bunch of doctors would go so far?”

“If it means saving so many lives? I have no doubt of it. It’s the same idea that a bunch of librarians would get together and try to figure out how to solve a murder mystery without knowing hardly anything about how murders are solved,” my fiancé pointed out. “We’re really bad at being investigators, though. We’re improving. It helps there are people in the FBI who are teaching us what we need to do. Beatrice has been getting lessons on collecting and submitting evidence. Mickey is being educated on research and information gathering. Meridian is learning how to question people, since she is good at talking but bad at keeping secrets. She’s also good at math, so she’s learning how to interpret financials. My mother does her lawyer things and gets into fights with the agents who want to tell her how to do her job. I think the FBI wants to send agents to her now for some teaching.”

That didn’t surprise me in the slightest. “And you?”

“I’m perfect as I am.”

I laughed at that. “And how about you, Mr. Hampton?”

“I’m also perfect.”