Read Online The Ghost Pattern by Leslie Wolfe - Free Book Online

humor in his voice.
    Dr. Mallory specialized in ADHD and neurodevelopmental disorders. A great guy: calm, focused, supportive, yet sometimes moody. Great scientist and partner to be abducted and incarcerated with , Gary Davis couldn’t help thinking, a grim sense of amusement tinting his otherwise clinically dry judgment.
    “ Oui, absolument ,” Dr. Chevalier replied. “But can you guess what?”
    Gary chuckled quietly. This exercise of theirs had kept them sane for a while, and it was probably bound to continue to keep them sane for a little while longer, but not more. They had played word games, engaged whatever remnant of their sense of humor they could muster, and counseled one another. Cried on other’s shoulders, and told stories of their families. Shared hope and hopelessness, both equally volatile in the hell they’d been confined to.
    “I give up,” an almost morose Dr. Mallory said. “I cannot fathom what you could possibly like about this place. You win.”
    “Bugs,” an almost cheerful Dr. Chevalier said. “There are no bugs here. Oui ?”
    “Right,” Gary agreed. “Roaches could have made this sejour much worse.”
    “Or rats,” Dr. Mallory added.
    A moment of silence followed, interrupted immediately by Chevalier.
    “ Oh-la-la …rats are worse,” she said, thoughtfully. Then she changed her mind. “ Mais non, bugs are worse!”
    “Let’s put this to a vote,” Mallory quipped.
    “Shh…” Gary whispered, “I hear something. Footsteps.”
    They all fell silent, holding their breaths. They could hear footsteps approaching; two, maybe three men, closer, louder.
    The sound of the door latch being pulled startled them, and the light that burst inside blinded them, making them squint as their eyes tried to adjust to the brutal invasion of powerful fluorescent light.
    “ Yebat, move it!” One of the men, a six-foot tall, heavily tattooed goon, dressed in mismatching uniform parts, stepped inside their cell and prodded him with the barrel of an AK47. The sleeves of his uniform were rolled up, showing muscle fibers knotted under his grimy skin, and making the inked king cobra curled on his right forearm seem alive.
    “All right, all right,” Gary replied, holding up his arms in a pacifying gesture, and stepping out of the cell. Drs. Chevalier and Mallory followed closely, still squinting badly from the intense light.
    They walked behind King Cobra on an endless, slightly curved corridor, while the two other armed men ended their procession. After a few hundred feet, they came to a stop in front of another green, massive metallic door. King Cobra unlatched that one, and immediately prodded the occupants to step outside.
    Four more squinting, wobbly prisoners stepped out of that cell. Dr. Gary Davis recognized two of the speakers from the conference they had all attended what seemed like years ago. Dr. Theodore Adenauer, a top-notch researcher from Germany, had presented his thesis on molecular psychopharmacology in his typical arrogant manner. Yet not even his irritating arrogance was able to diminish the value of the work presented. Arrogant or not, the man was scintillating, and his work had been recognized as foundational research for recent advances in drug research, leading to significant progress in antidepressants, SSRIs, and the overall understanding of synapse chemistry.
    Dr. Howard Bukowsky, a kind and easy-going Canadian, had shown no trace of arrogance when he’d spoken to a jaw-dropped audience about the results of a newly introduced therapy regimen, a combination of sensory-motor therapy and minimal drug support, engaged together in the treatment of PTSD. Dr. Bukowsky was the only clinician on the speakers’ list, and the only practitioner Gary would have chosen as his personal therapist.
    Right behind Howard Bukowsky followed a young woman, her face stained and smudged from tears and makeup. She blinked repeatedly, trying to adjust to the blinding light, while straightening