Session 20 - Marcus's Journal

We returned to the hotel, everything was still a blur, Carter and I couldn’t help but think about the remnants of the letter from Donovan to Savitree regarding sacrifice, was he talking about his Wife or child?  We had no idea.

We all decided to take a day to rest, the travel along with the passage through France, seeing our families had taken more energy out of us that we wanted to admit, plus Carter’s current condition required him to move at half pace most of the time.  We spent the day discussing strategy of how to best attack the Donovan operation, Frank, Tom and Will would head back to the pusher in the park, seeking answers as to the source of the nectar, Carter and I would go back to Donovan’s house, just to check it over before heading to his warehouse for the first reconnaissance report.

As the day turned into night, Carter and I set off to Donovan’s house, again, the blinds were drawn, no light emanating from within, nothing but the slight edges of light coming from around the drawn curtains of the fourth floor.  Carter pointed to the roof of the house, gargoyles littered the rooftop, strange that these watchers loomed over a house in Malta, usually reserved for cathedrals and churches.  Looking closer, I could see that the house itself was covered in symbols, not unlike the ones Edgar Jobb and Douglas Henslowe had scratched into the walls of the hospital we found them in.  Some sort of protective warding, I was still yet to understand the specific symbols as these seemed to be yet another variation of them.

The house itself also seemed curiously clean, the external walls looked as though this house had been freshly built, however based on the architecture, it was clear this house had stood for decades, someone was cleaning it, religiously.

After some time inspecting the house, and seeing the look of Carter’s face as he grew more and more frustrated, we decided to drive to the Warehouse.

After about half an hour of driving, we came to the address, a large industrial area, warehouses littering square lots along the road.  The specific address let us to a long drive way that passed several vacant lots and several warehouses standing solemnly against the backdrop of the coast, a small pier at the end of the drive.  We decided to park at the entrance to the drive, not willing to be more conspicuous than we were already.  We walked the length of the drive, coming to rest at the pier, a short distance from the warehouse in question.  Sitting quietly on the pier, we found a local fisherman, a squatter who had made his home along the wharf, a small tin shack standing against the wall of an abandoned building.

Carter struck up a conversation about fishing with the stranger as I watched the warehouse, taking notes as it was alive with activity.  Music coming from within, several men outside and many more within from the sounds of work inside.  A completely fences lot with carpark, guard post and from what I could see, two men on the roof with rifles, three more patrolling the building and two in the guard post.  A minimum of seven to eight well-armed men, this was a whole new level of incursion for us, something we could not take on alone.

Listening in on the conversation between Carter and the fisherman, the warehouse always started work about 4pm until mid-morning, whatever was happening here, it was all being done at night.

We thanked the stranger and gave him some money for food as his fishing did not seem to be yielding great results.  I was concerned that he was a lookout for the warehouse, Carter quickly dismissing the idea as he observed the man closely.

We returned to the hotel to find Frank, Will and Tom already waiting for us.  Their evening uneventful, only revealing the location of the Pusher’s residence.

We discussed the heavily guarded location of Donovan’s warehouse, as it only started operating at 4pm, we thought a daylight investigation was a good idea.  Again we discussed our options for the next day at great length.  Tom and Will were to sit on Donovan’s house, observing his comings and goings.  Carter and I were going to purchase fishing poles and dishevelled clothing and pose as homeless men fishing off the pier near the warehouse during the day.  Frank was going to back up Tom and Will, he knew we could handle ourselves, Tom and Will however seemed to give off too many signs of being wet behind the ears.

We began our day on the pier at 9am, everything was quiet, the fisherman from the night before had returned to his shack, nowhere to be seen.  Both Carter and I keeping a close eye on the warehouse.  Cars were in the lot, guards still in the post, no men on the roof or on patrol though, another separate dock revealed itself to us behind the warehouse, two men stationed on it.  All looked considerably serious, Carter explained they all had the look of military men, or at least ex-military men.  As there was very little activity, we packed up our equipment and decided to go and eat around noon, deciding to come back at about 2.30pm, that way we could see how the men mustered for work at 4pm.

After a light lunch and about a litre of coffee, we returned to the pier, not even five minutes later a car pulled up to the warehouse, a familiar car, Donovan’s car.  He exited with three men, all looking similar to the guards I observed at his house, his personal guards.  Out of the corner of our eyes we also sighted a taxy pass by the entrance to the driveway, slowing down before moving along.  We watched Donovan engage with several members of the guard before driving back out of the area, Carter and I picking up our gear again and exiting only to see the taxi waiting for us, Tom and Will already inside.

Tom explained that in following Donovan, they had seen several encounters, A breakfast meeting at 10am with a local politician, walking on foot to a Café near his house.  Then another walk to the Intensive care unit of the main hospital some 20 minutes of walking away, always flanked by three guards.  After some time, his car would pick him up with three new men inside, the three that had escorted him on foot, returning to his house.  Hailing a taxi, they followed Donovan here, where they picked us up.  We also explained the situation regarding lighter security, a rear dock and low activity for both.

Carter saw the hospital as a positive sign, something was wrong with Donovan, someone was there that he needed to see.  Tom and Will were to return to the hotel, they had not eaten and were both looking tired, Carter and I shedding our poor clothing and dressing well again decided to go to the hospital, who would question a priest and a man minus a hand?

Dressing in my garb and Carter dressing, as he always does, we made our way to the hospital, instructions from Tom were that he visits the third floor, Intensive care Unit.  Entering the hospital was easy, bypassing the reception area and making our way quietly to the third floor and into the intensive care unit.  The nurses taking little notice of us, one of them pushing a cart from room to room, a cart with a strangely familiar group of vials filled with orange liquid.  Observing her for some time, she was administering the nectar to ever person in the ward.  As I passed by the first couple of doors, patients were locals, middle aged women, old men, youths from the streets.

Carter was equally as shocked, what was this place? Were these people coming off the nectar or being put on it?  Carter entered a room, briefly observing the charts hanging on the walls, these people were being weaned off the nectar, their doses gradually reducing.  I couldn’t help myself, I approached the nurse at the station enquiring as to the treatment, requesting to see my visitors pass, she called security, withdrawing from the ward and attracting the attention of the Wardsmen and nurses, I was met in reception by the security, allowing Carter free reign to make his escape unhindered.  I was escorted to the office of Dr Solazzio, the head of the intensive care unit.  He was a strange man, all pomp and no charisma, he enquired as to who I was, giving him the story of a recently transferred priest under the name of White, he issued me a pass immediately.  Sighting a small cabinet behind his desk, it was full of vials, he was involved, he was no doubt the man administering the doses of nectar.

Carter was sitting on a bench outside, he had managed to grab the patient ledger from intensive care, impressive for a man with one hand.  Reading over it together, we had missed the key rooms, Donovan Junior and another child named Alexi, both receiving enormous amounts of nectar, something was wrong, was this what the letter to Savitree had been about, did Donovan sacrifice his son?

We returned to the hotel where Tom was also arriving back from being out and about, he had gotten bored and decided to sit on the Pusher’s house, witnessing the delivery of a few crates of nectar.  The delivery conducted by what he explained was a beautiful woman and a man who looked like he had been through hell in a boxing ring too many times.

Discussing our next plan of attack was hard, do we take on Donovan’s goons in a straight up fight, do we distract them somehow and make a break for it, do we go an entirely different direction.  Carter and Will were the first two to suggest a solution, use the child.  It was clear Donovan cared for his son, he visited him daily, he was connected, do we take Junior and force Donovan into a negotiation?

We needed to find out the routine of Donovan, how were we going to get our hands on him, he clearly knew more than we could imagine, a simple bullet would not fix this operation.  We need to grab him.  We discussed another day of watching, this time, Carter and Will would follow Donovan, Tom and Frank would look into the hospital, I was going to get a boat, something to make transport across water harmonious, not rushed.  If we did grab the child, Donovan’s boat seemed like a good place for the exchange to happen, a place that is secluded, can be seen from a long way out if there is trouble.  It almost sounds like a tangible plan.

I arranged for a boat early in the morning, money wasn’t an issue, whatever we needed it had to be fast and easy to drive.  A small to mid-sized skiff with two motors seemed to be an easy acquisition, anchoring it close to the docks, plenty of room for five mean and potentially a child.  After organising the boat, I took the car directly to the hospital, electing to wait in the hospital grounds for any signs of Donovan and the rest of my team.  Carter was the first to spot me, coming and sitting in the car next to me, Will also entering the rear door of the car.  They took me through the morning’s activities with Donovan.

Donovan didn’t have breakfast at the café, going instead to the opera house, touching a plaque on the wall and having breakfast in the Café there.  The plaque, in memory of his late wife Portia.  From there he travelled down some narrow streets to a small private Mausoleum, again in memory to his late wife.  For some 20 minutes, he stood there alone before continuing to the hospital.  I was starting to have second thoughts; would it be easier to take him at the Mausoleum or here at the hospital?

In the distance, across the open park and scattered trees I sighted Tom, coming from the back entrance of the hospital, his face a clear white shade.  Frank also exited the hospital from the front.  Stepping out of the car, I ushered them towards us before we all drove back to the hotel to debrief.

Tom was clearly shaken, he explained he was able to go in through the back of the hospital, up three flights of stairs, no staff to be seen, exit directly into the Intensive care unit and be within three meters of the room containing Donovan Junior.  He explained he could have taken the boy then and there, no one would have stopped him.  Frank had also stood at the front entrance of the ward, talking to the nurses, his charms clearly seeming to work on them.

We were set, first thing in the Morning we were going to take Donovan Junior.  Donovan himself would be busy, 10am-12am he is out and about, unreachable.  The worst case being that his home is alerted, the car goes to find him and he is notified, by that time we will already be boarding the boat.  The only thing left to discuss, who would do the talking?