Date: Sat, 26 Mar 2011 17:02:06 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jerlar <jetdesk2@yahoo.com>
Subject: Nurse and the Patient, Part 16

This story contains graphic sexual scenes between males. If material of
this nature offends you then you should not read this story.  Additionally,
if you are under 18 years of age in most states you are not allowed to read
this story by law.
  This story is purely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to person's
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.
  The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or
publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it
has been posted, without the consent of the author.

Mark Stevens



Nurse and the Patient, Part 16

	Jonathan was greeted at the door by the ever present Sarah. She
actually seemed happy to see him.
	"Won't you come inside, Mr. Watkins?" she greeted.
	It was the first time Jonathan had ever seen her smile.
	He explained about his meeting with Agnes Doughty.
	"Yes, she called and told me you were dropping by. She's running a
little late. You're to go on down to the store room."
	Jonathan thanked her and walked down the hall. On the way he
marveled at her disposition. It was almost pleasant, he thought, and he
wondered just what the hell had brought about the change.
	At the end of the hall he stopped and pulled the key out of his
pocket. He unlocked the door and pushed it open. Closing it behind him, he
didn't bother to lock it back. If Agnes was coming shortly he didn't see
the need. He hurried down the steps and unlocked the second door. He
reached around, his fingers searching for the light switch.
	The darkness of the room suddenly disappeared as the lights came to
life, causing him to blink his eyes. He left the door open and walked into
the brightly lighted area. As he looked around the room, something looked
different, and at first he couldn't decide what it was.
	Then he knew.
	Jonathan walked across the room and stood in front of the file
boxes, the ones he had searched through on his earlier visit. They were
just as he had left them, nicely stacked and all in order.
	What caught his attention, however, was one particular box. It had
a number in the upper right hand corner; the number he had written when he
was searching through the boxes the first time. This was the box he would
have searched his very next visit, only when he had returned, the box, this
box, had been missing. Now it was on the very top of the stack.
	Jonathan reached out and picked the box of files up. He carried it
over to the table and sat down. He pulled the lid off and reached in for
the first file.
	As he searched through the first file, he could hardly believe his
eyes. "Oh, my God," he whispered. He read on. "This is crazy," he thought.
	Jonathan was reaching for the second file in the box when it
suddenly hit him. This box contained the very information he needed all
along. He realized too late that it had been meant for him to find this
particular box that it had been intentionally removed from the room, and
now, today, had been intentionally returned, added with the rest of the
files. It had been a trap.
	"Hello, Mr. Watkins. I see you found what you were looking for."
	Jonathan looked up and discovered Agnes Doughty standing in the
doorway. Forcing a smile, he said, "Good afternoon, Miss Doughty. It's good
to see you again."
	"The pleasure is all mine."
	Her words had a definite icy tone to them.
	She stepped inside the room, closing the door behind her. Then
pulling a key from her purse, she inserted it into the lock and gave her
wrist a sharp twist.
	Jonathan heard the click and realized the seriousness of the
situation. He was buried under Sam Thompson's home, and he knew how foolish
it had been to agree to meet the woman alone.
	Agnes walked over and pulled out a chair. She joined him at the
table. "I see you found the files I was talking about. Do you think they
will be useful to you?"
	Choosing his words carefully, Jonathan said, "I'm not certain. I
just opened the box."
	Agnes slammed her purse down on the table. It made a loud
thump. "Don't lie, Mr. Watkins. You're not very good at it." She reached
for her purse and placed it in her lap.
	Jonathan had no idea how he should handle the situation. Part of
him was hoping that Agnes was just a nobody working for a large company,
someone that was trying to grasp all she could for herself, and other than
that, hoped was a fairly peaceful woman. A small part of him, that is. A
bigger part was pretty sure she was a very dangerous individual and was
capable of doing whatever it took to protect her interests.
	Perhaps it wasn't the wisest thing to do, but Jonathan decided to
see if he could shake the woman up a bit. Looking at her across the box of
files, he said, "I detest lying in any form. I could never be good at it;
not like some people are."
	"You've certainly lied about your name, have you not? And the
company who employees you," she added.
	"Truth be known, I am working up an audit for Smyth Oil," he
defended himself.
	"Of course you are. I suppose you wouldn't mind if I contacted Cox
and Wade. Oh, wait, I did speak with them. Guess what? They have never
heard of either you or the company of Barnes, Taylor & Watkins."
	"Well, to repeat myself, I was hired to conduct this audit."
	"Oh, I have not doubt about that," she agreed with him. "I just
don't think you were hired by Mr. Thompson or anyone from our own
company. Let me put it a different way. You weren't hired by anyone that
had authority to do so."
	"You've had what, almost forty years experience of lying and
stretching the truth? Do you really love Sam that much? So much you're
willing to risk losing everything?"
	"There has never been any risk of me losing anything at all,
Mr. Davis."
	Jonathan felt his body turn cold when he heard her say his real
name.
	"At least there wasn't until you started snooping around."
	Jonathan was holding a file in his hand. There was something in the
tone of her voice that made him look. She was holding a gun with the barrel
pointed directly at him.
	An evil smile formed on her lips. "You should have never left your
nursing career, Mr. Davis. Bed pans and enemas were much safer for you."
	Jonathan tried to speak in a normal tone. "Is it worth it? Sam has
done so many bad things, but you don't have to stoop as low. You are a much
better person, Agnes."
	"Bull shit! Who do you think put all of this into action?" she
asked. "You think Sam did?" She gave a wicked laugh. "I'm the one who set
this all into motion. Forty years ago, as you said a moment ago," she
added.
	Jonathan remained silent, waiting to see what she would say next.
	"Sam Thompson's a weak bastard. He didn't have the balls to put
something like this together."
	"So you came up with the idea of the Jordan Company?"
	"I did. Who do you think set everything up? It certainly wasn't
Sam."
	"He just provided the money and all of the opportunities, I
suppose. Without that, you had nothing to work with, I assume?"
	"Oh, it was the perfect plan," she agreed. "He had access to the
capital, and I had the knowledge how to put it all together."
	Jonathan looked at her for a time in silence. "Everything was great
until Sam lost half of those funds."
	A scowl came over Agnes' face. "It wasn't supposed to be that
way. When his wife died, Sam was supposed to have inherited her
half. That's the way he thought it had been set up."
	"I guess Kathleen Thompson thought differently. After all, it was
her company. Sam had merely been an employee, same as you."
	"Oh, we were never mere employees," she disagreed. "Kathleen Smyth
was distraught. She was going through a rough time. Both her father and a
good friend had been killed in an accident. She didn't know where to
turn. Sam was just being kind and offered her a shoulder not only to cry
on, but lean on as well."
	"He was too kind. Let's see, because of him, she had lost her
father as well as the man she loved. Oh, yeah, Sam was so damned good
hearted, wasn't he?"
	"Sam had nothing to do with her father and the young man getting
hurt. It was an accident."
	"Like hell it was."
	"Do tell? Let's hear what you've concocted in your head, shall we?"
	Jonathan suddenly realized he might be in deep shit. If she wanted
to listen to him spill his guts, she must have plans for him that didn't
look in his favor. He looked at his watch. He still had more than half an
hour before he expected Tony to show up. Hopefully he could slow things
down, could stall her.
	"I'm sorry, am I keeping you from another appointment? I saw you
looking at your watch."
	"Actually, I do have a three-thirty meeting."
	"We still have a lot of business to discuss. Will it matter if you
are a little late?"
	All he could say was, "Shouldn't be a problem."
	She nodded and said, "Good, I `m glad to hear that." Holding the
gun a little tighter in her hand, she said, "Now, let's hear what else you
have to say about this so called audit you've been conducting."
	He decided to just "screw it" and tell her all he knew. If he could
talk long enough, it might save him.
	"For starters, Carter Wilson was not just another employee, nor was
he just a `good friend' of Miss Smyth's. They were in love with each other,
and in fact, she was going to have his baby. Actually, she did have his
baby," he added, "About eight months after she and Sam were married."
	He went on, saying, "How did that work for you, Agnes? I mean how
could you stand to be in love with a man and share him with another woman?"
	She laughed bitterly. "She never had him. He may have married her,
but it was out of necessity; all according to the plan. My plan," she
added.
	"That's right because Sam had nothing, not a red cent."
	"He may have started out poor as a church mouse, but let me tell
you, he has plenty now. I've seen to that, made sure he was taken care
of. It was only right. He deserved to have it, and all of it. That bastard
had no right to take half of it away."
	"Oh, I think you're damned wrong, Agnes," Jonathan said in a smooth
even tone. "If anyone deserved it, Lance did. He was robbed of his real
father, of a grandfather he would have grown to love very much, and he lost
his mother, the one person left on this earth who truly loved him."
	For whatever reason, Jonathan suddenly felt a calm settle
throughout his body. He was no longer afraid. "He had no one to love him
until he had his accident, and I came along."
	At first his words brought a look of shock on the woman's
face. Then it went from shock to one of disgust. "So, you're a fag, same as
junior. How disgusting!" she said, spitting out the words.
	"Lance is definitely not a `junior'. Thank God he is no relation to
Samuel. I'm so grateful he has none of Sam's blood running through his
veins. As for being a fag, I think not you whore. That's what you are, a
whore. For forty years you've sold not only your soul, but your body to get
what you wanted."
	Agnes stood to her feet. Standing behind her chair she said,
"You're right, of course. In some ways, I suppose I have been like a
whore. I've certainly done things in order to get what I needed, what I
wanted, that, yes, I guess you could say I could be called a whore."
	She went on. "You are correct, and I want you to know it. You
should give up your nursing career and become a Private Eye. However, if
you are as sloppy with your nursing as you have been with this audit, well,
I pity your patients.
	"Yes, Ronald Smyth had to be taken out of the equation, and for
that to happen, something had to change between his daughter and Carter
Wilson. So Sam suggested a weekend hunting trip for the three of
them. Ronald loved the sport and every year went deer hunting. He went to
the same place, so it was easy to arrange a little mishap. How was anyone
to know that part of the frame supporting the deer blind had rotted out
during the past year? Such a shame, and to lose the head of a large oil
company and his most valued employee", she said.
	"And with Carter in the picture there wasn't room for Sam to
advance, I'm sure."
	"True, Mr. Davis, quite true. And even if Sam made it to the inside
circle and won over Ronald's daughter, well, it would never have worked out
with that woman still in the middle of the company."
	"You're speaking of Edith Baxter, I assume?"
	"I am. It would have been better for everyone if she had just taken
her baby and left town, but no, she had to hang around and mess up
everyone's lives, including her own child's."
	"Was a shame," Jonathan said.
	For a moment Agnes seemed to drift back in time. Then coming back
to the present, her eyes settled sharply on Jonathan's face, and she said,
"Yes, it is truly a shame, for everyone, but especially for you. You are
actually quite innocent here, and yet it's going to cost you the most."
	"What are you saying?"
	As Jonathan spoke the words, he took a deep breath. Was that smoke
he smelled?
	Agnes stepped away from the chair. "Let's go, Mr. Davis. There's
something I want you to see up stairs in the office."
	At least he was going to get out of the basement alive, Jonathan
thought.
	"Walk to the door, please," she told him. "You have a key to the
door, I take it? Please let us out."
	Pointing the gun at him, she stepped to the side and watched as
Jonathan stopped in front of the locked door.
	He removed the key from his pocket, and in another second had the
door opened. He was thinking about the door, wondering if he had time to
pull it shut behind him and lock it before she could shoot.
	Holding the key in his hand he walked through the door. As he
turned back, he said, "Oh, I do have one more question for you."
	"We can talk up"
	Before she could finish Jonathan slammed the door shut in her
face. Holding the door as tightly as he could with one hand, he pushed the
key back in the lock with the other and quickly turned the key. He heard
the lock click in place.
	Then the dim light in the stairwell went out, and blackness
surrounded Jonathan Davis.


<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<


	Jonathan came to with a start. He had no idea where he was, only
that his head hurt like hell and his eyes were burning. When he rubbed the
back of his head, he discovered a bump the size of a tennis ball. He
quickly pulled his hand away.
	"Shit," he cried out. The pain was intensified when he touched the
spot.
	Where he was, Jonathan had no idea. It was so dark that the only
thing he could tell was that he was still inside a building.
	He took a deep breath. He could smell smoke, and suddenly he
remembered where he was. He must still be in Sam Thompson's house. Agnes
had told him she had something for him to see upstairs in the office.
	Jonathan was sitting down. He stood to his feet, and when did, he
struck something hard in front of him. Reaching out with his hands, he
touched something smooth. Running his hands across the surface, he realized
it must be the Samuel Thompson's desk. He was in the office.
	Between the uncanny blackness and the room quickly filling with
smoke, he could see nothing. He tried to remember how the room was laid
out. If he was sitting behind Sam's desk, then he knew the door leading out
into the hall was directly in front of him.
	Jonathan carefully made his way around the desk and walked slowly
across the room. He tried to gauge his distance but ran into the wall
anyway. He reached out with his hands and slowly felt his way along the
wall. He came to the light switch and gave it a flip.
	Nothing happened. Agnes must have switched the breaker off.
	Next he felt for the door. When he found it, he gave the knob a
twist. Again, nothing happened. He tired shaking the door with all his
might, but he couldn't budge it.
	Jonathan leaned against the door trying to think. He coughed. The
smoke was definitely getting stronger inside the room. He made himself
remain calm as he thought over his options. He tried to remember if there
were any windows in the room, and if so, where they were located. He forced
his brain to remember how the office looked and what he had seen the few
times he had been inside searching the files.
	He thought he remembered two windows along the outside wall of the
room, one at each end. As he made his way back across the room, he realized
the smoke was getting stronger, making it harder for him to breathe. When
he found the wall, he reached out his right hand. Placing it along the
wall, he walked sideways until he felt some heavy material touch his
fingers. He felt instant relief knowing it had to be curtains he had found.
	Jonathan pushed the material away and discovered a window. Elated,
he reached to raise the glass. When he did, he discovered something he
hadn't noticed before. There were bars on the window.
	"Fuck," he cursed.
	Of course Sam wanted to keep anyone from getting in and finding out
what he had been up to for all those years.
	His heart sinking, Jonathan made his way to the other side of the
room. When his fingers touched material once again, he quickly pulled it
back. This time he didn't have to raise the window to see the bars. As with
the other window, the reinforced steel was there to remind him it was
impossible to escape.
	Jonathan raised the window. Even if he couldn't escape he could at
least get a little fresh air inside the room to help him breath.
	He stuck his head out as far as he could to see if anybody at all
had seen the smoke. Unfortunately the Thompson home was off the main
roadway and could not even be seen by the drivers that made their way up
and down the street each day.
	Suddenly there was a loud popping sound, causing Jonathan to cock
his head and listen. He knew there was a fire in the house. He just didn't
know where it was located. As he stood there listening, he thought he heard
the sound of flames as they licked at wood.
	There was a sudden thud and it sounded as if a wall had crumbled
somewhere inside the house. He heard a puffing sound come into the room,
and Jonathan realized the smoke was heavier. Wherever that wall had
crumbled, it was allowing smoke to come into the room, probably through the
heating vents.
	He searched his way back to the desk, hoping against hope the
telephone would still be in operation. When he found it, he placed the
receiver to his ear, and wasn't surprised to discover he was holding a dead
instrument.
	Evidentially Agnes Doughty had left no stone unturned. The woman
had thought of everything.
	Another loud crash sounded somewhere inside the house, and the
smoke became heavier.
	Jonathan made his way to one of the opened windows. He pressed his
nose against the screen, his skin touching the hard bars on the other
side. He took in a deep breath.
	"Help!" he called out. "Please help me."
	He listened, but there wasn't a sign that anybody was around, let
alone could hear him calling.
	"Help me," he called out again.
	Suddenly his head became really light headed, and breathing didn't
seem like an effort any longer. Jonathan slowly slide down the wall and lay
on the floor. He suddenly saw Lance's face.
	"God, I'm so sorry, Babe," he said. "I tried to help you. I tried,"
he repeated.
	The last thing Jonathan remembered was telling Lance he loved him.


End Part 16