Blind Betrayal

by Nancy Mehl

  Tony shrugged. “All I have is Casey’s message that the Feds showed up. At that point, she thought she was dealing with the real FBI.”

  “I worry that Mattan doesn’t need our deputies anymore. They’re a liability for him. Now that Bennett’s spilled her guts, he can’t allow them to live.”

  Tom got to his feet and paced the floor a couple of times. “I’m afraid you might be right. Al-Saud is known as a businessman, but in reality he’s a particularly bloodthirsty terrorist.”

  Tony frowned. “I don’t understand why Valerie Bennett isn’t already dead. Al-Saud doesn’t want her to testify. It would shine a light on his actions. America would stop all transactions if his terrorist ties were proven.”

  “Martin Avery says Mattan probably ordered her to lie. Tell the grand jury she made everything up.”

  “But why would she do that?”

  “I guess Al-Saud routinely threatens and even kidnaps family members as a way to control people. Avery thinks he may have snatched Bennett’s sister, Susan. The FBI is checking into that now. If she’s missing, they’ll start looking for her immediately.”

  Tony turned all this over in his head. “But why plant a bomb at our office in the first place? Wouldn’t it have been better just to let her go to D.C. with our deputies? This could have been so simple.”

  “I can only guess, but there was an incident in Turkey about a year ago where an explosion rocked a police station. The government suspects Al-Saud was behind it. The point of the bomb was to show the Turkish government they would never be safe from him. It was done as a warning.”

  “Like our bomb,” Tony said, nodding slowly. “Planned by Mattan to show Ms. Bennett he could get to the Marshals if he wanted to. It was a warning—that no one is safe from him.” Tony swallowed hard. “Wow, this guy is bold. And insane.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We need to find our deputies. Now.”

  Tom didn’t respond right away, and Tony knew it was because he was wondering, just like him, if they were already too late.

  “No leads at all on the place Batterson sent them?” Tony asked.

  “Not really. I did call Karen Abbott. She said Batterson mentioned a house once. She thinks it might have been in Ohio, but she just wasn’t sure. We’re running a check on the ex-wives’ names, looking for property. Hopefully—” His words were cut off by the ringing of his phone. He fished it out of his pocket and answered it. “Yes?” As he listened, an odd look came over his face. Finally he said, “Can you repeat that last part?” After a few seconds, he blew out the breath he’d been holding. “Okay, thanks for calling.” He listened a few more seconds before ending the call. “They found the house. Our witness and two of our deputies are gone.”

  “Two of our deputies?” Tony asked. “But there were three of them, including the guy from D.C.”

  “I’m aware of that. Casey and Queen are gone. Doug was left behind. He’s been shot. I—” Tom’s phone rang again, and he quickly answered it.

  Tony felt as if his heart had leapt into his throat. As Tom talked to their contact at the FBI, Tony walked out of the waiting room and past the nurses’ station. He took out his phone and tried Casey again. His call went straight to voicemail. Having no other options, he decided to leave a message. Since he knew Casey was being held by dangerous people, he was taking a chance, but at this point she was in more danger without the truth. Using as few words as possible, he told her everything. What Batterson had said and that the Feds they were with were probably Al-Saud’s men. “We need to know where you are, Casey,” he added. “Do something to let us know your location. I don’t care what you do, just help us find you.” Afterward he wondered if he’d made a mistake in leaving the voicemail. He had no idea who had her phone, but one thing he was certain of. There really wasn’t any other option. Chances were his message could either kill Casey—or save her.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Batterson felt like he was swimming through oil, trying to break through to the surface to where he could breathe again. The harder he fought, the thicker the oil became. Finally, with one violent push, he broke free. His eyes fluttered open, and he looked around. He was in the hospital. Little by little he began to remember talking to Tony. But where was he now?

  Batterson turned his head to see if anyone else was in the room, but mind-numbing pain shot through his skull. He tried to touch his head, but he couldn’t lift his hand all the way up to do so. Then he realized there was a needle in his arm. He noticed the bag hanging on a metal pole next to his bed. He was hooked up to an IV. He was thinking about pulling the needle out when a nurse approached his bedside. She looked to be in her forties. Black, frizzy hair. He didn’t remember seeing her before.

  “Can I get something for you, Mr. Batterson?”

  “Tony DeLuca. I need to see him.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy. His throat was dry and it hurt, but he had to talk to Tony again.

  “Is that the blond man who’s been here since you came in?”

  Tony had been here the whole time? “Yeah. . . . I mean, I suppose that’s him.”

  The nurse smiled. “I’d be happy to find him, but first I need to give you something.” She took a syringe out of her pocket.

  “I don’t . . . Please don’t give me anything that will make me sleepy,” Batterson said. “I need to stay awake.”

  “Sorry, but I have my orders.”

  Without meaning to, Batterson let loose with a string of profanity. When he saw the nurse’s face, he was embarrassed. “I’m sorry. . . .” He tried to read her nametag, but everything was blurry still and he couldn’t quite make it out.

  “Rachel,” she said.

  “I’m sorry, Rachel. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have unloaded on you.”

  “It’s all right.” She smiled again, but this time Batterson saw something in her bright green eyes that caused a frisson of alarm.

  “Where’s my doctor?” he croaked out. “I want to see him before you give me anything.”

  “This is something special.” The nurse leaned down closer to him. “This is from Ben Mattan. He says to tell you hello. And good-bye.”

  As she took his IV line in one hand and moved the syringe closer to it, Batterson reached over and swiped at the things on his tray. One of them, a metal bedpan, hit the floor with a loud crash. He tried to call out but was unable to.

  Just as the so-called nurse started to inject whatever was in the syringe into his IV, Tony rushed into the room. He grabbed the phony nurse and pulled her back. “What are you doing?”

  She twisted away and ran back to Batterson, holding the syringe out in front of her as if she planned to stab him any way she could. Tony seized her again and pushed her into a chair. Then he pulled his gun and pointed it at her.

  Behind him, Dr. Silver came into the room. “What on earth is going on here?”

  Tony gestured to the nurse with his gun. “She was trying to give him something. Is she one of yours?”

  “No, I’ve never seen her before and I didn’t order any new meds.” The doctor picked up the phone next to Batterson’s bed and punched in a number. “Send security to ICU now,” she ordered.

  Before Tony could stop her, the woman jabbed the syringe into her own leg. Tony tried to pull it out before all the liquid was injected, but by the time he grabbed it, the woman had stopped breathing.

  Tony straightened and turned to look at Batterson, who could hardly believe what had just happened.

  “Is she . . . dead?” he asked in a ragged whisper.

  Dr. Silver went over and put her fingers on the woman’s neck. She looked at Tony. “Whatever she gave herself was incredibly fast-acting. I can’t bring her back.”

  Tony walked up next to Batterson’s bed. “What happened, Chief?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. She said she was sent by someone named . . . Mattan. I think that was it. I’m a little fuzzy, Tony.”

  “Benyamin Mattan?” T
ony asked.

  “She . . . she mentioned Ben Mattan.” Batterson reached over and grabbed Tony’s arm. “She said he wanted to say hello. I think he might have been the man in the garage. The one who tried to kill me.”

  “I believe you’re right,” Tony said. “Tom Monnier was here just a little while ago. He mentioned this Mattan guy. He works for Ali Al-Saud.”

  Just then two security guards ran into the room. “Is everything okay?” one of them asked.

  Dr. Silver shook her head. “Hardly. This woman tried to murder my patient. When she failed, she killed herself.”

  The guards looked stunned. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Well, let’s get this woman out of here,” Dr. Silver said. She leaned in closer to read the deceased’s nametag. She gasped. “This is Rachel Tipton’s badge. And her uniform.” She spun around to face the security guards. “We need to find the real Rachel. I pray she’s okay.” She looked over at Tony. “What happens next?”

  “Call the police first,” Tony said. “I’ll let the FBI know what’s going on. They’ll probably take over the investigation, but let’s do this by the book.”

  Dr. Silver nodded. “Notify the police,” she told the guards, “and tell them what happened here. And let them know Rachel Tipton may be missing. Start a search for her. Then tell the nurses at the station to get a gurney in here right away so we can remove this body.”

  One of the guards frowned. “The police won’t want the crime scene disturbed. . . .”

  Dr. Silver put one hand on her hip and glared at her. “This is the ICU. We’re not going to leave a dead body in one of our rooms, nor are we going to allow the police to disturb our critically ill patients. We saw exactly what happened so we can give them all the testimony they’ll need. I’ll take full responsibility.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the guard said. She hurried out of the room, the other guard following close behind her.

  “Actually, they might be right,” Tony said.

  “I don’t care.” Dr. Silver pressed the nurse’s call button on Batterson’s bed. She smiled at him. “I’m guessing you’d like something for your throat?”

  Batterson tried to return her smile, but even that made him tired. “Yeah, I’m really thirsty. Could I have a glass of water?”

  The doctor shook her head. “Not yet. How about some ice chips?”

  He nodded. At that moment, ice chips sounded like heaven. He guessed the doctors must have put something down his throat. He looked up at a clock on the wall, which said 3:40. So it was 3:40 on Tuesday morning? His deputies and the deputy from D.C. had been out there for over twelve hours. Were they safe?

  Another nurse stepped into the room. The doctor directed her to get a cup of ice chips. As she turned and left the room, Batterson motioned for Tony to come closer to his bed. His body felt so weak, and his eyes wanted to close, but he fought the urge to nod off.

  “Hey, Chief,” Tony said. “How are you doing?”

  “What’s wrong?” Batterson asked.

  “I . . . I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yeah, you do.”

  Tony cleared his throat. “I know the missing nurse. I’m just worried about her.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I hope she’s all right.”

  “I do too.”

  “Tony . . . where are my deputies? Where are Casey and Doug?”

  “They’re escorting our witness to D.C., Chief. You know that.”

  Though Tony’s expression didn’t reveal anything, he sniffed. His eyes widened as soon as it happened. Tony’s tell. Whenever he wasn’t being completely honest, he sniffed. Batterson had never told him about it, but by Tony’s reaction, it was obvious someone else must have pointed it out.

  “You want to try that again?” Batterson asked.

  “Look, Chief, you need to concentrate on getting better. We’re taking care of things. It’ll be fine. Really.”

  “Yeah, I noticed how well you’re taking care of things. That nut almost killed me.”

  “It won’t happen again. We’ve had someone watching you since you got here. I was on assignment tonight. I’m sorry—somehow she slipped past me. I have no idea how she did it.”

  Batterson grunted. The last thing he wanted to do was to criticize Tony. If he wasn’t so drugged up, he’d be able to control himself better.

  “I’m not dead, DeLuca,” he growled. “You did a great job, and as long as I’m alive, I’m still in charge. Quit trying to protect me.”

  At that moment, the nurse entered with a cup of ice chips in her hand, which she gave to the doctor. Dr. Silver walked over to the bed and scooped out some of the chips with a spoon, carefully lowering them to Batterson’s lips. When the chips hit his throat, Batterson felt like shouting hallelujah. After a few more spoonfuls, he pushed the doctor’s hand away.

  “Thanks, Doc,” he said, “but now I need to talk to my deputy.”

  Before she could reply, one of the guards came back into the room. Batterson knew by his expression the news wasn’t good. He looked over at Tony. He was stoic, yet the look in his eyes made Batterson’s heart drop.

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Silver,” the guard said. “We just found Rachel’s body in a supply room. She’s . . . dead.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-FIVE

  A few minutes later, two nurses arrived with a gurney. They covered the phony nurse’s body with a sheet and rolled her out.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Doc,” Batterson said, straining his voice by speaking as loudly as he could. “I’d like some time alone with Deputy DeLuca. It’s very important. More important than I can stress right now.”

  Dr. Silver leaned over the bed. “You’re getting a little rambunctious. I think there’s been enough drama in here for a while, don’t you? This is the ICU. We have people here who are very, very ill.”

  Batterson didn’t want to make things difficult for her, but if he had to . . . well, he’d do whatever it took to protect his deputies. “Sorry, Doc, but I need to know what’s going on with my people. You’re gonna have to let me do my job. Lives depend on it.”

  He saw the hesitation on her face. “I’ll give you ten minutes,” she said finally. “Then I’m throwing your brother out.” She locked eyes with him. “You may be in charge at the Marshals Office, but I’m the law around here.”

  Batterson started to argue, but he recognized that look. It was like staring into a mirror. Arguing with her wasn’t going to result in anything good. Especially now. “Okay,” he agreed. “Ten minutes. Now, would you excuse us, Nurse Ratched?”

  “That’s Dr. Ratched to you, Mr. Batterson.” The doctor glared at Tony. “Ten minutes,” she repeated before leaving the room.

  “Maybe you should let up on her a bit,” Tony said. “One of her colleagues was just murdered.”

  “I understand that, Tony, but she’s a professional. She needs to stay focused, and she needs someone like me to challenge her. Trust me, it will help her more than pity. Besides, I don’t want to experience the same thing she’s going through. Now quit stalling—tell me what’s going on. All of it.”

  With a sigh, Tony pulled a chair up to the bedside and sat down. “Like I said, we think the man who attacked you was working for Ali Al-Saud. His name is Benyamin Mattan.”

  “But Ms. Bennett is testifying against Senator Warren. How do you know he’s not behind this?”

  “Because he’s dead. He killed himself.”

  Batterson tried to shift his position a little. His back hurt. “Are you sure it was suicide?”

  “Yeah. There’s no evidence of anyone else being there. A note was left for his wife. Although he didn’t mention Al-Saud, it was obvious she was in danger. He died to take the heat off her, I guess.”

  “Okay, so why did they come after us . . . after me?”

  Tony shook his head. “You’re asking me things I’m not sure about, but Tom and I think it was done as a warning to Ms. Bennett. They wanted to prove they could get to
us, that no one could keep her safe. I don’t think they planned to kill you at the outset.”

  Batterson grunted. “I know exactly why they wanted me dead.”

  Tony scooted his chair a little closer. “You do?”

  Batterson nodded. “Did you happen to notice the maintenance man in the building not long before the blast?”

  “No, but it sounds like you did.”

  “I practically ran into him. I realize now he was trying not to be seen. Our encounter was an accident.”

  “The maintenance man was Mattan, and he planted the bomb.”

  “Right,” Batterson said. “He was also the paramedic who tried to kill me. He might not have cared originally if I lived or died, but once he realized I recognized him, he decided he couldn’t risk it.”

  “He had to get rid of you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure that’s it.”

  “If you were able to identify him, it could have exposed Al-Saud. That’s something he couldn’t afford.” Tony frowned. “Do you remember him hitting you?”

  Batterson nodded. “And there was something else . . .” He tried to pull up a memory that evaded him.

  “He injected you.”

  “That’s it. I felt a sting in my hip.” Batterson studied Tony. “What was it?”

  “Epinephrine.”

  “For allergies?”

  Tony nodded. “Only Mattan used a larger dose on you, Chief, like for cardiac patients. It should have killed you, should have stopped your heart. When you came into the hospital, your heartbeat was incredibly fast and uneven, but no one knew why. They assumed it was because of your injuries.”

  Batterson’s eyebrows knit together as he stared at Tony. “The doctors told you all this?”

  “Not completely. I . . . I found you and called for an ambulance. Then I went with you to the hospital.”

  “Now, why in the world would you do that?”