Her heart beat faster as she scanned the man for weapons. All he had was an ASP baton on his belt, but he was fit and muscular. She knew she’d have to act decisively.
Just as she started to squeeze past the uniformed corrections officer, he stood up to give her more room. She liked good manners.
He smiled and said, “Can you manage okay?” He made sure she got a good look at his biceps as he held up his hands to let her pass.
She nodded and said, “Aren’t you nice.” Alex noted his relaxed demeanor. Perfect.
When the gurney was past him and she was inches from the officer, she pulled a Taser from under the sheet on the gurney.
The guard stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing.
Alex jerked the trigger and fired the weapon before he had worked out what was in her hand. The two tiny darts that carried the charge lodged in his neck and chin. He tried to reach up, but the charge came too fast and too strong.
He made a short gurgling sound Alex could just hear over the crackle of the Taser, sending the electrical current coursing through his body.
After a moment, he dropped right across the gurney.
Alex calmly stepped forward and jabbed him in the neck with a hypodermic needle filled with a relatively small dose of ketamine. He’d be out for twenty minutes.
It was easy to push him the rest of the way onto the gurney. There were only a couple of pillows underneath the sheet.
Then she turned the handle to the gunman’s room and was inside in an instant. The door banged open as she dragged the gurney into the room.
Alex glanced at her watch. Two minutes had gone by since she started pushing the empty gurney. She was well within her time frame. She took a breath to keep calm and centered, then turned toward the bed.
The Dominican gunman was about thirty and had both his arms strapped to the side of the bed. A plastic oxygen mask clung tightly to his face. He looked over, and, for a moment, appeared hopeful. He must’ve thought it was a rescue attempt.
She stepped across the room with another hypodermic needle in her hand. This one she had filled with a homemade concoction that included sedatives and cyanide. Fast and absolute. Like the judgment of God.
The gunman’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t say a word.
Alex said, “I am very sorry to have to do this. I can’t risk what you might say when you recover.” She injected the solution into his IV bag.
The young man knew exactly what she was doing. He started to thrash in the bed and make a mewing sound underneath the oxygen mask. She watched the milky white substance quickly work its way through the tubes and into the man’s arm.
Alex patted his forehead and brushed his hair with her fingers, trying to keep him calm. She softly said, “It’s okay. Just calm down.”
In less than a minute, he had stopped thrashing, lulled into a stupor, then his breathing stopped altogether.
On her way out of the room, Alex turned the corrections officer’s head to make sure he had an open windpipe. He was breathing regularly, and his pulse was strong.
All in less than three and a half minutes.
Chapter 17
Alex kept the surgical mask on as she hurried out of the room. The corrections officer didn’t move. She’d remember that dose of ketamine.
As Alex reached the end of the hallway, the elevator directly in front of her opened. She was surprised to see another uniformed corrections officer with a pistol in a holster on his hip.
This guy was taller and older than the corrections officer she had just dealt with. That might mean he had more experience and common sense. He smiled at her, then looked down the hallway.
She held her breath.
The corrections officer looked right at Alex and said, “Where’s the officer who’s supposed to be guarding that room?” He had a hint of annoyance in his voice.
Alex stayed very calm and said with authority, “He followed a doctor and the patient down to the CAT scan room.”
She stayed right in front of him, hoping he bought her story. She casually reached behind her back and gripped the Taser, tucked into the pants she was wearing beneath the surgical scrubs. It would be a little messy to Taser this officer right in front of the elevator. But she’d do it.
Then she had an idea.
Alex said, “Come with me, and I’ll show you exactly where they went.” She waited for his response. If he hesitated too long, she would just use her Taser. It was either that or her stiletto into his brain. She didn’t really want to spend the time on either option.
The corrections officer said, “They should’ve told me. But okay, I guess it’s no big deal if I meet them in the CAT scan room.”
She stepped onto the elevator with him.
He wasted no time in asking, “What’s your name?”
She was ready to answer. “Nancy Gorant.” Her reconnaissance had included finding a nurse that was about her height with similar hair. It would muddy the waters later.
“How long have you worked here, Nancy?”
Alex knew to say, “A little over four years.”
When the elevator opened on the main floor, she pointed in the opposite direction from where she was headed and told the officer, “The CAT scan room is all the way down this hallway, then take a left and go to the end of that hallway. You should see it on your right at the very end.”
Alex watched him walk away in the direction she had pointed. Her plan had worked.
She left her mask on and exited by the main door. No one would get a clear view of her face.
They wouldn’t be able to see the smile underneath the surgical mask as the feeling of satisfaction swept over her.
Chapter 18
Returning home was trickier than I expected. I was greeted by the combined force of Mary Catherine’s and my grandfather’s anger over my foolish idea to drive all the way to Buffalo while I was still recovering.
The doctor was mildly annoyed, but she seemed like a doctor used to dealing with stubborn cops.
It was all worth it to see Brian and ease my mind. Even if only temporarily.
Now I was ready to spend an extra couple of days with the family, who seemed to like having me around during the day.
Chrissy, the youngest, still liked to lay her head on my lap while I read to her or she watched TV. Shawna, a year older, was content to just hang near me. I liked that.
Trent and Eddie tested my ability to play rough. They quickly realized I was more fragile than usual when a stitched wound on my stomach started to leak blood. The wrestling match ended quickly, but I appreciated that my boys still enjoyed roughhousing with me.
The twins, Fiona and Bridget, were involved in a project on the dining-room table. It was some kind of quilt that Bridget had started, but she had quickly gotten in over her head. Mary Catherine rescued her and recruited Fiona to help her finish.
Ricky enjoyed making me special lunches that always had a decidedly Cajun flair. For a kid who’d been raised in New York City, Ricky knew his way around jambalaya and gumbo. If you would’ve told me one of my kids would get upset because he couldn’t find fresh okra in the city, I would have thought you were crazy.
But I had slowly reconciled myself to the fact that both Jane and Juliana, my pretty teenage girls, had their own lives. All I asked was that they remain good students and study during the week so that they would have time to go out on weekends.
Juliana had been sitting quietly in the recliner at the end of the couch, petting our cat, Socky. I could sense that she was waiting for a chance to talk with me without an extra set of ears around.
Her long dark hair twisted over her shoulder and made me realize just how beautiful she was. When we adopted her, she was only two months old, and even when she was just a toddler, her bright brown eyes and brilliant smile always lit up a room when she walked in.
I stood up, gently nudging Chrissy to the side. I said to her and Shawna, “You can watch TV for thirty
minutes.”
Chrissy’s eyes lit up. “Anything we want?”
“Within reason. If you’re going to go off our usual routine of TLC or public TV, try sticking to a cartoon or something that won’t make you stay up at night.” I knew that would be enough to hold these two in place.
I caught Juliana’s eye and motioned her out to the balcony.
It felt good to step out into the fresh air. The wound on my head was healing, and the cool breeze on my face made it feel better. I wrapped an arm around Juliana. Holding my daughter near reminded me of her mother.
Maeve had built this family. There was no way I would ever let it fall apart.
I started the conversation. “I know you want to talk to me about your TV job. And I want to say how proud I am of you and how lucky that producer is for having found you.”
Her smile was enough reward for holding back my five hundred questions. She wrapped an arm around me and gave me a quick hug.
Juliana said, “Thanks, Dad. With everything that’s going on I was worried what you thought about it.”
“I heard about your audition. They picked you out of two hundred young actresses.”
“I did the audition on a whim. I couldn’t believe they picked me. All the filming will be in Brooklyn, and it won’t interfere with school in any way.”
“You know I’m going to be visiting the set, right?”
“Come on, Dad. It’s not like I’m a baby.”
“You’re my baby.”
“So I’ll be the only member of the cast who has a chaperone?”
“I don’t know about that.”
She looked at me, thinking I meant I wouldn’t be visiting the set. Instead I said, “Maybe other cast members will have chaperones as well.”
You can’t always be the fun dad.
Chapter 19
No matter how annoyed my children might be with me, it was a rule that we eat dinner together as a family every night. We were lucky to have an excellent chef in Mary Catherine, and recently she had been assisted by Ricky.
Tonight Ricky had shown her how to make a lovely lasagna. I could tell who had made the dinner before they said anything. Mary Catherine focused on meat and potatoes, reflecting her Irish upbringing, while Ricky was developing a talent for seasonings. It was a miracle that I didn’t weigh six hundred pounds.
The other family tradition was my grandfather’s grace before every meal. He had a knack for hitting just the right tone and subject. He spent his days as an administrator at Holy Name, but occasionally he would deliver a sermon, and there were few priests who could match him—though I would never flatter him by saying so.
We all joined hands around the long table, which held an empty chair for Brian. He would stay in Buffalo for at least another few weeks, and I planned to visit regularly.
Seamus started the prayer. “Dear Heavenly Father, thank you for this wonderful meal. Thank you for letting us all be here together. Thank you for looking after Michael on his dangerous job and safely bringing him back to us once again.
“Please protect our Brian as he recovers from his injuries. And dear Lord, please look after our beautiful Juliana on her grand adventure.”
Everyone mumbled, “Amen.”
When I raised my eyes, I saw that Juliana was smiling broadly at her great-grandfather. When you’re one of ten children, any extra attention is a big deal.
When she looked across to me, her face returned to a scowl. I understood that. Someone had to be the tough guy.
Sitting next to Juliana, her sister Jane had her back and gave me a similar look. Why not? Whatever they could talk me into letting Juliana do, Jane would be able to get away with soon as well.
At least the acting gig was scheduled around her school and counted toward a course in acting.
I avoided the silent confrontation by looking at Seamus and saying, “Anything big going on at Holy Name? Have to perform any exorcisms? Anything unusual?”
Being a subversive himself, Seamus rarely reacted when I prodded him. As he had often told me, I was a good person, if not necessarily always a good Catholic. That was the important thing.
He said, “Now that you mention it, I do have a new assignment along with all my other duties.”
Mary Catherine said, “What’s that?”
Seamus said, “I’m mentoring a new priest at the church. He was transferred from Bogotá, Colombia. He’s green, but he has some interesting ideas about handling the kids. And I like being able to shape people’s attitudes when they’re new to the priesthood.”
He looked across the table as if challenging me to comment. I refrained from saying how much he liked shaping people’s attitudes about everything.
Chapter 20
Alex Martinez was tired of wasting time on the cop. These big jobs with multiple hits could be draining. She didn’t like juggling hits like this, but she was in it for the money, and this job paid well.
Taking a break from Bennett, she focused on another hit. One of the Canadians she’d been hired to deal with was back in town. She’d spent the day understanding where he went and what he liked to do. There wasn’t much planning to this particular job.
Alain Coush was a young French Canadian in his early thirties who lived just outside Quebec. During the day he wore shorts and sleeveless T-shirts, obviously trying to show off what weights and a decent amount of steroids had done for him.
But now, out on the town for the evening, he looked more like a character out of a 1980s comedy. His shirt was open at least three buttons, and he wore several thick gold chains. He didn’t appear to be as interested in his job as she was in hers. If he really had been brought to New York to scare some of the Mexican cartel members, Alex would’ve expected him to do some surveillance of his own. Instead he just looked like he was trying to meet women.
She hated a poor work ethic.
He had driven a rented Ford Mustang from the hotel across town to this Irish pub almost two hours earlier. Alex had watched him park two blocks away and followed him at a discreet distance to the pub.
As she passed his car, with her target more than a block ahead, she casually stuck a toothpick in the driver’s-side door lock, then broke it off.
She entered the pub about ten minutes after he did.
Again, she was not impressed with his work ethic or his self-preservation skills. He sat down with a group of his friends and started drinking dark ale and eating potato skins and fried chicken wings. It was a happy bunch, and no one noticed her sitting by herself at the end of the bar, pretending to be engrossed in her phone.
When she sensed that the party was about to break up, she slipped out the door a few minutes before he did. She knew where he was headed. She was good at her job. Even if he wasn’t.
She had uncovered a few rumors about the burly Alain. He was known to be a little rough and crude with his victims. He didn’t seem to care if they were male or female. He was the kind of guy who may have enjoyed his work a little too much. There was no art in it for him.
Alex watched him come down the street, then casually fell in behind him. Everything was in position. Even the street was empty of pedestrians. That was the sort of thing you couldn’t plan for. She just needed him to hold still for about three seconds, then she could do what she needed to do.
It felt good to be active, not worrying about what happened to the cop, Bennett. No matter what happened tonight, she had a flight booked for Colombia in the morning. She needed to get home to her ranch and people she could trust. She could always come back later and finish up the rest of her contracts with the cartel.
She reached into her purse and felt the small Kahr 9mm pistol. It was either that or a stiletto on jobs like this. It depended on the target. This guy was tough, and a gun was the safer choice.
The French Canadian was almost to his Mustang. She kept walking at a normal pace as he came up to his car and tried to insert the key into the driver’s-side lock.
Breaking off a toot
hpick in a lock was an effective old trick.
It drew all his attention and held him in place. Alex heard him curse under his breath as he tried to force the key into the lock.
When he glanced up and saw her standing there, he still wasn’t alarmed. Idiot.
He gave her a smile and said, “Hello there.”
She could barely make out his accent as he spoke in English.
“Hello yourself.”
“Aren’t you the pretty one.”
Alex knew those were the last words he’d ever utter. She silently raised the pistol and sighted down the barrel. The two 9mm rounds slipped through the barrel and silencer with just a popping sound. Both rounds hit her target in the face, and he dropped to the sidewalk without a sound.
She walked past him, glancing down to make sure the shots were as devastating as she thought. Blood leaked out of the two holes in the Canadian’s face on the sidewalk. One was in his cheek, and one was just above his left eye.
She took a quick photograph as proof that he was dead and was on her way. One more contract closed, and now she could think about how she would get to the airport in the morning.
Those were the kinds of problems she liked.
Chapter 21
I had to make myself useful if I was just going to be around the house, so I let Mary Catherine sleep in and managed to feed all the children and get them to Holy Name on time. Even the principal, Sister Sheilah, seemed to be happy with my performance. Believe me, that had not happened often in my life. I sometimes had the feeling that I was her white whale. The one that had gotten away. She had tried to break me as a child, and sometimes it felt like she was trying to break me as an adult.
But the kids liked her. Sure, she was tough and a disciplinarian, but there was something about the way she made things run and how she treated the kids that made her almost lovable to them. The conspiracy theorist in me made me think it was just another way to get to me. Make my kids love her so that it annoyed me. My grandfather was the only one I liked to share those theories with.
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