Father Dick helped Harry up, slightly shaken, but fully aware that this man who just bolted out of the room was surely no holy man.
As the police and the agent entered the room, Harry shouted, “Block all the exits, alert the men to be on their toes for anyone trying to leave the hospital, anyone.”
Two uniformed Boston policemen assumed their guard outside Ahmad’s room while Father Dick and Father O’Malley were still in shock at what had just happened.
“No one enters this room, no one, until I say so.” Harry barked.
The other FBI agent was on his walkie-talkie instructing all men to block all exits as the manhunt began for Talon. Talon headed for a staircase and ran down to the lower floor of the hospital, the area where emergency vehicles arrived. As he ran, he also removed his disguise. First, the robe which was difficult to run with, then the turban and beard, tossing these into a hospital laundry cart near the entry door to the emergency area. Spotting a door marked Employees Only, Talon entered and found himself in a locker room. Grabbing a white lab coat, a clipboard, and a stethoscope hanging on an open locker room door, he exited and headed toward a door leading to a ramp near the ambulance area.
Harry reached the lower floor and spotted Talon at the end of the hallway and yelled for him to stop. Talon turned and fired at Harry, hitting him in the shoulder. Harry staggered but kept his balance and drew his own gun and, before he could return the fire, Talon was out the door. Talon raced down into the hospital’s laundry area, adjacent to another staircase leading to the parking garage where laundry delivery trucks loaded and unloaded linen for the hospital. As he raced outside, Talon fired at a driver who immediately abandoned his truck and ran for cover. Talon jumped into the van and sped toward the exit to the garage. Harry bolted from the doorway, one arm hanging from the recent gunshot, and fired directly at Talon through the windshield of the vehicle, striking Talon in the head and causing the van to crash against a cement wall, bursting into flames. Within a moment, Harry collapsed to the ground as other police arrived. Hospital attendants nearby quickly placed Harry on a gurney and emergency assistants attempted to apply pressure to Harry’s wound. Luckily, the bullet had entered and exited without hitting a bone or major artery.
Two hours later, Harry was discharged from the hospital, his left arm comforted by a sling. Before leaving, he placed a call to Chief Anderson in Medway to tell him about Talon’s death but that others were still at large.
Anderson informed Harry that the rental car they had been looking for had been found in a parking lot with the body of what appeared to be an Arab in the trunk of the vehicle.
“That leaves two at large, what’s going on at your end?” Harry inquired.
“Nothing much, just two Interpol guys who were also on the Arabs trail from Europe where these guys are suspected in other murders.”
“I should be in Medway tomorrow morning, Chief, but for now I think I’d better take the night off,” Harry moaned. “You’ve got my car phone number and you can also reach me at my home number in Providence.”
CHAPTER 25
Harry, having been discharged from Mass. General, got a lift from another agent who agreed to drive his car for him back to Providence. Before leaving, however, he made a visit to Queen Farah to inform her that Talon had been killed in a failed attempt to get to the king. The queen was extremely thankful to Harry and she uncontrollably hugged him for what felt like an eternity to Harry, not to mention the pain it brought to his wounded arm. She would tell the king immediately upon his awakening which was expected later during the day and she expressed to Harry how the king himself would want to thank him personally at some later date. Harry quickly pointed out that there were still two other assassins still not found and that the king was not out of danger yet. Security in and around the king’s hospital room would be increased for as long as necessary. Father Dick also expressed his thanks to Harry as he was accompanying Françoise to Ahmad’s room. Father O’Malley was still stunned at what had just transpired.
If the other two assassins were targeting Ahmad and not Bob Elliott, Harry realized that the danger to Ahmad was far from over.
Harry arrived home at five in the afternoon and was looking forward to unwinding as he made himself a dry Southern Comfort Manhattan and, as he kicked off his shoes and undid his bloodied necktie, he picked up the phone and called Jim Howard to let him know what had happened. Jim offered to stop in for a visit, but Harry was suddenly feeling the effects of his wound and the painkillers that the hospital had administered and felt in no mood for visitors. Howard understood and said he would catch up with Harry in a day or so.
As he let himself get totally relaxed as he sipped his drink ever so slowly, Harry suddenly jumped up, as if an alarm had just gone off.
“Interpol, how does Interpol know that the two assassins are in Medway?”
Harry raced to the phone and dialed the Providence office.
“This is Harry Esten—put me through to the Interpol office in Germany. This is very important.”
In what appeared to be ten minutes of silence on the other end of the receiver, but in fact was less than a minute, a voice in a German accent answered on the other end.
“Interpol, how may I direct your call?”
“My name is Harry Esten, FBI badge number three-two-six-seven from Providence, Rhode Island, in the United States and I must speak to whoever’s in charge, please.”
Within seconds, Gerhard Schmidt came on the line and inquired how he could be of service.
“You have two agents now in the US in pursuit of Fajid Singh and Abou Ben Habib, also known as Muhammad DeSai.” Harry carefully pronounced the names as best he could. He then told Schmidt the names of the two Interpol agents in Medway.
Schmidt was puzzled. “We don’t have any agents in the US. Our agents travel mostly throughout Europe and seldom leave the continent and we don’t have agents by those names anyway.”
Harry hung up the phone, waited a few seconds, then picked up the receiver to get a dial tone. He tried to enter the Medway police telephone so fast that he fumbled it a few times until finally hearing the ring at the other end. When he asked to speak to Chief Anderson, the operator indicated that he was not in.
“Pass me through to one of the squad cars at the Elliott house.”
“Sergeant Turcotte, here.”
“I need to speak to Chief Anderson, this is FBI agent Harry Esten, this is urgent.”
“The Chief is heading up the walk to the Elliott house right now,” Turcotte answered.
“Is anyone else with him?” Harry shouted.
“Yep, those two Interpol guys.”
“Stop them now, now, do you hear me?”
“Chief, FBI agent Esten is on the line, says it’s urgent.”
Turning briefly to the two agents, Anderson shrugged. “Hold on, fellas, I’ve got to take this call.”
Singh grabbed Anderson’s shoulder and, as he did, Anderson could feel the barrel of a gun against his back. “I don’t think so, Chief. I think you want to be calm right now and tell your officer that you’ll get back to the FBI in a couple of minutes. We have someone inside we need to meet first.” Singh grabbed Anderson’s gun from his holster as he spoke.
“What the hell, oh shit, you guys aren’t Interpol are you?”
“Eddie, tell Agent Esten I’m busy on a two-four-six and I’ll get back to him.”
“Two-four-six, two-four-six, what’s he saying, that’s ‘in pursuit of a suspect, armed and dangerous.’”
Sergeant Turcotte reacted immediately, drew his pistol and shielded himself behind his squad car as he shouted, “Stop right there assholes, all of you, and lay your weapons on the ground right now, do it now!”
Singh held Anderson in front of him with his gun now pointed to Anderson’s head as they back peddled toward the Elliott front door. Bob Elliott heard the commotion outside as he was pouring a cup of coffee for Sergeant Miller, after Miller had delivered the mail a fe
w minutes earlier. It dawned on Bob that no one had seen Miller enter the house as he had done so by the patio entrance in the rear of the house where another patrolman was stationed.
The knock on the door was followed by a weak shout from Anderson, “Bob, it’s Chief Anderson, I have a few questions for you.”
Bob rushed the rest of the family upstairs and told them to get into the bedroom and to lock the doors behind them as they entered. He tried not to sound alarmed but the look on his face gave it away. As the family rushed upstairs, Miller drew his gun and Bob told him to hide in the hallway closet until he could see what was happening.
“Come on in, Chief, the door’s unlocked.”
As the three entered the house, Singh still had his arm around Anderson and the henchman was right behind them.
Bob headed through the living room and into the dining room. Singh whacked Anderson over the head with the butt of his gun and fired a shot at Bob, narrowly missing him. As he ran after Bob, Miller jumped out from behind the closet door and pointed his gun directly at the henchman who was startled to see him appear out of nowhere. The henchman tried to fire at Miller, but Miller shot three times in his direction, hitting him twice in the chest as he fell to the floor. Singh spun around momentarily to see what had just happened and saw the henchman fall. He continued his pursuit toward the dining room which led to the kitchen area. As he rounded the corner from the living room to the dining room, he never knew what hit him. Bob Elliott laced a solid baseball bat to Singh’s head, his gun going off skyward shooting wildly at the ceiling. Bob’s next blow knocked the gun from Singh’s hand and, as quick as a flash, Miller appeared pointing his gun at Singh as he kicked Singh’s gun away from his body. Singh was holding his head which was bleeding profusely and Miller called outside for medical help from Sergeant Turcotte.
Within seconds, ambulances arrived and the house was swarming with police. Bob rushed upstairs once he realized that Singh’s stray shots had gone through the ceiling where the bedrooms were located. Luckily, the family had locked themselves in a rear bedroom far away from the gunfire.
CHAPTER 26
There are always more visitors at hospitals on a Sunday, but the security outside Ahmad’s room had now been lessened with the capture of the two remaining assailants. Françoise was by his side when Ahmad finally awoke from the sedation following the transplant surgery.
“Hello, my husband,” Françoise gently spoke with a broad smile on her face, “I trust you slept well. Everything went well with the surgery and, in time, you also will be well again.”
“I am happy to see you again, especially on this day rather than in the next life, my queen,” Ahmad quietly responded as the two held each other’s hands warmly.
“There is more good news. Your cousin Answa is dead and his associates have been captured and arrested by the F.B.I. when they tried to kill my son, Robert Elliott, in Medway, Massachusetts late yesterday. The authorities are questioning Singh to make certain that there are no others seeking to kill you or Robert. I think the nightmare is over, Ahmad.”
“You will not be at peace, Françoise, until you face this Robert Elliott and try to explain why you abandoned him so many years ago. A child has a right to know how a mother could do this to her sons. He must want to know you if you are ever to get over the guilt feeling you now have. I will always be there for you, and for your son also, but you must go to him, my love; you must do this now while we are here.”
“Richard has told me that Robert was not happy to meet him and that we had no right to endanger his family. I fear that my visit to him will be no different but, as always my dear husband, you are correct, I must face my son.”
At that moment, Father Dick entered the room and Ahmad immediately knew who he was, even though they had never met. Françoise was about to introduce him to Ahmad when Ahmad interjected, “and I take it that this is your long lost priest of many years ago?”
“Your Highness, I am Father Richard Merrill and I am very pleased to meet you. Françoise has told me so much about you.”
“I wish I could say that Françoise has told me a great deal about you as well, Father Merrill, but, then again, she really does not know that much about you, does she?”
“That is quite true, Your Highness. A brief encounter thirty-six years ago doesn’t say much about who I really am, does it?” he echoed.
“Françoise tells me that, without your help and the people you confided in, I might not have been here today. That does tell me the kind of man you are and I thank you for that. We will talk more later, but for now, Françoise has somewhere she needs to be, and I am tired and need to rest more.”
Father Dick understood perfectly and left the telephone number and address where he could be reached in Lincoln. Françoise led Father Dick out and she again thanked him for all his help as she hugged him tightly for several seconds.
It was sunny that afternoon as Father Dick got in his car and headed back to Rhode Island. For the first time in over a week, he felt some sense of relief that some of this burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He would, of course, arrange for a meeting with the bishop of the Providence diocese to explain the events leading to the development of his sudden fatherhood. The bishop’s guidance on how to handle a priest’s son was something he would need assistance with.
CHAPTER 27
The limousine pulled up to Tiffany Lane in Medway and a policeman stepped out of his cruiser to see who was parking in front of Bob Elliott’s home. The driver got out of the limo, walked around the car, and opened the rear passenger door where Françoise stepped out. She was dressed in her formal regal attire and stood erect to greet the officer. Once she explained who she was and the purpose of her visit, the police officer walked up the front walk and rang the doorbell.
“Hi, Bob, you’ve got a visitor. A Queen Farah of Khatamori. She said you would know what it’s about.”
“Thanks, Stan; I do know what it’s about. Have her come up, would you,” Bob stated with a concerned look.
The fifty feet up that walk felt like Françoise’s longest as she nervously approached the image before her. Her heart pounded and tears streamed down her cheek as she faced her son, the child she had abandoned because she did not know any better over thirty-five years earlier. If only she could turn back time and relive that moment at the orphanage when she relinquished her rights to both sons. It was because of her that Charles Larouche was dead and because of her that Bob Elliott had been in danger of losing his own life.
“Hello, I’m Bob, would you like to come inside?” Bob spoke as he extended his right hand in a warm greeting as he noticed the tears streaming down her face.
“I am Queen Farah from Khatamori and formerly Françoise Dupont from Paris, France and, most importantly, your birth mother who made a very stupid decision so many years ago.”
“Please, come inside, you should meet the rest of my family and we can talk.”
This was not the same Bob Elliott who had earlier been less than courteous to Father Dick. As the events of the weekend became clearer to him, and as he spoke with his parents about the adoption and the years of financial support that followed, Bob realized that Françoise had been wise enough back then to seek help from the orphanage, even though he still remained confused on having been abandoned. Carl and Judy, his adopted parents, also felt remorse for Françoise and the need for Bob to meet his natural parents, whatever the circumstances.
The greetings from Bob’s parents were genuinely warm as they also were pleased to finally meet the very generous person who cared enough about her son to assure that he was financially secure in his adoptive surroundings throughout his youthful years. Françoise also seemed to hold a special feeling towards Carl and Judy as she expressed the gratitude toward them for raising such a fine son, a responsibility that should have been hers. Bob’s wife, Julie, also greeted Françoise with a tender smile as she asked her to sit in the living room nearby. Ben found all of this quite fascinatin
g.
“I want to thank you for allowing me into your home, Robert, it is something that I should have done years ago and, perhaps, your brother, Charles, would still be alive today and someone you should have known. I have never seen him myself and it is now God’s will that we will only meet in Heaven. Please try not to judge me too quickly. I was alone, without much money, and desperate to do the right thing so many years ago in Paris. There was no way I could care for both of you and the orphanage was kind enough to help me when no one else could or would. When the years passed and I met my husband, Ahmad, I made sure that your parents had enough to raise you well. I did the same for Charles’ parents even though I knew that this was only a way for me to hide behind my guilt in having abandoned you to begin with. I see now that you are all that a mother could ask for and I’m certain Charles was as well.”
Françoise went on. “As a queen who has many loyal people who depend on her for guidance and help, I buried myself in my work to help the children in my country as my way to be the mother to them that I was not to you. I do not ask you to forgive me for what I have done, but that you understand what I did as a young, foolish woman who cannot erase that decision. Understand, Robert, that I have and will always love you as my son and that you are forever welcome in my home. Perhaps, at some other time, if you would want, we might talk again. My husband’s enemies have either been captured or killed and you and your family should no longer be in danger. Ahmad’s kidney operation went well and we will be leaving for Khatamori next Friday, if what the doctors say is true and I have no reason to doubt them. We will be at the Westin until then.”
Françoise rose to say goodbye to the Elliott family and extended her hand to each of them in friendliness. When she confronted Bob again, there was no anger on his face or resentment toward this woman. There seemed to be compassion in his eyes as they met hers and, without speaking, he forgave her. As their hands met, Bob smiled and held her extended hand in both of his. Françoise’s eyes began to water as she returned the smile.
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