by Rob Sinclair
Whether through luck or judgment Ryker hit a sweet spot. The needle dug deep into Powell’s flesh, and Ryker heard a small escape of air through the syringed top. But he needed Powell to breathe to inflate the lung again. Ryker pinched Powell’s nose and opened Powell’s mouth with his other hand, then blew as hard as he could. He took his mouth away, inhaled deeply, then blew into Powell’s mouth a second time. He heard hissing as Powell’s lung filled and pushed the air from the chest cavity and out through the syringe.
Ryker pumped on Powell’s chest, over and over, trying to get the heart working. Then he went back to forcing breaths down Powell’s throat. Then to pumping the heart. Ryker himself was now out of breath and sweating profusely from the effort as he moved with purpose and ferocity, his whole body tense. He was trying to save Powell, but there was so much going on inside his head – so much anger and hatred, then...
Powell’s upper body lurched up and he gasped for breath. His eyes went wide as the sudden surge of oxygen to his brain brought him back from the dead. It looked like someone was pulling his eyeballs out of his head on a string. But almost as quickly as he’d sprung to life, Powell’s body slumped back down and he went limp once again.
‘Powell. Tell me what happened,’ Ryker said. ‘You have to tell me who did it.’
Powell said nothing. His eyes were glazed over. But he was breathing again. Ryker could tell from the tiny rise and fall in his chest, and the small hiss of air that came with each breath.
Maybe he would live, maybe he wouldn’t. Ryker may have just saved Powell’s life, but he realised he couldn’t stay to find out.
He could hear sounds. Voices. Footsteps. From outside in the grounds, or just from out in the corridor, it was hard to tell with the crashing thoughts in Ryker’s mind. Either way, Powell’s men were out there, and they’d soon be wondering what had happened to their boss.
Ryker still didn’t know who Powell was, who he worked for, and what exactly he knew about Lisa. He did know one thing, though: it was time to get away from Camp Joseph.
59
Douglas Ashford opened his eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It took a few seconds for his brain to figure out where he was. He tried to move in the bed but couldn’t. His whole body felt so distant and detached. He looked around the hospital room, taking in his surroundings, though even the simple task of moving his eyes left and right, up and down, caused a wave of pain in the front of his throbbing head. Ashford groaned out loud and fixed his eyes on the glass partition that led out into a brightly lit corridor.
He spotted Nicole. She was talking to someone, but from the angle he was lying, Ashford couldn’t see who. Nicole looked over, through the window, and saw that Ashford was awake. She smiled and muttered some words to the unseen figure then moved out of sight.
A second later, the door opened, and Nicole walked in. She closed the door softly and took a seat in the chair by Ashford’s side.
‘You’re awake,’ Nicole said, her voice soft and kind.
‘I feel like shit.’
‘I’m not surprised. They’ve got so much medicine coursing through you right now we could sell your blood at the pharmacy.’
Ashford tried to laugh but soon realised it wasn’t worth the effort.
‘You lost a lot of blood,’ Nicole said, with more concern. ‘It’s taken its toll on you. But I was just speaking to the doctor. He says you’re gonna be fine. You were lucky, Douglas. Just a few inches to the left or right and we might not be having this conversation.’
Ashford just humphed to that. Lucky. It was hardly lucky. Someone had tried to shoot and kill him. That was about as deliberate and calculated as it got.
Ashford was seething with anger that someone had done that. But he also couldn’t help but wonder whether it was karma. Payback for all of the bad things he’d done in life. And, damn, there’d been a few. ‘Who was it?’
‘What?’ Nicole asked.
‘Who shot me?’
‘The police have no idea. As far as I’m aware they haven’t even yet found evidence of where the shooter was.’
‘That’s not really what I meant. Who was it?’
‘What do you mean, honey?’
Just then, the door opened and a female nurse came in. Ashford didn’t recognise this one.
‘Mr Ashford,’ she said, smiling. ‘I just need to take your readings.’
Nicole held Ashford’s gaze for a few seconds, her warmth seeming to fade a little.
‘I'll go and grab a coffee,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute. ‘Do you want anything?’
Ashford just shook his head, then watched as Nicole left the room.
‘What’s your name?’ Ashford asked the nurse who had picked up his chart and was running her eyes over it.
‘Gwen,’ the woman said, not taking her eyes from the clipboard.
‘What happened to Gill?’
The nurse now looked up and held Ashford’s eye for a moment. She looked a little put off by the question. ‘Oh, she finished her shift already. How’s the pain?’
She moved up to Ashford’s side and he felt himself tense.
‘You ever been shot?’ he asked.
‘No.’
‘Then it’s hard to describe.’
‘On a scale of one to ten?’
‘A hundred.’
‘It’s been two hours since your last meds, but I can check with the doctor if you can have something else. Something a bit stronger perhaps.’
‘Please do.’
‘Okay. I'll be right back.’
Gwen put down the clipboard and headed for the door.
‘Oh, and Gwen?’ Ashford said when she’d opened the door. He spotted the arm of a police uniform out in the corridor. He knew two officers were stationed out there for his protection. Would they be enough? The nurse turned to look at Ashford, a friendly smile on her face. ‘There hasn't been a nurse called Gill come to see me in here.’
She said nothing, showed no reaction. After holding Ashford’s eye for a couple of seconds, she turned and walked out.
Ryker felt numb as he rode the Yamaha away from Camp Joseph. He had no way of knowing if what Powell had said about Lisa was true. But why would Powell lie in that situation, while on the floor taking what were possibly his dying breaths?
As much as Ryker wanted to believe that Powell still had some reason for deception, that his words of Lisa’s death were pure fabrication, designed only to hurt Ryker, it just didn’t make any sense.
It was time to finally face reality.
Lisa was dead. She’d been dead all along.
Ryker had travelled across the world in search of answers. He’d killed in search of the truth, always hanging on to the hope that he’d one day find her alive and well.
Yet she’d never even made it out of their home still breathing, according to Powell.
Ryker had always known this might be the outcome of his search. He’d often wondered how he would react when he found the truth. Would he cry? Would he rage and wreak havoc and seek bloody revenge?
He had no doubt that all of those things would come. For now though, he felt nothing.
When he was clear of Camp Joseph, Ryker pulled the bike over to the side of the road to use his phone. Ryker initially called Willoughby, but as before, the call didn’t even ring out.
Next he called Winter, to explain the situation and what had happened at Camp Joseph. And to ask for Winter’s help. His mission in Louisiana wasn’t quite complete. He still had one person to catch – the American – and one person he could save – Douglas Ashford. Ryker had a good feeling that if he was able to find one of them, he’d also find the other.
Ashford was wondering who would come through the door next. When it opened and he saw Nicole in the doorway he was a little surprised, but he felt no relief.
He noted too that there was now no sign of either policeman out there now – not that he had a good view of the corridor from his bed.
‘Everything
okay?’ she asked.
She shut the door and came and sat by his side and put her coffee on the bedside table.
‘So does she work for you?’ Ashford asked.
‘Who?’
‘Gwen, or whatever her real name is.’
‘Douglas, what are you talking about now?’
‘I was wondering whether it would be you, or someone else who’d do it.’
‘Do what? Honey, is something the matter?’
‘Yes. And you don’t need to pretend with me anymore.’
Nicole’s face took on a look of genuine concern. ‘Douglas, this is just the drugs talking. I really don’t know what you’re saying. I’m going to go and get the doctor.’
She went to stand up but Ashford reached out and grabbed her hand. The sudden movement sent a wave of pain right through him. Nicole looked down on him and the look in her eyes was one he’d never seen before.
‘I know it’s you,’ Ashford said.
Ryker was only a few minutes from the outskirts of Mandeville when he felt the phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled the bike over to the side of the road to answer, though the call had already stopped. He waited and a few seconds later, the phone was buzzing again.
It was Winter.
‘I found Ashford,’ he said.
Winter gave Ryker the address.
‘Okay, I’m heading there now,’ Ryker said. ‘You should call into the local police. I may not get there in time.’
‘Already done. It’s not quite that simple though.’
Which Ryker took to mean it wasn’t simple for Winter to explain to the local police who on earth he was, and how he had credible information that Douglas Ashford was in immediate danger.
‘It took a while before I got someone who would even listen to me, but the gist of the response I got was Ashford already has a police presence at the clinic, and according to them everything’s fine.’
‘No, everything’s not fine. Far from it.’
‘Then you need to get there as quickly as you can.’
‘I'm trying.’ He shoved the phone away then pulled on the bike’s throttle hard, causing the bike to surge forward as he re-joined the road and overtook two cars at speed. ‘I just hope I’m not already too late.’
Nicole went silent. All of her warmth and kindness, and everything that made her the faithful wife he’d known for so many years, had vanished.
‘I’ve been looking for the American so long,’ Ashford said. ‘I never thought to look so close to home. I just wanted to get to that bastard, Lincoln. That’s all this was about.’
‘Douglas, I think you need to get some rest.’
‘I love you, Nicole. I had everything I needed. But I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t expose you. But then...’
‘It wasn’t me,’ Nicole said. She was now looking down to the floor. ‘I have no idea who shot you.’
‘Whether you do or you don’t, it makes no difference now. Did you even know how close I was?’
‘No,’ Nicole said. ‘Everyone knew the pressure was growing. But I had no idea about you. Not until tonight.’
They both fell silent. Ashford’s gaze never once left his wife’s. What had caused this woman, the mother of his children, to become embroiled in the scheme carried on from Camp Joseph? How did she even know Lincoln and Comisario Vasquez? How had the opportunity first arisen? Whose idea was it all? Most importantly, why?
Ashford couldn’t fathom the answers to any of those questions, it was almost too bizarre to be true.
But then, look at all the secrets he had kept from Nicole over the years, and still did.
Could you ever truly know someone?
He wanted answers though. Nicole owed him that much. She owed him an explanation.
Ashford tried to push himself further up on the pillow, grimacing as he twisted his head and neck painfully.
Nicole, seeing him squirming so pathetically, reached underneath his head. For a moment, he thought she was about to help adjust the pillow. Instead she slowly and carefully pulled it out from underneath him.
He stared into his wife’s eyes again as she clutched the pillow to her chest. A tear rolled out of one eye and wormed its way down her face, dropping off her cheek onto her sweater. Then another tear came from her other eye.
‘You know this has to end here,’ Nicole said. ‘Tonight.’
Ashford didn’t say a word, but he knew none of the answers he craved would be coming.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘But there’s no other way now.’
She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and planted her soft lips onto Ashford’s. His eyes remained wide open, staring. He thought about attacking, biting her lip, her nose, her cheek. Taking a chunk out of her face. Her screams would alert someone. Hell, he could scream himself. There was surely someone out in the corridor who would hear. There were two policemen there for starters.
Or were they already dead too?
In the end, Ashford did nothing. He knew he could never out his own wife. There was nowhere to go from here, he decided.
Ashford was still staring intently into his wife’s eyes as she pulled back from the kiss. His gaze never left her face. Not until the pillow came forward and over him, and everything went black.
60
Ryker raced through the streets of Mandeville, doing his best to intermittently ride one handed as he checked and re-checked the GPS map on his phone. When he hurtled around the corner and spotted the clinic in front of him, he ditched the bike and moved into a sprint, heading for the building’s main entrance, in front of which two ambulances were parked.
There were two marked police cars parked outside too. No lights of sirens or any hint of an emergency unfolding. Did that mean he was there in time?
Then Ryker stopped running. One of the people he had come to see was already on the outside, sitting alone on a metal bench under a dim orange streetlight. When he saw the look on her face he realised he was already too late. The woman looked up at him as he approached. Ryker noticed just the faintest look of surprise in her eyes, but it was gone again.
Ryker sat down next to her without waiting to be invited. He studied her features as she stared off into the distance in front.
For just a few seconds, Ryker’s mind took him back to Santa Martha. To Benito Flores. The Black Hornet. The head honcho for a powerful and violent drugs cartel who was revered and protected by the many men under his control. Men who would literally put their lives on the line for him.
Nicole Ashford, she was a different beast altogether, not only in her methods of operations but in her achievement of power. Yet Ryker believed the title of Black Hornet was as apt for this woman as it was for the cartel boss. She was the queen of the whole mess. Her identity as the American – and with it her life – had been so well protected by others, all for the common cause of enriching those involved, and making sure the audacious scheme of stealing money and weapons from the US Army could continue. But all of her life and confidence had melted away since he’d seen her just hours earlier. It was almost like looking at a ghost. The way she looked was exactly how Ryker imagined he himself appeared now he knew Lisa was dead.
This woman had lost everything, just like Ryker had.
Nicole Ashford pulled a lit cigarette up to her lips and took a long drag. The end of the cigarette glowed orange and fizzled and sparks of tobacco ash crumpled away and fell down onto her lap. She didn’t flinch or try to wipe away the debris.
‘It’s been a long day,’ Ryker said.
Nicole said nothing.
‘He’s dead isn’t he?’ Ryker asked.
‘They couldn’t save him,’ she said. ‘Blood loss, shock, I don’t know what it was.’
‘That’s not true.’
For the first time, Nicole looked over at Ryker. He saw anger in her eyes. He didn’t know how she’d killed Douglas Ashford – an overdose? smothered with a pillow? Clearly the fact she was sitting outside smoking and not alr
eady in a cell suggested the police didn’t yet suspect her, if they suspected foul play in Ashford’s death at all.
But Ryker could see the truth right in front of him.
‘Lincoln is dead too,’ Ryker said.
She said nothing.
‘He killed himself. He knew it was over.’
Still Nicole was silent.
‘You should have taken the same route,’ Ryker said. ‘You didn’t have to kill your husband.’
Nicole shut her eyes and squeezed them closed for a few seconds. ‘What do you want from me?’
‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’
‘Then why did you come here? Just to rub salt?’
‘No. I’ve nowhere else to go. And I thought maybe I could save Congressman Ashford. I could tell as soon as I saw you sitting here that I was too late.’
‘And it was too late for him.’
‘Maybe it was. Did he really never know it was you? The American?’
‘He found out. He never told me until tonight. And I didn’t know the whistle-blower in the midst was him until then. Ignorance is bliss, I think the saying goes.’
Ryker felt he knew what she meant by that. Would he rather have still believed that Lisa was out there waiting to be rescued? Yes, of course he would. He would have lived year after year like that, with the faint hope that she was out in the world alive, waiting to be saved.
Now he knew the truth and his world had been shattered and he wasn’t sure he could ever recover.
‘How did you find out?’ Nicole asked.
‘Your charities. You were funnelling money from the cartels through them. I saw the details at Camp Joseph. Follow the money, it’s always the best way to the heart of matters like these.’
Again, Nicole employed the silent treatment.
‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Ryker said. ‘The trail was too complex. So complex it had taken your husband months of unwinding to try to figure out the source.’
‘Well done to you then, for figuring it out so quickly.’
‘Not just me. I’ll admit Lincoln made it easy. I think when the end came, he decided if he wasn’t getting away then no one was.’