The group’s attention was immediately turned to Perry as he pointed the gun towards them when they exited the spinning glass doors. “YOU! This is what you deserve! You caused this!” He paused briefly to aim. Then he fired. At that briefest moment before Perry pulled the trigger, Beau drew his weapon and flew sideways in the air, pushing Jahnni to the floor. Mid-air, he fired at Perry. Immediately Beau felt the hot burn of the bullet as it entered his abdomen. When he landed on the floor, he rolled back up into a half-crouched position, weapon aimed directly at Perry. But there was no need. Mr. Perry Prattle lay against the pillar with a dark spot in the middle of his forehead, his dark red blood draining like a seeping, broken pipe. He was dead.
“Put your hands up NOW!” Pahlavi yelled at Beau. He immediately opened his hand to show his weapon was only being held by one finger and he slowly reached towards the ceiling. He was surrounded by several Port Police, and FBI agents before his hands even stopped reaching. They grabbed his weapon and yanked his arms, pulling them behind his back, rolling him face-down, and cuffing him. Pahlavi looked around to see that no one else was hit, then ran to the group.
“Ma’am. I’m FBI Special Agent Beau Harleyman. I have ID in my front right pocket,” he said as he lay face down with two Port Police and an FBI agent holding him down with their knees. Pahlavi motioned for them to roll him slightly and patted the front of his olive-green jumpsuit. When she felt the wallet, she pulled it out while the other agents began patting him down at the same time.
“I’m sorry Pahlavi. I tried to call you as soon as we pulled up,” their escort FBI agent shouted as he burst forward past the crowd of police and the FBI agents that circled the scene. “I’m sorry! I was bringing them to you. The area was deemed secure.” He had drawn his weapon when the chaos began as they exited the rotating door, but Beau had already acted before the agent cleared the glass. He holstered his gun, and held up his arms to finish speaking to the well-armed crowd, “He’s one of us. He’s one of us.”
Pahlavi was turning to Boulder as she flipped open his FBI ID wallet and saw that he was indeed an FBI agent. “Stand him up,” she ordered, as she holstered her weapon, noting that there were already a dozen other agents with their weapons already pointing in their direction. The blood on the other agents’ hands caught her eye but before she ascertained where it came from, or who it came from, Jahnni gasped, an intake of air loud enough for everyone near to hear.
Jahnni began to pull herself up on her knees. She slowly began to stand, holding her hands up as well so no one would mistake her intentions. Pahlavi noticed that Jahnni had a look of horror on her face as she stared down at the floor by Beau. Pahlavi glanced down to see what Jahnni was looking at and saw blood all over the floor. It was under, beside, and at the front of Beau’s clothing; a large splotch of blood spreading out across the front of him and along the carpet like a tide slowly breaching the beach. She yelled for the medics and went to Beau. She ordered him uncuffed and to roll him on his back. His eyes began to close yet his head moved back and forth, looking at those beside him. Jahnni stared at Pahlavi and nodded, as if asking for permission to approach him. Pahlavi nodded yes.
“Beau! Beau! You’re bleeding!” Jahnni yelled as she fell to his side. “Where are you bleeding? Someone! Help him. Find out where he is bleeding!” She started shaking, reaching to touch him, but seemingly not knowing where to set her hands. She finally grabbed his hand in hers and covered both of their hands with her other hand, rubbing his fingers gently. The airport paramedics had been parked at the curb and were there in less than a minute. Pahlavi had originally called them to take Perry Prattle to the hospital’s psyche unit for an evaluation. They brushed Jahnni aside and began working on Beau. Scissors came out and they began cutting and ripping his clothes to expose the bullet hole. Blood was still streaming out as they applied pressure and began preparing him for transport. Jahnni was too shocked to cry. She now stood as close as they would allow.
Mr. T came to her and she heard him whisper from behind her back, “Not my Beau. Not my baby Beau.”
Sam, Crutch, and Zale huddled in a big hug, as tears flowed down their cheeks, too numb to move. When Jahnni realized Mr. T was behind her, she reached around to hold him. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! It’s my fault! It is all my fault! I should have just left the concourse. I should have just taken a chance and led us out some other way. But everything kept going wrong. Everything kept going wrong when we tried to... I tried to help. I tried to get us out. I should have, I should have just...” She now began to cry as she looked down at Beau being hoisted onto the gurney. They moved quickly to strap him down. The IV was set, and an oxygen mask was placed on his face. People started shouting orders to clear the way as they began swiftly wheeling towards the doors.
Suddenly he reached up with his free hand and grasped the paramedic’s arm. He pulled off the oxygen mask with the other hand. “STOP. WAIT.” His eyes were still closed and he sucked in more air. “Was she hit?” He breathed out, opening his eyes to try to focus as he looked at the crowd all around him. He took another breathe. “Is she okay? Was she hit?”
“Who?” the paramedic asked in a curt voice. “We have to roll. Let’s go.”
Again, Beau found the strength to shout again. “NO! STOP. Is she okay? Did she get hit?”
Jahnni realized who he was talking about. “Beau, It’s me. It’s Jahnni. I’m fine. I’m fine. But you were shot. You need to go to the hospital. Just go. We’ll find out where they are taking you. We’ll come as soon as they let us.”
“Thank God you’re okay. Ya... I know. I think I need to go... soon,” Beau breathed out in a whisper. After one more staggered breath, his head lolled to the side. His chest rose up and down like he was trying to take in short bursts of air. His body began to shake with only the sounds of his gasping for oxygen. His eyes were closed, but his face looked pained.
Jahnni turned to the paramedics as they began to hustle towards the door. “How bad is it? Is he going to be okay?”
“Well, ma’am. He did take a good hit,” he answered her as he continued pushing the gurney. We’ll take care of him. But we gotta go. Now.”
“Another medic ran up with an ambu bag keeping pace beside the gurney while pumping it, forcing more oxygen into Beau’s lungs. They wheeled him faster through the gaping hole that once rotated planes of glass and was now arranged into one large opening. They pushed him quickly to the waiting ambulance at the curb.
Two Agents rushed out from behind the crowd that had gathered around Beau. They briskly walked toward Agent Pahlavi, then stopped right in front of her. They looked down at Perry slumped against the pillar. They glanced around at the scene, then looked back at Agent Pahlavi to see if she remembered talking to them earlier in the security office when they saw Harleyman on the video.
“Oh. Hi,” she said in a low tired voice. “So, that was the famous Bullseye Messiah,” she said. “I suppose... I should be the one to take them to the hospital. We should know more as soon as the doctors take over. Keep me posted with what’s going on here. I have to go.”
She looked out the windows and saw Jahnni and the others watching the ambulance crew intently; wringing their hands; holding onto each other; and pacing in place. The two agents started to walk away when one of them stopped and turned. Pointing at the clean shot right to the center of Perry’s head, he said, “See. We told you.”
Chapter 40
Chasing Your Heart
The group was huddled together and watched Beau being loaded into the ambulance. Agent Pahlavi had just joined the group on the sidewalk, in front of the airport. They all watched it start driving away, lights flashing. The inside was lit and they could see the one medic’s head moving from the side and back to Beau. Suddenly he jumped on top of the gurney that Beau had been strapped to just minutes before. They could see the medics arms pushing down and pushing down. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, he kept pushing. The ambulance suddenly sped up and began r
ushing down the road, sirens blaring.
“Oh, my God,” Jahnni breathed. “They are starting CPR.”
Agent Pahlavi waved Boulder to where she was standing at the curb. “I don’t think he’s going to make it,” she whispered. “I need to take them to him. They’ve suffered through quite an experience together. I’m turning everything over to my partner, Special Agent Liam Anthony. He can question these guys at the hospital when he is done here.”
Jahnni was standing there frantic, pacing in place. Mr. T was shaking. Zale stood still, frozen. Sam stood holding Crutch in front of her, burying his face against her shoulder, covering his eyes. Everyone was numb, trying to figure out what to do. Pahlavi turned to them and said, “Come with me. I’ll take you to the hospital.”
She walked quickly towards her car, with the others following close behind when she realized that they could not all fit in her sedan. She lifted her SAT phone and called for another agent to drive the other four, and follow her and Jahnni. “Oh, I forgot,” she said into the phone. “There is a gentleman in the far north corner of the food court waiting for me. His name is Carlton. Bring him with you. Tell him I sent you and... run!” She hung up and glanced at Jahnni as they walked briskly to the car. “Who are the older gentleman with you?”
Jahnni wiped her eyes and said, “Oh, uh, that is Mr. T, Beau’s grandfather. I mean Mr. Tropopoulis. And the other gentleman is Zale, Mr. T’s long lost brother. We sort of found him... by accident... on purpose. I mean, we were trying to find a way, and we got stuck, but we got wet, and rode a, then went for clothes, and Sam and Crutch, I mean,... I don’t know what I mean. I can’t think right now.” Jahnni started weeping silently. “Oh, this is all my fault, I think. We were just, just...”
“Whatever you are going to tell me,” Pahlavi said as she stopped to pick up Jahnni’s hands into hers, enveloping them in a little hug, “I believe you. I may not have all the details yet, but I know about... you know, the secret. But let’s not talk about that right now. Let’s just get you all to the hospital first.”
Jahnni reached out to Mr. T and said, ‘Things are going to be okay. She is taking us to Beau, but you four must ride with another agent. He is bringing Carlton also. She knows about... you know...” as she pointed down with her head. It’s going to be okay.”
The extra agent arrived with Carlton and the group began jumping into the two cars. Flashing lights began strobing as the cars careened away from the drop-off area. “Put on your seatbelt and hold on tight,” Pahlavi warned, without turning to Jahnni, “and pray for Mr. Harleyman.”
The winding streets of short-cuts almost made Jahnni’s stomach queasy. She glanced behind the car to see if the other agent was keeping up. It felt like a NASCAR race. The traffic suddenly came to a stop. The cars at the light were backed up fifteen deep easily. “Oh my, come on cars, move! Move!” Jahnni complained out loud. “Move it!” But the cars, of course, could not hear her. Nor could the other drivers. “What is taking so long! Move! Move! Move!”
“They can’t hear you,” Pahlavi said a little lighthearted to lessen Jahnni’s impatience. “But, they can hear this.” She turned on the siren to get their attention. Jahnni could see the driver’s heads ahead of their car. They perked up, sitting taller as they glanced in their rear-view mirrors then turned to look behind them. All the cars started parting, pulling to one side or the other. Both FBI cars had lights flashing and sirens blaring. It commanded eye-widening attention and the Red Sea was history. Weaving between the opening, they sped along.
“There’s the hospital sign! Are you sure this is the hospital they took him to?” Jahnni asked.
Pahlavi shook her head yes as she glanced briefly at Jahnni. “I heard them say, Providence. Couple more turns honey. Almost there.”
Screeching into the ER drop off, she told Jahnni to wait. “Give me a sec.” One minute later, she came running back out to the agent’s car behind them, then jumped back in. “Okay,... He’s not here... They airlifted him to OHSU. Let’s go.”
The time slowed to a crawl as Jahnni’s tortured thoughts kept telling her that this was completely her fault. She sat there playing through every scenario in her head. Where could I have made a different choice? She scolded herself. She stared out the side window, watching life scream by as they hit I-84 west, heading to the Medical Center. They were going so fast, but she didn’t care. She turned to look out the back window again to see if the other car was keeping up. Turning back around, she realized she was fidgeting with her hair. It was hanging limp with a slight wave of no particular design. She ran her fingers through her hair to brush it out of her face and behind her ears. By now, the sun was setting and lights were beginning to come on. The Max was running beside the freeway, like it was racing them, but they quickly outpaced it. She looked at the businesses, homes, walls blocking the freeway from the residents. Cement everywhere. Poles. Stairs leading to the Max on the other side of the large metal fence. Birds were swooping away like they were looking for a place to rest for the evening. She noticed every star trying to peek out and every wisp of cloud trying to block the emerging moon. The twilight of the day was trying to emerge yet the light of the day still hung on fighting to live. People in the cars craned their necks at them as they sped by the other drivers, with lights flashing.
One song kept battering at her like a wooden ram trying to break through a thick fortress door. She started humming it. She kept humming the words as she sat frozen.
Pahlavi said, “You can call me Delaram. That’s my first name.”
“I’m Jahnni. But of course, you know that, don’t you?” Jahnni said softly.
“You like the oldies I see, or rather hear,” Delaram said softly.
“Ya, my parents were musicians. My mom’s band played Country Rock. My dad was a classical and Spanish guitarist. He also taught music theory. My mom’s band played everything from Tammy Wynette to Trisha Yearwood and Doobie Brothers to Fleetwood Mac. Sixty’s, seventy’s, eighty’s, ninety’s; basically, any music is my escape,” Jahnni said before she continued humming.
Pahlavi asked, “Ah, The Moody Blues. Is there a reason you are humming Nights in White Satin?”
“I don’t know,” Jahnni said in a tone barely audible at first. “I think it’s speaking to me. I... I have spent too much of my life trying to be strong.” Silence filled the space between them. “I think... for the first time in a long, long, time... I feel.”
“Feel what?” Pahlavi asked after waiting a few seconds. “For who?”
“I... I think for me. But it’s more than that. I feel... something I haven’t allowed myself to feel, for someone else. For...” then Jahnni stopped talking. She started humming Nights in White Satin again. Softly she began to sing the words.
Pahlavi swerved around a few cars and took the exit toward Salem to get on I-5 south. Then she got into the left lanes to cross over I-5 on the Marquam bridge following the signs to City Center/Beaverton and onto I-405 north. Once on I-405, she took the 6th Street exit and began many turns. Left, left, right, right and sped forward on what seemed like an endless curvy road. She swerved here and there taking a route that Jahnni didn’t know, but Pahlavi seemed to know where she was going.
Pahlavi was at ease driving fast. While they wound through the streets, she asked Jahnni, “Did you know him before today?”
“Who?” Jahnni asked.
Pahlavi didn’t answer her at first. She just kept turning and driving. “You know, sometimes, when people go through a traumatic experience together, even if they never knew each other before, it makes you speed past the stages of getting to know someone. You go from stage 1 to stage 10 very quickly.
Jahnni turned to her. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Traumatic incidents, they show you what is important. It forces people to drop their pretend games and be... I don’t know. Be real. Be authentic.”
Jahnni looked at her then looked out the window. “But what if your authentic self, isn’t good e
nough?”
“Well,” Pahlavi answered, “you have to figure that out. You must ask him. Or tell him.”
“If he lives, you mean,” Jahnni whispered without looking at Pahlavi.
“Even if he doesn’t live, you must to tell him. You have to say it out loud. He will still hear you. And most of all, you will hear you.”
Jahnni hummed the song a little bit louder as she thought about what Delaram was telling her, the words truly making sense now.
“We’re here... Let’s go,” Delaram said as she slid right into a parking spot. Everyone started pouring out of both cars.
Chapter 41
There’s No Room for Regrets
They tried to sit in the waiting room on the surgery floor, but they kept pacing. Stand up, pace, sit down.
Mr. T sat on the padded bench seat next to Zale. Zale had hold of Mr. T’s hand like a brother soothing a brother. “He will be okay. He’s a strong man,” Zale whispered lovingly.
Carlton was not speaking for some time, just looking at everyone. He finally walked over to sit next to his father, Zale. “Dad, I hope I did the right thing. I told that FBI agent about it. People were missing, and something was wrong. I was so afraid when I found out that Jahnni was one of the people they were looking for. She is a very special person. Not that no one else isn’t, but... she’s just, special. I’ve known her for a long time.”
“I know,” Mr. T interrupted. “Janie is good. She try very hard to keep us safe. She almost get killed for it. My Beau save her too. I mean, she do right by us, and Beau do right for her.”
Crutch walked over to Jahnni and sat down next to her. He leaned on her shoulder and sighed. “This place brings back so many memories for me.”
Jahnni looked down at him and put her arm around his shoulder, pulling him closer. She leaned down and asked, “You’ve been in the hospital before?”
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