Once More to Die

by Jim Johnson

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE: HER

  María Elena watched uncomfortably as Tommy and Linda ran out.

  It wasn’t long before she was hearing the sounds of running battle. Soon she could distinguish two separate on-going firefights. As the shooting continued, it waned at times and started again with renewed vigor.

  María Elena walked over to the hallway and checked outside. Nothing.

  She went to the weapons’ duffle and pawed through what remained. MAC-10, MAC-11, some kind of Uzi, a folded AK-47. She grouped a few of the weapons and laid out their spare magazines.

  She went and checked the other duffle, over behind the table.

  “Wow,” she said.

  Inside was an envelope and stacks of banded cash. Mostly dollars she saw, but a lot of Mexican pesos. She ripped the envelope open and inside was a sheaf of personal ID and documents, all showing Diego García with different names and professions.

  Outside, firing had died momentarily.

  She heard a discordant sound and finally placed it coming from the couch. She hurried over.

  Susan Quantrell’s eyes were fluttering. She croaked.

  Linda hurried over to a water bottle and drew some in a cone cup. She brought it back to the couch and touched it to Suzie’s lips.

  The CIA agent’s tongue flicked out and lapped a little water.

  María Elena tipped the cup into her mouth and the woman drank greedily. María Elena hoped this wasn’t going to adversely affect her wound. But that wasn’t intestinal, so it was likely okay.

  She withdrew the cup and the woman’s piercing gray eyes locked onto her own.

  “Linda?” she croaked, voice still dry and low.

  “She’s okay.”

  “Where?”

  “She and Tommy are out killing Diego’s soldiers.”

  Suzie Q seemed to sink back into herself.

  “We’ve stopped your bleeding. But we don’t have a land line or a working cell to call for medivac. We have to wait until Tommy and Linda to, um, finish.”

  Suzie eyelids fluttered.

  María Elena didn’t know whether that meant Suzie understood or she was falling unconscious again. María Elena tried to find a pulse, but her own heart was racing and she couldn’t tell the difference. She licked the top of her hand and held it under the CIA agent’s nose and felt a slight stirring,

  She went to the double doors again and checked the hall. She stole down the empty hallway, automatic in hand. She found a window which had been nearly destroyed with gunfire and peered out around the frame. She saw nothing, could tell nothing. More firing erupted off to the northeast corner toward the motor pool.

  Where was Diego García? He’d simply run out.

  Suddenly, it occurred to her that no one had checked upstairs. Diego could be concealed and waiting his opportunity to pounce when Tommy returned. She crossed her mental fingers and amended, when, not if, he returned.

  She went back down the corridor to the stairs and mounted them swiftly and silently. Not that silence was important with a couple of firefights raging in the distance.

  She scoured the upstairs of the headquarters building quickly, feeling more confident with each empty room. Diego’s room showed evidence that he’d slept here some in the last day or so. It was in disarray and she saw a leather bag sitting packed and waiting on the bed. Thinking of that bed, she shook memories out of her head and gripped her pistol with resolve.

  Becoming concerned again with Suzan Quantrell, she hurried back downstairs, silently, still careful. Nobody was around and she peeked into the lounge to make sure no one had come in since she’d left.

  Nobody.

  María Elena stepped to the couch and bent over Suzie. She seemed grayer, if that was possible. From the lack of blood? María Elena checked the feminine hygiene bandages and blood had leaked out, but not much. Maybe the woman had bled out? María Elena chose to think that the bandages, tampons as it were, had plugged the bleeding.

  Suzie’s eyes flicked open in a horror rictus, bulged and snapped closed. Her back arched and she gagged, spittle edging from her dry mouth. Her entire body trembled. Then she trembled, fell back, and ceased any movement, turning flaccid.

  “Oh, my God,” said María Elena.

  Suzie’s mouth froze open.

  María Elena dropped her gun and fell to her knees.

  “Not on my watch,” she told Suzie and ripped what little was left of her blouse out of the way. She linked her hands together in the approved fashion, took a breath, and placed them on Suzie’s chest. She rose from her knees and pushed hard against the agent’s chest. She rolled back onto her knees, rose again and slammed into the woman. She did this over and over until she became dizzy from panic and worry and still she continued, this time with more control over her own breathing. She found a rhythm and counted to herself.

  She stopped counting and started talking. “It’s almost over, you can’t go. Linda would never forgive you leaving her.” Pump, pump, pump. “Linda and Tommy are out there right now shooting the hell out of all of them.” Pump, pump, pump. “You just have to hang in there.”

  Her focus gave her only a slight awareness of the jet engine noise. She barely gave it a passing thought. “Just stay with us, okay? Me and Tommy have been through a lot. Too much for you to bail on us now. Hear?”

  She continued to perform CPR.

  Suzie’s right eyelid flickered. She suddenly inhaled a small breath, then a larger one. Both eyes popped open.

  María Elena stopped the hard pressure of her CPR. She was afraid to immediately quit, so she decreased the force of her heart manipulations. Soon she dropped her arms.

  María Elena became aware that a new spate of shooting had begun, this time right outside.

  Suzie’s eyes focused and somehow María Elena could tell the woman knew exactly what had just occurred. She felt Suzie’s hand on her arm. A small squeeze of acknowledgement.

  María Elena sank onto the couch next to Suzie and pushed some of the blond hair off her forehead. “You’re one tough lady.”

  She heard a noise, feet sliding. She twisted on the couch.

  Diego García was standing there with fire in his eyes. And his Glock out and aimed at her.

  María Elena moved slightly to put her body more in front of Suzie to protect the wounded woman.

  Diego nodded at her. “Well, my dear. You have exceeded my expectations. Would that you had shown this character when we married.”

  “You should have looked for it,” she told him.

  He ignored her. “Strangely, María Elena, I find that now I admire you, so much more than all those years ago.”

  “Then you turn around and leave right now,” she said calmly.

  He shrugged. “You know me better than that. Take my admiration to your grave, my dear. If I cannot kill your lover, than I shall take from him what he took from me.”

  María Elena felt a tug at the back of her shirt.

  “All right, Diego. Show the world what a man you are, kill a woman. Mucho hombre. What machismo. You’ll be proud.”

  Another tug and the .32 muzzle scraped her back as it pulled out of her waistband.

  Diego gave her a sad smile. “Sorry. This is the way it is.” His arm tensed and he centered the sight on her.

  Just then Tommy slid into the room trying to stop himself and orient his body so that he could interfere. He was bringing up his shotgun for a last chance shot.

  Suzie’s hand wormed around María Elena’s waist.

  The little .32 banged weakly compared to all the shooting which had been ongoing.

  Diego’s eyes opened wide. He looked down and his knee blossomed blood.

  It would no longer hold him and he fell to the floor.

  María Elena was closer than Tommy and she lunged for him and his gun.

  He brought the Glock around, triggering a shot which went into the wall.

  María Elena pounced on his gun hand and the force of her body landing on hi
s wrist forced his hand open to release the automatic. She knocked it away.

  Then Tommy was there, lifting her to her feet.

  He jammed his shotgun into Diego’s throat. “Stand aside, María Elena, the shot will ricochet.”

  She knew what she was going to do.

  “No,” she said simply.

  “No?”

  “No. Move, Tommy.” She pushed him away.

  Diego’s eyes followed her with hope now.

  “Pocahontas, goddamnit. If…”

  “Do. Not. Kill. Him.”

  “Why not?”

  She stepped back to the couch and pulled the .32 out of Suzie’s weak hand. The agent’s eyes followed her and seemed to understand.

  María Elena went back to stand in front of Don Diego García. He was lying flat on the floor and then raised his smashed knee, grasped it with both of his hands and moaned in pain.

  María Elena shot his other knee.

  He screamed and spasmed on the floor.

  She lifted the little gun for another shot.

  His eyes pleaded with her.

  She smiled crookedly and shot him on the right side of his chest, just nicking his lung, she hoped.

  “That one’s for 13 de enero,” she said.

  He fell back eyes open wider than any human had any right to do. She was ignoring Tommy’s training: kill clean and quick.

  She could see waves of pain cross his face.

  “Jesus,” said Tommy.

  “This one’s for Poppá.” She shot him in the other lung. The sound of the .32 came across flat compared to all the other gunfire of this day.

  Shock supplanted fear on his face. Quickly horror replaced fear.

  Blood began welling from the right lung shot. And almost immediately, the left began bubbling blood.

  “Very shortly,” she told him flatly, “you will begin to gasp for breath. And you won’t be able to get enough air. Oxygen starvation. It’s a miserable way to die.”

  Tommy was watching with awe.

  Even Susan Quantrell was staring at her.

  “And this one’s for me,” said María Elena, and calmly shot Diego García in the center of the forehead. The result was a final sounding thunk.

  She felt nothing. Diego looked as if his forehead had been pushed in and dark lines ran from the bullet’s impact point. Only a bit of maroon eked out of the wound.

  His eyes slowly closed as the life drained out of him.

  María Elena dropped the gun and walked to Tommy Atkins. It was finally over.

  Wasn’t it?

  “Where’s Linda?” croaked Suzie Q.

  “Uh, oh,” said Tommy. He snatched up García’s Glock and handed it to María Elena. “Follow me.”

  They ran out to the landing.

  “Stay here,” he said. “Cover me.”

  He jumped off the landing and sprinted to a crumpled pile of yellow out in the parking lot.

  María Elena scanned all around and saw the absolute carnage. “Mother Mary.” She mentally crossed herself. Yet she continued to move her eyes, Glock following where she was looking.

  Tommy bent and carefully lifted Linda in his arms. He glanced around, taking time to assess his situation.

  “Hurry,” María Elena urged him.

  Tommy rushed up the stairs carrying Linda Landover and went into the building.

  María Elena backed through the ruined doorway, weapon still roaming. Then she followed Tommy in.

  Tommy went into the lounge and sat Linda down on the couch next to Suzie Q’s head. María rushed over to help.

  “FBI? Can you hear me?”

  Her head lolled and her eyes fluttered, then opened. Then they scanned the room, stopping on Diego García’s body. “Good move,” she whispered.

  Tommy was moving her around a bit and checking her body. She was soaked in so much blood it was difficult to separate hers from unfortunate 13 soldiers.

  “Here,” said María Elena, bending over Linda. She parted the woman’s long, brunette hair and exposed a bleeding furrow. It had soaked the whole side of her head, but it was difficult to see immediately because of her long hair.

  Tommy stood and scrutinized the wound. “Head wounds bleed notoriously. The bleeding has almost stopped. She’s just very weak from loss of blood.”

  María said, “They need medical help badly. I’m going to try to find a cell phone.”

  She had already checked all the bodies. Maybe outside? “Be right back,” she told Tommy.

  She went down the hall and through the ruined double doors and stepped out on the landing. She walked right into the muzzle of a government 9 mm automatic. The gun gestured her back and she stepped back.

  The three marshals from the fake fire in the Sarasota condominium stood there. Another man with a bad comb-over of his brown hair waited at the foot of the stairs.

  María Elena took a quick breath to shout a warning to Tommy and the center marshal slapped his hand over her mouth. The other two grabbed her to restrain her.

  Comb-over said with a whiny voice, “Eisenberg, what are you doing? Remember you’re a sworn officer of the law.”

  “Don’t want her to warn Atkins, Dr. Henderson. She was preparing to do that.”

  Henderson shook his head. “This is pure massacre. You’d best watch every step, Marshal.”

  “Yes, sir.” Eisenberg’s voice was a bit surly and María Elena saw Dr. Henderson take note with raised eyebrows.

  Eisenberg flipped María Elena around and pushed her in front of him. “You are strikingly familiar, sweetheart. Where do I know you from?”

  Of course, she couldn’t respond as his left hand was clamped over her mouth. They walked quietly down the hall and María Elena kicked out at the men holding her. She went into a frenzy of movement, trying anything, trying to make noise to get Tommy’s attention.

  The two men holding her merely lifted her off her feet and moved away from her. She bit down on Eisenberg’s hand and he grunted in surprise and pain. He let go in automatic reflex and she tried to yell but was out of breath and the sound only came out a croak. By then they were to the doors of the lounge and the three had seen inside and it was too late.

  Still, she tried again with a quick breath. “Tommy!”

  As they moved into the room, she saw Tommy was still holding Linda upright with one arm and dabbing at her head with a wet cloth, probably from the water bottle against the wall.

  Three U.S. Marshal’s weapons lined up on Tommy. His look to her showed concern as they let her go and pushed her into the room ahead of them. Henderson followed a few feet behind.

  “Mr. Atkins, I presume?” said Eisenberg. “I’ve been hunting you for a long time.”

  Tommy fixed María Elena with his eyes and smiled. “It ain’t been our day, has it?”

  Anger built within her. It was different from the smoldering hate for Diego. This was red and getting hotter. It wasn’t fair. They’d overcome so many obstacles today and won a war. Damn it!

  Henderson walked into the room as if he were in charge.

  Eisenberg motioned his weapon at Tommy. “Get up, Atkins.”

  Tommy looked at Linda’s bloody head and back to the three marshals. “I’m kind of busy here.”

  “Do it now.”

  “I don’t think so,” said Tommy. “Your superiors won’t like it you stopped lifesaving attention to an FBI agent—not to mention a CIA agent, too.”

  María Elena thought this was an exaggeration, but Tommy was trying to increase the odds of their escape. Or even survival.

  Henderson turned to Eisenberg. His whiny voice gained an octave. “Marshal, you just hold your horses.” He walked to the couch. “Let me look.”

  Eisenberg said, “You’re an assistant attorney general, what are you gonna do?” It was more of a challenge.

  “Any more guff from you, Eisenberg, and you better call Human Resources because your pension is in jeopardy.” He knelt next to Tommy.

  Linda’s eyes were
open now. “You’re a professor doctor.”

  “You bet your hot ass, sweetheart,” Henderson said. “And I was a medic in the Army Reserve. Spent a tour in Iraq; I know trauma wounds. I wanted to be a medical doctor but never had time to pursue that.” He nudged Tommy aside. “Gimme a report on both of them.”

  Tommy showed him Linda’s head wound, then flipped up her dress and showed him the leg wounds. He then moved to Suzie and pulled her tattered blouse apart again. “Two wounds adjacent, lots of bleeding, but no bubbles so maybe they missed the lungs.”

  Henderson pried the feminine liners and pushed at Suzie’s skin to see how well the tampons were stopping blood flow. He turned his head. “I need a medical kit, first aid, anygoddamnthing.”

  “There used to be one over by the barracks,” said María Elena.

  “Well, run then, girl. Quickly now.”

  She spun and Eisenberg pointed at one of the other marshals. “Go.”

  María Elena sped out the door, down the entry corridor, and out on the landing. She jumped to the ground and ran around a pickup and a Jeep in the parking lot. They seemed to be the only vehicles which hadn’t been damaged in the gunfight. She ran quickly, but still saw bodies almost everywhere. The motor pool was completely gone, a smoking ruin with a couple of small fires still burning, and everything else residually smoking. She ran into the Quonset they used for many things including an infirmary. She glanced at the barracks to insure no 13 soldier would pop up and open fire. There were two large deployment medical boxes. She pointed at one and picked up the other. “Hurry.”

  The marshal cooperated. She could tell he was in awe of the battlefield.

  “What in the world happened here?” he asked as they threaded their way back to the headquarters building. “A butcher’s been through here with a scythe.”

  María Elena wasn’t going to help the marshals in any fashion. “I think it means you better not screw with Tommy Atkins,” she said flippantly before she realized she might be incriminating him.

  He looked at her strangely.

  One of the camo-clad bodies tried to sit up. She ignored him.

  When they got back, Henderson was still ministering to Linda and Suzie. They brought the kits over to him and set them on the floor and popped them open for him.