by Jan Coffey
“No. I’m saying that so you’d agree to go out with me.”
She had the most beautiful laugh. Bruce found himself laughing, too. “So what is it? Yes or no?”
“We’re in the middle of a case, Commander Dunn. Don’t you think this isn’t the most appropriate time to plan social engagements?”
“I can wait,” he said honestly. “So long as I know the answer is yes.”
“How about a maybe?”
“I can live with that.” Bruce pushed himself to his feet. “Now, before you change your mind, let me buy you a cup of coffee. I hear this hospital knows how to make the perfect brew. It only sits in the machine for a week at a time.”
“I’m sold.”
He pulled Sarah to her feet. They walked to the door. In the hallway, a shadow moved into one of the rooms some twenty yards down. Bruce looked to where a guard had been posted by the hall leading to the elevator. No one was there.
His cell phone rang in that very moment. He answered it on the first ring.
“Commander Dunn?” a voice said at the other end.
“Speaking.”
“I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
“Who am I speaking with?” Bruce asked, not taking his eyes off the hallway.
“Ramsey Barnhardt.”
It took a split second to stifle his surprise.
“Captain Barnhardt,” he repeated, looking at Sarah. Her interest was immediately piqued, too. “Yes, we have been looking for you, Captain. I don’t know if you’ve heard anything that has been going on with USS Hartford.”
“Yes, I’m very familiar with what’s happening.”
“We need a few minutes of your time, Captain, to sit down and go over some things. We need your expertise, sir.”
“I thought you would. That’s why I’m calling.”
“What’s a good time and place for you?” Bruce asked, knowing he had to jump on the opportunity. “Lieutenant Connelly and I would like to meet you in person, if that’s at all possible.”
“How about now?” the man said from the other end.
“Now?” Bruce repeated for the sake of Sarah knowing what was going on.
She mouthed to him that they should split up. One of them could stay here and the other go to meet Barnhardt.
“Where would you like to meet, sir?” Bruce asked.
“In the hospital parking lot.”
Bruce turned and looked in the direction of the elevators. “You’re here, Captain? Why don’t you come up?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. From what I hear, it’s not too safe on your floor,” Barnhardt told him. “But you and your friends might want to come down and join me. If you get away alive, that is.”
Bruce looked up and down the hall. No security guards, no doctors or nurses. He and Sarah were the only people there.
“All the security guards on your floor have been dismissed or erased, Commander. Right now, a man who goes by the code name Kilo is on your floor. He’s been assigned the task of eliminating the survivors taken off Hartford, along with you and Lieutenant Connelly, if it becomes necessary.”
Both McCann and Amy had mentioned the name Kilo in referring to the one who was doing the ‘clean-up’ on Hartford. Apparently, he wasn’t done. But how would Barnhardt know any of this?
“Captain Barnhart—”
“Get out now.” The phone went dead.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“We’re part of what’s left to be cleaned up. Get McCann and Amy. We have to get them out of here. I’ll get Brody.”
Neither he nor Sarah were carrying guns.
Bruce spotted the fire alarm across the hall.
He went immediately to it and pulled the lever.
The hospital wing filled with the blaring buzz of the alarm.
~~~~
Chapter 63
Yale-New Haven Hospital
9:30 p.m.
Lee Brody never had a chance.
He died in his sleep with a single bullet to the brain. As far as Kilo was concerned, he was on borrowed time anyway. The instructions to Rivera and Dunbar this morning had been to put the kid out of commission. Leave it to them to figure a bang on the head was good enough. Of course, the instructions Kilo received with regard to the hijacking were very different from theirs. They thought it was all a big exercise. A drill.
And they didn’t know that before it was over, they’d all be eliminated. It was no drill.
Kilo looked around the hospital room one last time before reaching for the door. The suddenness of the fire alarm made him stop.
Between the regular blasts of the alarm, he heard the sound of running feet coming his way. He moved behind the door, his weapon drawn. The door opened with one sharp kick, and only Kilo’s boot stopped it from smashing against his face. He had no target. He couldn’t see anyone through the slit at the edge of the door.
“Christ!” a voice muttered from the outside of the room.
The lights from the hall illuminated the room. The dead man’s face was turned toward the door. The bullet hole visible even from a distance.
He saw a figure move outside the door. He fired, and the door slammed into him again, harder this time. He’d missed. He shoved the door back with his shoulder. He didn’t think they’d be armed, but he couldn’t be sure.
His ear piece buzzed. He ignored the voices and jerked the door open. A fire extinguisher smashed into his chest, knocking him off balance. Kilo never lost his grip on the gun, and he fired again as he stumbled backward.
Someone was running down the hall. He rushed out in time to see the emergency fire exit doors swinging shut.
“They’re heading down the stairs,” he said into the microphone. “Pick them up.”
~~~~
Chapter 64
The White House
9:43 p.m.
“The news of the plane crash and the explosion is all over the networks,” Bob Fortier said to the president, flipping through the channels on the muted television. “What they don’t know yet is that there were no survivors.”
William Hawkins filled his glass with more scotch and drank it down. The liquor produced the same warm feeling in his throat as the last three glasses. He and Bob were alone in the sitting room on the residential side of the White House.
“How are they going to make the connection with Hartford?” the President asked.
“Give our boys a little more credit. There’ll be so many clues that the investigators have to be blind to not stumble over them.”
“How soon?” Hawkins asked, starting to pace the room. “We can’t have people going to the polls tomorrow morning without knowing these results. We have to get some factual stuff to the press before the eleven o’clock news.”
“Relax, Mr. President. Everything is moving just like clockwork,” Fortier assured him.
Hawkins didn’t like clockwork. Clocks were too damn complicated. He liked things simple. He poured himself another scotch and downed half of the glass in one swallow. He’d been against this plot from the moment he heard about it, but Fortier had assured him that he had the right people lined up. The entire operation would be completed in less than twenty-four hours, and campaign soft money would finance the deal. Fatalities would be minimal. His campaign manager had argued that it’d be hell of a lot cheaper and easier to do this than invade some little piss-pot country.
He should have put his foot down and refused. Penn was too smart to let anything slide by. For the past year, the pompous ass jumped at every opportunity to get his face on television, always accusing Hawkins of lying or exaggerating the facts. The simplest plan for this election would have been to send a single person to take Penn out. It’d been done before. It could have been done this time, too. Penn’s running mate, Peter Gresham, was a nothing. He was no threat.
But what was happening now was a threat. To William Hawkins.
“What about the three they took to the hospital? Is there any
reason to go after them?”
“We already talked about that, Mr. President. Everything is being taken care of,” Fortier said.
Hawkins found his tone condescending. He wanted specifics. He wanted an end to this. Pre-election jitters were bad enough. This was too much.
The phone rang and Hawkins almost dropped his drink. It was his private line.
Fortier reached for the phone, but Hawkins snapped it up. He was tired of hearing everything second- and third-hand. Fortier was starting to tell him only the short versions. Only what he wanted the president to know.
“Mr. President,” someone from the other end said.
Hawkins looked at Bob Fortier. He was picking up the other phone in the room without asking his permission.
“Speaking.”
“Mako here,” the voice said.
He and Fortier looked at each other. Barnhardt and the rest of his crew were supposed to be dead. He should have been in that airplane. Hawkins knew that much.
“Are you there, Mr. President?”
“I’m here.”
“I thought we had a deal.”
Fortier motioned to him to stretch the conversation as he pulled out his cell to dial another number. Hawkins watched him talk into it quietly.
“Of course we did. We do. What’s wrong, Ramsey?” Hawkins asked, hoping the use of the man’s first name would breed confidence.
“I’m done playing games, sir. You gave us specific instructions to do a job. My crew and I accomplished that goal. Now, instead of transferring the funds to my account as we agreed in your office, you blew up the plane that was taking us home. Does that sound like someone operating in good faith to you, Mr. President? Does that sound like an appropriate reward for loyalty, sir?”
“That was an accident. You can’t think that we’re responsible for that. I truly appreciate your loyalty, Ramsey, your personal loyalty to me and to your country. I cannot believe that—”
“A very convenient accident,” Barnhardt said sarcastically. “But I have no time to listen to any excuses or lies, so here’s the deal. You’ll triple the amount of the payment and the transfer has to take place by—”
“Now wait a minute, Ramsey,” Hawkins blasted, standing up. Fortier started motioning something, but Hawkins turned his back on the campaign manager. “I don’t see why I have to pay for your mistakes. Your job was to hijack and sink Hartford, making everyone think it was the work of foreign terrorists. Instead, you left a huge mess behind that we’re still trying to clean up. If anything, we should be cutting—”
Fortier’s hand slammed down on the phone, disconnecting the call.
“What the hell are you doing?” Hawkins turned angrily to his man.
“We know where he is, Mr. President.”
“Where?”
“New Haven. At the hospital. We’ll get him.”
~~~~
Chapter 65
Yale-New Haven Hospital
9:50 p.m.
“They expect us to go downstairs,” Sarah said.
“Then we should go up,” McCann suggested.
A line of patients and hospital workers were moving down the stairs in an orderly fashion. The fire alarm continued to buzz in the halls. They welcomed the alarm. It was a way to get people around them. There was safety in numbers. Bruce Dunn broke through the door near them.
“Where’s Brody?” McCann asked.
“Dead,” Bruce said under his breath. “Whoever this Kilo is, he was in Brody’s room. He’s armed.”
“I’m going back there.”
Amy reached around to grab McCann’s arm while Bruce blocked his path.
“You can’t. He’s got other help in the building,” Dunn said. “You would only be making his job easier. You must know something that you don’t even realize. That’s why they’re after you.”
“Please,” Amy added quietly, tugging on his arm again. “You’ll get them, but you have do it on your own terms.”
“They could be coming through that door any minute. We should hurry,” Sarah’s urging got them going again.
Amy tightened the blanket around her shoulder and followed Sarah’s path as she cut through the descending crowd. She glanced over her shoulder and was relieved to see Darius was right behind her.
“Let’s get out on the next floor,” Bruce suggested. “We can use a different staircase.”
At the landing, Sarah led the way into the hall. They followed her. The corridor was deserted.
“Does anyone know their way around this hospital?” Bruce asked.
“I know it a little. My father was hospitalized here for a week last year,” Amy offered. “What do you want to do?”
“I need to call for help,” Bruce said.
“Is there anyone out there that you can trust?” Darius asked.
“Good question,” Bruce said under his breath.
“I think we should get out of here first before deciding who to call,” Sarah told them.
“We have no car,” Darius said as he looked down the hallway.
Amy read the signs on the wall, trying to find her bearings. “I can get us to the emergency room. There’s a chance someone might have left their car at the entrance with the keys in it.”
“Lead the way,” McCann said.
A few steps away, through the small windows of a double door, Amy saw two security guards heading their way. They were opening doors and looking inside the rooms. Fear gripped her. A spike of adrenaline rushed through her body. She was back on the submarine again. People looking for her. Trying to kill her.
“Over here.” Bruce held a door open on their right. All four of them pushed into the small supply room. He turned a latch on the inside. With the door closed, total darkness surrounded them.
They waited, listening for any noise. Amy felt McCann’s hand on her shoulder. She took hold of it, needing his strength.
Footsteps approached. Someone tested the door. They all stared at the sliver of light under the door. McCann pushed Amy behind him. The door was tested one more time before they moved on.
Amy searched the shelves behind her. One of the stacks felt like scrubs. She took one and after a little struggle was able to pull it up her legs. She found the top on the same shelf.
“Those guards could have been harmless,” Sarah said quietly.
“We can’t be sure,” McCann said.
“Only a handful of people were told about you three being brought here,” Bruce informed them. “One of them must have leaked the information.”
Amy was able to pull the shirt over her head, but some of the bandages caught and came loose. She tugged at them, ripping the rest off.
“What’s the story with Barnhardt?” McCann asked. “Sarah said he was the one that called to warn you.”
“I can’t tell you. But he seems to know quite a bit about what’s going on.”
“Maybe he’s the one we should call,” Sarah suggested.
“Let’s get out of here first,” Bruce told them, opening the door. He looked down the hall frst before motioning them to follow.
“You changed,” Darius said to Amy as the light poured in. “But what did you do to your head?”
Amy touched the stitches and pulled some of her hair over it. “They heal much faster exposed to the air.”
“With the scrubs on, you actually look official,” Sarah remarked as Amy led them through the labyrinthine hallways and down several flights into a different section of the hospital.
“Don’t let anyone pull me into surgery.”
The double doors that led to the emergency room were closed but not locked. No fire alarms were sounding in this section. Amy realized that Sarah was right—she did look official. A number of people they went by completely dismissed her, but they definitely noticed Sarah, Bruce, and McCann, dressed in their navy uniforms.
No one stopped them, and they soon found themselves at the sliding glass doors where patients were wheeled in from ambulances.
“You wait here. I’ll go outside and take a look,” Bruce instructed.
“No. You wait here. I’ll tell you when to come out,” Amy said, going through the door before anyone could stop her.
Stepping out onto the cold night, dressed only in the scrubs, she noticed that McCann was right beside her.
“I’m glad to know that I’m not the only one you don’t listen to.”
“No. I’m pretty even-handed when it comes to disobeying orders,” she said.
An ambulance backed toward the door with its lights flashing. A police car following the ambulance parked along the curb.
“Pretend that you don’t know me, will you?”
The ambulance came to a stop. Amy moved to the back door and opened it. An EMT stepped out of the ambulance and brushed past her. In seconds, he was pulling the gurney out of the back and another EMT followed, taking the head of the gurney. As it rolled out, the wheeled legs dropped into position. The patient already had an IV hooked up. There was blood all over his shirt. The two EMTs wheeled him in through the doors, and the two police officers followed them.
Amy looked over her shoulder at McCann and pointed to the police car with her head. He walked to the front of the ambulance. She took a couple of steps toward the ambulance’s rear doors and saw Connelly and Dunn coming out.
Amy opened the ambulance doors. The two agents climbed in. She closed the doors and went around to the passenger side.
“That was easy,” Dunn said as she got in. “Great job.”
“I think you’ve missed your calling, Amy,” Sarah said from the back as McCann steered around the police car and pulled out of the drive.
“Please don’t encourage her,” McCann said lightly.
Amy looked into the side view mirror to see if anyone was following them. No one seemed to be. The fire alarms were still blasting in other sections of the hospital. There was a crowd of people on the sidewalk and fire trucks were pulling in by the front doors. Everyone on the street focused their attention on what was going on in the hospital.