Sworn to Protect

by Susanne Matthews

  “This young lady’s going to clean you up and get you ready to face the day,” he said.

  The thought that someone bathed her and cleaned her while she was unconscious was somewhat embarrassing. As soon as he left the room, she would open her eyes and let the woman know she was awake.

  Neil’s lips brushed her brow, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her face.

  “I’ll be back shortly.”

  “I thought she was in a coma,” the nurse said, her accent tickling something in Nancy’s memory.

  “She’s in and out these days, but I’m hoping she’ll be fully awake soon.”

  “Of course. Go. I’ll take good care of her.”

  Footsteps moved away, and the door opened and closed.

  Nancy was drifting off again when she realized all sound in the room had ceased, and it was getting hard to breathe. Her eyes flew open.

  The woman stood near the wall, her back to the bed. The plug to the monitors and some of the other equipment dangled from one hand, and she held a syringe in the other.

  Maybe she had improved, but something didn’t feel right. If she were better, why was it so hard to breathe? Whatever covered her mouth and nose deprived her of oxygen, and Nancy raised her hand to pull it off, her movement slow and sluggish. Panic filled her.

  The nurse turned at the sound she must’ve made, and the cold look on her face froze the blood in Nancy’s veins.

  “You’re awake,” the nurse said. “No matter. This would have been easier on you if you’d stayed in the coma, but meh. Awake or not, it makes no difference.”

  Nancy frowned at the woman’s words. With all the strength she could muster, she managed to get her hand up to her face and dislodge the mask. She gasped as air filled her lungs once more.

  “You’re only prolonging the inevitable.”

  Fear filled Nancy as the woman injected the contents of the syringe into the IV port just above the small clear bag filled with medication.

  When the syringe was empty, the woman approached the bed and removed the pillow cushioning her head so that Nancy was flat on her back. Reaching over, the nurse removed the oxygen mask completely and dropped it over the side of the bed.

  “You won’t be needing this anymore.”

  “What ... doing?’ Nancy asked, her words low and garbled.

  Somehow the woman understood her.

  “My job. You should have minded your own business. Relax. It’ll be easier on you if you do.”

  The nurse moved away from the bed, walked over to the windows, and looked out.

  Nancy sensed the familiar grayness creeping up on her, but fought to stay awake. If she could just reach...

  “Oh no, you don’t,” the woman said, slapping her hand away from the call bell. “This is ridiculous. I can’t wait all day. Someone may come in before it’s over. No matter. We can hurry things along a bit.”

  Grabbing the pillow with both hands, the nurse placed it firmly over Nancy’s face and pressed down hard.

  “Do Svidaniya.”

  Nancy struggled, pushed valiantly at the woman’s arms, trying to move the pillow off, but the woman was too strong, and as weak as she was, her strength vanished in seconds.

  She couldn’t breathe. The pain in her head increased with the pressure. Her heart beat wildly as if it would punch right through her chest. The blackness creeping into her mind swallowed her, and her last thought was for the man who’d left her here to die.

  Chapter Seven

  Neil helped himself to a cup of coffee from the carafe in the hallway and walked toward the nurse’s station where Doris stood.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he said.

  Doris cocked her head to one side and shrugged. “Everyone has to do paperwork. How’s my favorite patient?” She glanced up at the screen indicating the read-outs on all the machines currently attached to Nancy. “I see her vitals are good. It’s nice to know you feel confident enough to leave her for a little while.”

  He laughed. “Confidence has nothing to do with it. The new nurse—she looks more like a Gunther than a Greta to me, but hey, what do I know?—kicked me out so she could bathe her and change her dressings.”

  “But that’s impossible.” Doris frowned, turning abruptly, her elbow catching on the patient charts on the counter. The clipboards clattered to the floor, the noise echoing loudly, the papers flying all around. “Damn.”

  Neil bent to pick them up.

  “Your wife’s my patient. No one should be in there with her but me. We don’t have a blonde nurse, male or female, on this unit’s staff,” she continued, her voice filled with outrage. “Whoever’s in there has no business on this floor. It better not be another reporter…”

  She hurried down the hallway toward Nancy’s room.

  Yanking out his gun, he reached out to place the coffee mug on the ledge, but missed. The sound of the porcelain splintering against the floor followed him as he raced after Doris, catching up in time to push her out of the way and enter the room first. The screens on the machines surrounding the bed were black. The woman he’d mistaken for a nurse was bent over the bed, holding a pillow over Nancy’s face. His breath, strangled by terror, caught in his throat.

  “No!” he shouted as his mind took in everything at once, a strange calm overtaking him as his training kicked in. “Get away from her!”

  The scene was surreal. Everything happened simultaneously and yet, he isolated each event. Doris screamed and tried to force her way around him. The woman turned away from Nancy, dropped something on the floor and glared at them. She cursed and put her hand into the pocket of the lab coat she wore.

  “I said get away from her.” His voice was deathly calm.

  The pillow slipped from Nancy’s face and he saw the oxygen mask hanging uselessly off the side of the bed.

  Doris saw it, too. She shoved her way around him and ran toward her patient.

  The woman pulled a pistol from her pocket, aimed, and fired just as Neil did.

  Doris dropped like a stone, the front of her pale yellow uniform turning a deep maroon.

  The assassin’s eyes rolled back, and she crumbled to the ground, blood seeping from a hole in the center of her forehead.

  Neil raced to the imposter, picked up her gun, and shoved it in the waistband of his jeans. Jumping up, he hurried to Nancy’s side. She was pale, too pale. The plug providing power to her heart monitor lay on the floor near the outlet. He plugged it into the socket, and the sound of the machine’s alarm broke the silence. Within seconds, the room filled with nurses, orderlies, and doctors. He aimed his weapon at those who’d entered, searching for a possible second assassin.

  “She’s not breathing,” he yelled at the first nurse he recognized.

  Doctor Howard rushed into the room and pushed Neil out of the way. He pressed the intercom and shouted, “Code Blue. ICU 7. Get a crash cart in here stat!”

  Within seconds, three more nurses came into the room with a defibrillator. Where did all these people come from? He was sure he hadn’t seen this many people in the unit since he’d arrived.

  “Is she okay?” he yelled at the doctor.

  “Pushing epi,” the doctor cried, instead of answering him.

  Two orderlies placed Doris on a gurney. A young nurse moved with them, never easing up on the pressure she put on the wound, but there was so much blood. How could one person lose so much blood and survive?

  Neil swallowed his guilt. He should be the one lying on that stretcher. Doris had taken the bullet meant for him, and he hadn’t given a second thought to how badly she’d been injured. She’d saved his life and if Nancy survived this attack, it would be because of the young nurse, too.

  “Inspector,” Doctor Howard yelled as he continued the chest compressions on Nancy while one of the nurses squeezed air into her lungs. “Get someone over here. I don’t know what’s going on, but obviously the danger isn’t over. I don’t want another patient or member of my staff attacked
.”

  A nurse handed the doctor a set of paddles. He held them in the air.

  “Clear,” he called loudly before touching the paddles to Nancy’s chest.

  Her body bucked on the bed, but the straight line on the heart monitor didn’t change.

  “Sir, you have to leave.” One of the nurses tried to force him away from the bed.

  An orderly pushed the gurney on which they’d placed the assassin. He looked around the room. “Anyone know where we put this one?”

  “Clear.” Doctor Howard’s voice echoed in the room.

  Neil looked away from the straight white line, but he could visualize it still.

  “Leave her in the hall. Don’t take her off this floor,” Neil shouted. The command in his voice brooked no argument. “You,” he motioned to another orderly he recognized. “Call 9-1-1. Then, I need you to look around and check to see that everybody who’s here has the right to be. Be careful. You don’t want to get yourself or anyone else shot. If you see someone or something out of place, come and get me.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young man rushed out of the room.

  Tears ran down Neil’s face. His hand gripped his gun so tightly it hurt. He stood at the foot of Nancy’s bed daring anyone to try and move him.

  “Clear.” Doctor Howard yelled once more.

  Again Nancy’s traumatized body jumped as more than 300 joules of electricity attempted to jumpstart her heart.

  Was it the second time? The third?

  The computer screen displayed a series of lines he knew represented her heartbeat, and Neil let out the breath he’d been holding.

  “We’ve got sinus rhythm.” The nurse handed the doctor a stethoscope and took the paddles out of his hands.

  The doctor turned to Neil. “Now, go. Get us some help here.”

  Neil grabbed the bed frame to steady himself, nodded, and left the room. Years of training struggled with love and fear. He moved over to the stretcher on which the assassin lay.

  Taking out his cell phone, he snapped a couple of close-ups of her face, and forwarded the images to the marshals’ office. He dialed Anderson’s private number.

  “Neil,” the man answered on the first ring. “How is she?”

  “Someone just tried to kill her.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He wouldn’t dignify the comment with an answer. “The hospital’s called 9-1-1. If the FBI wants to keep a lid on this, they’d better get over here now.”

  Neil’s voice was hoarse, his emotions out of control. He took a deep breath trying to steady himself.

  “I’ve sent you a couple of pictures. I need a team here now. The assassin shot a nurse, too. I don’t know whether or not she’s dead, but she may have saved both our lives.”

  “Where’s the body?” Anderson asked, his tone betraying his outrage.

  “Right here. This woman was a pro. I don’t know how or why, but Nancy had to be the target of the massacre. Whoever’s behind this must be desperate to try to pull off something like this in broad daylight.”

  “I agree. I’m on my way.” Anderson hung up.

  Neil ended the call and ran his trembling hand through his hair. What would have happened if he hadn’t gone to talk to Doris? He would’ve been out in the hall while Nancy died only a few feet away from him. What the hell kind of guardian was he?

  It wasn’t the first time someone had taken a shot at him. He had a scar on his shoulder from a bullet he’d taken in Iraq, and another on his leg. In his chosen career, there was always a chance the bad guys would come looking for the package, but he’d known the risks and usually had Todd at his back. Getting shot wasn’t in Doris’s job description, yet she hadn’t hesitated to try and save her patient.

  Moving away from the body, Neil scanned the area around him. His heart was beating as fast as it did when he’d finished running a marathon. His mouth was dry, his breathing still ragged. He trembled from the slowly dissipating adrenaline rush which usually occurred when he’d been forced to fire his weapon. It was unfortunate his marksmanship had been dead on. The woman might have been of some use alive, but seeing her holding the pillow over Nancy had filled him with rage, and instinct had ruled over intellect. He swiped at his face wet from the tears he still shed, and realized he was chilled, soaked with sweat, the aftermath of what had just happened.

  He glanced over the area once more. Had the assassin worked alone? There’d been four gunmen at the restaurant. Had she been one of them? She could’ve passed for a man dressed like one. He looked up and down the all but deserted hallway. Where had everyone gone?

  Two nurses came out of the office and moved to the ICU desk where he’d spoken to Doris only minutes ago. Someone had cleaned up the shards of porcelain and picked up the papers. One of the nurses was sobbing while the other was trying to comfort her. He glanced back toward the entrance doors and the elevator. How had the assassin gotten inside?

  Hospital security guards had closed off access to the ICU. Fat lot of help a couple of unarmed rent-a-cops would be. Half the time, they couldn’t even get unauthorized visitors to leave the patients’ rooms after visiting hours were over. How were they going to stop paid assassins?

  He looked down at his hand. Three fingers clenched the grip of his gun, his thumb meeting them, while his index finger was on the trigger ready to fire.

  Setting the safety on the pistol, he sheathed the weapon in his shoulder holster. It would have to be surrendered to a shooting analysis team, but not until they gave him a replacement weapon. He’d been armed the entire time he’d been here. Strangely, he’d almost removed his weapons today, but that sixth sense that had kept him alive more often than not had told him to keep them on.

  Moving over to the gurney, he examined the body carefully, angry with himself when he saw the hired gun wore street shoes. How could he have missed that? He’d been so damn distracted by her appearance that he’d missed a critical clue. Nancy had almost died because of his carelessness.

  Well, no more. He was a marshal, sworn to protect those in danger, and it was time he got his head straight and acted like one. If he wanted a second chance with Nancy, he had to keep her alive. Getting her away from here was a priority, and Anderson had better not expect him to back off. It wasn’t going to happen.

  More or less in control of his emotions, Neil walked over to the nurse’s desk.

  “How’s Doris? Where have they taken her?”

  “We don’t know how she is, but she’s in surgery,” one of the nurses who helped look after Nancy answered him, the concern on her face telling its own story.

  The nurse standing beside her, the one sobbing, looked up at him. She was trying valiantly to stop crying as her hiccupping showed. Her voice was barely audible.

  “Doctor Hazlet is operating on her. What’s going on, inspector? We were told everything was back to normal. Who is that woman?”

  He shook his head. “I wish I could answer you, but I’m in the dark, too.”

  “Doris is my sister,” she continued, the tears streaming down her cheeks once more.

  “Your sister’s a hero,” he answered gruffly. “You should be very proud of her. She saved two lives today. I know it isn’t much of a comfort right now, but in time, you’ll realize what a tremendous job she did.”

  The nurse nodded and smiled weakly.

  “How many others are still here from the restaurant shooting?”

  While it looked as though Nancy had been the target, he really had no proof of that.

  “Only two, but we have other patients,” the first nurse said. “If someone wants to make sure no one survives, he might not know the difference.”

  Neil looked up at the screens above the desk and sucked in a breath. “Go check the other patients now,” he ordered. “Those computer feeds are wrong. They’ve been tampered with.”

  Surprised no doubt by the vehemence in his voice, the nurse stifled her tears and looked up at Neil, her face clearly displaying confusion as she
turned to examine the monitors. It only took her a few moments to realize what he was saying, and she gasped.

  “He’s right. Those images are static. They should be changing every fifteen seconds. We need to check all the patients.” She let out a deep breath, trying to pull herself together, and turned to the other nurse. “Lynn, I’ll check on the right, you do the left.”

  Neil breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the nurses counting down the rooms, and calling “all clear” as they left each one.

  “Everyone’s fine,” Lynn said, approaching the desk. “Marsha’s gone down to check on her sister. Two of the patients are unconscious, while the others heard the shots and are scared. No one is as relaxed as that computer screen shows. How are they doing this?”

  “I’m not sure,” he answered, but the acid in his stomach gave lie to his words. Someone had tampered with the computers. He was certain they’d either find an accomplice or another body wherever the feed originated. “As soon as backup gets here. I’ll have someone look into it. For now, assume that all of those monitors aren’t working properly, and don’t trust anything else unless you check it yourself.”

  Neil moved back to the assassin’s gurney, the body now covered and pushed against the wall. He should leave her alone until Anderson and the techs got here, but he couldn’t wait. Looking down at the corpse, he did a quick inventory. The woman wore rubber gloves, the kind found in the box just outside Nancy’s door. Attached to the lapel of her lab coat was a hospital ID swipe card, clipped in such a way that the black stripe showed, not the photo ID. He turned it over. This woman was definitely not Robert Ashman. No doubt Bob was either in on the attempted murder or dead.

  Checking the right coat pocket, he found two syringes—one empty. Had the woman injected whatever was in that syringe into Nancy? Was that the reason her heart had stopped. Searching the other pocket, he found an extra ammo clip. The only other thing she’d carried into Nancy’s room had been her gun.

  He pulled the weapon out of his waistband. Since she’d been gloved, the odds were his would be the only prints on the weapon, but identifying this assassin wouldn’t be too difficult. The gun he held was a Russian Makarov PM. No matter what the informants had told the FBI, the Russian mob had to be implicated in this somehow. Ramirez had married into the mob. Had he asked his in-laws for backup?