by David Archer
“I’m rolling. I can be at the hospital in less than ten.” He ended the call and dropped the phone into his pocket, then took off toward the hospital.
Despite a couple of lights that might have turned red just before Sam blew through them, he made it to the hospital in less than nine minutes. He parked his car right outside the front entrance and grabbed his cane out of the back seat as he climbed out, then hurried inside and into the elevator. There were police officers all over the place when he emerged onto Max’s floor, but they all knew who he was. He paused when he got to Max’s door, letting his face show through the small window before he opened it and stepped inside.
Heath Blevins, the security guard on duty, recognized Sam. “Mr. Prichard,” he said. “I got one of them, but one got away. I called in, and Roscoe Jordan is on the way back to relieve me. I have to go down to the police station to make a report.”
Sam nodded. “That’s normal procedure,” he said. “Good job on getting the shooter, but the police want that kept away from the press, so don’t speak to the reporters on your way out. Did you get a good look at the one that ran?”
“I did, sir,” Blevins said. “That’s one of the advantages of a high-powered scope. I’ve already given a description of her to the police.”
Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Her? It was a woman?”
“Yes, sir, a man and a woman. The man was holding the rifle, and the woman was spotting for him with binoculars. I just happened to be looking toward the window at that moment and I saw the flash, so I immediately aimed to return fire. I had the shooter in my cross hairs, so I squeezed the trigger and then tried to adjust my aim for the woman, but she was running already. I fired, and I think I hit her, but she didn’t stop.”
Sam walked to the window and looked out. There were several police officers on top of a building a short distance away, and Sam pointed. “Is that where they were?”
“Yes, sir,” Blevins replied. “I don’t know who it was, sir, but he’s definitely a pro. Max was walking back to his bed from the bathroom when the shot was fired, and I believe the bullet was slightly deflected as it came through the glass, or he could be dead right now.”
Sam turned to Max, who was sitting in a chair out of sight of the window. “You okay, kid?”
Max gave him a nervous grin. “I’m okay,” he said. “I just wish people would stop shooting at me.”
Sam nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “You and me both.”
There were two police officers in the room, and Sam told them he’d be back. He went out of the room and back down the elevator, then started out the door. He was planning to go to the building where the shooter had been, but he suddenly had microphones in his face. Several reporters had gathered, but Wendy Dawson and her cameraman actually got to him first.
“Mr. Prichard, can you tell us what’s going on? We heard that Max Petrelli was shot again, is that true?”
For a split second, Sam regretted his earlier comment to Karen about how he had learned to like the press.
“There was a shot fired into Mr. Petrelli’s room, but he has not been injured. Windlass Security has been maintaining a security guard with him all week, and our security officer was able to keep Mr. Petrelli safe. The police are currently investigating, and they will have more information for you before long.”
“Mr. Prichard,” Wendy said, “do you believe this is related to the last time Max was shot? Is someone trying to kill him because he won the award last week?”
“At this moment, I can’t speak about the motive of the shooter, or about any connection this might have to our ongoing investigation. Again, you’ll have to wait for the police to release whatever information they have.”
Sam pushed his way around them, and the reporters finally backed off. He walked down the sidewalk in front of the hospital, leaning on his cane lightly as his hip began to protest the distance.
Several policemen and Detective Dolby were standing in front of the building the shot had come from, and Dolby was delighted to escort Sam inside and up the elevator. When they got to the top floor, they got out of the elevator and went to the emergency stairs that led to the roof. Sam held onto the rail as he climbed the stairs, and then they were out under the sun. Dolby walked with him across the roof to where the shooter lay on his back.
For a moment, Sam thought he was seeing a ghost. The man laying on the tarred roof was almost a twin for Juergen Schroeder, but there were some differences. This man wasn’t quite as tall, and he had a slight mustache under his nose.
“I don’t suppose he had any ID on him?” Sam asked.
The police officer standing next to the body shook his head. “No, sir,” he said. “No ID, no wallet, nothing in his pockets at all.”
“Did anybody see where the woman went? Were there any witnesses who might have gotten a good look at her?”
“Again, no, sir. We know she made it down the elevator, but no one reported seeing her come out of the front door. It’s almost like she vanished out of the elevator.”
Sam took out his phone and dialed a number. “Steve? You heard already? Okay, get Walter up to where the shooters were. I want his take on this as soon as possible, but the police are not releasing the information that the shooter is dead.”
“We’ll get there as soon as possible,” Steve said. “And don’t worry, I don’t deal with reporters, and I don’t let them anywhere near Walter.”
Sam put the phone in his pocket and looked at the shooter again. Blevins had definitely done a good job, because there was a hole in the center of the man’s forehead.
“I’ve got my crime scene specialist on the way,” Sam said to Dolby. “Make sure he gets up here, and that nobody touches anything until he does.”
“Yes, sir,” Dolby said. Sam went down the stairs to the elevator, and limped his way back to the hospital.
Most of the reporters were talking to some police officers, but Wendy Dawson and her cameraman were standing off by themselves, both of them staring at Sam as he approached. He started to enter the hospital and ignore them, then stopped. He looked around quickly, then motioned for them to follow him inside.
He didn’t have to tell them twice. A few seconds later, he had taken them aside in the hospital lobby.
“I give you a quick, brief statement,” he said, “but I want you to promise me you’ll run it exactly the way I give it. Can you do that?”
“Of course,” Wendy said. “All I have to do is tell the boss that was a condition of getting it. Our producers would do just about anything to get an exclusive statement out of you, Mr. Prichard.”
“Okay, then tell me when you’re ready.”
It took Harvey a couple of seconds to get the camera onto his shoulder and turned on, and then he nodded. Wendy stepped up to Sam, showing the camera her profile.
“Mr. Prichard, what can you tell us about what’s going on right now?”
“Wendy, Windlass has been working on investigating this case all week, and we’ve come across some disturbing information. I can’t go into any detail, but it appears at the moment that the shooting last week, and this attempt on Mr. Petrelli today, may actually be connected to an attempt by an unknown entity to damage or destroy the Web Wide Awards company. Now, that’s not conclusive, but we’ve come across evidence to back it up. The only question we got now is whether anyone inside Web Wide Awards might be aware of what’s happening.”
“Inside the company? Do you suspect there might be some kind of collusion between Web Wide Awards and the unknown entity you mentioned?”
Sam frowned. “It might be premature to say we suspect collusion,” he said. “Let’s just say we’re exploring all possibilities.”
Sam dragged a finger across his throat, and Harvey turned off the camera and lowered it. “We’re off,” he said.
“Wow,” Wendy said. “You just launched a whole string of conspiracy theories, you know that, right?”
“I don’t care about conspiracy theories,” Sam s
aid. “I’m actually trying to throw a scare into somebody, and hopefully it might help me figure out exactly what’s going on, here.”
“You put one into me,” Wendy said. “I worked for Web Wide Awards for a short time, and I hate to think anybody there would be involved in a plot like this. I mean, to shoot a kid?”
“I agree with you, it’s despicable. Hopefully, we’ll know something more concrete pretty soon.” He turned and walked into the elevator, leaving them where they stood.
Karen was in Max’s room when he got back up there, and he asked her to step out before he told her what he’d seen on the other roof. “The guy was almost a ringer for Schroeder,” he said, keeping his voice low. “Blevins said there was a man and a woman working together, so I’m about convinced that Reynard had more than one team here, working this assignment.”
“But why would they try to kill Max now?” Karen asked. “Trying it before only made Web Wide Awards stronger, it didn’t hurt them.”
“And that’s what they’re trying to do,” Sam said. “If Morton really is involved in this, then he was expecting the kind of result he got. Another attempt on Max’s life right now, when it’s obvious that it’s the company who’s the actual victim, is only going to strengthen that. Somebody, and it could possibly be Morton, is out to build Web Wide Awards up.”
“But why? Just to make more money?”
“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Do you know what you do with the turkey before Thanksgiving?”
Karen looked at him like he was crazy. “Keep it frozen?”
“Nope,” Sam said. “You fatten it up before the slaughter. Somebody is getting Web Wide Awards ready to be plucked and stuffed.”
*
The news about a second attempt on Max Petrelli’s life spread like wildfire, and Wendy’s prediction came true. The network grabbed Sam’s statement and ran it nationwide, while CNN happily paid the ridiculous amounts of money the station demanded so they could run it globally.
On social media, there was a tremendous outpouring of love and support for Max, but almost as much for Web Wide Awards. Even people who noticed Sam’s statement were unwilling to believe the company could possibly be involved in wrongdoing, and a few even posted some disparaging comments about Sam, himself.
Back in Denver, however, John Morton was stunned when he saw the news. Hearing Sam say that they were still investigating whether someone inside the company might be involved was a shock, and one that rocked him to his very core.
“Annie, do you think he’s trying to say it’s us?” Morton asked.
“Oh, John, why would he think that? You’re not doing anything to be worried about, are you?”
“No, no, of course not. No, you’re probably right, it wouldn’t make sense for him to suspect us. That wouldn’t make any sense at all.”
“Of course not,” Annie said. “After all, what was the first thing we did? We hired Windlass Security, and we’re the ones who are paying them to investigate this thing. I’m sure we wouldn’t have done that if we were somehow involved in making it happen.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Morton said. “I’m sure you’re right.”
*
Ron Thomas called as soon as he heard the news, and Sam brought him up to speed on what was going on. Ron suggested they double the guard on Max, and Sam was happy to agree that it was a good idea.
“You realize,” Ron said, “this actually doesn’t make any sense at all. They had already achieved what they were after, if you’re correct about this being a plot to build the company up. Why take another shot at Max?”
“I think it’s about fattening them up for the kill,” Sam said. “If I’m reading this right, somebody wants the company to be as solid as possible when they make their move. At least, that’s the only scenario I can envision that’s going to make any sense.”
“I can’t fault your logic,” Ron said. “I trust your judgment, Sam, so you handle this however you feel the need to. I’m quite sure you’re doing the best job anybody could on it.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence,” Sam said. “Listen, Steve is calling. I had him take Walter up to where the shooters were, I’m hoping Walter can figure out how the woman disappeared.”
“Go ahead, I’ll talk to you later.”
Sam flashed over to Steve’s call. “Go ahead, Steve,” he said. “What have you got?”
“Well, Walter figured it out,” Steve said. “The woman took off and went down the elevator, but she never came out on the ground floor. Apparently she really was hit, because there are drops of blood on the stairs down from the roof, and a few inside the elevator. We’re checking floor by floor to see where she got off the elevator, but right now we’re pretty sure she never got out of the building.”
“I’ll be right there,” Sam said. He turned to Karen. “The female subject with the shooter may still be in the building over there. She’s been wounded, and leaving a trail of blood drops.”
“What are we waiting for?” Karen asked, heading out the door with him. They fought their way past the reporters, then made their way to the other building and inside. Steve and Walter were standing in the lobby, and Steve had a grin on his face.
“Damn, Sam,” he said, “you should have seen it! We checked every floor, us and the cops, and there was no sign she got off the elevator. Walter, here, he went back in the elevator and looked around for a second, then jumped up on the little rail that goes around the thing and punched the emergency hatch in the ceiling, then pulled himself up. I heard a scream, so I climbed up there, too, and find him standing over the suspect, holding the gun she tried to point at him.”
“I wasn’t gonna shoot her,” Walter said. “I just didn’t want her to shoot me.”
“Where is she?” Sam asked.
“I’ve got two uniforms up on the elevator, keeping their eyes on her. She’s hit just under the collarbone, and she’s in a lot of pain. The officers got the bleeding under control, but she needs a hospital. I’ve got paramedics on the way, now.”
Sam looked at Walter. “Way to go, Walter,” he said. “Did you know she would be up there?”
“Yeah. I should have figured it out sooner. I just went up there to make sure, but she tried to shoot me so I took her gun away.”
“He did that,” he said. “And I think he broke two of her fingers while he did it.”
Sam shrugged. “That’ll teach her not to point guns at Walter.”
The paramedics arrived a few minutes later and they ended up having to open the doors on the second floor in order to get the woman out. She was unconscious by that time, and they rushed her out to the ambulance even though it was less than a block to the emergency room. Sam followed and found Karen standing just outside the exam room where doctors were stabilizing her, but then they hurried her off to surgery. One of the nurses said it would be at least the following day before anyone could speak to her.
Police officers were assigned to keep watch on her when she came out of surgery, but there was nothing more Sam could do at that point. He turned to Karen.
“Not much more I can do around here,” he said. “I think I’m going to head back to the office for a bit before I go home. Give me a call if anything happens or you need me, okay?”
“Yeah, I got this,” Karen said. “I don’t think she’s going to be talking, anyway. Watch out for the reporters as you leave.”
Sam grinned. “Don’t worry, I will.”
He walked out through the ER entrance and was immediately mobbed by the press. He glanced at the crowd of reporters and was surprised that he didn’t see Wendy Dawson shoving a microphone at him, but then he spotted her and her cameraman standing off to the side.
“Mr. Prichard, can you tell us who was just taken into the emergency room? Was that the person who tried to shoot Max Petrelli?” Those and a dozen other questions were shouted at him, and he held up a hand to get everyone to stop.
“All I can tell you at this moment,”
he said, “was that it is someone who was wounded in this most recent shooting. I don’t have any other information to give you at this time. The police will make a statement once they know more.” He pushed his way past them and headed toward his car, climbed in, and started back toward his office.
When he got there, Sam turned to his computer and began looking through all the reports on the case since it had begun. Something was bothering him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The only thing he could do in a case like that, he figured, was go back over all the notes, all the references, all the information they had collected since the case started.
The first thing he read through was the original description of the case, provided by John and Annie when they had first contacted Windlass Security. The initial contact usually came through the internet, on the company’s website. There was a form to be filled out with all relevant information, including the names and pertinent details of individuals involved, the service requested, a general description of the situation that needed to be investigated or protected against, and any comments the applicant might like to make.
John Morton and Annie Porter had done a good job of filling out the form. They had provided all of their own information, and then gone into a lengthy description of the shooting, and the circumstances surrounding it. They had specified that they wanted to hire the company for security for all future events, as well as for the Star Tour that was to begin shortly, and then requested assistance with investigating how the shooting had come about.
They had also gone beyond what was required, providing video clips that were taken from the production of the award program. While it was streamed live, it was also recorded and archived on their website. Sam remembered watching as it actually happened, because he and Indie watched a lot of the web-based programs, and recalled his shock at seeing the boy collapse. The hair on the back of Sam’s neck had stood right up, and he wasn’t even slightly surprised when they turned him over to see the blood on his chest.
There were four different camera angles included with the application, and Sam hadn’t seen them before. He clicked the play button on the first one and watched the drama unfold.