Without warning, he was right over them, peering through the window. His presence could be felt as his silhouette blocked out the light from the hallway. The guard stared in at Jordan, who laid on the bed, acting sedated. No one moved for what felt like nerve-wracking minutes. Finally, with a crack of his nightstick to the door, his shadow passed out of view of the window. The cool fluorescent light once again streamed in. Everyone anxiously held their places. The footfalls faded with each step, finally ceasing as the guard rounded a corner into the next hall.
The tense silence was broken when Murray’s voice cut through their earpieces.
“Move now, right now!”
Ethan grabbed the wheelchair and pushed it back to the bed as Jordan worked herself in. Mark gave them a nod, and they slipped silently out of 3808 and ran toward freedom.
Murray watched the monitor as the security guard casually lumbered down the next hall, tapping his stick as he went, annoying another ward of patients. The next turn would bring him to the abandoned meds cart that Mark left by the restroom. The window of opportunity was closing fast. They needed to be clear of the area before the guard spotted it.
Ethan, Mark, and Jordan had covered half the distance to the stairwell when the guard came upon the cart.
“Anyone in here?” he called through the lavatory door. There was no response. Suspecting something amiss, he pulled out his radio. “Stan, this is Ray, over?”
“Go ahead, Ray. You staying awake today?”
“I Only fell asleep on the job that one time, and you know it.”
“Yup. Just happened to be during an inspection. What’s up?”
Ray’s face reddened with embarrassed anger. That pencil-pushing desk prick was never going to let him live that down. “There is a cart filled with medications outside the can up here.”
“Where, exactly?”
“East end.”
“Stand by, please.”
Stand by, Ray chuckled to himself. Pompous blowhard, probably thinks he’s—
“Raymond, please state your exact location again.” There was an urgency in Stan’s voice.
“Restroom, third floor, east end.”
“Listen to me, Ray! I don’t see you there, just the med cart, so if this is some little game you’re playing, it’s not very…oh, shit!”
“I’m standing right here, man. What’s your problem?”
“My, ah, my monitor for camera twelve just flashed. One minute you weren’t there, and now you are. Something weird is going on. Take a quick walk around the whole floor, will you?”
“Copy that. Stand by.”
Ethan, Mark, and Jordan were nearing the exit when a loud voice bellowed behind them.
“Hey, you there, stop! Stop right now!”
Mark turned and saw the pudgy guard trotting awkwardly toward them with a radio in one hand and that obnoxious billy club in the other. He muttered under his breath but took solace that the guy wasn’t built like a marathon runner. Mark shot ahead and pulled open the exit door. Ethan and Jordan followed through seconds later.
“Stan! We have a situation on level three,” the guard huffed into the radio as he ran, struggling to catch his breath. “Two orderlies. . .with a patient . . . just went into the south stairwell.”
“Copy that, Ray. Stay on them.”
“I think. . . I think it’s the one. . .from 3808.”
There was a pause.
“Goddamn it, Raymond, we’re going to catch major shit for this. I’m sounding the alarm. We’re going into lockdown. Do not let them get out!”
Mark glanced back as the guard narrowed the distance between them. “Ethan,” he yelled, “grab Jordan and get down the stairs. I need that wheelchair.”
Ethan bent down in front of Jordan. “Piggyback, okay?”
She nodded and latched her arms around his neck, and hooked her legs around his waist. As soon as he felt her locked on, he sprinted down the stairs.
Mark took the wheelchair and positioned it to block the steps, then followed them down. They had descended one flight when the guard rushed through the door. He crashed into the chair and tumbled down the stairwell, flopping end over end until he slammed into the next landing, out cold.
Murray watched the flurry of activity on his monitors. The planned escape route was being choked off by an inrush of guards. Workers from every department scrambled out of the way. The entire hospital was now alerted to their presence. The trio had been thirty-seconds from freedom but was now trapped. He surveyed the images from all cameras, searching for an alternative path. There was one area that still appeared relatively calm.
“Change of plan, guys,” he said, “head for the basement.” He spotted another guard making his way toward the stairwell. “Be ready. You’ve got more company coming.”
Mark descended the steps toward the basement, trying to think one step ahead of the pursuers. An idea came to him, and he stopped at the first-floor door. “I’ll be right behind you,” he called down to Ethan and Jordan.
They continued down the stairwell without asking questions.
Mark peered through the window, watching for anyone coming their way. He needed to buy some time by creating a distraction. He spied an IV pole across the hall and lunged through the door, and grabbed it, pulling it back inside. As he did, a voice boomed from down the corridor.
“Hey, you! Stay where you are!”
Mark slammed the door shut and jammed the IV pole down behind the release bar, wedging it in tightly. The angry face of a heavy breathing security guard filled the window. The guard tried opening the door and realized it was secured from inside.
“Open this now,” he commanded, pulling on the handle.
Mark decided to send his pursuers in the wrong direction. As the guard glared angrily, he backed away and bolted up the stairs.
“All units,” the guard growled into his radio, “suspects are headed back up the stairs. Repeat, they’re headed up!”
Mark stopped outside the second-floor door and paused, listening. He heard the rapid, retreating footsteps of the first-floor guard. The subterfuge worked. He shot down to the basement, taking the steps four at a time, then peered through the window. No guards. He slipped out the door and caught sight of Ethan and Jordan walking arm in arm down the hallway. He caught up and grabbed Jordan’s other arm, then scooted them along the empty corridor.
Outside the bustling kitchen, they came upon a row of lockers.
Ethan signaled them to stop and began flipping through each. He pulled out a lab coat for Jordan. “Put this on,” he said, holding it as she slipped her arms through.
“Can you walk on your own?”
She turned to him and nodded.
“All right then, follow me toward that exit sign down the hall.”
Jordan’s balance and strength were still off, but she willed every ounce of energy to walk at a measured pace while Mark tried checking in on the headset. There was no response. The transmitters were not working in the basement. They were on their own for the time being and blended with the increasing stream of workers. Mark reached the back stairway exit and held it open. Once inside, the men lifted Jordan from either side and scrambled up the steps toward the main floor.
“The shipping dock is ahead to the right,” Ethan said as they peered out the stairwell window. “I’ll take the lead. You guys follow.”
Ethan was about to open the door when Murray’s voice crackled back into their earbuds.
“Package pickup, do you copy?”
“Package pickup, we read you,” Mark answered, breathing a sigh of relief. “We’re on the main floor, shipping department, rear stairwell.”
“Good job, I see you now. Back away from the window and don’t move. I’m going to record a video loop with the camera near you. Just about got it. . .and there, done! Head for the exit. Your ride is waiting.”
The shipping department camera was taken offline, and another one of Murray’s video loops played in its place, masking
their movements. They were in the home stretch.
Ethan walked with controlled calm toward their final destination. Mark and Jordan followed closely behind, yearning to sprint the last few yards. They were so close.
The loading dock was directly ahead. Just to the right of that was the exit. Ethan was never so happy to see that red-lettered sign. He looked about and saw no one observing them. “We’re clear,” he said in a forced whisper, “let’s go!”
Cody sat at the loading dock with engine running, watching through the rearview mirror. The exit door suddenly burst open in a flurry of motion. He scrambled out and ran to the side of the van, pulling open the sliding door as Mark, Ethan and Jordan ran toward him. As they jumped down the concrete steps, Jordan lost her footing and began falling forward. She was immediately grabbed from either side and whisked the rest of the way to the van. She and Ethan dove through the open side door while Mark ensured they landed safely. He pulled the door shut behind them and jumped into the passenger seat.
“We’re set, Cody,” Mark huffed, “get us out of here!”
Cody dropped the van into drive and floored the accelerator, making a hard turn out of the shipping bay and heading onto the circular hospital drive.
Jordan and Ethan were tossed around the back of the van like tennis shoes in a dryer. Jordan clung to him as though they were still running through the hospital halls, only now daring to believe she was free.
Ethan brushed the hair away from her eyes and stroked her cheek. “Sorry I didn’t show up with a limo,” he quipped, “but I’ll make it up to you.”
Jordan hugged him tighter. “This is the best ride of my life. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
The blissful moment was abruptly cut short.
“Save it, you two,” Mark called out. “We’re not in the clear yet.” He tapped his earpiece. “Murray, can you hear me?”
“Five by five, go ahead.”
“There’s a security car with lights flashing coming from the other side of the hospital.”
“We’re on it,” Murray responded. “Backup One, do you copy? Tell me what you see.”
An aging Ford Explorer SUV sat idling on the side of the road near the hospital entrance, flanked by the old stone wall that encircled the property. The driver scanned the massive estate for any sign of activity. Through a copse of thick trees, she spied the flicker of flashing lights moving fast along the inner road. Seconds later, the cargo van, package delivery, burst into the clearing. Directly behind it, nearly kissing its back bumper, was the hospital security vehicle.
“Right in front of me,” Backup One replied, “and coming fast.”
“All you need to do is block the cop long enough to get the package past. Can you do that?”
There was a pause before she answered. “It’s gonna be tight. He’s right on their ass.” She thought for a moment, imagining the scenario needed to make this work. “Package pickup,” she finally responded, “make a left when you hit the main road, and don’t slow down no matter what you see!”
“Copy that,” Cody answered tensely. “Here we come!”
Backup One threw the Ford into gear, slammed the pedal to the floor, and headed directly for the two vehicles as they raced forward. The distance between them was no more than a car length as the van shot out directly in front of her, making a hard, sliding left turn onto the shoulder of the road. Her left front bumper kissed the left rear of the van as it swung around, struggled for traction in the loose gravel, then fishtailed as it sped away. She slammed both feet down on the brake just as the pursuit vehicle came flying through the intersection. It broadsided the Explorer with an ear-shattering concussion of crumpling metal. The forward momentum spun both vehicles around ninety degrees, screeching to an abrupt halt.
Security officer Henry Wiss opened his eyes, shifted his aching jaw from side to side, and blinked his vision into focus. He glanced out over the crumpled black and white hood of his security cruiser and watched as hissing steam rose from the crushed radiator. His ears stopped ringing as he took in the unnatural stillness. He looked down and saw what looked like his facial imprint in the now deflating airbag. Shit, that hurt!
He took a quick mental inventory of body aches and sensations. He was lucky and would walk away from this with little more than a massive headache and a very stiff neck. Then he thought of the other driver!
“Oh my God,” he mumbled. He’d run the stop sign and plowed into the old SUV. “But I had my lights going,” he tried to reason his way out of feeling blame. “They should have yielded.”
His thoughts went to the occupants of the vehicle he creamed. Were they hurt? Were they dead? “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled. “I just started this job! How much worse can it get?” As if washing out from the police academy wasn’t bad enough. This second-rate security job was supposed to buy him time until he could reapply. But now this! This could ruin him! If he’d killed someone, then he was doubly screwed.
He unbuckled his seat belt and prepared to go check on the condition of the other driver. He froze as he caught motion in the corner of his eye. Coming around the back of the SUV, drenched in the taillight’s red glow, was an old woman in a light-colored robe. She held her neck with her right hand. Her head, full of large pink rollers wound with silver hair, gyrated slowly back and forth. Fuzzy slippers scuffled on the pavement as she made her way toward him. He rolled his window down apprehensively as she approached, feeling equal parts of shock and nausea.
“Are you all right young man?” The old woman asked in a soft, concerned tone. Her weathered features were exaggerated by the flashing lights against the radiator steam. She looked and sounded like every grandmother he’d ever remembered.
“Yeah, I think so,” he answered.
She appeared relatively unharmed. Thank God she wasn’t a bloody mess. Just squeezing and rubbing her neck a lot. Maybe things weren’t as bad as––
Her eyes suddenly narrowed, her entire face contorting into a mass of deep, scornful lines. In a raspy, paint-peeling voice, she yelled, “Happy to hear it, you stupid son of a bitch! You ran a stop sign and hit my husband’s favorite Ford! What the hell is wrong with you! You think you’re in a race? You think this is NASCAR?” She extended her left hand and tossed a business card through the open window. “My husband is Sid Brinkman, the attorney, kid. And you just destroyed his SUV. I’d advise you to find a better lawyer, but there aren’t any. I’m gonna sue you for every penny you’ll make from now until the day that empty head of yours starts going bald. You’d better pray my neck’s not broken, ’cause it hurts like hell!”
Before he could comprehend what happened, the old hag was walking back toward her vehicle.
“Wait! Don’t we need to…exchange insurance information? You need to stay until the cops get here.”
She kept walking and climbed into her van. She backed up and turned hard right, ripping the smashed vehicles apart. The separating sheet metal squealed and screeched in protest. The front bumper of the patrol car ripped off and clanged onto the road. She rolled back until her passenger window was even with him.
“Call this in, Kojak,” she yelled. “I’ll be back in a bit. Shiela’s having a heart attack, and I’m taking her to the vet.”
“The Vet? Wait, you can’t—”
“Can and will, you horse’s ass. My cat is more important than you or this mess you made. Call it in, and tell them you hit Lolli Brinkman. Tell them I’m hurt, I’m mad as hell, and I’ll be back!”
The tires chirped on the pavement as Backup One floored the van and headed back the way it had come.
Henry Wiss sat dumbfounded, still attempting to process all that happened. Slowly, his mind cleared, and he recalled the urgency of the situation. He pulled the radio microphone from its cradle. “Stan, this is mobile unit two.”
“Henry, did you get them?”
“Negative. I, ah, was in an accident. I hit a civilian vehicle. The van got away.” Henry went on to explain as many details as he
could remember.
“Copy that,” Stan said when he’d finished. “Ray, up on the third floor, reported that these people kidnapped a patient. They threw him down a flight of stairs after he gave chase. We’re calling the state police in on this. There’s nothing more you can do. Come on in, and we’ll get you checked out.”
“What about that old bag in the SUV that I hit?” he asked.
“Cross your fingers that she was bullshitting about her husband being Sid Brinkman. You don’t want to put this hospital through a lawsuit with that ambulance chaser. I don’t know why she left the scene, but I’m sure our legal department will be calling you soon for a full review. In fact, we might want to think about this before calling in the police. She left the scene of an accident. Even old Sid would have trouble defending that. Is the squad car drivable?”
“No, the front end is wiped out.”
“Copy that. I’ll make a call and get you towed. We’ll write it up as a hit and run. Nothing else we can do. It’s someone else’s problem now.”
38
“Package Delivery, please confirm your position.” Murray’s voice crackled through Cody’s handheld radio.
“Coming up on Fulton Street,” he replied, still shaking from the adrenalin-pumping chase and getaway.
“Very good, your GPS tracker quit working. Follow the plan, and we’ll see you soon.”
“Got it,” Cody answered as he turned into the lot of an abandoned gas station. He drove around the building and pulled up next to Joe, who sat waiting in a minivan, then got out and slid open the side door. Jordan and Ethan scurried out and hopped into the next vehicle. Cody pulled the magnetic signs off the doors and heaved them into a dumpster, then jumped back into his van and drove off.
ENEMY WITHIN THE GATES Page 21