Authors: Julien Ayotte
Flower of Heaven (24 page)
Killing Ahmad would take a little while longer.
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Singh and the henchman, dressed in business suits, arrived at 10:00 a.m. in an unmarked car at the Elliott residence in Medway where they were stopped by the Medway police. Singh and his accomplice flashed a badge indicating that they were from Interpol and that they had been on the trail of Singh and DeSai following several murders in Europe of eastern dignitaries attending oil conferences in Rome. After checking flights out of Rome, the men tracked the two assassins to a flight to Boston. After telling the local police on duty outside the Elliott house that the FBI had instructed them about the threat on Bob Elliott, the two Interpol agents thought that they could be of service if their capture warranted interrogation in their native tongue. The Medway police bought the story and their credentials and allowed them to stick around.
“I repeat, we’re now looking for at least three people, maybe four. Have Kaleel, the king’s assistant, fax you a photo of Talon. Give him the hospital fax number,” Harry repeated.
“Hold on, Harry, looks like the chaplain is coming back this way with that Father Merrill and another spiritual guy in a turban and robes.”
“Anyone check the credentials of this other guy?” The silence on the other end of the phone line was deafening as the agent searched for what to say since he had not personally done so.
“I’ll do it now, Harry, before he’s allowed in the room.” As the agent put the phone down, Harry shouted into the telephone, “Do not let anyone within fifty feet of that room. Hello, hello?”
Harry was just minutes away from Mass. General and he found himself beginning to sweat profusely as he veered his car in and out of Boston traffic until the hospital was in sight. He pulled up in front of the main doors and began running down the corridor to the elevators to the second floor recovery area. The local policemen on duty were oblivious of any imminent danger as Harry charged past them, badge flashing as he raced by.
As he approached the recovery area, the other agent he had just spoken to noticed him coming.
“Where are they, the clergy that was here a few minutes ago,” Harry blurted.
“I checked the passport of the Arab guy and he’s ok, Harry.”
Harry burst into Ahmad’s room and confronted the three men. He immediately headed directly toward Talon and asked to see his identification again. The disguised Talon, insulted at this crass approach, shoved Harry down and bolted from the room.
As he hurried down the hall, he yelled to the agent and local police, “There’s trouble in the room, please hurry, one of the men is on the floor.”
The police instinct was to rush toward the room, almost ignoring Talon as he kept on walking past them.
Father Dick helped Harry up, slightly shaken, but fully aware that this man who just bolted out of the room was surely no holy man.
As the police and the agent entered the room, Harry shouted, “Block all the exits, alert the men to be on their toes for anyone trying to leave the hospital, anyone.”
Two uniformed Boston policemen assumed their guard outside Ahmad’s room while Father Dick and Father O’Malley were still in shock at what had just happened.
“No one enters this room, no one, until I say so.” Harry barked.
The other FBI agent was on his walkie-talkie instructing all men to block all exits as the manhunt began for Talon. Talon headed for a staircase and ran down to the lower floor of the hospital, the area where emergency vehicles arrived. As he ran, he also removed his disguise. First, the robe which was difficult to run with, then the turban and beard, tossing these into a hospital laundry cart near the entry door to the emergency area. Spotting a door marked Employees Only, Talon entered and found himself in a locker room. Grabbing a white lab coat, a clipboard, and a stethoscope hanging on an open locker room door, he exited and headed toward a door leading to a ramp near the ambulance area.
Harry reached the lower floor and spotted Talon at the end of the hallway and yelled for him to stop. Talon turned and fired at Harry, hitting him in the shoulder. Harry staggered but kept his balance and drew his own gun and, before he could return the fire, Talon was out the door. Talon raced down into the hospital’s laundry area, adjacent to another staircase leading to the parking garage where laundry delivery trucks loaded and unloaded linen for the hospital. As he raced outside, Talon fired at a driver who immediately abandoned his truck and ran for cover. Talon jumped into the van and sped toward the exit to the garage. Harry bolted from the doorway, one arm hanging from the recent gunshot, and fired directly at Talon through the windshield of the vehicle, striking Talon in the head and causing the van to crash against a cement wall, bursting into flames. Within a moment, Harry collapsed to the ground as other police arrived. Hospital attendants nearby quickly placed Harry on a gurney and emergency assistants attempted to apply pressure to Harry’s wound. Luckily, the bullet had entered and exited without hitting a bone or major artery.
Two hours later, Harry was discharged from the hospital, his left arm comforted by a sling. Before leaving, he placed a call to Chief Anderson in Medway to tell him about Talon’s death but that others were still at large.
Anderson informed Harry that the rental car they had been looking for had been found in a parking lot with the body of what appeared to be an Arab in the trunk of the vehicle.
“That leaves two at large, what’s going on at your end?” Harry inquired.
“Nothing much, just two Interpol guys who were also on the Arabs trail from Europe where these guys are suspected in other murders.”
“I should be in Medway tomorrow morning, Chief, but for now I think I’d better take the night off,” Harry moaned. “You’ve got my car phone number and you can also reach me at my home number in Providence.”
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Harry, having been discharged from Mass. General, got a lift from another agent who agreed to drive his car for him back to Providence. Before leaving, however, he made a visit to Queen Farah to inform her that Talon had been killed in a failed attempt to get to the king. The queen was extremely thankful to Harry and she uncontrollably hugged him for what felt like an eternity to Harry, not to mention the pain it brought to his wounded arm. She would tell the king immediately upon his awakening which was expected later during the day and she expressed to Harry how the king himself would want to thank him personally at some later date. Harry quickly pointed out that there were still two other assassins still not found and that the king was not out of danger yet. Security in and around the king’s hospital room would be increased for as long as necessary. Father Dick also expressed his thanks to Harry as he was accompanying Françoise to Ahmad’s room. Father O’Malley was still stunned at what had just transpired.
If the other two assassins were targeting Ahmad and not Bob Elliott, Harry realized that the danger to Ahmad was far from over.
Harry arrived home at five in the afternoon and was looking forward to unwinding as he made himself a dry Southern Comfort Manhattan and, as he kicked off his shoes and undid his bloodied necktie, he picked up the phone and called Jim Howard to let him know what had happened. Jim offered to stop in for a visit, but Harry was suddenly feeling the effects of his wound and the painkillers that the hospital had administered and felt in no mood for visitors. Howard understood and said he would catch up with Harry in a day or so.
As he let himself get totally relaxed as he sipped his drink ever so slowly, Harry suddenly jumped up, as if an alarm had just gone off.
“Interpol, how does Interpol know that the two assassins are in Medway?”
Harry raced to the phone and dialed the Providence office.
“This is Harry Esten—put me through to the Interpol office in Germany. This is very important.”
In what appeared to be ten minutes of silence on the other end of the receiver, but in fact was less than a minute, a voice in a German accent answered on the other end.
“Interpol, how may I direct your call?”
“My name is Harry Esten, FBI badge number three-two-six-seven from Providence, Rhode Island, in the United States and I must speak to whoever’s in charge, please.”
Within seconds, Gerhard Schmidt came on the line and inquired how he could be of service.
“You have two agents now in the US in pursuit of Fajid Singh and Abou Ben Habib, also known as Muhammad DeSai.” Harry carefully pronounced the names as best he could. He then told Schmidt the names of the two Interpol agents in Medway.
Schmidt was puzzled. “We don’t have any agents in the US. Our agents travel mostly throughout Europe and seldom leave the continent and we don’t have agents by those names anyway.”
Harry hung up the phone, waited a few seconds, then picked up the receiver to get a dial tone. He tried to enter the Medway police telephone so fast that he fumbled it a few times until finally hearing the ring at the other end. When he asked to speak to Chief Anderson, the operator indicated that he was not in.
“Pass me through to one of the squad cars at the Elliott house.”
“Sergeant Turcotte, here.”
“I need to speak to Chief Anderson, this is FBI agent Harry Esten, this is urgent.”
“The Chief is heading up the walk to the Elliott house right now,” Turcotte answered.
“Is anyone else with him?” Harry shouted.
“Yep, those two Interpol guys.”
“Stop them now, now, do you hear me?”
“Chief, FBI agent Esten is on the line, says it’s urgent.”
Turning briefly to the two agents, Anderson shrugged. “Hold on, fellas, I’ve got to take this call.”
Singh grabbed Anderson’s shoulder and, as he did, Anderson could feel the barrel of a gun against his back. “I don’t think so, Chief. I think you want to be calm right now and tell your officer that you’ll get back to the FBI in a couple of minutes. We have someone inside we need to meet first.” Singh grabbed Anderson’s gun from his holster as he spoke.
“What the hell, oh shit, you guys aren’t Interpol are you?”
“Eddie, tell Agent Esten I’m busy on a two-four-six and I’ll get back to him.”
“Two-four-six, two-four-six, what’s he saying, that’s ‘in pursuit of a suspect, armed and dangerous.’”
Sergeant Turcotte reacted immediately, drew his pistol and shielded himself behind his squad car as he shouted, “Stop right there assholes, all of you, and lay your weapons on the ground right now, do it now!”
Singh held Anderson in front of him with his gun now pointed to Anderson’s head as they back peddled toward the Elliott front door. Bob Elliott heard the commotion outside as he was pouring a cup of coffee for Sergeant Miller, after Miller had delivered the mail a few minutes earlier. It dawned on Bob that no one had seen Miller enter the house as he had done so by the patio entrance in the rear of the house where another patrolman was stationed.
The knock on the door was followed by a weak shout from Anderson, “Bob, it’s Chief Anderson, I have a few questions for you.”
Bob rushed the rest of the family upstairs and told them to get into the bedroom and to lock the doors behind them as they entered. He tried not to sound alarmed but the look on his face gave it away. As the family rushed upstairs, Miller drew his gun and Bob told him to hide in the hallway closet until he could see what was happening.
“Come on in, Chief, the door’s unlocked.”
As the three entered the house, Singh still had his arm around Anderson and the henchman was right behind them.
Bob headed through the living room and into the dining room. Singh whacked Anderson over the head with the butt of his gun and fired a shot at Bob, narrowly missing him. As he ran after Bob, Miller jumped out from behind the closet door and pointed his gun directly at the henchman who was startled to see him appear out of nowhere. The henchman tried to fire at Miller, but Miller shot three times in his direction, hitting him twice in the chest as he fell to the floor. Singh spun around momentarily to see what had just happened and saw the henchman fall. He continued his pursuit toward the dining room which led to the kitchen area. As he rounded the corner from the living room to the dining room, he never knew what hit him. Bob Elliott laced a solid baseball bat to Singh’s head, his gun going off skyward shooting wildly at the ceiling. Bob’s next blow knocked the gun from Singh’s hand and, as quick as a flash, Miller appeared pointing his gun at Singh as he kicked Singh’s gun away from his body. Singh was holding his head which was bleeding profusely and Miller called outside for medical help from Sergeant Turcotte.