Thy Kingdom Come: Book One in the Sam Thorpe series (39 page)

Sam measured the distance to Oliver. He had an open shot. “How do I know you’ll let her go after you get out of here?”

“Don’t worry, Sam. You can trust me.”

Alex glared at Oliver. “Don’t make any deals with this sack of shit.”

“Enough!” Oliver shouted. “Put down that weapon now, or she dies.”

Sam weighed his alternatives. None of them looked good. Oliver would kill Sam if he dropped the weapon. Then he’d take Alex as a hostage.

Sam kept his rifle trained on Oliver. Could he shoot the weapon out of his hand before the bastard pulled the trigger?

“Shoot the bastard, Sam!”

Sam squeezed off a shot group and heard the retort of Oliver’s weapon.
Alex!
Sam’s shots hit Oliver in the arm, shoulder, and the right side of his head. Oliver’s body flew backwards, and he fell out of the vehicle, hitting the floor with a loud thud.

Sam watched in horror as Alex’s body slipped down on the seat and rolled to the floor of the vehicle.

Sam jumped up and ran across the room. He kicked the weapon away from Oliver. That didn’t matter. Oliver wasn’t going anywhere. He moaned on the floor once, then lay still.

Sam reached for Alex’s wrist. A pulse, but faint at best. He pulled open her jacket.. Blood spurted out. Oliver’s weapon had put a hole above Alex’s stomach. Sam ripped his own shirt off and stuffed it under the front of her jacket, then put pressure on it to try to stop the flow of blood.

Sirens wailed in the background. The whirl of helicopter blades sounded outside.

Alex reached up and grabbed his collar to pull him down to her. “We got the bastards, you and me.”

Sam’s voice broke with emotion. “Be still. There’s plenty of time to talk after we get you to the hospital.”

“Sam …” her eyes shut and her head rolled to one side.

Sam pinched her nose and began breathing into her mouth. He alternated breaths and pressure on her chest at a ratio of fifteen to two. He was still helping her breathe when the ambulance orderlies rushed into the room, Bob O’Brien close behind them.

“Here,” Sam called and waved his free hand. “I tried to stop the bleeding. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

Sam rocked back on his knees. “Please, God,” he called, “help her breathe!”

O’Brien reached down and pulled Sam to his feet. The orderlies placed Alex on a stretcher.. They raced toward the door.

“I failed her, Bob. I should have shot the weapon out of the bastard’s hand. If she dies, it’ll be my fault.”

She looked so little on that stretcher.

S
am Thorpe paced around the surgical waiting room at Hershey Medical Center, banging his fist into his palm. He stopped to look out the window, then started pacing again. This waiting room looked like all the others he had seen—vinyl couches, hard-back chairs, outdated magazines, and weary faces with reddened eyes.

It had been about an hour since the helicopter had delivered Alex to the hospital’s emergency room. Bob O’Brien had radioed ahead, so the doctors had been waiting for her. Sam had tried to stay with Alex, but the emergency room nurse had directed him toward this damn waiting room. “No exceptions,” she had said. He felt suffocated.

O’Brien sat on one of those couches, head in his hands, his voice cracking. “She wanted to be an agent. Told me she was sick and tired of the politics in the corporate world. I learned with Alex that once she set her mind on something, nothing could stand in her way.”

“What did she do before she applied for the FBI?” Sam asked.

“She worked in marketing for some sporting goods outfit. I forget which one.”

“She must have been great at that.” Sam chuckled. “That lady could sell anything to anybody.”

O’Brien stood, then slumped back down again. “Course it didn’t help that I kept after her. Told her what a great agent she’d make. I tried to get her into the CIA, but she had her heart set on the FBI.”

“We both gotta quit this crap. Alex knew the risks like we all do …” Sam’s voice trailed off. O’Brien knew all that, too, but none of that seemed to help. He couldn’t believe Alex wouldn’t make it. How could he live with himself after he’d failed to save her?

O’Brien stood and looked out the window into the dark night. “Somehow none of that makes me feel any better.”

Sam managed a weak smile. “I feel like shit. She knew when to throw in some humor; when silence was golden.” He laughed. “Although I don’t think silence was her favorite thing.”

A woman in a set of blue scrubs, her blond hair up in a ponytail, entered the waiting room. She looked around at the eager faces. “Hernandez?”

A group of seven, ranging from a young man with tattoos to an elderly woman with gray hair and a black shawl draped over her head, rose in sync and hurried over to the doctor. They formed a semicircle around her.

She whispered to the group. Sam heard a chorus of “Thank God.” The elderly woman bowed her head and began reciting “Hail Mary’s.”

The doctor talked to them some more; then the Hernandez family hurried back to their chairs, gathered their things, and moved out of the room in a cluster.

Their departure left only one other couple besides Sam and O’Brien in the waiting room. The couple raised their eyes and looked over, then dropped their eyes again, probably wondering who would be next.

Jackie McCarthy hurried into the room, her black trench coat flapping against her legs. She grabbed Sam’s arm. “How is she?”

Sam wrapped his arms around Jackie, put his chin on the top of her head, and just held her for a moment. Then he whispered, “It’s gonna be close.” He stepped back and held her out from him. “The FBI must have released you.”

She nodded. “When I got word that Oliver was in custody and Alex had been shot, I jumped in my car and made a beeline for here. Tell me everything.”

“Alex was able to get on the inside of the group by flooring one of the biggest guys in the militia.”

“I heard that.” Jackie laughed. “I would have given anything to have seen it.”

Sam summarized the plan, the convoy, and Oliver taking off with Alex in the back of his Jeep. “Alex took a round in the chest. I don’t know if she’ll make it.”

Jackie pulled a tissue out of her purse. “She’s just got to.”

“I’m so sorry about those guys who came to your house. When we planned the trip to Montreal, I had no idea Oliver would come after you.” Sam glanced at O’Brien. “Do we know for sure it was Oliver’s men who attacked Jackie?”

O’Brien shook his head. “We don’t yet, but there’s little doubt in my mind.”

“Thank God for that TV system you installed.”

Jackie nodded. “It probably saved my life.”

Sam looked at his watch. “They’ve been at it almost two hours.” Sam started toward the door. “The doctors should be able to tell us something.”

O’Brien jumped up. “Wait, Sam. It’s not gonna help to push. They’ll tell us when they know anything.”

A man in blue scrubs came into the room. Sam jumped up.

“Patterson?”

The other couple hurried over to him, the woman sniffling into her handkerchief. The doctor said something to them, and the woman collapsed into sobs. Her husband knelt down, put his arm around her, and let her cry. Finally, he gathered up their belongings, and the two left the room arm in arm.

Sam resumed pacing. “Come on, dammit! Tell us something.”

About five minutes later, a bald man in a long white coat appeared in the doorway. He looked around the now almost empty room. His eyes settled on Sam. There was no smile on his face.

Sam hurried over to him, followed by Bob and Jackie. He put his hand on the doctor’s arm and looked in his eyes. “Tell me.”

The doctor looked at the floor. Shook his head. “I’m sorry. We tried everything.”

Sam stared, then dropped his hand and turned to walk toward the wall. He slumped in a chair, head in his hands. His body shook with silent sobs. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Sam couldn’t catch his breath.
Alex, Alex, why did you take that slug?

He banged his fist against the wall. “It’s so unfair. So much to offer.” He remembered that little blonde with the spiked hair who had first met him at the Barnes & Noble. He didn’t think she had the guts for the job. Was he ever wrong! Then the time she had flattened Buster flashed through his mind. She couldn’t be dead. Not Alex.

He leaned forward, and his face fell into his hands again.

“Sam …”

It was as if a voice kept trying to reach him through a muddy swamp. “Sam …” Jackie grabbed his shoulder. “You did everything you could.”

“I failed her.”

Jackie took him in her arms.

Bob O’Brien put his arm around both their shoulders. “We all failed. There’s plenty of blame to go around. But we stopped Oliver. That would have made her happy.”

Sam didn’t know how he could get past this. He didn’t think anything would ever be as painful as his sister’s death, but this was. He had failed his sister, and now he’d failed Alex. He looked up at the ceiling. Then it dawned on him—a crushing thought. He had to tell her family. She would have wanted him to do it. But where were they?

Sam stared ahead, his hands gripping his head. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

The doctor stopped at the doorway and turned back. “What do you mean, ‘she’?”

Sam’s hands froze in midair. “Are you talking about Alex Prescott?”

“No. I thought you were waiting for information on Quentin Oliver. I knew the two of you came in with him.”

“What about Alex Prescott?” Sam held his breath, afraid to ask. But he had to.

“I don’t have any information on her.”

Sam jumped up and grabbed the doctor by the arm. “Goddamn, you’ve got to tell us something! Can you find out something. Please. I’ve got to know!”

The doctor pulled back and gently pushed Sam away. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

He turned to go out the door when a skinny young man in blue scrubs appeared in the doorway. His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail reaching his shoulders.

“Colonel Thorpe?”

Sam held his breath. “Yes?”

“We’ve stabilized Ms. Prescott. The bullet entered right below her chest, piercing her stomach wall. She’s lost a great deal of blood. In her favor is the fact that she’s in extraordinary condition. I believe she’s going to pull through, but it will be a long recovery.”

Sam grabbed the doctor’s hand and shook it. “Thank God.”

“Ah, that’s okay.” The doctor pulled his hand back from Sam’s grip.

Jackie put the tissue to her eyes. “She’s going to be all right.”

The doctor smiled and nodded toward Sam. “She’d like to see you. But only for a minute.”

O’Brien swung his hand in the air, ready to high-five anyone he could find. “Tell her ‘hi,’ Sam.”

Sam followed the doctor out of the waiting room. They walked down the hospital corridor, past two nurses pushing a cart up the hall. One of the wheels kept squeaking.

The doctor stopped at a uniformed police officer. “This is Colonel Thorpe. Ms. Prescott asked to see him.

The officer nodded and reached over to push open the door.

They entered an open room with one bed in the center. A heart monitor beeped. IVs on both sides of the bed dripped life-giving liquid into Alex’s arms. Sam felt like he should walk on tiptoes.

He stood by the bed and reached down to kiss her cheek. “Welcome back, princess.”

Alex opened her eyes and smiled. “Princess … I like that.”

He took her right hand. “What’s your secret? You took one hell of a hit in the chest.”

She motioned with her head, and Sam bent down with his ear to her mouth.

“Big boobs.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. Laughed like he hadn’t for weeks. He laughed until the tears came.

S
am sat in an oak armchair across the desk from General Paul Gerber. Eight o’clock in the morning at the Pentagon and the deputy chief of staff for operation’s office was already humming. Sam missed this constant energy and excitement, though he was still glad he had decided to retire. Tomorrow he’d be back in Minneapolis, jogging around Lake Harriet with Emily. That made him happy.

The wall behind the general’s desk contained a career’s worth of memorabilia: pictures of the general in the field and at change-of-command ceremonies, certificates of merit and achievement, and action shots of soldiers jumping out of airplanes and charging across fields. General Gerber’s first love, after his wife and family, were his soldiers.

“I heard you’ll be here in the Pentagon for awhile more, sir.”

General Gerber leaned back in the black leather chair and rocked. He brought his hands together and pointed his fingers toward his chin. “I was looking forward to a command in Europe, but the chief of staff has other ideas. He wants me to stay focused on this terrorist threat. His needs trump mine. But I guess being deputy chief of staff for operations isn’t all bad.”

“Sounds great to me, sir.”

General Gerber smiled. Something Sam didn’t see very often from Gerber, a tough man to read.

Sam leaned forward. “Alex is doing great. I understand they’ll move her up on the ward in a day or two. She’s one tough lady.”

“Do I detect a personal interest in Ms. Prescott?’

Sam flushed. “Right now, I don’t know anything. All I know is that I’m on the way to Minneapolis to see Emily. I’ll let things perk back here for awhile.”

General Gerber had become Emily’s godfather when Sam worked for him in Europe. “Be sure to greet her for me,” Gerber said. “I received a letter from her thanking me for my birthday present and updating me on the Minnesota scene. She’s quite a young lady.” He paused and picked up a note. “Oh, I spoke again with Senator McCarthy. He realizes the stakes that we faced and has heard that you’re a hero.” Gerber smiled. “I suspect he’ll be a bit more cordial to you now.”

Sam wasn’t sure he cared, but all that would have to wait. Emily came first.

General Gerber sorted some papers on his desk. “We’ll need you back in a couple of weeks to testify against the professor and Aly Kassim.”