Karen grabbed the clipboard from the foot of the bed and looked at it. She saw the blood delivery slip clipped on the top: "O-positive." Then she flipped back one page and looked at the earlier slip that had been clipped to the board in post-op. The first slip said "0-negative."
"Let go of that!" Nurse Fleetwood yelled, as she snatched the clipboard away from Karen. Now there were frantic footsteps in the corridor and the room filled with white coats. One was the surgical resident for the wing.
"Which is it?" Karen shouted at the nurse. "0-negative blood, like it says on the page from this morning, or 0-positive, which you're putting into him now?"
The young resident grabbed the clipboard and looked at it. "What the fuck is going on, Eleanor?" he said, anger beginning to swell. "You're giving this guy 0-positive? He's 0-negative. I typed him myself How much went in there?"
Nurse Fleetwood was now in full retreat. "I don't know, Doctor. We just hooked him up. The slip said 0-positive."
The resident turned to the cop. "Let's go! I need help getting this guy back up to ICU."
The two of them yanked the bed away from the wall, spun it, and pushed it out into the hall. Lockwood and Karen trailed behind. They shoved the bed into the express elevator and went to ICU, a floor above. The resident and two ICU interns grabbed the bed and pushed it quickly down the hall, leaving Lockwood and Karen standing with the startled policeman they had fought with seconds before. It was an awkward moment.
"Maybe you could unhook these cuffs?" Lockwood finally suggested. The cop reluctantly took out the keys and released him.
The Rat climbed up the steps in panic and stumbled out onto the deck of the barge. The swamp was pale in the three-quarter moon that lit the dense undergrowth of the Manatee wetlands. He filled his lungs with its heavy, moist air and let out a scream of fear and anger. His screech carried across the murky wasteland like the scream of a dying animal. Night birds broke for the sky in a flurry of beating wings. He was in agony. God had finally focused on him.
"When cornered, The Rat will fight," he cried at the moonlit night.
Chapter 28
The moon lit the scattered clouds over Miami Harbor, looking to Lockwood like beautifully spun piles of silver-white cotton. They stood by the rental car in the hospital parking lot while a warm night wind flapped flags a few yards away. They had been told fifteen minutes ago that Malavida was out of danger. Karen put out her hand. "Good going," she said. "I think we finally got one step ahead."
"Who woulda thought you could do that by profiling a brown rat?" He grinned and shook her hand.
"I think I got lucky," she said. Although they had saved Malavida's life, they knew they had to stay close to him or this could easily happen again. For that reason, they decided to take a couple of rooms at a Ramada Inn close to the hospital. They got into their car and pulled away from Jackson Memorial Hospital.
The Rat watched them go from the dark blue Ford he had rented. He had driven fast to get there from deep in the Little Manatee wetlands.
It had taken just under three hours, and he had been in the hospital parking lot for only five minutes when he saw them exit. He followed them at a safe distance. Two blocks later he watched as they pulled into the Ramada Inn. He was wearing the baseball cap that he always wore to hide his ugliness. He watched as they registered, and as they walked along the outdoor passageway on the second floor and stopped at separate doors. The Rat used his binoculars to read the room numbers. Lockwood went into Room 37; the woman was three doors down in Room 40. He put the car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. He found a secluded pay phone two blocks from the Ramada Inn.
"Dade County Sheriff's Office," a female voice answered after two rings. The Rat could hear the beeps on the line that indicated the call was being recorded.
"I know where there's somebody you want, I need to talk to SWAT," he said, disguising his voice, trying to make it sound lower. Then he told SWAT a story…
The SWAT room sprang to life. Six cops grabbed Second Chance Kevlar vests and laced them on. They grabbed Heckler and Koch MP5s with full-load banana clips off the weapons rack. Tear gas, launchers, and shotguns were in the truck. They were rolling in thirty seconds.
SWAT Leader Lieutenant MacLamore showed the Ramada Inn night clerk the picture of Lockwood he'd taken from the NCIC "Wanted" computer.
"This guy's a cop killer?" the desk manager said, astonished. "Is he here?"
"Yeah. Checked him and a real pretty girl in about an hour and a half ago. He's in Thirty-seven, she's in Room Forty."
MacLamore looked at his watch. It was almost five A. M. He knew time was an important part of the equation. In an hour, the streets would begin filling… The more looky-loos, the more confusion. He wanted this to be a quick surgical extraction. Tactically, he had two ways to go: One was to evacuate all the rooms to avoid any possible collateral damage. But he was afraid a full evacuation would make too much noise and alert the perp. The other option was to do a hard entry-swarm both rooms simultaneously and light up the perp at close range if he got frisky.
Lieutenant MacLamore decided on a compromise. He evacuated the rooms on both sides of 37 and 40 to avoid the chance that a stray round might go through a wall and hit someone.
The residents of those rooms now stood across the street, talking in hushed tones, not ten yards from where The Rat was parked, watching.
An ambulance called by MacLamore pulled in silently, and the paramedics walked to the SWAT truck and checked in. MacLamore did the pre-op briefing by the back of the black SWAT step-van.
"Okay, according to the NCIC computer, this guy killed two cops in Illinois," MacLamore said. "We got an anonymous tip and the desk clerk confirms his picture ID. This is a redball, so don't hesitate to light him up. I'll take Room Thirty-seven, along with Delgado and Smith. Procopio, Nash, and Washington-you guys take Forty. Remember, he could be in there fucking his bitch. So just 'cause you got the girl's room, don't cut them any slack. Go in hard. If he twitches, use him up fast, everybody get some. We go on my signal. I'm Blue, Procopio's Red."
They nodded solemnly.
"Standard-pattern entry-wide deployment, forty-five-degree cover fire. Questions?" Nobody spoke. "Let's do it."
They moved away from the SWAT van, slamming banana clips into the HK-MP5s and chambering rounds in their automatics. They were all pumping adrenaline as they climbed the interior stairwell to the outdoor corridor on the second floor. They began edging down the wall quietly on rubber-soled combat boots. When they got to Room 37, MacLamore and his two-man Blue Team deployed there, as Procopio and his Red Team went on to Karen's door. Once they were positioned, MacLamore and Procopio motioned each other and took out room keys. Simultaneously, they slid them slowly and silently into both locks.
Inside his room, Lockwood had been unable to go to sleep. He was lost in a jumble of thoughts about Claire, Heather, and his bumble-fucked career. His mind turned to his confused feelings about Karen. He had always had problems with the new academics that were showing up by the busload at Customs. Brainiacs with no field experience, who felt their degrees gave them sway over any situation. But Karen had proved very different. She had, in a short time, managed to penetrate his defenses. Maybe it was that daredevil streak or her gentle smile. He had finally begun to sort out his feelings about her. He knew now that what bothered him about her relationship with Malavida was his own desire to explore his feelings for her. But he had promised his daughter that he would raise her, and he was determined to keep that promise. He didn't think there was any way that these desires could coexist. Besides that, he had other problems: If he was fired from Customs for malfeasance, his pension would be dust and he'd have no job. He couldn't figure out where the money to buy a farm was going to come from, but one way or another, he would make it happen.