Chris didn’t call out to either of them; he didn’t have anything to say that wouldn’t distract them and possibly prove fatal, and he frankly wasn’t sure he could take a deep enough breath to project his voice that far.
There was no more gunfire but when he got close enough he heard a man cursing and screaming. There was also a great deal of growling.
Braced with the Stinger he’d gotten from Williams, Chris went up the steps about ten seconds behind Louie. It was a small room, so as soon as he got in and did a sweep for anything still moving he saw Josephson with half of his right forearm obscured by Louie’s fully exposed teeth. There was a Stinger lying at his feet, along with an expanding pattern of blood from his arm. Louie was looking up at Josephson with a fixed expression, growling and tugging on the arm enough to keep him off balance.
Livvy was lying at Chris’ feet. He knelt stiffly to check on her. Although her left leg and arm were bloody, the bleeding appeared to gotten very sluggish now that she wasn’t in full-on attack mode, and she was breathing strongly. Williams should have already called for a medivan, which meant that they’d be there in just a few more minutes.
“Get this vicious animal off me,” Josephson said. He was surprisingly cool, given the fact that he had a 30 kilo dog attached to his arm and was surrounded by illegal armaments and a kidnapped boy.
“Good boy, Louie,” Chris said. He put another duoload in each guard, not caring if it was superfluous. These guards had to know about Jesse, and had perhaps helped kill Mickey and her bodyguard. One had used a grenade on Livvy.
“Where’s Jesse Bedford?” he asked.
“He’s in the back bedroom, under sedation,” Josephson said. “Now get this damned dog off me.”
Chris ignored him, other than to pause and make sure Louie’s hold was secure before going to the first guard to extract weapons. This was the one who’d tossed the grenade; Chris went to his knees to search him. He found two more.
“These are illegal,” Chris said, holding up the grenades before pocketing them. “You might have killed my partner. Mickey Bedford and her bodyguard are dead. You participated in Jesse’s kidnapping. For money, and for your nasty little hobby.”
Chris moved to the second guard and disarmed him. By now, Josephson had apparently realized that struggling caused Louie to grip more firmly. He was standing very still. Chris couldn’t help but be impressed. Louie was still attached to his arm and eyeing him steadily, but the cold-blooded bastard was recovering.
“You think so? My lawyer will keep this tied up in the courts for years. I know the law. You have no proof that you can use in court. As far as the world will know, Bedford himself recovered his injured grandson from the kidnappers. From a series of misunderstandings or worse, outright incompetence, surely in the area of respecting our rights after we rescued the boy, we suffered abuse at the hands of Longevity Law Enforcers. With Bedford’s resources, we won’t spend a day in jail.”
Chris studied him consideringly. “Louie, enough. Out,” he said, snapping his fingers and pointing to the door. Louie let Josephson go with what appeared to be a great deal of reluctance and slowly padded out.
“What a misguided toad you are. Haven’t you heard? LLE no longer tolerates catch and release. My partner and I know too much, Josephson. You’re not going to get away with this like you did with Sara Ann Torkelson,” Chris said. “This time, Forensics will figure it out, and we’ll testify and destroy you in court, whatever the cost. At the very least we’ll deprive you of all your playthings.”
With this last provocative statement, Chris turned away ostensibly to observe Louie’s reluctant progress out the door. Josephson bent down to pick up the Stinger and was bringing it up to aim at Chris’ back when Chris dropped his Stinger and drew Bedford’s gun out of his belt, pivoting and lunging to one side in one smooth, costly move. Josephson was still aiming at the point where Chris’ back had been when Chris shot him three times in the chest with the gun.
It was getting harder and harder to stay erect, but by now just about any other posture was equally painful. Chris straightened up and walked slowly back to stand over the doctor. There was blood pumping profusely out of Josephson’s wounds, and he was coughing up even more.
“Or,” Chris said softly, distinctly. “I can just kill you.”
With impotent fear and rage, Josephson stared up at him, and Chris stared back until the doctor’s eyes unfocused and the bleeding turned to a sluggish seepage. Chris felt for a jugular pulse to confirm it. Josephson was dead.
He stepped over the body and headed for the bedroom, to check on Jesse.
Chp. 16 Casualties (Saturday)
Feeling a dull but receding pain, Livvy woke up slowly with a nightmare still in mind, and she grasped at it before it receded beyond memory. It was a true one, and she started to sit up quickly.
“Hey hey hey. I’m the medic. You’re in a van being treated,” said a woman all in white sitting next to her. It was a soothing voice, and with a firm but gentle restraining arm the woman pressed her back down.
Livvy allowed it. I failed. Someone shot me before I reached Jesse. All for nothing.
She started to take in her surroundings and found that she was indeed lying in a moving medivan. When she turned her head she could see enough of the man lying motionless on the other side of the van to know it was Chris, but she couldn’t see his face. Seated in the aisle between them, the attractive dark-haired woman who’d spoken was wearing a very grim expression.
“Good, you’re really awake this time,” the med tech said kindly to Livvy. “Lie still, please. I’ve got tissue-sensitive retrieval microprobes already hunting down the flechettes and debris in your leg and dispensing antibiotics and anesthetics in situ. I’m setting the ones for your arm. You understand? Not too much discomfort?”
“Yes. I mean, I’m fine,” Livvy said. “How’s my partner?”
“He’ll do,” the tech said.
Chris moved a little and raised his head so that he could face her. He was alert and, she thought, looking a little apprehensive. “Hutchins. Ready to go?”
“What happened? I don’t know what happened,” Livvy said.
“Jesse will be fine. Big bad guys are both dead. The rest can wait until you’re feeling better,” Chris said.
Livvy turned back towards the roof of the med transport and squeezed her eye shut. The rest could wait. Or at least most of it.
She opened them again and turned back to look at the kindly med tech beseechingly. “I don’t suppose you have a shower at City Central Clinic, do you? I mean a real one with hot water, not a laver?”
“I suppose we can manage one, once the retrieval probes are done,” the tech said. “What happened to your shoes?”
“Yes, Hutchins, your shoes?” Chris asked, lifting his head again, a little higher this time so that he could see Livvy better.
“Squishy,” Livvy began, but didn’t have a chance to elaborate. Apparently, Chris had just given the med tech some sort of conversational opening that was too good to let pass, and the dam burst.
“You. Lie. Back. Down. You came very close to a punctured lung, you know,” the med tech said with asperity, and then with an effort seemed to restrain herself.
It was too good to resist, and Livvy didn’t try. “He was shot with two large caliber bullets at point blank range two… no, three days ago. Wearing a vest, but…”
She shrugged with her sore right shoulder and looked across at Chris, who was staring at her expressionlessly. “It helps them do their job when they have the history, you know,” she explained gently, staring at him owlishly and approximating the voice she used with her five-year-old nephew.