“That’s good to hear,” he said. “I was worried about you.”
Katy squeezed his hand, and a surge of emotions, from love to thankfulness for his presence in her life, filled her heart. She didn’t want to go through this sort of thing ever again. She didn’t know how she could take it. “Do you remember Dick being here last night?”
McGarvey nodded. “Do you remember what I told him?”
“Did you mean it?”
“Hundred percent, Katy,” he said. “I’m quit and I’m staying quit.”
She searched his eyes for any hint that he might be regretting his decision, that he might just be telling her what she wanted to hear. But she saw only warmth, and sincerity and love. Again her emotions surged, and her eyes wanted to fill, but she fought back the tears. “That’s fine, darling,” she said. “Really fine.”
The door was open and the hospital was coming up to speed for the morning, nurses and orderlies passing in the hall. Katy hated hospitals, and the sooner she could get her husband home, the sooner they could start putting their lives back together. It would be a month or two before he could walk without crutches, and by then he would be irascible because of the enforced inaction, but she found that she was actually looking forward to his mood swings.
“When do I get out of here?” he asked.
“They said this afternoon, if you’re up to it. But you’re going to be on crutches.”
“I figured as much,” he said. “After breakfast I want to see Otto, and at some point my secretary, and probably Dick again.” He smiled. “I don’t think I had it completely together last night.”
Something clutched at Kathleen’s stomach, but it wasn’t the baby. “Do you remember the president’s speech? The Pakistanis think they’ve got bin Laden cornered, and they’ve asked for our help this time.”
“That’s why I want to see Dick and Otto. I’ve got a few ideas.” He smiled at his wife. “Don’t worry, Katy; I’m not going back. But I’ll have to be debriefed, and that’s probably going to take a couple of weeks, and there are a few loose ends I’ll have to take care of. Including apologizing to the president.”
His words were music to Kathleen’s ears. “Don Shaw called; he’s doing fine now. He and Karen want to have us to their house for dinner as soon as you’re up for it. And of course the media have been camped outside from day one, wanting to interview you as soon as the doctors gave the okay. But I told them no, for now.”
“I’m not talking to anybody.”
Kathleen smiled. “You’re not going to get away with it for long,” she said. He started to protest, but she held him off. “You’re a national hero, practically a saint. Not only did you rescue Shaw and the rest of us from the Spirit, you stopped the suicide bombers. No children were hurt. There isn’t a parent in the country who isn’t grateful as hell to you, and all of them want to thank you personally. Otto said he’d gotten word that there was going to be a Senate Intelligence Committee hearing on what you did. They wanted something to give the Saudis, but they wouldn’t dare now. Besides, Haynes is behind you all the way.”
McGarvey looked past his wife to the window. “We were wrong about Salman.”
“That’s the point; you weren’t completely wrong,” Kathleen said. “He wasn’t a terrorist, but he and his wife were funding Khalil. Otto figures they’d probably supported others too, and maybe even fed money directly to bin Laden.”
McGarvey’s mood deepened.
Kathleen knew what he was thinking, but it no longer bothered her. “Liese was badly wounded, but she’ll come out of it okay.” It’s what Otto had told them last night, and Mac was still beating himself up over what could have been a tragedy.
“I screwed up,” he said, softly.
“We all do from time to time. But you did the best you could with the information you had.” She wanted to make it better for him, even though she knew he would have to work out his guilt for himself. “In a few days you can give her a call, see how she’s doing. I think it’ll mean a lot to her.”
He looked away again. “She’s in love with me, and I used her.”
“Yes, you did. And now you have to live with it,” Kathleen said. “No one was killed, and she will recover. And think about what you and she together prevented. You stopped Khalil.”
“A smart man,” McGarvey said.
“But not as smart as you.”
McGarvey laughed. “You’re prejudiced.”
“Yes, I am,” Kathleen said, and she finally knew for a fact that everything was going to turn out fine. Just fine.
She kissed her husband, this time deeply and with a hundred years of love and passion and friendship, because he was finally coming home.
SEVENTY-EIGHT
Liese awoke to bright sunlight streaming through her hospital window, a terrific pain pounding at the back of her heavily bandaged head. Raising a hand to her face, she blocked the sun so she could see what kind of day it was. Only a few puffy summer clouds, but they were beautiful to her.
She had survived. By dumb, blind luck, according to Claude LeFevre, who’d come up to see her yesterday afternoon. Had the bullet entered her head one centimeter to the left, she would have been killed.
“We were picking up everything, but Gertner wouldn’t let us go for the rescue,” LeFevre said. “Not until we heard the gunshot. Then we had to get you out.”
Liese tried to smile, but the effort sent a sharp pain through the middle of her head.
“Take it easy, Sarge. The docs say you’ll come out of this with nothing more than a scar in your thick skull.”
“And a lot of years behind bars to think about what I did,” she’d told him. “I’m sure Gertner is beside himself with joy that he’s finally able to get rid of me.”
LeFevre shook his head. “You’re wrong about that. Your Kirk McGarvey killed Khalil, stopped the al-Quaida attacks, and we got the proof that Salman and his wife were part of the money behind bin Laden. Wouldn’t have been possible without your help. You’re Gertner’s star pupil.”
She didn’t want to believe it. “What about Salman?”
“Khalil killed him.”
“How about the princess and the children?”
“They’ve been deported,” LeFevre said. “But why don’t you ask me about McGarvey?”
She hardened her heart for the bad news.
“He’s okay, Sarge. He was hurt, but he’ll pull through.”
Liese closed her eyes for a moment, relief washing through her body. It was finally over. No matter what happened now, this was behind them. Time to go forward.
LeFevre touched her arm. “Hey, are you okay?”
She opened her eyes and managed a small smile. “Do me a favor, would you, Claude? Don’t call me Sarge. I don’t like it. My name is Liese.”
“Anything you’d like, Liese.”
Time to go forward, she told herself again. But she was tired. “Would you stay a little longer? I don’t want to be alone.”
“I will,” LeFevre said, a warm, honest smile creasing the corners of his eyes.
It was the last thing she had remembered from the previous night: his eyes. Someone came into the room, and she turned slowly to see who it was.
LeFevre, all smiles, carrying a vase of pretty flowers, came around the bed to her. “You had a good night’s sleep?” he asked. He set the flowers on the broad windowsill. “I wanted to get these up here before you woke up, so they’d be the first thing you saw.” He looked closely at her. “They’re okay?”