‘Mercenaries?’
‘I don’t know who’s paying or controlling them, just that Lansley says we can trust them. The man who called me supplied a list of all the locations that they’re searching.’
He shrugs. ‘So what am I supposed to do?’
She flips a sheet of paper to him. ‘These are places they say they can’t get to for the next hour. Maybe you can prioritize these addresses as part of your ops?’
‘For the record, I don’t like working on intel I don’t know the provenance of.’
‘Noted.’
He snatches it from her. ‘Eight different locales. Great.’
‘It’s better than we had, Bob.’
He scrapes back the chair, stands and waves the paper at her as he heads for the door. ‘This is going to end badly. Remember I said that.’
‘Make sure it doesn’t and—’
He slams the door.
‘—don’t slam the door!’
154
The sixty-seven-mile journey takes Chris Wilkins an hour and forty minutes.
He drives west into Danville, south to Dublin and then east through Tracy and north up towards Stockton.
About a mile away from the town’s General Hospital, he pulls off the freeway, takes a left and parks near the Chinese Cemetery. He puts a hand across the top of the passenger seat, turns and looks into the back of the Toyota where Amber is tied up beneath a blanket. She hasn’t been given any painkillers or sedatives for more than three hours because he needs her to be lucid when she gets into the emergency room. The lack of drugs means she’s distressed and is moaning so much he wants to clip her.
‘We’re about there. I’ll have you in a hospital in a few minutes. Remember, you get them to call your mom right away. Not after treatment — right away.’
Before restarting the engine, he uses a new burner to call London. ‘The girl will be inside San Joaquin Hospital in Stockton within ten minutes. Call me when she’s connected with the mom, then I’m gone.’
‘I understand,’ says Marchetti.
‘You’d better. And don’t go forgetting that extra risk equals extra payment.’
‘Don’t worry about your money.’
Chris kills the call and dials Tess. ‘I’m there and about to go in.’
‘Good luck, baby. Love you.’
‘Love you too, sweetcheeks.’ He hangs up, checks the time and his gun. Three hours from now, he’ll be catching a flight to Vegas from Stockton airport. Either that or he’ll be running for his life, because once Amber’s made the call to her mother, he’s going to kill her. Then he’ll call Tess and she’ll kill the other one.
After that, they’ll both be gone.
So far gone, it’ll be like they never existed.
155
It’s so long since Gareth Madoc has eaten, his stomach sounds like a damaged washing machine. He unwraps the sandwich his secretary has brought him. It’s his favourite pastrami with mustard on rye and it’s an inch from his mouth when his desk phone rings.
‘Hell and damnation.’ He drops the food back on its greaseproof paper and picks up the call. ‘Madoc.’
‘Don’t sound so crabby; it’s Steffani.’
‘The pick-ups all worked out?’
‘Yeah, even better than that. I owe you one.’
‘You owe me several and don’t you forget. Spill the details.’
‘Bin al-Shibh’s face was a picture. Never saw it coming. He was in a private hangar at JFK about to board a Lear. We had him boxed like a dog.’
‘Any shooting?’
‘No. Came without a tear. We have him at CTU under interrogation. Mousavi and Tabrizi are a different story.’
‘More troublesome, I guess.’
‘You guess right. Tabrizi is a fit boy. We took him at the house your people had been sitting on, but he fought like crazy. Had to break his face and some ribs before he gave up. Mousavi we took down in a cheap diner over the east side, when he went to the men’s room. Can you believe this — he had one hand on a concealed gun even while taking a leak.’
‘It’s what you call being tooled up.’
‘Ha freakin’ ha. My agent wasn’t laughing — the fucker shot him in the foot and pissed all over him.’
‘He okay?’
‘Yeah, the injury’s the kind that’ll fade but the story won’t.’
‘What about Malek Hussan?’
‘Made us on the street and ran for it. After fifty yards, he had to stop and give up. Poor fuck nearly wheezed himself into a heart attack.’
‘Korshidi?’
‘Just this minute swept him up. He’s playing it smart, alleging discrimination against him and his mosque. He’ll change his tune when we run him the tape he made of al-Shibh.’
‘Now you’ve got him, I’m going to take his daughter out of circulation; she was one of our main sources.’ As an afterthought he adds, ‘Maybe we’ll scoop up her mother too. Can you help with a safe house if necessary?’
‘Least I can do. We’ve got a place in Greenwich. It’ll be good for a day or so.’
‘Thanks. I guess none of them have given up the location of the planned explosion?’
Steffani laughs. ‘That’s the second guess you’ve got right. I’ll call you if anyone sings, but don’t hold your breath, buddy.’
156
It’s bedlam in ER.
Charge Nurse Betty Lipton’s working a double and has just had a surgeon and two nurses call in sick.
Theatre is backed up with all manner of injuries. A lumberjack who chain-sawed a thigh bone. Two separate road traffic incidents with complicated crush and skull injuries. And a father of two who tried to blow his own head off with a handgun.
‘Nurse!’
She ignores the shout from the rows of the walking wounded.
‘Nurse!’
She looks up from her computer. Several people are stood peering at something. No doubt a collapse.
‘Nurse!’
‘Okay! Save your blood pressure, I’m coming.’ She rounds the desk and heads over. Plastic seats are pushed back.
Someone’s out for the count at the back of the room.
‘Move to one side, give me some room.’
On the ground is a teenage girl. She’s wrapped in a Tartan car blanket that someone’s pulled open. Her legs and hands are bound. There’s a gag in her mouth.
Stapled to her chest is a note.
‘DON’T CALL THE COPS.’
157
Amber Fallon is lifted onto a gurney and rushed into a treatment cubicle. Nurses check vital signs, they hook up drips and unwrap blood-stained bandages around her hand.
Outside the curtain, Betty Lipton hands the note to hospital administrator Ann Lesley, and brings her up to speed. ‘Kid’s called Amber Fallon. She’s got a partially severed finger and is wiped out. Says she has to call her mom straight away or her sister gets killed.’
Lesley reads the note. ‘You think she’s genuine, or is this a clinical case of attention grabbing?’
‘Munchausen is always hard to tell. I guess we make the call to her mom and find out.’
‘I want to see her first.’
Betty leads the way into the cubicle.
Amber is propped up on a pillow and looks frightened. She jabbers as soon as she sees them, ‘I have to call my mom — the man said.’