I didn't ask what that meant, but I did ask, "How far is the hospital?"
Pete replied, "We should be there in ten minutes."
Ron asked me, "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You hit hard." He suggested, "Why don't you take a break? I'll keep the pressure on."
"This is my wife."
"Okay."
I said to the medics, "In my wife's jumpsuit you will find her FBI credentials case, her gun, and maybe her cell phone. I need those items."
Pete went through the remnants of Kate's jumpsuit and retrieved her creds case, which he gave to me, saying, "There's no gun and no cell phone."
I put the creds case in my pocket. Maybe she hadn't been carrying her cell phone. But she was carrying her gun.
We crossed the field and got onto a farm road. The driver hit the lights and siren and we accelerated quickly.
I bent down and put my lips against Kate's forehead. Her skin was cold and clammy.
The driver was on the radio, and I could hear her saying, "Requesting trauma room." She added, "Real critical."
The paramedics monitored Kate's heart, blood pressure, and breathing, felt her pulse, and checked her temperature. I asked them for a sterile wipe, and I cleaned the blood off her face.
I looked at Kate.
She'd made a defensive move just as Khalil was cutting her throat, and he'd missed her jugular vein and other veins and arteries. And that had probably saved her life, because Mr. Asad Khalil was a very accomplished killer, and he rarely, if ever, left an intended victim alive.
Regardless if Kate lived or died, Asad Khalil still had some unfinished business-with me. And that was good, because he'd stick around at least long enough for me to finish my business with him.
Finally, I asked, "Prognosis?"
Neither man answered for a second, then Ron replied, "Her condition is very serious."
Pete asked me, "What the hell happened?"
I replied, "This is a knife wound."
Neither man replied.
I asked them, "Did you see the guy in the black jumpsuit who was hooked up to her?"
Ron replied, "Yeah… he steered his chute over on the other side of the woods." He added, "I couldn't figure that out… now I get it." He asked me, "Do you know who that was?"
Indeed, I did. This was our worst nightmare. The Lion has returned.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
As the ambulance raced to the hospital, I used my cell phone to call 911. I identified myself to the 911 dispatcher as a retired NYPD homicide detective and a Federal law officer. I quickly explained that I was reporting the attempted murder of an MOS-member of the service-and I asked to be transferred to the State Police.
A few seconds later, I was speaking to a desk officer at the State Police station in Liberty, New York.
I described the incident to him and added, "I am also the husband of the victim, who is an FBI agent. The assailant is still at large." I gave him the location of the incident and said, "You should get some troopers over there to see if you can locate the assailant."
"Will do."
But I knew that Asad Khalil was not wandering around in his jumpsuit or repacking his parachute. He had a vehicle parked on the far side of the woods and he was long gone.
The desk officer asked me, "And you're now on the way to the Catskill Regional Medical Center?"
"Correct, and I'm requesting a police presence at the hospital, and I would also like a senior homicide investigator to meet me there."
The desk officer replied, "Let me transfer you to the back room."
"Thank you." The back room is where I used to work.
About thirty seconds later, a man came on the line and said, "This is Investigator Harris. My desk man has explained the situation and passed on your request for a police presence at the hospital."
We spoke, cop to cop, for a minute, and Investigator Harris said, "We've dispatched troopers to the scene to look for the perpetrator, and I'll send some troopers to the hospital. I'll see if I can locate a senior homicide investigator to meet you there."
"Thank you."
"How is your wife?"
I glanced at Kate and replied, "Critical."
"Sorry…" He asked, "Can you describe the perpetrator?"
"Yeah. He's a Libyan national, age about… thirty, name of Asad Khalil, tall, dark, hooked nose, armed and dangerous." I suggested, "Call the FBI duty officer at 26 Federal Plaza in New York, and they'll give you the particulars on this guy and e-mail you a photo." I informed him, "This man is wanted by the Justice Department for multiple murders in the U.S. He's an international terrorist, also wanted by INTERPOL and half the world."
There was a silence on the phone, then Investigator Harris said, "Okay… wow. Okay, I'll get hold of Senior Investigator Miller, who will meet you at the hospital."
"Thank you." I gave him my cell phone number, hung up, took a deep breath, and looked again at Kate. Her skin was chalky, and blood seeped around her breathing tube.
I looked at Ron and Pete and said to them, "You are not to repeat anything you just heard."
I kept my fingers pressed tight against Kate's artery, aware that by keeping her from bleeding to death, I was also reducing blood flow to her brain.
The paramedics had shone a penlight into her eyes a few times, and they seemed optimistic that there was still brain activity. I pushed back her eyelids and looked into Kate's blue eyes. I thought that the life in them was dimming.
We were still in a semi-rural area, and I was concerned that we were far from the hospital. But then I saw a white six-story building up ahead, and the red letters across the building said CATSKILL REGIONAL MEDICAL CENTER.
A trauma team was waiting for us at the emergency entrance, and they took Kate directly into the trauma room. I quickly filled out some paperwork, then a nurse led me into a small surgery waiting room and said to me, "The surgeon will be Dr. Andrew Goldberg. He's the best vascular surgeon on staff. He will see you when he comes out of surgery." She suggested, "You should call whoever you need to call."
There was no one in the waiting room, so maybe that was all the accidents in Sullivan County on this Sunday in May. At least for now.
On that subject, I unzipped the pocket that held my Glock. I didn't know if the State Troopers were here yet, and I would not put it past Asad Khalil to know that this was where Kate would be taken, dead or alive, and that this was where victim number two, John Corey, would be. If a trained killer tells you he will kill you tomorrow, don't take that timeline too literally; tomorrow could mean later today.
A nurse came into the waiting room, and I was sure she had bad news for me. But she handed me a plastic bag and said, "These are your wife's personal effects."
I hesitated, then took the bag. "Thank you." I waited for her to say something about Kate, but she said, "When you get a moment, please stop at the nurses' station and sign for those items."
"Okay…" I asked, "How is she?"
"Being prepped for surgery."
I nodded and the nurse left.
I looked at the items in the bag and saw Kate's wallet with some cash inside. Also in her wallet was a photo of me. I took a deep breath and looked at the other items-a comb, a pack of chewing gum, tissues, and a tube of lip gloss. In the bottom of the bag I found her wedding ring.
I put the bag in a zippered pocket of my jumpsuit. I had to assume that Khalil had her gun. But what about her cell phone? Had it fallen out of her pocket? Or had she left it in the motel room or the car? I wouldn't want to think that Asad Khalil had her cell phone, complete with her phone directory.