I didn't reply to that, but said, "I've been put on traumatic leave so I'll be home while you convalesce."
"That's not necessary." She suggested, "Maybe I'll ask my mother to come for a visit."
Then maybe I'll stand on the balcony with a bull's-eye taped to my forehead.
"John?"
I informed her, "This leave is not voluntary." I reminded her, "No business talk until you're home."
"Okay." She asked me, "Would you jump again?"
"Yes, from the balcony if your mother comes to visit." I didn't actually say that-I said, "I think of little else." I was bursting with the news of what happened with the DC-7B, and this was my opening. I said, "The club didn't want to make the next two jumps, out of consideration for what happened to you, but Craig insisted, saying they'd paid for it, and what happened to you should not spoil their jump." I glanced at her, but I couldn't tell if she was buying this. So I got down to the true part of the story. "Well, they took off, and-you're not going to believe this-but one of the engines caught fire and they had to make an emergency landing."
"Oh my God."
"The engine that had the oil leak. The one I was concerned about."
"Really?"
"That's what a State Trooper told me." I added, modestly, "I have a nose for trouble. A sixth sense for danger."
"Was anyone hurt?"
"No, but Craig got hysterical and had to be sedated."
She seemed a little skeptical about that, but said, "I don't blame them for going ahead with the jump. We planned it for months."
"Well, next time pick a better plane."
To get me off the subject, she conceded, "You're very smart, John. I should listen to what you say." She smiled and asked me, "So, how do you feel about this helicopter?"
Heather was back, and before I could reply she piped in, "John says he loves helicopters."
Kate inquired, "Really?"
Heather took Kate's blood pressure again and found it slightly elevated.
Anyway, the flight back was smooth, fast, and without incident-no ground fire, no surface-to-air missiles, and no pursuit aircraft.
As we approached the heliport, I looked out the window and saw police highway units in position to close down the FDR Drive so that the waiting ambulance could make a straight shot to the Bellevue E.R. entrance in about one minute.
Kate said to me, "I'd really rather be going home. I feel fine."
"You'll be home in a few days."
Heather informed us, "I do visiting nurse work if you need somebody."
Yes.
Kate said, "Thank you, but my mother will be visiting."
Actually, she wouldn't be. Not under the present circumstances. But I didn't get into that.
I looked at Kate, then I looked out the window at the city. The bastard who had tried to kill her in Sullivan County was now here. But he wasn't leaving here.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The NYPD had stationed a uniformed cop directly outside the door of Kate's private room. Actually, half the floor is basically a secured zone, and most of the patients are guests of the FBI, the NYPD, or the Department of Corrections, and they will be discharged into a paddy wagon or a hearse. It's an interesting floor.
Kate didn't bring up the subject of Khalil's attack on her, but I'm sure it was on her mind, and it's best not to repress the trauma, but rather to talk about it. So I said, "I saw the videotape of the jump."
She stayed silent, then asked, "What could you see?"
"You need to see it yourself. And read my report."
She advised me, "Don't puff yourself up like you usually do."
"I can tell you're getting back to your old self."
She smiled, took my hand, and said, "I know you saved my life."
I said, "We can talk about all that when you're home." Or now, if you'd like.
She changed the subject to the business at hand. Kate, like Heather, had noticed my extra bulk, and we discussed some of what was happening in regard to my status-and her status-as a protected person, though I didn't mention that I might be taking some long walks at night.
I didn't bring up the subject of the two murders in California, or the five murders in New York. I would, but murder is a conversation stopper, so we discussed some ideas, theories, and possible strategies.
Kate, with time and motivation to think about all this, had come to some of the same conclusions that I'd come to, and that Paresi and Walsh had eventually reached, to wit: Khalil was the worst type of person to be looking for-a highly trained, disciplined, and motivated loner with no close accomplices, no friends or family in the area, and no usual or suspected places that he would frequent.
Kate also agreed that Khalil most probably had resources here, people who had no prior or direct connection to him, but who would provide logistics and information.
We also discussed the possibility that Khalil might have some fireworks planned for his finale. Kate said, "He might, but like last time, he will take care of personal business first." She thought a moment, then said, "Like Chip Wiggins." She asked me, "Has anyone done anything about that?"
"Actually, yes. Khalil has."
"Oh… my God…"
"Right. Last week in Santa Barbara." I told her about the murder of Chip Wiggins, and I didn't spare her the details of his beheading. I said, "Khalil picked up where he left off." I also told her about the Libyan-American, Farid Mansur.
She nodded, then said, "Chip was a nice man."
"Khalil didn't think so."
I also told her about the murder of Amir on Murray Street, and I said, "You'll recall last time that Khalil knocked off a Libyan cab driver."
She nodded, and correctly concluded, "Khalil is in the city."
Her next thought was that I, John Corey, was the man most likely to next see Asad Khalil-assuming I saw it coming.
She said to me, "John, I hope they have you completely covered."
"Of course."
"Be careful… and don't volunteer to… trap Khalil."
"Of course not."
It was time to tell her about Gabe, but first I said, "We're thinking that Khalil may be targeting the Task Force, so there may be others on Khalil's list-like George Foster, or even Vince or Tom."
Kate nodded and said to me, "I suppose Khalil does have some knowledge of the inner workings and command structure of the Task Force." This brought her to another thought, and she said, "Also Gabe. He's an Arab-American, and he's on the Lion Hunter team."
I took her hand and said, "Gabe is dead."
She didn't respond.
I told her what happened to Gabe and his wife and daughter, and again, I didn't spare her any of the reported details, which she would soon have access to, but I did not tell her that Gabe had been killed with her gun. I concluded, "The police are calling it a home invasion, or a possible bias crime." I made sure to let her know, "By the appearance of the crime scene, we know that Gabe fought back." I also filled her in about the murder of the limo driver near Gabe's house.
She stared up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes. Finally, she said, "What did those poor women do to… die like that?"
She seemed tired and her voice was getting weaker, so I said, "I'm going to let you rest."
She looked at me and said, "Get me out of here tomorrow."
"I'll try."
I told Kate I'd be back that evening if I could. We kissed and I went to the nurses' station and told the duty nurse that Mrs. Corey wanted to be discharged the next day.
The nurse consulted her chart and informed me that Mrs. Corey first needed to be medically evaluated. Also, there was a flag on her discharge.
"Meaning?"