Right. No problem.
Abruptly the door was slammed shut.
In the weakening light, Lockhart stared at it. Cautiously he stood, walked to the lane, and went through the three open gates. He looked for blood on the lane but didn’t see any.
I didn’t hit him after all. He just stumbled.
Aiming his weapon, he approached the closed door. It was solid metal. Yesterday, when he’d arrived with Colonel Raleigh and the team, he’d noticed how thick it was. He had no doubt that it locked automatically, just as he had no doubt that similar thick metal lined the entire concrete structure. The pad next to the door would require a specific sequence to unlock it, and it wouldn’t matter if the colonel knew the numbers that had been used yesterday-the guard would almost certainly have changed that sequence by now.
Even if I had grenades, I wouldn’t be able to get through that door, Lockhart thought.
He studied the ground again but didn’t see any blood.
He walked to the open-backed truck and smelled the corpses before he saw them.
To vent his frustration, he shot the security camera above the door and a security camera on one of the fence poles. There were plenty of others to destroy, and he did so, one after the other. Now the guard wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing, but the destruction didn’t really accomplish anything because Lockhart had no way of getting inside.
The colonel isn’t going to be happy.
Lockhart waited several seconds before making himself reach for the two-way radio in the duffel bag.
61
Page landed as softly as he could, keeping the nose wheel off the ground as long as possible so the injured woman wouldn’t feel a jolt. He taxied from the runway toward the airport’s adobe office, where the man in frayed coveralls stood waiting.
After shutting off the engine, Page quickly got out, tilted the seat forward, and eased the woman from the back seat. She remained unconscious.
The man in the coveralls rushed to help.
“The ambulance is on the way,” he said as they set her gently on the pavement, using the Cessna’s shadow to keep her out of the sun.
Page heard the wail of approaching sirens.
“The Highway Patrol’s on its way, too,” the man said.
Page didn’t look forward to that conversation.
Tori and the reporter joined them.
Tinted by the red light of the sunset, the reporter faced him.
“I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.” He had the television camera on his shoulder, and it took some effort for him to hold it with his left arm while he extended his right hand. The sleeve of his suit coat was torn. “Brent Loft.”
“I know who you are,” Page said.
Loft missed his tone, evidently pleased that Page recognized him. “And I certainly know who you are.”
“Excuse me?” Page asked.
“You have red hair,” Loft said, turning to Tori. “You’re the couple I’ve been looking for-Daniel and Victoria Page, from Santa Fe. I’ve done my homework. You stopped the shootings on Thursday night.”
“Is that camera still on?” Page asked.
“It’s worthless if it isn’t.”
Page had been through so much that his emotions nearly over- whelmed him. His need to shield Tori almost made him yank the camera from Loft’s hands and hurl it onto the concrete.
The approaching sirens helped him keep control.
He took a deep breath.
“Can’t this wait? It’s not something we want to talk about right now. We saved your life. With luck, we got your friend back here in time. Isn’t that worth something? Give us a break.”
Loft glanced in the direction of his unconscious companion and nodded. As he turned back to Tori, the sirens wailed closer.
“I have only one question.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“Really. Just one question.”
“What is it?” Tori demanded. “I’m tired of hiding from you. Let’s get this over with.”
“I can understand how your husband was able to do what he did. He’s a professional, trained to take charge in emergencies. But you’re a real estate agent. In your place, most people would have panicked. Somehow you found the strength to pick up a pistol and stop the gunman. Your courage was remarkable. How on earth were you able to do that?”
“There wasn’t a choice,” Tori answered. “He was trying to kill my husband.” She looked directly at Page, then back to the reporter. “How could I not have tried to protect my husband?”
“So you’re saying it was love that gave you courage?” Loft asked.
“Yes.” Tori looked again at Page. “Love gave me courage.”
Loft lowered the camera and studied each of them. “Thank you for saving Anita and me.”
The sirens became terribly loud. An ambulance sped into view and skidded to a stop next to the airport’s office, followed closely by a Highway Patrol car. Attendants jumped from the ambulance, hurrying to unfold the wheels of a gurney. One carried an emergency kit as they rushed toward the woman lying on the pavement.
Medrano got out of the patrol car, put on his Stetson, straightened to his full height, and took powerful strides toward Page.
His voice was strong. “I told you not to fly into that area.”
“That’s news to me,” Page said. Next to him, the ambulance attendants put an oxygen mask over the woman’s face and attached an IV line. “You said the government gave me clearance to ignore the restriction.”
“And then they revoked it. I warned you to get out of there.”
“If you told us to leave, we didn’t hear it,” Tori said. “The police radio stopped working.”
Loft stepped forward, balancing the television camera on his shoulder, focusing it on Medrano.
“Captain, I’m Brent Loft from First-on-the-Scene News in El Paso. This couple did an amazing thing. At great risk to their lives, they landed their aircraft on hazardous terrain at the observatory so they could stop a guard from killing us. In fact, as you can see, he’d al- ready shot my partner. They loaded us on their plane and took off. The entire time, I was afraid the maniac would fire another grenade at us.”
Medrano was taken by surprise. “Grenade?”
“He’d already used one to shoot down a helicopter. Then he fired one at our van.”
“Why was he firing grenades?”
“I have no idea, any more than I know why he piled all those corpses onto the back of a truck.”
“Corpses… in a truck?”
“A lot of them. Enough to fill it. He kept babbling about wanting to listen to music.” Loft continued aiming the camera. “Something bad is going on over there, Captain. You need to get your men to that observatory before God knows what else happens.”
Medrano opened his mouth to say something, then decided against it. He hurried to his cruiser, where he reached for the micro- phone on his police radio and spoke urgently into it.
Loft lowered the camera and aimed it toward the ambulance attendants as they lifted the woman onto the gurney.
“How’s she doing?” Page asked.
“Lost plenty of blood,” an attendant answered.
“She’d have lost more if it weren’t for the guy with the camera.”
“I’ll use that quote when I edit this,” Loft said.
He stepped quickly over to the ambulance and began talking to the attendants at the open doors. He used his free hand to gesture persuasively. The next thing, he climbed into the back.
Page shook his head. “I hate to say this, but I think we’re going to be seeing a lot more of him on television.”
Siren blaring, the ambulance rushed away.
The man in the frayed coveralls came over to them. “I’ll help you push your plane to a tie-down spot.”
“Actually, we’re going up again,” Page told him.
The man frowned toward the dimming sky. “Never liked flying at night.”