"Could be more inside the van."
"Check it out," Nick said.
One of the doors in back had sprung open. Ronnie ducked and glanced inside.
"Clear," he said. "One man lying on the passenger side. There's a lot of blood. Looks like he's dead."
In the distance a siren sounded.
Nick said. "Diego, make sure they're all dead. Go through their pockets and take everything you find. Then get over across the highway. Don't talk to anyone except us."
"Copy that."
"Lucas and Steph," Selena said.
She sprinted across the highway toward the wrecked Audi.
Nick holstered his pistol.
On the highway people were getting out of their cars. Wreckage littered the road, twisted bits of metal and broken glass. Nick and Ronnie ran between cars until they reached Selena standing by the Audi, trying to open Stephanie's door. Oil and gasoline pooled on the road under the wreck.
The Audi had stopped with the hood buried in the side of a Cadillac SUV. The windows and windshield were shattered. Lucas was slumped over a deflated airbag, unconscious. There was blood everywhere. Stephanie was lying back against a broken seat. Her face was covered with blood. She was unconscious. Her breathing was harsh.
Fumes from gasoline spreading under the wreck were thick.
"We've got to get them out of there," Nick said. "This whole thing could go up in a second."
"I'll get Lucas," Ronnie said. He went around to the driver's side of the car.
Nick tried Stephanie's door. It was crumpled against the frame.
"It's jammed tight," Selena said.
"Need a hand? Looks like it might be hard to get that door open."
Nick turned. A man wearing a baseball cap who looked like he worked construction for a living stood nearby. He had thick, muscular arms and a chest like a gorilla. A faded globe and anchor tattoo decorated his forearm.
"Yeah, thanks."
"Let's give it a try," the stranger said. He grasped the upright side of the door with two hands and set his feet. "You grab the door through the window."
Nick nodded.
"Now."
The two men pulled. With a torturous sound of protesting metal the door came open.
"Steph," Nick said, "we're here. Don't worry, you'll be all right."
Nick couldn't tell how badly she was hurt. Her eyes fluttered and opened. There was blood on her lips.
"The baby…"
"The baby's fine," Nick said. He had no idea if the baby was fine or not but he wasn't going to say anything different.
"Here." The stranger handed Nick a knife. "For the seatbelt."
Nick cut the belt and handed the knife back. He reached behind Stephanie's back and under her legs and eased her out of the car. She moaned.
"Got you, Steph," he said. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."
He turned to the stranger. "Thanks."
"Glad to help."
Ronnie and Diego came around the wrecked Audi carrying Lucas. Gas spread in a thin flood underfoot. They carried Lucas and Stephanie toward the flashing lights of an ambulance coming up on the shoulder of the highway on the other side. More lights were right behind it. They'd reached Ronnie's Hummer when there was a deep thump that vibrated underfoot and a sudden burst of heat. The night lit with orange light. In seconds, the interior of the Audi was engulfed in flame.
Steph was unconscious again. Blood oozed from cuts on her face and a wound in her chest. There was a whistling sound as she breathed.
Sucking chest wound, Nick thought. Bad news. She could drown in her own blood.
Ronnie knelt next to Lucas. He looked up at Nick, his face tight and angry.
"He's hit pretty bad."
It began to rain.
CHAPTER 22
The hospital emergency room at night was like every other city ER Nick had ever seen, and he'd seen plenty of them. The floors were covered with a kind of scuffed, neutral colored composition tile that made it easy for the orderlies to mop up blood and vomit without leaving stains. It looked like there was going to be plenty of mopping to do. Wide glass doors went out to a covered entrance where the ambulances could pull up and unload.
The ER was having a busy night. Nick watched a parade of injuries and cops come through the doors. All of them looked like they needed emergency treatment, including some of the cops.
Elizabeth came through the big doors. She dodged around a parked gurney and headed over to the uncomfortable chairs where Nick and the others sat.
"How bad?"
"They're both in surgery. Lucas took a hard hit in his shoulder," Nick said. "He veered away when the shooting started. It changed the trajectory of the bullets or they'd both be dead."
"Stephanie?"
Nick looked down at the floor and sighed. He looked up again. "There are a lot of superficial cuts on her face and scalp from flying glass. None of that is serious. A round went through her right lung and she lost a lot of blood. They won't tell us anything more than that."
Elizabeth was whiter than usual. "What about the baby?"
"Like I said, they won't tell us anything. I wouldn't hold out a lot of hope."
"There's always hope," Elizabeth said.
"The police gave us a lot of trouble. You're going to be hearing from them and probably the president too. Some civilians were hit by those assholes who shot at us and the cops are wondering if it was us. We only got out of there because of the presidential ID."
"Don't worry about it, I'll take care of the cops. And the president."
Elizabeth sat down.
"What do we know?"
"Not much. The shooters knew where we were coming from and what vehicles we were driving. They must've had someone watching the compound. They had radios. When Lucas came up to where they were waiting, they opened up."
"That's it?"
"I went through their pockets before the cops got there," Diego said. He pulled out a wallet he'd taken from one of the dead men. "This is all there was. The others didn't have anything on them."
"Pros," Nick said. "Except for one."
He opened the wallet and showed it to her. It held twenty new one hundred dollar bills and a New York driver's license under a plastic window. The picture was of a man with a narrow face, receding black hair and close set blue eyes. His ears stuck out from the side of his head like handles.
"Patrick O'Malley. It gives an address in Brooklyn."
"Irish?" Elizabeth said.
"I don't think he's Russian with a name like that."
"I'll get…" She stopped and took a deep breath.
"What were you going to say?" Selena asked.
"I started to say that I'd get Steph to run the ID through Interpol. I'll do it when we get back to the compound. We can trace the bills. That might give us a lead."
"We'll get these bastards," Nick said. "They have no idea what they've started."
They waited. It was three hours later before Ronnie said, "There's a doctor coming."
They stood up as the doctor approached. The man looked tired, as if he been up for days.
"Who's in charge?" he asked. His name tag ID'd him as Miller.
"I am," Elizabeth said. "You can talk in front of all of us."
Doctor Miller looked at the group and at the holstered guns.
"Are you police?"
"Something like that," Elizabeth said. "Stephanie works for me and she's our friend. I need to know how she is."
"Are you a relative?"
"Doctor Miller, I work for the president. I suggest you tell me immediately how she is."
Harker's tone left no room for argument
Miller looked at his clipboard.
"The bullet entered the right thoracic cavity slightly posterior and lateral to the middle lung, causing internal bleeding and collapse before exiting through the front of the chest wall under the breast. The internal damage was extensive. We've managed to repair it. You got her here in time. Another half an hour and she wouldn't have made it. She's in intensive care."