Distant Memory (37 page)

This time there would be no talking, Massey decided. No banter, no questions, no answers. Just a simple approach, raise the gun, pull the trigger, and walk away. If anyone tried to intervene, he would die too. Simplicity was the key to success. It had always been so. In those cases when a foreign agent needed to be neutralized, Massey had always insisted that a direct approach be taken. The attempts by the CIA to kill Castro in the sixties had proven that fancy plans lead to embarrassing results. To Massey, schemes were like machines. The fewer the parts, the fewer things there were to fail.

He had weighed the options. At first he thought he would sit in the stolen truck, wait for Lisa Keller to appear, then take his shot. But Massey soon dismissed the idea. It was unlikely that she would get close enough to the parking lot for him to make a sure-kill shot. He was sure that he could hit her, but not so sure that he could kill her. Nothing would be solved.

No, a more direct approach was required. There were, however, problems with that scheme. Nick Blanchard and the presence of the police. A close kill would mean that Blanchard might confront him. Not that he feared the man. Killing the NSA agent would be a bonus and might solve some future problems. Still, it was a risk. And if a guard was with him, he would have to make three kills. He counted the ammunition he had left: three rounds. More ammunition would have been the answer, but he couldn’t purchase any at this hour of the night and stealing some was far more risky than breaking into a pool supply store. Gun shops usually had bars on the windows and sophisticated alarm systems. If he had more time, he might have tried it.

After starting the gas on the rooftop, Massey had returned to the truck and parked in the front lot. There he had waited. It took less than two minutes for enough gas to fill the ductwork to be noticed. Nurses and others began to appear out the front lobby door. In the confusion,
Massey had exited the truck and walked toward the front of the building. No one paid any attention to him. Standing to the side of the courtyard in the shadows, he waited for the only person in the hospital he cared to see. The smell of chlorine filled the air. To him it was like perfume.

“My eyes,” Lisa complained. “They feel like they’re on fire.”

“Mine, too,” Nick agreed. “I suppose all the eye drops are back in the hospital.”

“Is that a joke?”

“A weak one, admittedly.”

Lisa blinked back the tears and looked around her. Nick had her by the arm and had unceremoniously pulled her from the hospital bed and propelled her down the corridor before she could ask what was going on. A few seconds later she had no need to ask. The hall was packed with frightened, choking people, and the powerful smell of chlorine provided all the answers she needed.

With Nick’s help she was in the first group to explode from the lobby into the fresh air. Nick had carried his crutch with him, not bothering to spare his leg the pain of supporting his weight. He still hobbled, but he pressed on. Lisa understood that his pain took a backseat to immediate, suffocating death.

“What happened?” Lisa asked.

“I’m not sure. A gas leak perhaps.” Nick was now leaning on the crutch again and holding his foot off the ground.

“Gas leak? What does a hospital use chlorine gas for?” Lisa was puzzled. “That doesn’t make sense.”

The expression on Nick’s face changed from weariness and pain to alarm. “Oh no,” he said.

“What?”

“Massey. This must be Massey’s doing.”

Lisa’s heart slammed hard in her chest. Frantically she scanned the area, trying to look at each face, hoping that he wasn’t there, praying that Nick was wrong, but she knew that he must be right. The man was obsessed enough to do this. She had seen it in his eyes, heard it in his voice. She glanced back at Nick, who was scanning the area too.

“I need to get you to a safe place,” Nick said.

“Where? There is no safe place.”

“In the crowd.” He took her by the arm and started to pull her with him, but she jerked her arm free. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not going to use other people as a shield. That could put their lives in danger.”

“He’s after
you
, Lisa, no one else.”

“And he just gassed an entire hospital. I don’t think he would let the fact that a few people were between us stand in his way.”

“It’s the only chance we have.”

“No. It can’t be.”

“Name another.” Nick was angry, and he reached for her arm again. He was too slow, and she started to move away. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find him,” Lisa said with a stern determination. “I’m not going to wait around here until he makes his move. Someone else - could get hurt.”

“Lisa!” Nick called. “Wait!”

But she didn’t.

When Hobbs heard Nick’s voice call out Lisa’s name, he snapped his head around. It sounded like it came from the front of the crowd, the side closest to the parking lot—the worst possible place. He was on the move a second later, weaving his way through the forest of people, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He saw her when he reached the edge of the crowd. Her tousled black hair shimmered under the moonlight; her face appeared pale under the parking lot lamps. Sirens continued to wail as police and fire units rushed to the scene. They would not arrive in time to save Lisa if that madman got there first.

Hobbs reached for his gun and withdrew it on the fly. A few people saw it and gasped. As he reached the edge of the crowd, he saw Lisa walking twenty-five feet away, followed closely by Nick, who hopped more than walked.

He saw something else: a movement in the shadows near the south wing of the hospital. A man was emerging, a man in a dark, rumpled, three-piece suit, with a dark metallic object in his right hand. He walked calmly, with purpose, straight for Lisa. Nick and Lisa had their backs turned to him. They had no idea he was there.

“Lisa, wait,” Nick shouted, struggling to keep up. “This is crazy.”

What is she doing?
Hobbs wondered.

The man from the shadows moved closer and then raised his gun.

“Gun!” Hobbs shouted as loudly as he could. “Down! Get down!”

The man turned briefly and looked at Hobbs, then returned his gaze back to Lisa, who had spun on her heels sharply. Nick turned toward Hobbs, who was raising his weapon. Hobbs saw Nick follow the direction of his aim.

“No!” Nick shouted as he pivoted on his good foot and threw himself at Lisa.

A loud bang echoed through the predawn blackness. Then another as Hobbs fired. He missed. Massey had dropped to the ground as he fired, landing on his side, his gun now pointing at Hobbs. Hobbs adjusted his aim. He saw the muzzle flash of Massey’s weapon.

An explosion went off by Hobbs’s ear, and his face began to sting. Massey’s shot had struck the stucco corner of the hospital, blasting sharp pieces of tiny shrapnel into the air. Several pieces hit Hobbs, whose face was less than a foot away. Instinctively he flinched, raising his gun hand
to shield his face. His eyes slammed shut. When he opened them again he saw the gunman scramble to his feet and rush toward the startled and screaming crowd of patients.

Lisa fell to the ground like a toppled statue. She had heard Hobbs yell “Gun!” and Nick scream “No!” The next sensation was an amalgam of alarm, pain, and confusion. Her legs felt heavy, immovable, and she was having difficulty breathing. It took another second for her to realize that someone was lying on top of her. She started to fight back when she realized it was Nick. He wasn’t moving. Lisa had seen him jump before she heard the report of the pistol. He had interposed his own body in front of hers.

“Nick?”

Silence.

“Nick?” Lisa struggled to get out from under his weight. “Nick. Talk to me, Nick.” But Nick said nothing. Mustering her strength and ignoring her pain, she rolled Nick’s body off her own.

He groaned. Blood oozed from the side of his head, not from a hole, but from a gash. The bullet had grazed his skull. He was unconscious but alive.

“Thank you, God,” she said softly, and a sudden sense of relief raced through her. He was alive. But the relief was fleeting. Massey was still there. She saw him disappear into the crowd only to appear a moment later with something in his arms. When Lisa recognized it, her terror intensified beyond anything she had experienced.

Massey held a child in his arms, a young blond girl, and he had the barrel of his gun pressed against her small head. The young girl wailed in fright, and Lisa’s heart sank like a stone.

“Don’t do it, buddy,” a voice said.

Hobbs looked to his left and saw Tanner shakily standing on one leg and holding a service revolver in front of him. He must have taken the downed officer’s weapon, Hobbs reasoned. He was barefoot, with a heavily bandaged leg, and like all the other patients, wearing only a hospital gown. In any other setting, the sight would be comical, but to Hobbs it was a scene of bravery. With Tanner’s help, there were now two guns aimed at Massey—but neither could shoot.

The girl was familiar to Hobbs. She was the same one he had helped out of the hospital.

“It’s time to put this to rest,” Tanner continued. “No need to hurt a little girl.”

“Shut up!” Massey screamed. “Or this time it won’t be your leg that gets shot.”

Hobbs knew that Tanner had not seen his assailant before, but he had put the pieces together.

“It’s over, Massey,” Hobbs said firmly, ignoring the blood that trickled down his face. “It’s been a lousy day for everybody. Let’s just call it quits, and no one will hurt you.”

“You think I’m worried about being hurt?” Massey laughed. “Pain means nothing. I have a job to do, and I’m going to do it.”

“There are more cops on the way,” Hobbs said. “In another minute or two they’re going to be all over the place. You’ll have no place to run.”

“I don’t care,” Massey said. “If anyone moves without my say-so, then this little girl dies. Is that clear?”

“Crystal,” Hobbs said. “So how do we do this without anyone getting killed?”
Time
, Hobbs reminded himself,
Eat up some time. Delay him until help comes
.