by Tinnean
“Your brother’s been shot.”
“Oh my God! Is he okay? How bad is it?”
“Quinton Mann doesn’t seem to know.” Ice dripped from the words.
“Mrs. Cooper, I told you the doctor is promising a complete recovery.”
“Indeed. Are you even telling me the truth?”
“Excuse me?” I was floored by her question. “Why would I lie to you?”
“You’ve got Sebring blood in your veins.” She muttered something about a lying old bastard.
“I have no idea why you’d make a statement like that, but I resent it very much. I’m willing to concede you’re upset because of DB’s injury—”
“Stop calling him by that ridiculous nickname.”
“Mrs. Cooper—”
“Enough! I’ll rent a car, and we’ll drive down. Kimberly, pack our belongings.”
“Yes, Mom.”
“Where are you staying, ma’am? I’ll contact the New York office and have someone pick you up. You’d arrive here much sooner than if you drove yourself.”
“Very well,” she said grudgingly. “I suppose that’s the least you can do. We’re staying at the Bonheur, on Park Avenue.”
“All right. I’ll have someone there within the hour, and you should arrive here by six at the latest. I’ll arrange for a hotel for you and your daughter.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Get out of my son’s life.”
I sighed. “Good night, Mrs. Cooper.”
She hung up without saying another word. I thought back to her earlier comment. Why would she think I’d lie to her? What does she have against Sebrings? And how did she even know I was a Sebring on my mother’s side?
I massaged my temples. DB had probably told her.
I used my own phone to call the New York office—they’d be more likely to recognize my number—and arranged for a car to pick up DB’s mother and sister and drive them down to DC. With that done, I called the Harrison Hotel and reserved a room for them. Then I called them back and changed the room to a suite.
One more call, and it was one I wasn’t looking forward to making. I dialed Lyn Raffles’s number. Unlike Mrs. Cooper’s phone, it only rang twice before Lyn picked up.
“David—”
“It’s Mann,” I said, unable to keep the chill from my voice.
“Quinn, you don’t understand what’s been going on, and I’ll thank you to stay out of it.”
“I realize you no longer wish to be part of DB’s life, but the reason I’m calling is to let you know he’s been shot and he’s in GW.”
“What? Oh my God!”
“You almost sound as if you’re concerned.”
“In... in spite of how it might seem to you, we love David. Oh, God, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’m aware you and Syd have been in a relationship with DB for the past year—”
“He told you?” Her voice had risen two octaves.
“Do you really think he’d do that?”
“Then how did you find out?”
“I am deputy director.”
“Shit. Anyone would think you were Mark Vincent.”
Time to change the subject. “And before you and Ms. Cooper got together with DB, you were in a long-term relationship with each other.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Why would I? You all were happy, and it didn’t affect your performance at work.”
“You don’t understand,” she said again. “David—” She interrupted herself. “Syd wants me to put the phone on speaker.”
“Go ahead.”
“Quinn, please let us explain.”
“Go ahead.”
“David’s been aware from the beginning the kind of operations I’ve worked on,” Lyn said.
“You mean the honeymoon ones?” Like the Division’s Valentine ops, they were missions where the operative was required to sleep with the target.
“You knew?”
“Of course I knew. I also knew, almost from the start, that DB was dating the two of you. What I don’t understand is why—if you love him—you’d want to stop seeing him.”
“He wants to marry us.”
“And?”
“Both of us.”
“Again I ask, and?”
“What family would stand by when their only son marries two women and becomes a polygamist?” She sounded defeated and on the verge of tears, which was highly unusual for her, but I couldn’t let myself feel sorry for the situation she was in.
“His family aren’t the ones marrying you.”
“No, but he loves them, and it would destroy him if they cut him out of their lives. Which they would! Eventually, he’d begin to resent us. As for our careers—we’d be washed up if word of such a marriage came out.”
“I see. The Company means more to you than DB.”
“It’s easy for you to take that high and mighty tone. You’re not involved with someone who could get you fired.”
Just then, the door opened. “This room is occupied.”
“I can see that.” Mark limped into the room.
“Mark.” I was on my feet and crossing to him before I realized it.
“Are you okay?” He actually patted me down, crutch and all, and I had to duck to avoid getting hit in the head with it.
“I’m fine.”
“Quinn, what’s going on?” Lyn demanded.
“I have to go. My boyfriend just walked in.”
“What? What are you—”
I disconnected the call and met Mark’s amused gaze. “She just told me I wasn’t involved with someone who could get me fired.”
“I thought I was your significant other.”
“Boyfriend makes the point more emphatically. Significant other could refer to a woman.”
“I suppose.” He shook his head. “People let other people’s opinions matter too fucking much to them. You’re not worried about getting fired, are you?”
“Of course not. Didn’t you tell me you’d make sure the WBIS hired me?”
“Yeah.” A slow smile deepened the creases that bracketed his mouth.
Mother and Gregor came in. “For someone with a bum leg, you sure hustled,” Gregor sneered, a little out of breath.
“I had to make sure Quinn was okay, didn’t I?”
Gregor had no argument to that, and he fumed in silence.
Mother came directly to me and embraced me. “Sweetheart, are you all right?”
“Yes. Not even a scratch.” I could feel her trembling.
“Thank God.” She cradled my cheek. “How is DB?”
“His spleen was grazed. They’re going to keep him in the hospital for a few days to see if it will heal on its own.”
“Has his family been notified?”
“I spoke with his mother. She... doesn’t like me. She blames me for getting DB into the CIA.”
“Oh, Quinton.”
“She’s up in New York, and one of the Company drivers will bring her and her daughter here. Do you know what’s odd, Mother? DB has a factor X deficiency too.”
“That is odd.” She looked thoughtful. She and Uncle Bryan had the deficiency; because Father was “normal,” I simply carried the gene.
“Would you care for a coffee, Mother? Mark? Gregor?”
“I’ll get it, Quinn.” Gregor headed for the door.
“Thanks, Gregor,” I called.
He waved a hand to signal he’d heard me and kept going.
“Sit down, Quinn. You look like you’re going to fall over any minute.”
“Yes, Mark.” I dragged myself back to the couch. I hadn’t felt exhausted until he’d mentioned it.
“Portia?”
She smiled. “Yes, Mark.” She took one of the chairs. “Why don’t you sit as well?”
“Yes, ma’am.” And Mark sat beside me. “What happened, Quinn?”
I told them what had happ
ened from the time DB and I left the Rib Shack until I’d arrived in the ED.
“I lost the knife Father gave me,” I murmured. “I didn’t even think to bring my gun with me.”
“Why would you? You’re home.”
“Yes, but you would have had yours.” I leaned forward and yanked up his trouser leg. Sure enough, the Mini-Max I’d given him for Christmas was strapped to his ankle.
“You still might not have been able to get to your clutch piece in time.” Mark draped his left arm around my shoulders and gave me a slight shake. “I’d say you gave the bastard a nasty surprise.”
“I hope so.”
“I think that’s a given, sweetheart,” Mother said. “If the police didn’t find your knife or traces of blood, you must have thrown it hard enough that he didn’t dare free it.”
“Yeah. I’ll bet you did some damage.” Mark nuzzled my hair. “I’m proud of you, babe.”
“Thanks, but I’m still concerned the shooter won’t be found. The police might expect him to turn up at a clinic or doctor’s office or the ED, but suppose he has other resources.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find him.”
“How, Mark? I know you’re the best, but even you would have a difficult time tracing someone who might as well be the Invisible Man. We have no idea what he looks like.”
“No, but we do know he’s got a hole in him, thanks to you.” He forced me to meet his gaze. “I’ll get you another knife, babe.”
“I’m being foolish about this.”
“It’s allowed.”
Gregor returned with four cups of coffee. “Sorry, the cafeteria was closed, and I had to use the vending machine.” He handed one to each of us, then drew up another chair and sat down beside Mother.
“Thanks, Novotny. It’s a good thing we’re in a hospital and can get our stomachs pumped. This stuff’ll be sure to poison us.”
“Ha ha.”
I took a sip and shuddered. Mark had a point. The coffee was bitter and sludgy, with a burnt aftertaste. I set it down on one of the tables no doubt put in this room for the purpose of holding cups.
Gregor paid no attention to Mark’s warning and drank the coffee. He began coughing, and Mother patted his back. Finally he caught his breath. “It’s not that bad.”
“No, dear one,” Mother said. But she handed me her cup, and I placed it on the table beside mine.
“So.” Gregor’s voice was still raspy, and he cleared his throat. “What did I miss?”
I’d just finished filling him in when Mark’s cell phone rang.
“Is that ‘L’amour est bleu’?” Mother asked.
“Yeah, it is.” The corner of Mark’s mouth tipped up in a grin. “Trust you to recognize it, Portia.” He fished his phone out of his pocket. “Bonjour, Max.” That made sense: a French song for the little French doctor. “Comment ça va?” He sat up abruptly. “Yeah? ... Can you keep him there? ... Good. Do that. I’ll be down as soon as I can. I owe you, Max. Merci.” He disconnected the call, then dialed another number. “Matheson... Jesus, don’t tell me you’re—Never mind. I need you to come pick me up. I’ll wait for you at the entrance to the GW emergency department. ... No, I’m fine. ... Yeah, you could say that. ... Okay, thanks.” He hung up again. “Something’s come up at headquarters. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“Not necessary, babe, but thanks.” He handed me his coffee cup.
“You’ll be careful?” I put his cup beside Mother’s and mine. If Gregor decided he didn’t want his, there wouldn’t be enough room for it on this table.
“Aren’t I always?”
I tilted my head and gazed down at his injured leg.
“Okay, except for that. Which wasn’t my fault,” he added, annoyed.
I stood and held my hand out to him. He took it, and I pulled him to his feet. “Come back to me. Don’t get hurt and don’t get killed.”
“Covering your bases, Quinn?”
“Yes. I don’t want anyone to give you even a dirty look.”
“I’ll be fine.” He leaned down and brushed his lips over mine. I wanted them to cling, to deepen the kiss, but we weren’t alone. He straightened and turned to Mother. “Make sure he doesn’t worry too much, okay, Portia?”
“I’m going to worry also, Mark. I won’t ask you not to do anything foolish, but... “
He grinned at her. “I won’t do anything foolish. Novotny... Ah, hell. I have to go.”
“I won’t worry.”
“Well, that’s good. I’d think it was the apocalypse otherwise.” He started to stride out, then caught himself as his leg must have warned him to take it easy, and he left the room at a slower pace.
The door closed behind him, and I stood there staring at it. What a fucked-up day this had been.
Gregor looked at his coffee and grimaced. “Vincent was right. This stuff is lethal.” That didn’t stop him from finishing it. “What do we do now?”
“We wait and see what the police come up with.” Mother leaned her head against his shoulder.
I glanced at my watch. It was almost 1:00 a.m.
Mother was right. We’d just have to wait and see.
Chapter 20
A doctor I didn’t recognize came into the room and looked from Gregor to me. “Mr. Mann?”
I rose. “Yes?”
“Mr. Cooper made it through just fine. The wound wasn’t as severe as we’d feared, although we did give him another unit of plasma. He’s in recovery right now. We’d like to keep him for a few days to make sure his spleen starts to heal on its own, but his prognosis is excellent.”
“May we see him?”
“Not tonight, I’m afraid. I suggest you go home, get some rest, and come back during visiting hours, which are from eight a.m. until ten p.m. It would be better if you give him some time to get settled in his room and have breakfast, although after lunch would be even better.”
Mother exchanged glances, first with me and then with Gregor before turning back to the doctor. “A friend had to see to something, but is planning to return and meet us here.”
“Well, I have no objection to you waiting here until he... she?”
“He.”
“Until he shows up, but as I said, Mr. Cooper isn’t to be disturbed at this time.”
“I understand...” Mother studied the name tag that hung from a pocket of the scrubs he wore. “Dr. Reynolds. It’s so kind of you to take the time...”
I left the room, not really startled that Gregor was right behind me.
“Your mother is a pistol.”
She was. I knew she’d keep the doctor occupied until Gregor could get a quick look at DB’s chart.
He winked, gathered up a lab coat that seemed to have been abandoned, and strolled away. I knew that once he entered an elevator or stairwell, he’d put on the lab coat, and no one would question him.
I took out my phone, and only when I’d found a corner where I wouldn’t be overheard did I hit One on speed dial. Mark picked up right away, but he didn’t give me a chance to say anything.
“This isn’t a good time.”
“You have to stop killing my senior directors.” I recognized Wallace’s voice.
“That’s not fair, sir. Sperling blew himself up when he tried to break into my apartment and you took care of Davies. Gershom is the only one I’m responsible for.”
Oh hell, this really wasn’t a good time. “I’m sorry, Mark. I just wanted to let you know we can’t see DB until later this morning, so Mother and Gregor will be going home. I’ll wait for you here at the hospital.”
“Not necessary, but thanks for the thought. Go on home, okay? It’s going to be a long fucking night.”
“All right, but please remember it’s only been nine days since you were shot.”
“How can I forget when everyone is hell-bent on reminding me?” he snarled. It had been a long time since I’d heard him so impatient.
“Really, Mark
? That’s the stupidest question I’ve ever heard you ask.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
I was startled when he began to laugh. “Nice retort, babe. I’m sorry. Look, go on home.” He lowered his voice. “It’s better you don’t know what happened.”
Like it was better I didn’t know what he could do... had done... to Senator Wexler?
“All right, Mark. We’ll talk about it later.”
“Quinn—Matheson, you’d better not be laughing.”
“No, sir.” But even over the phone I could hear the amusement in his voice.
“Do you have a key to Mother’s?”
There was dead silence on the other end of my phone, and then he swore.
“Never mind, babe. I’ll wait up for you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know. I’m aware you’d have no trouble picking the lock, and I’m sure you know where the alarm is. Humor me, all right?”
“Okay, babe. Thanks.”
“Ass. I’ll see you later. Stay safe. And go easy on that leg.”
“Yes, master.”
“Damn straight, and don’t you forget it.” I hung up while I was ahead and turned at a light touch to my arm. “Mother.”
Having shed the lab coat, Gregor stood at her shoulder as if he hadn’t been skulking through the corridors of the hospital.
“Is everything all right with Mark?”
“I imagine so. He couldn’t talk.”
“Hmm.” But she didn’t say anything else regarding that. “It’s getting late, sweetheart. Gregor and I are going home. Will you wait for Mark?”
“No.” I gazed around. The ED was a scene of controlled chaos. EMTs rushed stretchers into various bays, reeling off vital signs, doctors called for portable X-ray machines, nurses hung bags of IV fluids. “He said it’s going to be a long night.”
“Probably burying a body,” Gregor muttered as we exited the hospital and walked into the parking lot. “The Town Car’s this way.”
“What did you learn about DB?”
“Not much more than you already knew. The bullet nicked his spleen—talk about sheer luck! An inch or so to the left and he would have bled out—and he’s been given another infusion of plasma. He’d already come out of the anesthesia and was sleeping, and he’ll be transferred to a semi-private room in a few hours.”
