They went down in the elevator and walked through the maze of corridors until they came to the emergency room counter. Fortunately, the churlish woman that was there before had been replaced by someone that at least seemed to be more pleasant. Ken flashed his badge, which she examined closely, and he asked where Roman Yarborough had been taken. She consulted the computer in front of her, gave him the room number, and even pointed to the proper hallway.
“But you all can’t go in the room. They aren’t big enough, and I’m sure there are several doctors and nurses already in there tending to Mr. Yarborough.”
“That’s all right. We only want to check how he’s doing. We don’t necessarily have to go into the room.”
“That’s good,” she said turning to the mound of paperwork in front of her.
Chapter 56
The nurse had been more or less accurate. The room was indeed small, and two doctors were working on Yarborough, but there were three nurses in attendance, and another one walked up at almost the same time Ken’s group did.
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said stepping in front of them. “You can’t go in there.”
Ken took out his badge. “I’m with the FBI, and Yarborough killed one of my agents. I only want to talk to him.”
“If you don’t stay out and let the doctors take care of him the only one he’ll be talking to is the almighty himself. Besides, he hasn’t regained consciousness yet.”
Ken doubted that Yarborough would get anywhere near the almighty, but he didn’t want to argue about anything so inconsequential. He had much larger matters to worry about. So instead he merely asked, “Is he going to make it?”
“There’s no way to know yet. Let the doctor’s work their magic, and maybe they’ll be able to tell you something. You are aware that he sustained four bullets to his torso?”
“We have been so informed.” Ken turned to Baker who was sitting just outside the room. “You stay right there while we all go refresh ourselves.”
“Yes, sir. Is Morgan still alive?”
“Yes, but he had a bad night and grew tired right away when we were talking to him. The nurse and the doctor with him threw us out.”
“Is he alive,” Cox asked as he walked into the hallway in front of the room.
Ken nodded. “So far but they’re not sure if he’s going to remain so. Why don’t you remain here with Baker? We’re going to take a quick break before we go back up to Morgan.”
“So he’s still alive then?”
“He is, but he’s very weak.”
Cox sat in a chair on the opposite side of the door from Baker in front of the room where the doctors and nurses continued to work on Yarborough. “I’ll stay here until Yarborough either dies or they move him to intensive care. If they do that, Baker and I’ll go with him.”
“That’ll work,” Ken said. “If they move him let me know where they take him.”
“Will do, sir.”
Ken turned. “There’s a waiting room down there,” he pointed at the sign. “There might be a break room as well as bathrooms there. Shall we see?”
“That’s a good idea,” Jenny said. “I’ve been holding it for a while. I’m surprised my eyes aren’t crossed.”
“Funny,” Robert said. “But I’m sure I could use a restroom as well.”
Without another word, he led the way toward the waiting room losing Jenny to one bathroom and Robert to another. “You okay?” Ken asked Adam.
“For now. But I’ll probably need the room pretty soon.”
“Me too.”
They waited until Robert and Jenny joined them again and then headed off to the waiting room. There were several vending machines, and Ken asked, “Can I get anybody anything?”
Everybody opted for a cold drink, and Ken selected a couple bags of potato chips. He opened them and set them in the middle of the table. Before long, both bags of chips were gone as well as everybody’s drinks.
“Morgan should be rested by now. We should go back up. There’s no telling how long he’ll hold on,” Ken said getting up.
Everybody followed him out of the room and down the hallway where they stopped in front of Yarborough’s room. “Any change?” Ken asked Cox.
“Not that I know of. The nurses have been coming and going getting more supplies and so on but nobody stopped to talk.”
“I’ll check with one of the nurses. The rest of you wait here.” He took three steps into the room before one of the nurses stopped him. He asked Yarborough’s condition.
“He’s stable but he’s definitely not out of danger. According to the doctors the next twelve hour will tell the tale.”
“Thank you,” Ken said as he stepped back into the hallway and passed along the information to Cox and that he was to call the moment anything changed. Then Ken led his group back up to intensive care. There were two new guards outside Morgan’s room, but they stepped aside when Ken flashed his credentials.
As soon as they were in Morgan’s room, Ken walked up to the bed and said in a self-assured tone, “Roman’s dead. His injuries were simply too much. He didn’t make it.” Jenny and Adam’s eyes grew wide, but a small smile played across Robert’s lips. He knew what Ken was attempting to do.
“Are…are you sure he’s…dead?” Morgan asked shakily putting his hand to his chest.
“Yes, I’m sorry to have to tell you, but he’s dead.” Ken tried to affect the saddest face he could.
“Cut the…crap,” Morgan said. Ken was taken aback. How could Morgan know he was lying? Then Morgan added, “I know you don’t care one whit about Roman…You’re probably…” Morgan stopped for a breath. “You’re probably glad he’s dead.”
Ken breathed a sigh of relief. He was still on track. “I’m never happy when anybody dies although I’ve heard your son was tied to several assassinations other than your own.” Another lie but one Ken felt confident was actually true. He had no knowledge of any other assassinations Yarborough had carried out other than his sister’s if he even did that one. They still had no proof of that one either. “And to think, Donati was responsible for Miranda being dead and Roman being dead and they tried to kill you twice under Donati’s orders. Miranda tried first and then Roman.” Ken was careful to use their first names because he thought that would have more shock value and shock was precisely what he was trying to accomplish. He also mentioned Donati for the same reason.
“And you’re sure Miranda shot…me.” Morgan paused as he thought about the enormity of what he’d said. “I don’t believe it. I was a good father. To…to…to both of them.” The pity was Morgan actually believed what he was saying. But that was all right because it played right into Ken’s hands.
“So, Donati convinced both of your children to kill the father they should have loved. And I think you said you have always been true to Donati so I’m at a loss as to why he would want you dead.”
“Because he’s…he’s the lowest…of the low,” he struggled with the words and Ken wasn’t sure if it was the fact that he was shot or because he didn’t really believe what he was saying.
“Have you come to grips yet with the fact that you’re dying?”
“As I told you…before, I don’t believe you…It’s…not…true. I’m invincible. I always have been,” Morgan finished gasping for air.
“Well you’ve already discovered you’re not bulletproof,” Robert put in. “So I don’t see how you can think you’re invincible.” He tapped on the doctor’s shoulder. “Can you help us out here Doc. He needs to know he’s dying.”
Dr. Richards turned and shook his head. “I can’t do that. I’m supposed to always be supportive and gentle with my patients,” he whispered.
“Can you deny it’s the truth,” Robert said in his own whisper.
Dr. Richards shook his head. “No, I can’t. He’s going to die, but then we’re all going to die. It’s only a matter of when.”
“Don’t get philosophical on me Doc. You know I meant Morgan’s time is soon. Ve
ry soon.” Robert turned to Morgan. “Do you want the doctor to tell you the truth? If you really aren’t going to die soon won’t you feel better if the doctor confirms it?”
“Sure I will. How about it Doc. Why don’t you tell these losers that I’m going to recover from this and be back on the street in a day or two?” He paused to take a few breaths which caused him to revise his statement. “Or at least in a week or two.”
Dr. Richards’s shoulders slumped, and he slowly shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, but you’re not going to recover in a day or two or in a week or two. You’re not going to recover. When you were shot the bullet missed your heart, but it nicked your aorta and also part of your left lung. You bled internally a lot and your lung partially filled with blood which has caused what is called pulmonary edema which is simply a fancy word to say blood in your lung. That’s what’s making it hard for you to breath.”
“Is it going to get worse Doc?”
He nodded his head. “Yes. But that’s not all that’s wrong with you. I presume you didn’t know you have an advanced case of lung cancer.”
“Oh really. Did the…FBI…grunts want you to tell me that to scare me?” Morgan obviously wasn’t accepting the truth even though, as the doctor said, he was having trouble breathing.
“The FBI didn’t tell me anything, and I wouldn’t follow that kind of order anyway. I take my oath as a doctor seriously. I don’t lie to patients.”
“Sure you don’t. The only one I might believe is my own doctor.”
Ken shrugged at the doctor. “Would you be willing to consult with a doctor of his choosing?”
“If he’s a legitimate doctor. I would have no problem with it. Who’s your doctor?” He directed the question to Morgan.
“Dr. Brian Carter has fixed me up a time or two. He works at the Reagan Medical Center. Can you get him here?”
Dr. Richards had to smile at that. He couldn’t help himself. “Where do you think you are Mr. Morgan?”
“I have no idea. All I know is I got shot and woke up here, wherever here is.”
“You’re in the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center. I can have one of the nurses check to see if Dr. Carter is here or will be here sometime today.”
“Do it,” Ken said, anxious to get on with it. He had to convince Morgan he was dying if he had any hope of getting him to give up information about Donati. He wouldn’t necessarily roll over on Donati, but it was the only chance they had.
Dr. Richards nodded then turned to one of the nurses telling her to locate Dr. Carter if he was in.
“Yes, sir. Right away,” she said heading for the door. She spoke to the guards at the door saying she was sent on an errand and would be right back.
Everyone stood quietly until the nurse got back while Dr. Richards made subtle adjustments to the dials on one of the machines monitoring Morgan’s life signs.
“Dr. Carter is with a patient now, and his receptionist said he was booked all day. But after I told her what it was about, she said she would pass the word to him as soon as he was out,” the nurse said when she came back into the room.
Just then the phone in the room rang. “I gave her the number of the room. Maybe that’s him calling.”
Dr. Richards picked up the phone. “Dr. Richards here….Yes, that’s right…I would appreciate it, and I know the FBI would…Okay. See you soon.” He hung up the phone. “Dr. Carter will be here shortly. He said he’d be happy to consult with me about Mr. Morgan.”
“Good,” Ken said. Then, turning to Morgan, he added, “Will that satisfy you?”
“I said I’d believe Dr. Carter. But you’d better not try any tricks. Nobody but this here doctor is to talk to Carter.” He pointed at Dr. Richards.
Chapter 57
A few minutes later a short, rotund man in a doctor’s smock came into the room. He walked up to the bed. “I see you’ve been up to no good again Harold.”
“It wasn’t me this…time Doc,” Morgan said beginning to wheeze slightly.
Dr. Carter turned to Dr. Richards. “Do you have his x-rays,” he asked studying one of the machines.
“Right over here on the illuminator.” Dr. Richards walked over to the illuminator and switched it on. The x-ray of Morgan’s chest was illuminated, and Dr. Carter studied it as Dr. Richards pointed out several things he had seen. Dr. Carter nodded and asked a few questions before he turned to Morgan.
“Well, what’s the verdict Doc?” Morgan asked. “Were they lying to me or am I really knocking on the door…to the inferno?”
Dr. Carter shook his head. “They weren’t lying. You’ve already knocked on the door, and you’re just waiting for someone to open it.”
“So I really do have…have…cancer?” Concern washed over Morgan’s face. His lackadaisical attitude was history.
“You do. Do you remember the last time I patched you up I warned you that you needed to come back for some tests? If you had, we might have caught it earlier.”
“I don’t like how you vampires so enjoy poking and prodding me. So what’s the next step? Chemo or something?”
Dr. Carter shook his head. “It’s far too advanced for that, and your condition is complicated by the pulmonary edema. If we used chemo, it would make your edema worse. It would probably kill you before the cancer has the chance.”
“So, what’s the bottom line? How…how…long do I have?”
“To be perfectly honest, I’m surprised you’re still alive. If the bullet would have been an inch or two to the left…” He shrugged.
“I didn’t ask about that. How long do I have now even though the bullet missed?”
“As I said, I’m surprised you’re still alive. Regardless of whether the shooter would have been more accurate or not, the bullet was close enough to your heart to do a lot of damage.”
“Cut the snow job, Doc. Just give it to me straight.”
“All right, since you asked. I’d say you have maybe a day or two.” He glanced at Dr. Richards who nodded. “If you have anything to get off your chest, I suggest you do it now.”
Morgan turned to Ken. “All right Mr. FBI, I’ll tell you some things about Donati.” He turned back to Dr. Carter. “Did they tell you who shot me?”
“When could they have done that? You saw I haven’t talked to anyone but Dr. Richards.” Morgan seemed anxious to tell him. “Okay, I’ll bite. Who shot you?”
“They claim it was Miranda, my daughter and Roman, my son, killed her and tried to kill me after they brought me here. And they think it was all ordered by Donati. Now Roman is dead too.” Morgan had mentioned Miranda and Roman to the doctor a time or two, and Dr. Carter had heard of Donati. If you gave aid to people that ran in the circles Morgan did, you could hardly help hearing about other people that believe the law is something for other people but not for them and killing is merely a way to get rid of annoyances.
“I’m sorry to hear about Miranda and Roman,” Dr. Carter said trying to ease Morgan’s emotional pain.
“That’s okay. But Donati’s not okay. It’s high time somebody brought his empire down, and I’m just the one who can do it. I know things that I’m certain no one else knows or Donati wouldn’t still be roaming free. I may have done a few bad things in my life, I may have even killed a few people, under orders you understand, but my adventures, shall we say, are nothing compared to what Donati has either ordered or done himself.” He turned back to Ken. “But, if I’m going to act as a stool pigeon, I want something for my trouble.”
“And what might that be?” Ken asked actually curious what somebody who only had days or maybe hours could possibly want.
“I want some real food. What they call food here isn’t fit for pigs. I want a steak from,” Morgan mentioned a grill that had been an LA staple for many years. “They have the best steaks. And a Havana cigar. I need a Havana cigar.” Dr. Richards started to protest, but Morgan held up his hand. “Yes I know I can hardly breathe, but that’s what I want. I haven’t had the pleasure of a good Hav
ana cigar for a long time. And what’s a cigar going to do, kill me,” he smiled at the joke he told at his own expense. “I won’t tell you anything until I eat my steak and smoke my cigar.”
“But this is intensive care,” Dr. Richards protested with a frown. “You can’t smoke in here.”
“Is there somewhere he can be moved?” Ken asked.
“We don’t allow smoking anywhere in the medical center,” Dr. Richards insisted. “Besides, aren’t Havana cigars illegal?”
Ken smiled at the doctor’s naiveté and then took Dr. Richards into the hallway and explained how things were going to be. Morgan would be allowed his steak, and he would be granted his cigar or many cigars if they could be found and he wished to smoke them all. Dr. Richards, however, was absolutely adamant that he would not allow a cigar to be smoked in his hospital. Ken’s called his boss back in Boston, who then called his boss in Washington, who then talked to the administrator of the medical center, who then called Dr. Richards. They had a long and sometimes loud conversation until Dr. Richards finally gave in for lack of a choice.
“I guess you win,” Dr. Richards snapped at Ken after he hung up. “But I want it noted that it’s being allowed only under my serious protest.”
“Duly noted.” Ken nodded before going back into the room. “All right, what kind of steak do you want?”
“You’ll do it. You’ll actually do it?” Morgan could hardly believe that the FBI caved so quickly. He thought he might have to actually give them some proof of his knowledge first. He was ready to do that but was glad he didn’t have to because the Feds would have had to verify the facts he fed them. He was hungry now and wanted his steak as soon as possible in case Dr. Carter was right, and he was going to die soon. And his cigar. He wanted his cigar almost as much as he wanted his steak.
“To get you to spill your guts, I’d kill the cow, butcher it, and grill the steak myself.”
“Please spare me,” Morgan said with a grin. “But I suggest you get cracking. According to the Docs here, I might croak at any minute. And, since you asked, I want a T-bone. A big, thick, juicy T-bone and fries. And my cigar. Don’t forget my cigar.”
The Dog Who Ate The Flintlock Page 40
