by Darrell Bain
“If they don't hurt us, they shouldn't hurt babies. And if we're right, they will only help. We could see a whole generation of children growing up like ours do, able to reason effectively. That's if the feds act the way I think they will. Otherwise, we'll use persuasion to try to get them accepted. It will take longer, but it's a hell of a lot more ethical.”
“Amen,” Harry said.
* * * *
Daniel walked toward Wesley. His old friend, acquaintance really, got up from the bench as he approached. Daniel tried not to show how startled he was at the changes which had occurred since he had last seen him. His hair was thinner and grayer and his face looked like that of a much older man. He kept his lips pressed tightly together as Daniel approached. They passed each other without speaking, as if they were strangers, but as their paths crossed their hands brushed together and Daniel palmed a piece of tightly folded paper. He slipped it unobtrusively into his pants pocket and kept going.
“Stop right now or you're dead,” A voice that had been hoarsened by too much liquor and too many cigarettes ordered.
“Ah, shit,” Wesley muttered. “Stop, Dan. He's got a silencer on his gun.”
Daniel halted, not even trying to draw his weapon, knowing he was covered. He made up his mind not to give it up, though, just as doctrine called for. He was trying to figure out where the voice was coming from when it spoke again.
“Walk this way. Slowly, very slowly.”
Daniel made a hesitant half turn, facing into the park, and now he could see a shadowy figure concealed in a nearby clump of bushes. Slowly, he began to walk in that direction, alert for any chance at all to get himself out of this situation.
Simmons had seen Lisa once as she came to, and departed from the shop, crossing the street and heading off in the opposite direction on a paved pathway that led toward the opposite corner of the park. When she came back a second time and went inside, he noticed that she wasn't even carrying a purse. He concluded then that she was no threat. Nevertheless, while he was holding a gun on Wesley and his friend, he watched her leaving the shop out of the corner of his eye. She had stayed inside only a minute or two and was headed off again, back in the opposite direction she had come from, obviously having forgotten something and come back for it. No threat. As soon as she was out of sight, he returned all of his attention to the two men in front of him.
“Come on, move, or I'll kill you both now,” he ordered.
Lisa had seen Daniel approach the man on the bench, whom she assumed was the contact. She watched carefully as they brushed past each other, then stopped abruptly. A second later they both turned toward the shadowy bushes and tree line, as if something threatened them from there.
From her angle she thought she could make out an anomaly in the bushes, a darker pattern against the moon-lit branches and leaves. That was enough for Lisa. Daniel had told her that it wasn't likely that he and Wesley would speak; they would simply cross paths and he would be slipped a message. She left the shop, walking rapidly but trying to act as if she were simply anxious to get home. She didn't even look in the direction of Daniel and the other man, though it was all she could do to keep from it. As soon as she passed the first concealing trees, she darted into them and began running as fast as she could, making what she hoped was a short circle back. She kept her forearm out in front of her to keep from being knocked about by any low-hanging branches; it was dark beneath the trees. Once she stumbled and bit her lip to keep from crying out at the pain from a scraped elbow. When she thought she had come far enough, she slowed and moved forward cautiously, trying not to make any noise now.
* * * *
Wesley knew his life was over. He tried to delay the inevitable, stopping and trying to talk to Simmons several times, only to be ordered to shut up and move forward. Simmons would kill him and Dan just as surely as the sun would rise in the morning, and just as soon as he knew why he had come here. Or even if he didn't learn why, for that matter. He couldn't afford to do anything else. Thinking about it, he decided that Simmons might not even try for information; he was probably just waiting on was a quick sure shot at both of them. He decided to act; there was certainly nothing to lose. And it had to be now.
Daniel was thinking almost the exact same thing but Wesley beat him to the action. The other man suddenly flung one arm out to his side as a hopeful distraction, then tried to fall and roll in the opposite direction.
Simmons was quick as a coyote on a cornered rabbit. He fired several times in rapid succession. One shot hit Wesley in the side as he fell, the second tore up his belt buckle as it went into his gut. A third and fourth missed. Hardly pausing at all, he swept his weapon around and emptied the rest of the clip at Daniel.
Daniel had seen the faint tightening of tension on Simmons’ face and saw the barrel of his weapon move slightly upward, pointing from waist to chest level. Like Wesley, he flung himself to the side while simultaneously trying to get to his gun. Wesley's move had given him a bare chance; he rolled over and over as the bullets chased him. One hit the outside of his upper arm, another ploughed all the way through his calf, making a much bigger exit wound than where it entered.
Daniel felt no pain at all. He was simply aware of the phht, phht, phht sounds coming from Simmons’ silenced weapon, like the knells of approaching doom.
A third bullet scraped a rib before he heard the snap of a firing pin hitting on empty, making him think he might have a chance now. He finally got his pistol loose and raised it to fire, knowing even as he did that he was going to be too late. Simmons already had a second gun aimed at him and his finger was tightening on the trigger. Daniel knew he was staring death in the face but made an effort, anyway.
A microsecond before Simmons was ready to pull the trigger, his head suddenly exploded. His gun fired anyway, but the round was thrown off just enough. It pinked the skin just to the right of his eye, more like a bee sting than a bullet wound. Daniel shot twice at Simmons as his body fell, hardly noticing the last wound.
Lisa had seen the shadowy figure pointing what looked like a gun at Daniel and the other man. She wasn't certain but raised her revolver and aimed. A sudden flashing of fire from the muzzle of the other person's weapon almost blinded her but she didn't hesitate. She pulled the trigger twice in succession. The glare further limited her vision. She thought she saw her antagonist fall, but she couldn't be sure. She dropped to the ground and stayed there, blinking her eyes, trying to get her night vision back.
“Lisa?”
It was Daniel's voice, the most welcome sound she had ever heard. “Daniel!” She cried, standing up and running forward. She stopped in front of him and kneeled down.
Daniel reached up with his good arm and touched her face. The final wound which had barely pierced his skin was emitting a stream of blood that trickled down the side of his face.
Lisa gasped, seeing that wound and his bloody arm at the same time. “Dan, you're hurt!” She fumbled for her phone.
“I'm okay, I think,” Daniel said, starting to get to his feet. A sudden sharp, fiery pain shot through his lower leg and he collapsed back onto the ground, drawing deep breaths. He hadn't realized how badly the bullet had mangled his calf muscle.
“You are so hurt. My God, your leg is all bloody, too!” She punched out a number on her phone and spoke briefly, telling the operator where to come. It was hardly necessary; Daniel could already hear sirens in the distance.
“I'll live. Help me look at Wes. I saw his chest move. We have to try to save him.”
Between the two of them, with Daniel directing and Lisa doing most of the physical work, they managed to get a pressure bandage around his wounds; both of them sacrificing their shirts for a bandage.
Wes's eyes flickered open. “Dan ... sorry, should have known bastard would follow. There's ... there's dirty bomb...” His voice trailed off.
“Dirty bomb! Yes, we know but where, Wes? Where is it?” Daniel shook the man out of frustration, thinking he was dying an
d desperately wanting that information.
“Simmons...” Blood bubbled from his mouth and his eyes closed.
“Is he dead?” Lisa asked.
Daniel gritted his teeth against his pain as he felt for a pulse. “He's still with us, but that ambulance better hurry. How ‘bout you, love? Are you okay? You did great.”
“I'm not hurt at all. Oh goddamn, Daniel, I thought...” She put her face down and rubbed her cheek against his, unmindful of the blood that smeared her face.
The ambulance and two patrol cars arrived almost simultaneously.
Daniel declined treatment at first, telling the patrolmen that it was vital to get the other man to the hospital alive. Fortunately, one of them knew Lisa and believed her when she backed him up. He made sure they understood the importance of the dying man and got them sent off. Another ambulance arrived shortly afterward and he took it without dissent, but asked Lisa to come with him. He had pulled up the tatters of his pants leg and seen the severity of that wound and knew he would be having surgery shortly.
Once on the way, he said “Lisa, I think Wes may know where that dirty bomb is and who's responsible for it. Make damn sure those patrolmen know it and that he's guarded constantly. Call the Chief and tell him, too. And make sure Tyrone knows.”
“I'll do it, just relax and don't worry, okay?”
Daniel managed a feeble grin around increasing pain. “How the hell can I relax with four bullet holes in me?”
“Just be glad that's all you have. At least you're alive.”
“There is that. Know what? We've got to stop meeting this way.”
Lisa leaned down and kissed his bloody face, tears leaking from her eyes, but she, too, managed to grin.
* * * *
Wesley was already being operated on when Daniel arrived at the Emergency Room. He was wheeled into another operating room two hours later and didn't wake up until several hours after that. By then it was long after midnight. He saw a blurry vision of Lisa at his bedside and an equally unfocused picture of Tyrone behind her. He fought his way back to coherence over a period of a quarter hour. The first thing he wanted to know was whether Wesley was still alive.
“Just barely,” Tyrone said. “The docs say they think he'll make it, but he's still in intensive care and heavily sedated. He won't be able to talk until this afternoon, at least. Lisa told me that you thought he might know where the dirty bomb was located. Is that right?”
“I think so. That's if it wasn't moved after Wes and that other guy didn't come back. Have you got any ID on him yet?”
“Yes. His name is John Simmons according to his fingerprints. Retinal scan was useless after what Lisa did to his head.” He put an appreciative arm around her shoulder. “You better watch your step around this lady.”
“Damn straight I will.” He winced as he tried to reach up and touch Lisa's cheek, forgetting his shoulder wound. Daniel concentrated, trying to remember. “In the meantime ... Simmons. Doesn't ring a bell, but once Wes wakes up and we can talk to him, I'll bet he knows. And I'll also bet he turns out to be an agency goon, one of those Black Op specialists who don't officially work for the agency but really do.”
“I thought that kind of stuff only happened in thriller novels,” Lisa said.
“Don't fool yourself. The FBI and CIA have the same kind of people they use when they can't do something officially. It's against the law, but the higher-ups get around it when they feel like they're justified.”
“How high up?” Lisa asked.
Daniel shook his head, making it hurt, too. “Probably right on up to the President. You'd have a hell of a time ever proving it, though. I think Nixon was the last one we're sure of, but...” The pain was returning. Soon he knew he was going to have to ask for something more to alleviate it. Was there anything else he needed to tell them or to ask, before he numbed his mind? Oh yes. “Did the army move in yet?”
“Not yet,” Tyrone said. “I think they got taken by surprise by this mission. So far, people are coming and going through the passes without hindrance.” He looked obscurely pleased to be able to share that information.
“Good. How about getting the nurse to increase that pain drip a bit, would you please?”
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Daniel felt much better after the painkiller took him off to dreamland for another four hours. When it began to wear off, he woke up. The pain still there but much more bearable. Lisa was dozing in a slumped position in one of the two chairs in the room. She looked very uncomfortable. He whistled.
Lisa blinked and opened sleepy eyes. She tried to smile but yawned instead.
“Sweetheart, go home and get some sleep. No, don't yet.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “What time does the doc make his rounds, do you know?”
“No, but I'll go ask the nurse. Wait here.” She bent and kissed him.
“As if I could go anywhere without a wheel chair.”
“Knowing you, I wouldn't put it past you to try. Stay here.”
“Damned if I'll argue with a woman who can shoot as well as you can. I'll wait.”
The surgeon who had stitched up his wounds came into the room just after Lisa had left, zigging while she zagged. After being assured that with proper care, he would heal nicely, Daniel asked “How about Wesley Cannon? How is he doing?”
“The other gunshot wound? He's awake now, but still on pain medicine and very weak.”
“Can he talk?”
“A little.”
“Then I need to see him, right now!”
“No you don't. Tyrone told me that he would ask all the questions. You need to stay here.”
The phone rang just as Lisa came back into the room. She picked it up, said “hello,” then handed it to Daniel. “It's Tyrone.”
He took the phone while Lisa talked in a low voice to the doctor. In a moment he hung up. Lisa looked at him inquiringly.
“Wesley won't talk to Tyrone. He doesn't know him. He wants me. Doc, sorry, but I have to see him. It's vital, more important than I can say.”
“All right, let me tell the nurse to get you a wheel chair and take out your IV. You don't need it any more.”
* * * *
Daniel was hurting again by the time he had gotten up and into the chair and been wheeled into the intensive care unit, but he refused the offer of an oral pain pill. “Let me finish here first.”
Wesley looked awful, with lines, catheters and drains running from his body but he could talk in a whisper and was fairly coherent.
“Dan ... glad to see you. I didn't think either of us would make it.”
“Wes, I'm sorry I have to get right into it, but before you conked out back at the park you said something about a dirty bomb. Do you know where it is?”
“What's going to happen to me?” He looked over at Tyrone, who was openly recording their conversation.
“You know I'm not the one to make those kinds of decisions. And you can talk in front of him; he knows everything I do and then some. The note! What did that note say?” Daniel had suddenly remembered. Reflexively, he felt for his pants pocket but found only the hospital robe.
“Oh. Don't worry if it got lost. It's a map showing where the bomb is, but I can tell you.” He did so, in a halting voice. “There's one other guy there guarding it, but he's more likely to run than fight. You should be able to recover it if the army doesn't get there first.”
Abruptly, there was a hole in the air where Tyrone had been standing, as if he suddenly remembered that there was some urgency to the matter. He left his camcorder behind, still running. Wesley glanced at it and gave a resigned sigh.
“Dan, I'm in this far, I may as well tell you the rest of it. Murray Phillips is behind this. We caught up with the terrorists who stole the uranium, but after they were all killed or suicided, Phillips concealed the Op and kept the uranium for himself. I think he intended to use it overseas somewhere, but when this stuff about Masterville came up, he sent me and Simmons with the explosiv
es to make a dirty bomb, then ordered us here. I don't know if he intends to use it or not, but if it goes off where it's parked now, it won't be the city that gets hit; it will be those army units I heard were moving in. They'll be up in the hills to keep people from getting out that way.”
“Who else besides Phillips is involved, Wes?”
“I'm not certain, but he and Bobby Lee are tight. I wouldn't be surprised if the orders aren't coming from him. I do know that Phillips told me the President is aware that he has the uranium; whether that's true or not, I can't say.”
“My God, what the government won't do. Lisa, can you find a television and see if the army is on the way yet?”
Lisa left while Wesley continued to talk. His voice was low but he spoke clearly, implicating the NSA and its Director several times over. When Lisa returned, her face was pale.
“The army just parachuted in on both sides of the valley. They've closed the passes.”
“Wes, are there standing orders of any kind about the bomb?”
“Sorry, Dan. Simmons was in control of the Op. I don't know how he had it wired. I was just there to keep an eye on him and the other guy.” He shook his head and gave a small, mirthless grin. “Seems like Simmons was watching me, too, huh?”
“Yeah. Damn it, I wish I hadn't forgot about the paper you slipped to me. After I got hit, all I could think about was saving your life, then they doped me up with pain killers until just a while ago.”
“I doubt it would have mattered, Dan. The truck is pretty well hid. Even with that half-assed map I drew, and the directions I just told you and your friend about, it's going to be hard to find. And knowing Phillips, it might already be set to blow.”
Wesley's eyes closed and he began to drift off again as more of the narcotic in the IV was released by a timed pulse. Daniel tried to question him further but got no intelligible answers. “Let's go,” he said to Lisa. “My leg is hurting like hell.”
