by Judith Lucci
The gangly, tawny-haired, pock-faced paramedic picked up his radio and asked, “ETA to MCV?”
The radio crackled and sputtered before Don the ambulance driver answered. “ETA 45 minutes. It’s snowing like a bitch and I’m prayin’ the Interstate stays open. There’s a traffic pile-up that happened hours ago and they‘re just now gettin’ that cleared away. Let's just take what we can get, OK?" The driver’s voice was rough and impatient.
Robert could hear the frustration and anxiety in the driver’s voice. He grabbed the radio and said, “Pick up speed if you can. The Commander’s lost a lot of blood. His pressure is low, and his pulse weak and thready.”
“Yes suh, Doctor. I’m pushin' it as hard as I can. I ain't no speed demon, especially in this weather. I notified the state police and they will meet us near Ashland, close to the truck stop at Atlee-Elmont. We’ll have a police escort the rest of the way to the hospital. ”
Robert thought for a moment and quickly added, “Can they meet us sooner, and with five units of A negative blood?”
Don scratched his bald head through his stocking cap, his response impatient. “Don't know. I’ll ask. Can’t nobody do nothin’ ‘cept ask.”
Robert was pissed at the driver’s lackadaisical manner and said tersely, “Tell them the patient is Commander Jack Francoise from the New Orleans Police Department. He was at Congressman Adam Patrick Lee’s farm before the attack this afternoon. He has a shrapnel wound and he is bleeding to death and is in hypovolemic shock. We need the blood save his life. Do you understand what I am saying?” I know this guy thinks I’m a prick, but right now I don’t give a damn. He took a clean towel and wiped the sweat from Jack’s forehead.
“Yeah. I’ll do my best,” the ambulance driver replied, his voice curt. “But I ain’t promisin’ nothing.”
Robert shook his head disgustedly and looked down at Jack. Oh my God, his pallor is alarming and his breathing is shallower. He is going to code.
Monique hovered over Jack, her eyes focused on her husband's pallid face.
“I’m going to up his fluids, Monique. He’s hypovolemic and I’m afraid he’s going to go bad.”
Monique nodded, her eyes as big as saucers. She nervously pushed her dark hair back and tightened the clips in her hair. She removed her heavy coat as she sat on the floor of the ambulance in her blood-spattered silk blouse.
“Do you have a gown I can wear to cover my clothes? I prefer a sterile one if you have one,” she asked the obviously terrified paramedic.
“Uh, yes ma’am,” he uttered, his hand shaking as he handed her the wrapped, sterile gown. He looked toward Robert and asked, “Doctor, you need one too? “
Ignoring the question, Robert said, “Prepare for a code. He’s gonna crash.”
The paramedic’s face turned whiter, and he stood and gathered supplies.
“Monique, we’re gonna have to intubate him so we can stabilize him enough to get him to MCV. If he codes, we’ll handle the code, just like we always have,” Robert instructed as he stared into Monique’s dark eyes, holding them steady as he nodded toward the paramedic.
The driver's radio crackled in the back of the ambulance. "Police affirmative with blood. Can meet us in Ashland, no closer."
"ETA to Ashland?" Robert held his breath. At least he'd get the blood if they could hang on that long.
"Unknown, suh. The Interstate is backed up with wrecks to Doswell. We are about to hit Route 1, but it is a distance of 25 miles to Ashland and the road is bad, unplowed and covered in ice."
"Thank you. Do your best to get us there," Robert said, his jaw clenched in fear. He turned to Monique and said, "Hold on, old girl, we're gonna do this. No choice."
Monique didn't respond, but set up her code tray like it was something she did every day.
She's a hell of a woman and a hell of a physician. Jack‘s a lucky guy. He looked down at Jack and willed him to hang on. OK, Buddy, just hang on until we get to Ashland. We'll be OK after that. But I’m not sure we can save your leg. Robert wasn’t sure Jack would want to live with only one leg.
Monique leaned over and spoke directly into Jack's ear. "Jack, hold on. We're almost there. Just a few minutes. I love you." As she looked up at Robert she had tears streaming down her face. "Oh, Robert. I love him so much. I just can't lose him," she wailed softly.
"We're not, just follow my directions. We're gonna make it," Robert reassured her, hoping he was right as he selected a scalpel from the tray and reached to place the ambu closer to him.
Here we go, buddy. Meet me on this so we can get back to NOLA and dance in the streets again, listen to jazz, and drink Hurricanes, Robert prayed as he inserted the blade into Jack’s throat.
Robert glanced up at Monique as she hyper extended Jack’s head. She was mesmerized by the thin line of blood that gushed from Robert’s scalpel as she held the endotracheal tube for him.
Chapter 28
Congressman Adam Patrick Lee, the senior Congressman from Virginia, a law and order politician, a sworn enemy of jihad, and one of the most powerful men in the United States, was enraged. He stood in front of the fireplace in his walnut-paneled study, the lights from emergency crews and law enforcement units blinking through the French doors reflecting a spectrum of colors on the white snow. He was furious, his white hair in a state of disarray, and he was letting everyone around him know about his anger. His face was red and his hands were shaking around his tumbler of whiskey. He felt powerless and impotent, and that didn’t sit well with the Congressman.
“How the hell did this happen, Agent Cole,” Adam blustered. “I’m supposed to have one of the most secure homes in the world. At least that’s what the alarm company and you all at the Secret Service told me. I’ve got a $150,000 alarm system with cameras, video, and audio monitors, electrified, barbed wire fences around 1000 acres of land, guards who patrol potentially weak areas periodically, a crew of highly trained men and canines, a sentry walking the perimeter every 2 hours, camera and monitors at the entrance of the farm a mile down the road, and surveillance cameras in hundreds of trees. What the hell, I even have a panic room. My home, horse barn, and most everything close to the house has wired doors and windows and hell, even my barn has a panic room. A lot of damn good that has done me!”
Adam slammed his tumbler of whiskey down on his desk and the amber color splashed on the leather desk blotter and hardwood where it glowed in the lamplight. The smell of leather and whiskey permeated the air.
SAC John Cole stood opposite the Congressman, his elbow resting on the mantle as he listened to the Congressman’s frustrations. John Cole said nothing, allowing Adam to vent. Cole had known Adam Lee for years and knew it was better to let him finish his tirade without interruption. The clock on the mantle ticked loudly and was the only other sound in the room.
After several moments of silence Adam spoke again. “How the hell did this happen? What do you know,” Adam demanded, insisting on an update, his eyes resembling those of a frightened puppy.
John Cole cleared his throat and began, “Sir, we are still investigating. As you well know, this estate is large and there is no way we can protect every square inch. The vast size of the estate has always been of concern. It’s our weak link and an issue we’ve discussed repeatedly with you and Mrs. Lee. You are a sworn enemy of jihad. If you recall, we asked you to cancel this party for this year. It’s only been a few months since you angered jihad in New Orleans.”
Adam, his fatigue consuming him, dropped into a leather chair flanking the mantle. “Sit down, John, and take a load off your feet. It’s going to be a long night. How about a drink?”
“No alcohol for me, Congressman. I was in the Treehouse all night last night, but I did enjoy a couple of your Bloody Marys earlier today, before hell broke loose,” he smiled. “They were good … and potent!”
Adam smiled, “Yep, the best. When we find out who did this, we’ll drink a few more and hell, I may even give you the recipe. Tell me what you kno
w, John. Bring me up to speed.”
John took a large breath and began, “Early this morning we heard a crackling in the woods. It was probably an animal, but I contacted Central Command, who ran visuals but saw nothing. Agent Seth Farmer decided to take a walk and investigate and, well, sir, we haven’t heard from him since.”
Adam digested this for a minute and asked, “Did you search?” His face reflected worry.
John nodded, “Yes, there was some concern that he couldn’t communicate via ear wig because of the strength of the wind. There was some static on the communication system, so when we left the Treehouse about 10 a.m., we started searching for him in the house and around the grounds. No one had seen him, at least none of the other agents. Stoner put us on alert, all the agents were apprised of the situation, and we expanded the search for Seth. Minutes later, just as Stoner and Commander Francoise left on foot to search, the bomb exploded.”
“That was some mighty fine timing, wouldn’t you say,” Adam began, but was interrupted by a knock on the office door. “Come in,” he hollered in a loud voice.
Adam and John watched the door slowly open as Digger Stildove entered, his hunting rifle in his hand. The smell of gun powder permeated the air from the recently discharged weapon.
“Did you do it,” Adam asked, his voice gruff to hide the pain.
Digger nodded as he eased his tall frame into a red leather chair.
“How many, Digger, how many did you have to put down?” Adam asked as he stared at the bottom of his whiskey tumbler not wanting to know the answer.
Digger stared at the floor. He didn’t want his eyes to meet the Congressman’s eyes. He knew Adam would break. “Three. There was no way we could save them, Adam. Believe me, we tried. I took Mary with me and she looked them over good. She agreed there was no way, even if we could’ve gotten the vet here. They were too injured. They were just too close to the bomb, two were bleeding from shrapnel injuries and another couldn’t breathe because of the smoke.”
Adam’s body went limp. “Who?”
Digger shook his head, tears in his eyes. He’d loved the horses as much as Adam and Kathryn. “Kathryn’s mare, the bay mare that foaled this summer, and your black stallion. So sorry, Adam. You know I’d rather kill a man than a horse any day. Trust me, they’re better off now. Their pain and terror was unspeakable. They are at peace.”
“Alex’s horse, Dundee?”
“OK, same as the other six. Mary gave them a strong sedative to settle them down. We’ve moved them over to the old stable near the outdoor Pavilion. Some of our neighbors are staying the night in the barn and guarding the remaining horses, just in case.”
Adam nodded, his heart gratified by the kindness of his neighbors. “What about Joe, where’s Joe Parker? He’ll need to move into the main house. The horse facility is totally destroyed. What did he say about the horses?”
The silence was deafening. Digger looked over at John Cole and nodded.
Cole spoke, “Adam, we haven’t been able to find Joe. We’re afraid he died in the blast.”
Adam was incredulous, “No, no. Joe Parker must be somewhere around the estate. He’s usually at the party by the time that bomb went off. Let’s look again, please,” he pleaded. The possibility that Joe was a casualty of the blast crippled Adam. He loved Joe like a brother. Joe was family. News of his death would devastate Kathryn. Joe had turned Wyndley into one of the best horse farms in the U.S.
Cole’s look was steadfast and unflinching. “We’ve looked everywhere and we’ve looked repeatedly. We can’t find him. There is a possibility that he was thrown by the blast and is laying somewhere in the snow, like Alex, and we will continue to look for him. But based on where we believe he was, we think he was killed in the blast.”
Adam was broken. Digger rose from his chair, came over to Adam, and put his arm around his friend’s shoulders.
Adam shook his head, unwilling to believe his good friend and farm manager was dead. “Keep looking. Have you found Alex yet?” He stared at the oriental carpet covering his office floor. He didn’t know how he’d react if they hadn’t found his granddaughter. He felt Digger put pressure on his shoulders.
Cole shook his head, “Not yet. But we have a trajectory of where she most likely is based on the blast and we have two snowmobiles combing that area. Your neighbors are also bringing in their snowmobiles to help us.”
Adam smiled, pleased. “We got good people here, John. Salt of the earth, right Digger?”
Digger nodded, “The best, and we’ll find Alex for sure, and Joe if we can, plus .…”
John held up his phone as he interrupted, “Got a text from Stoner. He has news and I’m gonna meet him at the Command Center.”
Adam nodded and said, “Digger, let’s go tell Kathryn about the horses. She loves them as much as she loves Alex, and she needs to know they didn’t suffer.”
Digger nodded, “Let me get Mary. She can do a better job convincing Kathryn that they didn’t suffer than the two of us. I want to go back out in my snowmobile and keep looking for Joe.”
Adam nodded, “Good idea.” The two men left Adam’s office and headed for the kitchen to find Mary.
Chapter 29
Kathryn rushed into the kitchen looking for Mary Stildove and found her drying coffee cups at the sink. The big oak table in the kitchen was filled sandwiches and surrounded by law enforcement officials and first responders. Many of her neighbors were sitting around the table as well, neighbors who had stopped in for a warm up and snacks after searching the grounds for survivors. Many of her friends and neighbors were waiting around to pick up shrapnel and debris when the feds approved cleanup. For now, however, it was still a crime scene.
Kathryn, gracious as always, stopped over at the table to thank everyone for their help. Then, she walked over to the sink and tapped Mary on the shoulder.
Mary gave her a half smile and said, “Coffee, Kathryn? Are you going out?” Mary continued eyeing her friend’s snow boots and jacket.
Kathryn nodded, “Yes, I am going out, and no to the coffee. I need your help. I think I know where Alex is. Can we take your snowmobile?”
Mary hesitated for a moment and looked at the older woman. Kathryn was in her 70s and even though she was in robust health, there was no way she needed to go out in blizzard-like weather conditions and freezing temperatures. Mary spoke slowly and chose her words carefully, “Kathryn, there’s a blizzard out there and it’s very dangerous. Besides, it’s dark. Tell me where you think she is and Digger and I will go.”
Kathryn was resolute. She shook her head. Standing taller than ever and with a firm voice she replied, “No, absolutely not. I need you, and only you, to go with me. We can manage. I can feel it.”
Mary vacillated for a moment, and then finally nodded her head. She knew this woman, and there was no way she was going to take “no” for an answer. “Let me see if my snowmobile is out there. I need that one because it has my medicine bag in it, just in case Alex needs any treatment.”
Kathryn stiffened and said, “Now, we have to go now. It’s urgent. I can feel it,” Kathryn added as she grabbed a thermos of coffee.
“I’ll get my boots and gear and meet you at the back. I parked my snowmobile near the pool house, but it’s possible the Secret Service is using it. They were only able to bring in three additional units.”
Kathryn was stressed and snapped, “If the damn thing isn’t out there, get it now. It has what we need. Blankets, medicine. Just get it back, Mary, we’ve not got much time.”
“Yes, ma’am. Meet me at the back. Worse case, I can take my other medical case. It’s in the dining room.” This is definitely not a good time to cross Kathryn Lee. She just put me in my place. Mary smiled to herself as she let herself out the back door. She loved Kathryn Lee and envied her strength and wisdom.
Kathryn stopped to speak with several of her neighbors who had come to help. “How bad is it out there?”
“Bad as I’ve ever seen i
t,” one of the old-timers replied. “Roads are impassable, not even the four wheels are helping. There’s ice everywhere, so you’d best stay put. My misses wanted to come back here, but I told her ‘twas just too slick. Don’t need no broken hip. She’s coming tomorrow though, to help out. I promised her I’d get her here and God help me if I don’t.” The man smiled at his hostess.
Kathryn smiled at him, unable at the moment to recall his name. Tears streamed down her face. “Yes, you’d better get her here or you’ll be in great trouble,” she said as her face broke into a grin.
The man nodded. “I sure will be. Woman’d probably kill me,” he offered.
His friend nodded in agreement and said, “Now don’t you fret none, Miss Kathryn. Things gonna be OK. By this time tomorrow there won’ be nothing anywhere on this farm that’ll remind you of what happened. No metal, no trash, no nuthin’. Mark my words.”
Kathryn couldn’t wipe away the tears quickly enough. The big man wrapped his large, meaty arms around her and said, “And don’t you worry, next year and on the 4th of July, we gonna be guarding this farm. Trust me, girl, ain’t no jihad man nowhere who wants to fight with a brigade of Virginia redneck farmers.”
Kathryn laughed out loud and hugged both men again. “You are right about that. Help yourself to coffee and dessert. I’ve got an errand to tend to,” she said as she waved to Belle on the other side of the kitchen.
Belle and Kathryn made their way to Mary’s waiting snowmobile. Mary smiled and waved when she saw Belle. “Oh, I see Kathryn, I didn’t know you knew Belle,” Mary said with a curious smile on her face.
“Humph, I didn’t know you knew Belle,” Kathryn snapped. “I’ve been knowing Belle for 60 years, a lot more years than you.”
Mary shook her head and eased her snowmobile out of the space slowly, following the illusive Belle as she deftly led them down to the river.
