Slowly the man's eyes opened. When he saw Jenny, a strange look crossed his face. He struggled to talk but nothing would come, only a gurgling sound. He grabbed for the rail and touched her hand. Jenny stepped back out of reach.
"Who are you?" she asked. But it was clear she would get no answer from him. Not in his condition.
Jenny glanced around the room. She set the chart down, and then turned the lamp on above the bed and handed the man a pen and pad from the tray. She was stunned by what she saw, but still she had to know. Jenny leaned forward and looked him square in the eye, then asked again.
"Who are you?"
He wrote quickly. "John Hamilton," but the nervous expression on his face was not as convincing.
"We know you aren't John. So do you want to tell me who you really are?"
Delaney just stared at Jenny, and then smiled as he wrote, "You're Jenny, aren't you?" He breathed a little easier when he realized he had nothing to fear.
"Who are you?" she demanded again.
Quickly he wrote, "Does the name Delco mean anything?"
It was a name John wrote about often. He was a friend of John's over in Vietnam, who Jenny guessed had suffered the same fate as John on that last mission. She remembered John saying Delco was a combination of the man's real name.
"I'm Delaney Conovers," he wrote, then offered his hand to Jenny, but she did not take it.
"That doesn't explain why you're using John's name," her voice quivered as she fought back tears.
"How do you know?" he wrote.
"I had a friend do some checking. Where's John?"
Delaney watched Jenny intently, and then wrote two words. "He's dead."
Jenny just stared at the man on the bed, unable to do more. It still did not explain everything. The beeps got louder, there was talking outside the door, but she just stared at the man on the bed.
"But why?" she asked, it was all she could muster up to say as she hung onto the railing for support.
"That's not why I asked you to come." Delaney wrote quickly, and then showed her the note.
Jenny shook her head. "I find out you've had my husband's identity for four years and you don't think I should ask questions?"
"Please, it’s a matter of life and death, that you listen," he wrote quickly.
"Whose?" Jenny mocked.
Delaney quickly wrote. "Go in the closet, the left shoe has a false heel. You'll find a key for a locker at Penn Station."
"Why should I do this?" Jenny asked, not wanting to play games until she had answers.
Delaney glared at Jenny for what seemed like an eternity. Neither moved, neither said a word. Then he motioned for her to go to the closet.
Jenny wanted to turn and run out of the room, forget everything. But she could not, she wanted answers from him first. When it became clear, he would not tell her more until she got the key, she walked over to the door and did as he said. Once the key fell from its enclosure, the outer door opened. Jenny quickly stepped back into the closet and let the door swing shut until there was only a crack for her to look through.
She watched as a man in white hospital garb walked slowly into the room. His back was to her, but as he neared the light, Jenny could not take her eyes off the white hair that was as void of color as the uniform he wore. She turned to Delaney lying on the bed, and watched him slide the note pad under the covers. She tried to block out the sound of him trying to call out, but nothing stopped the sound of gurgling as he struggled.
Delaney grabbed for the button, but it was ripped from his grasp. The stranger stood over Delaney and taunted him with his smile. All Jenny could do was stand there in the closet and watch as the man in white secured Delaney to the bed. Then she stared in horror as he injected something into the IV tube. Her heart raced.
"You know how I hate having to do this," the stranger said in a monotone voice that could cut through ice.
Jenny watched Delaney struggle to free himself from the restraints, but it was useless. He was no match for the man in white.
Within minutes, the convulsing body on the bed went limp and lay motionless. Delaney's eyes were fixed on the ceiling, void of all life. In that moment the man in the white uniform bent over and kissed Delaney's forehead. It was the kiss of death.
Jenny gasped while stepping back. The closet door snapped shut. The hangers rattled in the darkness. She heard the footsteps outside the door. Jenny wanted to scream out, but could not. The closet door opened slowly. She cringed in the corner and waited.
"Code Blue! Code Blue! Room 753!"
Suddenly the closet door shut again. When Jenny heard the outer door shut too, she stepped out of the closet and walked over to the bed. Jenny looked into the eyes that saw nothing.
The door swung open suddenly. Jenny quickly grabbed the note pad from under the covers, and then was shoved out of the way by a nurse. A doctor rushed in with two more nurses, and all Jenny could do was stand back and watch. No one took notice of who she was or why she was there.
"No pulse," the nurse said; she glanced up at the doctor for instructions, but he was too busy working the chest.
"What happened here?" he snapped.
"Flatline," the nurse yelled while staring up at the heart monitor. She turned to the doctor. "He was okay ten minutes ago."
"Stand back," the doctor ordered while taking the paddles off the crash cart. He rubbed them together quickly before giving Delaney a jump-start.
Jenny took one last look at what they were doing. Delaney's body jumped for a moment, but nothing came on the monitor, just the single flat line and the low hum indicating no beat. The long needle being injected into Delaney's chest cavity made her cringe. Cold sweat dripped down her brow. She turned and took a deep breath. Still, no one took notice of her. Quickly she was out of the room and down the hall. She ran to the elevator, pushed the button, and then waited. It was not until the door opened and she stepped in that she turned and saw the white-haired stranger coming toward her. She quickly pressed the Close button; the door slowly shut while a gurney was shoved in front of the opening. Jenny stared into the icy blue eyes of the man in Delaney's room. He reached for her, but the gurney separated him from the small enclosure and his victim.
Once the door shut, Jenny leaned back against the wall. Her chest pounded with every stop, and she feared the stranger would be waiting for her when the door opened. When the elevator reached the lobby, she made a dash for the exit. She did not turn or stop to look back until she was inside a taxi. Only then did she rest long enough to turn, but did not see anyone following her.
CHAPTER 9
By the time Gideon got off the phone with Colby, it was already one-twenty. He reached Delaney's room in time to see the doctor suspend all efforts to revive the lifeless body on the bed. There were five people in the room. One doctor, three nurses, and an orderly who walked out as Gideon walked in. Gideon quickly turned to the man before he got too far, grabbing his sleeve.
"Where's the guard?" Gideon demanded while pointing. "He was at this door."
"Who?" the orderly asked, shrugging his shoulders with indifference.
Gideon did not wait to explain. He walked out and rushed up to the nurse's station, looked for a familiar face, but saw none until Maxine walked out of the back room. Gideon turned.
"What happened to Rico?"
"Rico who?" she asked.
"The guard stationed outside that door," he pointed down the hall.
"Maybe he's on break."
"He doesn't get a break," Gideon snapped.
"Well, pardon me," Maxine said. "It wasn't my turn to watch him."
Just then, Jake strolled up with coffee in hand. Gideon raced toward him, pinning him to the wall while sending the coffee splattering onto the wall.
"Where were you?" Gideon demanded.
"Rico told me to go on break." Jake's eyes darted, looking for backup that was not there.
"Rico isn't around." Gideon shook his head.
"He c
alled the nurse's station."
"Did you talk to him?" Gideon asked.
"No." Jake looked down the hall where once stood his partner and friend.
Without letting go of Jake's jacket, Gideon turned to Maxine. "Have all the rooms checked down that hall."
"What are they looking for?" she asked.
"I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count."
Maxine got on the phone and within minutes people were scurrying about. Gideon turned to Jake, slammed him against the wall again. "I can't believe you did this."
"It wasn't my fault."
"Just shut up, will you," Gideon snapped. He turned and slammed his fist into the wall, making the throbbing in his head worse.
"Found him," an orderly yelled from down the hall, three doors from Delaney's room.
Gideon released Jake and ran down the hall, followed close behind by the redheaded cop. Gideon entered the room. He looked around. The pungent smell of disinfectant hung heavy, white linens lay in neat rows, the receiver dangled from the cord. Then his eyes rested on Rico slumped in the corner, staring at the door but seeing nothing. It was a clean kill. Gideon guessed he never felt the pain. He had seen this kind of kill before, when you did not want the enemy to cry out.
Jake made a quick sign of the cross. He could not take his eyes off the lifeless form of his partner. They had been together for four years. Jake was to be godfather of Rico's unborn child, and now this. How would he explain this to Maria? Jake turned to Gideon.
"I had no idea."
"What were you here for?" Gideon reached down, picking up the cigarette butt that lay next to Rico's body. It was an unusual brand, one he remembered from a long time ago.
Jake mumbled, almost inaudibly, "He just told me to go on break. How was I to know?"
"You had a job to do, does that tell you something?" Gideon tossed the butt down. He looked up for a moment, not saying a word. All he could do was glare at the young man in front of him and fight the urge to strike the red-haired target.
"I'm sorry, what more can I say?"
"That doesn't bring Delaney back or your partner. Does it?"
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just shut up for a moment, will you?" Gideon turned. His eyes watered while he rubbed his temple.
"What am I going to tell Maria?"
Jake walked out of the room, unable to look at the body on the floor. This was supposed to be a gravy job. No one really suspected another attempt would be made.
"Where are you going?" Gideon asked.
"I don't know," Jake whispered.
"We have things to do." Gideon quickly took a hanky, picked up the phone, and dialed a number.
Jake said nothing. He just stood by and watched Gideon take control again. But this time was different. There was no life-saving tactics. Jake glanced at Rico and then turned away, unable to look at the man who was like a brother to him.
When Gideon put the phone down Jake turned to him. "What do you want me to do?" All he really wanted was to go home and drink himself into tomorrow.
"Get me a list of everyone that was on duty today. And don't let anyone in Delaney's room. I want it dusted for prints." Gideon snapped orders. After a few moments he turned to Jake. "Oh yeah, while you're at it, have this room dusted too."
"Is that all?"
"It should be enough for starters."
Gideon knew he was being cruel. He had been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours. He knew Delaney had information on something that was coming down soon. People in high places were willing to pay big bucks for the information. He feared even more was offered to keep Delaney quiet. Now he would never know. It angered him that if he had gotten off the phone sooner he could have prevented it all.
* * *
Jenny shut her eyes while resting her head on the back seat of the taxi. Her thoughts drifted to valleys of her youth and, for a fleeting moment, she detected the sweet scent of lilacs. However, the raunchy smell of exhaust mixed with stale tobacco grabbed her back to reality. She listened to the driver chatter about world affairs, and then focused on the announcer talking about Egyptian alliances, America's involvement, and people up in arms. Jenny covered her ears and tried to block it all out, not wanting to listen to any of it.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
Jenny did not answer. She did not really know where she wanted to go yet.
The driver stopped for a red light, turned to her, and waited impatiently.
She stared into his dark eyes, feared being told to get out, and then finally replied, "Penn Station."
Why she said it, she was not sure. Jenny reached in her pocket. It was the first time since leaving the hospital room that she touched the key. As the cab danced through the traffic, Jenny turned around to see if anyone was following. A cold chill went through her, thinking about Delaney and the vision of him being immobilized while death claimed him.
Jenny took the notebook out of her pocket and read all of what Delaney wrote. But then she saw something that was not there before, the scribbled name: Ian. She wondered what it meant. Was it a warning? Did Delaney purposely write it for her?
Once the cab stopped outside Penn Station, Jenny froze. She almost told the driver to take her home, to MacDougal Alley, to the safety of her third floor flat, where life was simple and people loved and cared about her.
"Lady, you getting out?" the driver asked.
Jenny looked up at him, not sure of anything anymore. "Let me think a minute."
"Look, lady," he said sternly, "I don't got all day. You do have the fare, don't you?"
"Yes," Jenny whispered.
He reached over the seat, almost touching her while he waited. "That will be eight fifty. Unless you have somewhere else you want to go?"
Jenny dug in her pocket. She handed the man the money and then got out. She walked through the doors that lead to the terminal. There were lockers on either side but the numbers she saw were not anywhere near the number on the key she held. Jenny fought her way, bumping commuters trying to exit the station. Finally, like a beacon in a moment of panic she saw the sign Information Center, with an arrow pointing to the left. Jenny fought her way through the steady flow of people.
The long-haired scruffy-looking young man behind the counter was indifferent to all around him as he sat there behind the window glued to a racing form. Jenny waited for him to acknowledge her presence. When he did not, she leaned forward and tapped impatiently on the desk until he slowly glanced up. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose. With his forefinger he pushed them up, and then glanced at the woman in front of him.
"Yeah, what do you want?" he asked, as if it was an imposition to be asked a question.
Jenny handed him the key. "Could you tell me where to find this locker?"
"Can't remember, can we?"
Jenny glared at him, not willing to be the brunt of his sarcasm because she asked him to do his job.
"Just tell me."
The young man slouched back in his chair and tossed the key back at Jenny. He put his nose back in the racing form, then pointed down the long narrow hall to his right.
"Down there, at the end."
Jenny turned and walked down the dimly lit hall that led nowhere. Her heart raced as the numbers got closer to the number on the key. Then finally she stood at the end of the hall, staring at the locker she was looking for. When she heard footsteps coming closer she turned and glanced at an old man in tattered baggy pants with a greasy blue polo shirt. Jenny looked beyond him to the Information Center, but all she saw was the head of the young man, still indifferent to all around him. Jenny wanted to scream out, but did not dare. All she could do was watch as the old man walked closer. When he got within ten feet of her, she saw the scruffy beard and the droopy eyes of someone who drank more meals than he ate. His hand was shaking as he extended it, but there was no weapon.
"Could you spare some change?" he pleaded with a pathetic look in his eye that ev
en a cold-hearted person could not refuse.
Jenny stared. She realized he was just a panhandler begging for his next drink. She quickly reached into her purse. "Here," is all she said as she threw the man a dollar bill, too scared to get closer.
The old man picked up the bill, glancing at Jenny with a mouth of half-missing teeth.
"Thank you," he said, then turned and scurried off.
Jenny leaned on the wall of lockers and watched the old man disappear into the flow of people at the other end. She turned, put the key in the lock, and opened the door. For a brief moment, Jenny shut her eyes before glancing inside the locker. She reached in and pulled out the brown envelope that lay in back. Jenny looked down the hall, but no one took any notice of her or even cared what she was doing. She tucked the envelope under her arm, and then walked back the way she came, passing the young man at the desk. He still ignored the world around him.
Jenny was sucked into the flow of commuters. She struggled while trying to maneuver to a bench off the side. Once there, she sat down and watched the stream of people passing by. She looked at the brown envelope that she held, then slid her fingertips under the tape and emptied its contents onto her lap. Two bulky envelopes slid out with a pile of dog tags. It startled her at first. She reached in and pulled out the folded piece of paper. Slowly she unfolded it and just stared at the topographical map. Jenny looked at the bottom, Catoctin Mountains, Maryland. The handwritten scrawl at the bottom did not make sense. The names Red Eagle and Snow Fox puzzled her, along with the three dates, one being only a week away.
Jenny glanced around, then pulled a few sheets of paper out of the envelope and stared blankly. It was just a listing of numbers and dashes alongside letters of the alphabet. She wondered if it was a code of some sort or a sick game of charades she was asked to play a part in. Jenny picked up the dog tags and looked through all of them until she found the one that her instincts told her was there. When she read the name she clenched tightly to the cold metal and realized Delaney had told her the truth. Unlike the rest there was only one dog tag attached to the chain.
The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller Page 9
