Closure (Jack Randall) (51 page)

“Okay, as long as we don’t get any more changes, we might just have a chance,” Ron spoke his thoughts out loud.

At that point, the steady beep of the heart monitor fell out of rhythm.

“Damn it.” Ron grabbed for the pouch on the back of the monitor and pulled a large foil envelope from it. He made sure it had red trim before ripping it open and pulling out two large pads with wires attached. He quickly plugged the wires into the monitor and then peeled the backing off the pads themselves. One he applied to the right chest, just under where he had earlier stuck the central line in. The other he placed just above the catheter he had stuck in the left ribs.

“Turn that monitor my way, Janice.”

She quickly complied and Ron saw what he had feared. His patient was showing signs of ventricular fibrillation. The heart rate was fast and erratic.

“Stan, get in my drug box.”

“Epi and Atropine?”

Ron pulled his attention from the monitor. The heart was not doing well. Like everyone else’s, it required a steady supply of blood and a system with no holes in it. The senator was losing blood and the only thing he had to replace it was IV fluids, fluids that did not carry oxygen. The heart was starting to complain, and it was showing on his monitor.

“Yeah, hand them to her. Janice, I’ll take the bag. Listen close, it’s about to get interesting,” he told her.

Stan opened the drawer with one hand as his other kept a tight grip on the overhead rail. He began handing her colored boxes she had only seen before in books.

Without taking his eyes off the monitor Ron began giving instructions. They were simple and easy to follow.

“Grab one of the tan boxes. It says epinephrine and which end to open right on it. Open it up and you’ll find a glass vial and a plastic syringe. It’s capped so you won’t get stuck.” He paused while she extracted the contents. “See the yellow caps on the ends of both pieces? Hold them in your fist with the yellow parts up and flip them off with your thumbs.” The yellow caps popped as they flew across the stretcher and hit Stan in the chest.

“Perfect,” Stan yelped. “Johnny and Roy.”

Ron ignored the inside joke. “The two pieces will screw together now. You see it?”

“Yeah,” Janice replied as she mated the two together. “Now what?”

“See the IV line? It has a Y port in it with a little screw fitting. It’s blue. Pull the yellow cap off the end of the syringe and it will twist onto the blue part. Don’t do it yet, just look.”

“I see it.”

“Okay, be ready to do the same with the other ones. When you push it, you just attach the syringe like I told you, and then you pinch off the line above it. Hold that while you push and then release it when you’re done. Got it?”

“Pinch the line, push the drug, and release the line. I got it. Should I be the one doing this?” she asked.

“We’re both gonna be busy and I don’t have time to teach you the monitor. I won’t let you screw up. I promise,” Ron assured her.

“Ron, look,” Stan prompted. The monitor was beeping again.

Ron saw the end of a run of V-tach followed by an erratic beat. Ron reached out and adjusted the gain. At that point, the beeping increased and a chaotic pattern appeared on the screen.

“V-fib!” Ron announced.

To Janice’s horror, the chief balled up a fist and punched the senator in the chest.

The state of Wisconsin holds 22,614 inmates in its prisons.
Approximately 15,151 are repeat offenders.

—FORTY-NINE—

J
ack quickly entered the car and moved to one side. He kept his gun low and to his side but the body armor and jacket still drew the attention of those on the car. The blast of cold air also distracted a few travelers from their reading and laptop computers. Jack just nodded at them as he scanned faces. He was about to make his announcement when he caught a face at the front of the car looking back. The man slowly removed his glasses. It was Sam. They stared at each other for a long moment. Jack cocked his head in a silent question.

Please, Sam?

Sam frowned and shook his head—
No.

Jack watched as Sam disappeared from his view by sitting on the bench seat close to the door. Beyond it, he could see the train operator through heavy glass. He raised the pistol and adopted a two-hand grip.

“FBI! I need everyone off this car now. Leave your things and move to the back of the train. Do it now!” Jack stepped up onto a chair in an attempt to see over the people all standing and exiting. He still couldn’t see Sam. An elderly man stood and seemed to be talking to him. A wall of thin sheet metal blocked his view. He could shoot through it if he had to, but he didn’t know if Sam was alone on the other side. He had no choice but to wait.

•      •      •

Sam sat calmly as the elderly couple stood. He offered an arm to aid her.

“Aren’t you coming, young man?”

“He’s here for me, ma’am. Please do what he says. Everything will be all right.”

“Are you sure, son? There are better ways,” the old man offered.

“It’s okay, sir. It’s time for this to end. That man, he’s a friend.”

The old man turned and calmly sized up the FBI agent. He took his time and studied Jack’s face. He had no fear of being between them, Sam saw. He had the calm of a man who had accepted death a long time ago.

“A good friend?” he asked.

“The best,” Sam replied.

“Make sure you help him, too.” The woman shook a finger.

“Yes ma’am, I will.” Sam grinned.

The couple turned and walked toward the FBI agent, her hand in his. Sam followed what could have been until they were out of sight. He felt a slight pang of jealousy. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the 9mm. He ejected the clip into his hand and contemplated it. Feeling the train lurch as it slowed, he sat and listened as the door to the car opened and closed. He heard the old man say something he couldn’t make out. Placing his hand in the coat pocket with the clip, he began thumbing the rounds out. Stopping when it was empty, he then replaced it in the Browning. Thumbing the slide back, he ensured there was still one round in the chamber. He craned his neck around to look out the window. Looked like an industrial area. Smoke stacks and warehouses, lots of space. Good a spot as any.

“Jack?”

“I’m here, Sam.”

“Don’t shoot yet, okay?”

“Okay, but . . .”

Sam pointed the gun at arm’s length at the glass, paused so Jack could see it, and fired.

•      •      •

Mary had been running the shuttle for over four years, and was puzzled by the order on her screen to slow down. Nevertheless, she did so immediately. She was not due to stop for some time and slowing would throw her arrival time back, but there was probably someone blocking the tracks. She had quit looking through the rear glass years ago and since the security door was installed after 9-11, had stopped worrying about her passengers entering the cockpit. She was just reaching for the microphone to call and ask why when the blast of the gun filled the car and she was showered in glass fragments. She jumped at the sound, but was held up short by her seatbelt. A deep breath was taken in preparation for a scream, when a voice cut her off. She found herself gripping the controls until her hands were pale.

“Stop the train!” the voice commanded. “Now!”

She obediently yanked back on the throttle and engaged the brakes for an emergency stop. The train lurched forward as the brakes caught and glass rained down from her hair and shoulders. She made herself as tiny as she could in the chair. Her world was suddenly very small. Encased in steel, with her only exit blocked, she had nowhere to go. She turned her head slowly as they came to a stop. She saw a large man alone on the bench seat behind her. He gave her an encouraging nod. She was about to ask him what was happening when she saw the gun in his hand. He put a finger to his lips in an order of silence. She nodded in silent compliance and pulled her head back into the cockpit where the smell of the brakes was making her eyes water. She stared out the front of the train, but saw only empty track. Forcing herself not to panic, she returned her breathing to normal. There was nowhere to go. Her eyes wandered over the controls of the train. She named them in her head to help stay in control of her emotions. Gauges, meters, lights, radio. Radio? She slowly moved her foot and felt for the transmit button on the floor. It was always set to its max volume to be heard over the noise. Convinced they would hear her and hopefully figure it out, she pushed the button and held it down. She didn’t dare speak. The man behind appeared to be talking to someone in the car. She hoped the microphone was sensitive enough to pick up the conversation. There was nothing left to do. The picture of her daughter she kept on the dash caught her attention. She studied the young face as she held down the switch and prayed.

•      •      •

“Where is he?” Sydney asked again.

“My people have spotted him on the train. He’s removed everyone from the front and is on the first car with the driver and one man who matches the description of the shooter,” Greg replied. “The train has stopped, and I’m deploying people around it, but it will take a few minutes. I’ll keep you informed.” He hung up.

“Screw this,” Sydney exclaimed and headed for the stairs. “Eric, you’re with me. Bring the laptop.” Eric scrambled to comply.

“Sydney, don’t go up there mad. Greg will toss you out and you know it,” Larry advised.

“I know. I’ll cool off by the time I get there. He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him about the letter,” she answered. Sydney continued her march toward the stairs, but was stopped short by an image on the overhead television. The train could be seen stopped in the middle of what looked like an industrial area. As the helicopter circled the train, a smokestack occasionally flashed across the screen. Other helicopters could be seen, and a searchlight from the nose of one lit up the train, turning night to day.

“Look at the front window. Is that a bullet hole?” Larry asked.

Sydney strained her eyes to see, but couldn’t make it out as the picture angle changed. Larry changed the channel and a different view popped up. This one showed a steady picture that slowly panned across the windows of the train. A man in a long dark coat could be seen sitting toward the front. Another man was at the rear of the car with a gun clearly seen in his hand. The man rotated his body and the letters on his jacket became visible.

“It’s Jack,” Sydney voiced. “What the hell is he doing?”

At that point the picture was lost as the helicopter pulled away. An image of a State of Maryland police helicopter filled the screen briefly and then was gone. An announcer, seated behind the news desk, began to explain the scene to those who just saw it. Evidently the police had seized control of the airspace over the train.

“Damn it!” Sydney yelled at the smiling woman on the screen. She spun on her heel and walked to the stairs. Again, Eric struggled to keep up.

“Let her go,” Larry told the room of people once the door swung shut behind the two of them. “Not like anyone could stop her anyway.”

“Sir?”

Larry turned to see one of the office crew holding a phone with her hand over it. She had a curious look on her face.

“Yes, what is it?”

“I have Transit Authority on the line. They say they can hear what’s happening on the train and they want to know who they should connect with?”

Larry’s eyes bugged out with the new information. How the hell . . .? Never mind.

“Me,” he said and quickly walked to the phone.

•      •      •

Ron stared at the screen, hoping to see a change. When nothing happened, he began programming the monitor. Janice let go of the IV lines when she heard the distinctive sound of the charging capacitor. She had seen enough television to know what that meant.

When the numbers had finished scrolling up to 120, Ron put his finger next to the button and turned his head to see if anyone was touching the senator. A quick scan showed Stan with his hands in the air, and Janice holding onto the cabinets to keep her seat. The IV was swinging around as usual, but that couldn’t be helped. It was safe.

“Clear?” he voiced.

“Clear!” Stan echoed.

Ron’s finger moved to the button and pressed it. As the senator’s body shivered on the stretcher, Ron’s eyes were on the screen. The large spike of the defibrillation was followed by a short period of flatline, before returning to V-Fib. He began programming again. The shrill sound of the charging capacitor was accompanied by more cursing of the traffic from the front end. Ron again placed his finger next to the button to avoid shocking his partners with an accidental defibrillation.

“150. Get ready with that epi. Clear?”

“Clear!” they both echoed this time.

The senator shivered again and all eyes turned to the monitor screen. The spike was followed again by the flatline, only this time it stayed.

“Damn it. Asystole. Start CPR and push that epi now.” Janice scrambled to catch the flying IV line as Stan placed his hands on the chest and took up a steady rhythm. Ron placed two fingers on the left carotid artery and was rewarded with a faint pulse. He watched Janice push the drug into the port and release the pinched line. The chamber showed a steady stream.