Treason (36 page)

Brooke's white cotton blouse under her navy blazer was turning dark red from her blood. Her breathing was labored and irregular. She looked up at him half conscious and wanted to speak, but couldn't.

“Stupid bitch,” he snapped. “Now I'm going to have to drag you and clean up your blood.”

He bent forward and retrieved the terrorist's pistol from the floor. He pressed its barrel against her breast not far from where the first slug had pierced her. “I think I'll just leave you dead here. I'll tell them you were protecting the girl when you and the terrorist exchanged gunfire. It will take some staging, but everyone will want to believe you died being a hero. They'll want to believe my story.”

As he started to pull the trigger, a piece of chain flew over his head and caught itself around his throat.

Parker had been kneeling with his back to Jennifer so he had not seen the teen gather up the excess chain that ran from her leg to the radiator and fashion it into a garrote.

Parker instinctively dropped the pistol and grabbed the chain collar now choking him. He tried to pry it free with both hands but Jennifer pulled the chain with all of her strength. Now panicking, Parker stood and began twisting and turning, shaking violently in a failed attempt to toss Jennifer from his shoulders. She tugged the links tighter against his throat as if it were a bridle on a horse that she had mounted. The traitor's face turned bloodred as he threw his hands behind him and grabbed Jennifer's hair, causing her to scream, but she did not loosen her grip.

Parker suddenly remembered the pistols at his feet near where Brooke was now lying. He bent down and reached for one.

Brooke saw him. She'd recovered slightly from the initial trauma of the gunshot, and although she didn't have the strength needed to rise from the floor to challenge him, she called up every bit of energy that she could muster and forced her hand to respond. Sliding her fingers across the floor, she searched for the pistol grip. She felt it just as Parker was about to seize it. She pointed it upward and fired.

The last sight Brooke saw was Special Agent Wyatt Parker's chin exploding.

She blacked out.

George Washington University Hospital ICU ward

Washington, D.C.

F
or a while, we thought we'd lost you,” Walks Many Miles said when Brooke opened her eyes.

Seeing him momentarily confused her before she realized he was standing next to a hospital bed that she was lying on. Her arms were attached to IVs and monitors.
Being shot. Parker. The Viper.
Now she remembered. She tried to sit and a sharp pain shot across her abdomen like 50,000 volts of electricity.

“Easy now,” Miles said when he saw her grimace.

“How long have you been here?”

“Landed an hour ago. Came right over.”

“You get shot in Africa?” she asked.

He slapped both hands against his chest as if he were searching for holes and said, “No bullets. I'm still in one piece.”

“Not me. I got shot.”

Miles couldn't tell if Brooke was cracking a joke or was simply being serious. She seemed groggy from the morphine being pumped into her arm.

“How long since that bastard shot me?” she asked.

“Three days,” Aunt Geraldine announced, stepping toward the bed next to Miles. “Everyone thought you were going to die—even the paramedics who flew you here—but not me. I told them—she's a fighter. It isn't her time to die. They operated on you for nine hours straight, sewing up everything and rearranging your insides. You've been knocked out for two more days because of all the pain.”

“Where's Jennifer? Is she okay?”

Miles nodded to his right, and Brooke glanced past him and her aunt and spotted Jennifer standing at the foot of the hospital bed. The teenager was clutching a bright pink stuffed animal—a unicorn.

“This is for you,” Jennifer announced, lifting the mythical animal in front of her as she edged forward. Geraldine and Miles moved aside so the teen could be closer to Brooke. “Unicorns can do magic,” Jennifer announced.

“Have you named her?” Brooke asked, reaching for the toy.

“I call her Brooke the Unicorn.”

With her free hand, Brooke took Jennifer's and squeezed it. “I'm pretty fond of that name. How you doing, peanut?”

“Aunt Geraldine is letting me stay in your old room.”

“That's wonderful. There's still a lot of my stuff there. Board games I used to play.”

“That's really old stuff. But it's okay.”

Geraldine said, “It's like we're having a family get-together in the hospital, isn't it? Your uncle is directly down the hallway.”

“Is he awake?” Brooke asked in a concerned voice.

“No, child, not yet,” Geraldine replied. “But his eyes have been twitching and the nurses tell me that's a good sign that he'll be coming out of his coma real soon. But don't you worry yourself about him.”

A nurse joined them, saying, “Sorry, but I need to check our patient's vital signs and apply fresh bandages.”

Brooke released her hold on Jennifer's hand. She didn't want the teen to see her wounds. “Are you hungry, peanut?” she asked.

“I bet Mr. Miles here is as hungry as a dog in a bone factory,” Geraldine volunteered. She'd recognized Brooke's reluctance at having Jennifer in the room when the bandages were changed.

“A bone factory?” Jennifer said, giggling. “Is there such a thing?”

Geraldine snickered. “You can't get much past this child. But c'mon, we need to let this young nurse do her job while we go downstairs and get some breakfast.”

“I definitely could eat,” Miles volunteered, placing one of his hands on Jennifer's shoulder and rubbing his stomach with his other one.

“Do you think it would be okay if I took Brooke the Unicorn with me?” Jennifer asked.

“Yes, peanut,” Brooke replied, handing the stuffed animal back to her. “What do you think unicorns like to eat?” she added with a wink.

“I'll ask her when we get downstairs. Probably ice cream.”

Everyone laughed.

Miles said, “Jennifer, why don't you and Mrs. Grant go downstairs right now? I need to tell Brooke something really quick. Then I'll join you.”

Geraldine led Jennifer out of the room.

By this time, the nurse had finished checking Brooke's vitals and was ready to slip back the covers and apply fresh bandages.

“Would you mind giving us a moment before you change the dressing?” Miles asked.

The nurse frowned. “The doctors will be making their rounds soon and I'll get in trouble if the bandages aren't fresh.”

“I promise, only a few minutes.”

Letting out a sigh, she said, “Be quick, please.”

As soon as they were alone, Miles said, “Jennifer has regressed. Physically, she's okay but she won't talk to anyone about what happened in that bedroom with Agent Parker.”

“Is he dead?”

“The backup agents who Parker called found him dead and you unconscious. Half of Parker's face was blown away and Jennifer was on his back choking him with a chain. She was covered with blood splatter when they pried her loose from him.”

“No wonder she doesn't want to talk. She's blocking it out.”

“What happened in that bedroom?”

“Parker was the Viper. He fooled us. He planned on murdering me and Jennifer and blaming it on the terrorists.”

“But why?”

“Money. He sold us out for money. Plus, I think he was a narcissistic psychopath who only cared about himself, his own wants, his own needs. Just because he was wearing a suit and tie and had a badge didn't change that.”

From the troubled look on Miles's face, Brooke could tell he seemed unconvinced.

“It doesn't fit,” he said. “I mean, he tried to kill you, so there's no doubt he betrayed us, and because of that I'm glad he's dead. But are you sure he was the Viper?”

“Why are you questioning it?”

“Because Parker knew what the FBI was doing here in the U.S., but he couldn't have known what I was doing in Kenya. He certainly wouldn't have had access to our flight plan when we were sent to watch that billionaire.”

“Maybe he got access to it through the FBI computer system.”

“I doubt the agency and Pentagon shared that information. And he certainly wasn't told about the goat herder and woman who were protecting me in Kenya.”

“Woman?” Brooke asked through her now partially closed eyes. She was fading. Miles leaned down and kissed her forehead.

“We'll get it straightened out after you're feeling better.”

Miles found the nurse waiting impatiently outside the door.

“Thanks for giving us a moment,” he said. “Can I bring you back something from the cafeteria? Some coffee, fruit, toast, a bagel—anything?”

“Actually, a bagel would be great. I've not eaten this morning. But have them put the cream cheese in a container on the side. I'm watching my calories and they smear it on really thick in the cafeteria. I'll pay you when you bring it upstairs.”

“No way are you paying. I'm happy to do it. Thanks for taking such good care of our patient.”

“You the husband?”

“Hope to be someday.”

When the nurse began the painful task of changing the bandages, Brooke opened her eyes. After the dressing had been changed, Lieutenant Colonel Gabe DeMoss arrived.

“Major Grant,” he said cheerfully, “I wanted to check on you and General Grant before heading to the White House this morning. Representative Stanton's murder and all the rumors about Agent Parker have everyone alarmed, especially the president.”

Before Brooke could reply, the nurse interrupted them. “I need a new bag of saline for you. I'll go get one. I'll be back in a minute.”

The nurse scooted by DeMoss and out the door. “Actually, I'm surprised you're alone here,” he noted. “Every time I've stopped by, one of your cousins or your aunt Geraldine and Jennifer have been here. Your aunt drew up a round-the-clock family schedule so you wouldn't be alone.”

“She's a sweetheart,” Brooke said. “You just missed her, Jennifer, and Walks Many Miles. They went downstairs to get breakfast.”

“Your aunt Geraldine is not with the general?” he asked in a startled voice.

“She's downstairs.”

“That's unusual. She eats, sleeps, and showers in his room. I've never known her to leave that room unless there's someone watching him.”

“She doesn't want him to wake up and be alone, I suspect. Isn't there a Pentagon security officer stationed outside his door?”

“Not any longer. Only a hospital security guard who's got a desk near the elevator.”

DeMoss seemed fidgety, and the morphine was making it difficult for her to keep focused.

“Did you miss me?” the nurse asked, returning with a fresh saline bag for the IV.

“I'll go check on your uncle now,” DeMoss volunteered. “I don't like him being alone. You need to rest.”

As soon as DeMoss left, the nurse said, “Now don't be getting all jealous, but I've got to tell you that your boyfriend—he's a keeper. He's not only handsome, he's thoughtful. He asked if there was anything from the cafeteria he could bring me, and when I told him a bagel with cream cheese, he refused to take any money from me. Now that's a gentleman.”

Brooke was only half listening. She closed her eyes.
A bagel with cream cheese. A bagel. Mr. bagel. No. Wait!

Brooke popped open her eyes.
Something isn't right. Bagel. What is it?
Brooke tried to focus. The last time she had gone to breakfast in the hospital, Gabe DeMoss had been with her and a woman had spoken to him.
What had she called him: café misto with a cinnamon raisin bagel. Mr. CM/CR. No, she'd called him Don and he said they'd never met but she'd said she never forgets a face. Why had he lied? What was he hiding?

Another memory popped into her head. It was of her fatal encounter with Agent Wyatt Parker. He was pointing a pistol at her. What had he said?

“The Falcon asked me personally to kill you. Both of you.”

“The Falcon?”

“You didn't have a clue, did you?”

“You're a traitor?”

“Let's just say I recently decided to switch teams. You should feel honored. The Falcon called me directly. Always before, I've gotten my orders through an intermediary. But he called me personally because he really wants you and this girl dead.”

What had Parker said?
Always before, I've gotten my orders through an intermediary.

She thought about what Miles had said minutes ago.

“Because Parker knew what the FBI was doing here in the U.S., but he couldn't have known what I was doing in Kenya. He certainly wouldn't have had access to our flight plan when we were sent to watch that billionaire.”

Parker couldn't have known all of the information that the Viper had known. He wasn't the Viper!

The nurse had left her alone. Brooke pushed the call button, but no one responded. She pushed it again and again. Finally, she forced herself into a sitting position. The throbbing in her abdomen was excruciating, and for a moment she felt as if she was going to pass out.
Stay awake. Stay focused.

She carefully began disconnecting the IV tubes and various wires attached to her and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Another debilitating jolt.

Brooke slid off the mattress to her feet and staggered toward a tiny closet. It wasn't clothing that she was after. She didn't care that a gaping hole in the back of her hospital smock exposed her bare buttocks. She was searching for her pistol. It wasn't there.

General Grant can't be left alone.

She forced herself to walk across the room and into the hallway.
Where is everyone?
There was no one at the nurses' station.
Where is the hospital security guard?
Touching the hallway wall to support herself, she moved as quickly as she dared toward her uncle's room. When she reached it, his door was closed, so she pushed inward.

Gabe DeMoss was next to her uncle's hospital bed holding a syringe.

“It wasn't Agent Parker,” she said. “You're the Viper.”

She expected DeMoss to deny it, to tell her that she was mistaken and delusional. Instead he asked, “What proof do you have?”

“The woman from the bagel shop. She recognized you.”

“A simple case of misidentification. You're cold, Major Grant.”

“Parker said his orders always came through an intermediary. That means he wasn't calling the shots here in the U.S.”

“Warmer, but still chilly.”

“Parker couldn't have been the Viper and I can prove it. Akbar and Aludra were holding Cassy and Jennifer captive in a Virginia cabin. Cassy managed to escape and was hiding in the woods. Akbar had just started to search for her when he got a telephone call on a satellite phone warning him that the FBI was on its way to the cabin to rescue the girls. Parker couldn't have placed that call because he was with me. We were in a helicopter flying to that cabin. Someone else warned Akbar. The NSC was monitoring our every move. That means you knew we were heading to that cabin. You warned him.”