Power Play
Page 85
Savich said, “Looks like Blessed was tired, or maybe his ability still doesn’t necessarily come when he calls. About Allen’s cell, Blessed’s not used to them, so I bet he didn’t even think about it.”
Sherlock said, “Would you guys like me to make some sandwiches? I think Dillon could use a veggie wrap after his basketball workout with Sean.”
Savich thought about that for a moment, then said, “How about grilled cheese?”
When they were seated around the kitchen table with the requested hot grilled sandwiches on their plates, Savich gave them the news about William Charles McCallum as they’d heard it from Dr. Kurtz and Nurse Linda.
As Davis lifted the top of his grilled cheese and added more mustard, he said, “Can you imagine? Natalie’s almost stepson, and the heir to an English peer turned Muslim, maybe a terrorist, and she’s never met him?”
Perry was shaking her head, her toasted cheese sandwich untouched on her plate. “But why? I mean, according to my mom, he’d abandoned his father, his whole family. So why in heaven’s name would he try to kill the woman his father was going to marry? Why would he suddenly care about what happened to his father?”
“I put in a call to Natalie,” Sherlock said. “She’ll be taking a break from her interviews to visit Hooley in about an hour. We’ll head over there when you’ve finished your lunch. Perry, eat your grilled cheese before it hardens up on you.”
Washington Memorial Hospital
Sunday afternoon
Hooley was awake and in pain, but so stoic Natalie wanted to smack him. She walked to the nursing station with her newly assigned Diplomatic Security agent in tow to throw her weight around. A nurse told Natalie they’d been asked to try to switch him to oral meds, and maybe it was too fast too soon. She appeared in under a minute to inject morphine into his IV.
Natalie lightly tapped his arm. “Next time, don’t be a brainless macho. Pain isn’t fun, even for tough guys like you. Promise me you’ll ask when you need more pain meds.”
“Yeah, okay, I promise,” Hooley said, then added, “Hey, I’m feeling better already.”
Connie was standing at the foot of his bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’ll make sure he keeps that promise.”
The FBI arrived, Perry in their wake. Savich said, “That’s good, Connie, keep an eagle eye on him because you know very well Hooley would rather hang it up than complain. It’s not in his genes.”
Hooley smiled at that.
Davis said, “A man’s brains don’t always connect to his genes, right, Beef?”
“What would a pretty boy like you know about it?”
Davis grinned down at him. “Take the meds; otherwise, I’ll feel guilty busting your chops.”
Connie didn’t say anything more about Hooley sucking in the pain. She knew pride when she saw it wearing size twelves. Instead, she said, “Since the DSS agents joined us, Mrs. Black’s house is pretty much in lockdown. So I have more time to spend here with Mark. Luis is still doing the driving, though.”
Savich said, “Good. Everything sounds under control. Now, if you and Hooley would excuse Natalie for a moment,” and Natalie followed Savich and Sherlock out of the room.
A nurse directed them to an empty room down the hall. The DSS agent remained by the door. Savich said, “Natalie, this is about your fiancé’s eldest son and heir, William Charles McCallum. You said you’d never met him, that George never said much about him?”
“No. William—Billy—wasn’t in England by the time George and I met. Of course, we talked about him, after that picture of him in Syria surfaced in the press. Since I was going to be his wife, I had to understand more about what had happened.”
Savich said, “Did he tell you the last time he met his son, spoke with him?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Sherlock said, “Did he ever mention any sort of accident Billy was in before he left for Oxford?”
“No, but I suppose if it had been a minor accident of some sort, George wouldn’t have seen any reason to mention it to me.” Natalie looked back and forth between them. “What’s this all about?”
Savich lightly laid his hand on her arm. “We’re almost certain now that the man who attacked you Friday night was William Charles McCallum, George’s son. Billy.”
Natalie stared at them, slowly shook her head back and forth. “But that makes no sense. I’ve never even met him, as I told you. George’s son has turned into some kind of terrorist assassin trying to murder an ambassador?”
Sherlock said, “Would you guys like me to make some sandwiches? I think Dillon could use a veggie wrap after his basketball workout with Sean.”
Savich thought about that for a moment, then said, “How about grilled cheese?”
When they were seated around the kitchen table with the requested hot grilled sandwiches on their plates, Savich gave them the news about William Charles McCallum as they’d heard it from Dr. Kurtz and Nurse Linda.
As Davis lifted the top of his grilled cheese and added more mustard, he said, “Can you imagine? Natalie’s almost stepson, and the heir to an English peer turned Muslim, maybe a terrorist, and she’s never met him?”
Perry was shaking her head, her toasted cheese sandwich untouched on her plate. “But why? I mean, according to my mom, he’d abandoned his father, his whole family. So why in heaven’s name would he try to kill the woman his father was going to marry? Why would he suddenly care about what happened to his father?”
“I put in a call to Natalie,” Sherlock said. “She’ll be taking a break from her interviews to visit Hooley in about an hour. We’ll head over there when you’ve finished your lunch. Perry, eat your grilled cheese before it hardens up on you.”
Washington Memorial Hospital
Sunday afternoon
Hooley was awake and in pain, but so stoic Natalie wanted to smack him. She walked to the nursing station with her newly assigned Diplomatic Security agent in tow to throw her weight around. A nurse told Natalie they’d been asked to try to switch him to oral meds, and maybe it was too fast too soon. She appeared in under a minute to inject morphine into his IV.
Natalie lightly tapped his arm. “Next time, don’t be a brainless macho. Pain isn’t fun, even for tough guys like you. Promise me you’ll ask when you need more pain meds.”
“Yeah, okay, I promise,” Hooley said, then added, “Hey, I’m feeling better already.”
Connie was standing at the foot of his bed, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’ll make sure he keeps that promise.”
The FBI arrived, Perry in their wake. Savich said, “That’s good, Connie, keep an eagle eye on him because you know very well Hooley would rather hang it up than complain. It’s not in his genes.”
Hooley smiled at that.
Davis said, “A man’s brains don’t always connect to his genes, right, Beef?”
“What would a pretty boy like you know about it?”
Davis grinned down at him. “Take the meds; otherwise, I’ll feel guilty busting your chops.”
Connie didn’t say anything more about Hooley sucking in the pain. She knew pride when she saw it wearing size twelves. Instead, she said, “Since the DSS agents joined us, Mrs. Black’s house is pretty much in lockdown. So I have more time to spend here with Mark. Luis is still doing the driving, though.”
Savich said, “Good. Everything sounds under control. Now, if you and Hooley would excuse Natalie for a moment,” and Natalie followed Savich and Sherlock out of the room.
A nurse directed them to an empty room down the hall. The DSS agent remained by the door. Savich said, “Natalie, this is about your fiancé’s eldest son and heir, William Charles McCallum. You said you’d never met him, that George never said much about him?”
“No. William—Billy—wasn’t in England by the time George and I met. Of course, we talked about him, after that picture of him in Syria surfaced in the press. Since I was going to be his wife, I had to understand more about what had happened.”
Savich said, “Did he tell you the last time he met his son, spoke with him?”
“No, he didn’t.”
Sherlock said, “Did he ever mention any sort of accident Billy was in before he left for Oxford?”
“No, but I suppose if it had been a minor accident of some sort, George wouldn’t have seen any reason to mention it to me.” Natalie looked back and forth between them. “What’s this all about?”
Savich lightly laid his hand on her arm. “We’re almost certain now that the man who attacked you Friday night was William Charles McCallum, George’s son. Billy.”
Natalie stared at them, slowly shook her head back and forth. “But that makes no sense. I’ve never even met him, as I told you. George’s son has turned into some kind of terrorist assassin trying to murder an ambassador?”
