Tail Spin
Page 69
He’d found hospitals to be eerily quiet at the witching hour, and truth be told, he hadn’t expected excitement there on the main floor, but he heard some raised voices, saw two security people dashing up the stairs. To their surprise, the elevator was empty. When they reached MacLean’s floor, they had to dodge a gurney, then two wheelchairs being pushed out of the way, and a good half-dozen hospital personnel, running, yelling, or silent with shock. He saw several patients standing in doorways, one older man holding up his IV bag in his right hand, an orderly trying to talk him back into bed, but he wasn’t buying it.
“Agent Tomlin,” Sherlock said, grabbing one of the nurses. “Where is Agent Tomlin?”
“They’re working on him. Someone walked up to him and shoved a syringe into his neck, but he didn’t go all the way out and Louise noticed something was wrong—you know, he was kind of jerking in his chair, and she called out, but he didn’t answer.” The nurse was nearly hyperventilating. “Louise ran toward him. I don’t know what happened—Louise was gone and there was a gunshot. I didn’t know it would be so loud. It was like an explosion, and everyone was yelling and screaming.”
Sherlock closed her eyes and prayed hard. Please, God, let Tom Tomlin be okay. She was right behind Savich when he shoved open MacLean’s door.
There were half a dozen people around MacLean’s bed, all talking, gesturing, some on cell phones, one security woman talking loudly on a crackling walkie-talkie.
When Savich shoved his way through, he saw MacLean lying on his back, the bed cranked up, his head on a pillow, and he was smiling impartially at everyone, the patriarch surrounded by his family. Hospital security was two deep.
“Timothy,” Savich said, studying him even as he took his hand. “Are you all right?”
“I’m in fine fettle.” MacLean grinned maniacally. “What with all the excitement, I’m ready for some fast music so I can do a victory dance with Louise here. Hot damn, can she ever move. You should have seen her, Savich. Runs in and BAM! Shoots the guy in the arm.”
“Which arm, Timothy?” Savich asked.
“Hmmm, now, which was it? The right, that’s it; it was his right arm. He dropped the needle.”
“You’re Agent Savich? I’m chief of security, William Hayward. I called you.”
Savich quickly shook his hand. “Thank you.”
Hayward was a small fine-boned older man with a good build, nicely pressed pants, and smart eyes. Savich pegged him as a retired cop. “Hell of a business,” the chief said, shaking his head. “I’m thinking I should check into the nurses’ training curriculum—can you believe one of our nurses shot the guy?”
Savich then turned to MacLean. He heard Sherlock introduce herself to Hayward, heard his quiet voice telling her what they were doing.
Savich said, “Tell me what happened, Timothy.”
“Well, the thing is, I was asleep. Then there was a sliver of light, right in my eyes. The door had opened, and the light was from the hallway. This guy walks in, a guy I’ve never seen before. He just strolls in like he belongs, smiles at me when he sees I’m awake, says he’s sorry to disturb me, but he’s a neurosurgeon and my doctor asked him to see me, and sure enough, he’s all dressed in green scrubs, a mask over his face, a stethoscope around his neck, those paper booties on his feet. I’ll admit, at first I simply accepted what he said, so many white coats and green scrubs all over, in and out of here, like Grand Central.
“He comes toward me, talking all the time, telling me everything again, like I’m not a doctor and don’t already know everything he’s talking about, and even repeated how my doctor wanted him to check me out, and he’s sorry it’s so late but he just came out of an emergency surgery, didn’t even have time to change, and I say, ‘Why do I need a neurosurgeon? And what’s with the mask?’
“And the guy stops cold in his tracks and I swear to you, he hisses, just like a snake. He pulls out a needle and I see it’s capped, and right away I know there’s something hinky in that needle, something real nasty bad for me in there. I yell out for Agent Tomlin, but there’s no answer. The man tells me I’m one lucky son of a bitch, but enough is enough. And he hisses again, amazing—like nothing I’ve ever heard before.
“I hear Louise’s voice outside the door, and then the door slams open and there’s Louise, a gun in her hand, and this guy whirls toward her, and bless her heart, she doesn’t hesitate, she shoots him. The guy hisses again, drops the needle, grabs his arm, yells at me that I am a dead man, and bolts to the door. He knocks Louise flat on her ass. I yell after him to stop, and Louise raises the gun again to shoot him, but she hits the bathroom door.”
“Yeah, she did,” Hayward said. “A fine shot. That door’s not moving.”
MacLean said, smiling, “That wasn’t bad, Chief.”
“I’ve got the needle,” Hayward said. He handed the needle, still capped and carefully wrapped up in his own handkerchief, to Sherlock.
Savich asked, “Did you recognize his voice, Timothy?”
“Well, no, he had that mask on. It muffled his voice.”
“It was a man?”
MacLean looked at Sherlock. “I don’t think it was a woman, but it all happened so fast—no, I’d have to say it was a man.”
“Young? Old?”
MacLean looked at Sherlock. “Again, he had that mask over his face, mouth included. I don’t know.”
“All right, that’s good, Timothy,” Savich said. “Tell us again what happened then. Slow down.”
Sherlock saw MacLean was beginning to come off his adrenaline high, and she began to stroke his forearm.
“I’ll tell you, it was wild. Louise was yelling, ‘Code blue! Get security!’ And then Louise was in here with me. She was panting, looking hard at me, and she was shaking all over like she’d had the life nearly scared out of her. Then she folded her arms over her chest, stared at Agent Tomlin’s gun, which was still in her right hand, and she started laughing and crying at the same time. I watched her lay the gun very carefully on the table.
“She started examining me then, feeling me up, that’s what I told her, and then she stopped and cocked her head toward the door. We saw all these hospital people working on Agent Tomlin. It sounded like pandemonium to me. I asked her to call you, Agent Savich, and she told me she’d tell Chief Hayward and he’d do it, that was better.
“Agent Tomlin,” Sherlock said, grabbing one of the nurses. “Where is Agent Tomlin?”
“They’re working on him. Someone walked up to him and shoved a syringe into his neck, but he didn’t go all the way out and Louise noticed something was wrong—you know, he was kind of jerking in his chair, and she called out, but he didn’t answer.” The nurse was nearly hyperventilating. “Louise ran toward him. I don’t know what happened—Louise was gone and there was a gunshot. I didn’t know it would be so loud. It was like an explosion, and everyone was yelling and screaming.”
Sherlock closed her eyes and prayed hard. Please, God, let Tom Tomlin be okay. She was right behind Savich when he shoved open MacLean’s door.
There were half a dozen people around MacLean’s bed, all talking, gesturing, some on cell phones, one security woman talking loudly on a crackling walkie-talkie.
When Savich shoved his way through, he saw MacLean lying on his back, the bed cranked up, his head on a pillow, and he was smiling impartially at everyone, the patriarch surrounded by his family. Hospital security was two deep.
“Timothy,” Savich said, studying him even as he took his hand. “Are you all right?”
“I’m in fine fettle.” MacLean grinned maniacally. “What with all the excitement, I’m ready for some fast music so I can do a victory dance with Louise here. Hot damn, can she ever move. You should have seen her, Savich. Runs in and BAM! Shoots the guy in the arm.”
“Which arm, Timothy?” Savich asked.
“Hmmm, now, which was it? The right, that’s it; it was his right arm. He dropped the needle.”
“You’re Agent Savich? I’m chief of security, William Hayward. I called you.”
Savich quickly shook his hand. “Thank you.”
Hayward was a small fine-boned older man with a good build, nicely pressed pants, and smart eyes. Savich pegged him as a retired cop. “Hell of a business,” the chief said, shaking his head. “I’m thinking I should check into the nurses’ training curriculum—can you believe one of our nurses shot the guy?”
Savich then turned to MacLean. He heard Sherlock introduce herself to Hayward, heard his quiet voice telling her what they were doing.
Savich said, “Tell me what happened, Timothy.”
“Well, the thing is, I was asleep. Then there was a sliver of light, right in my eyes. The door had opened, and the light was from the hallway. This guy walks in, a guy I’ve never seen before. He just strolls in like he belongs, smiles at me when he sees I’m awake, says he’s sorry to disturb me, but he’s a neurosurgeon and my doctor asked him to see me, and sure enough, he’s all dressed in green scrubs, a mask over his face, a stethoscope around his neck, those paper booties on his feet. I’ll admit, at first I simply accepted what he said, so many white coats and green scrubs all over, in and out of here, like Grand Central.
“He comes toward me, talking all the time, telling me everything again, like I’m not a doctor and don’t already know everything he’s talking about, and even repeated how my doctor wanted him to check me out, and he’s sorry it’s so late but he just came out of an emergency surgery, didn’t even have time to change, and I say, ‘Why do I need a neurosurgeon? And what’s with the mask?’
“And the guy stops cold in his tracks and I swear to you, he hisses, just like a snake. He pulls out a needle and I see it’s capped, and right away I know there’s something hinky in that needle, something real nasty bad for me in there. I yell out for Agent Tomlin, but there’s no answer. The man tells me I’m one lucky son of a bitch, but enough is enough. And he hisses again, amazing—like nothing I’ve ever heard before.
“I hear Louise’s voice outside the door, and then the door slams open and there’s Louise, a gun in her hand, and this guy whirls toward her, and bless her heart, she doesn’t hesitate, she shoots him. The guy hisses again, drops the needle, grabs his arm, yells at me that I am a dead man, and bolts to the door. He knocks Louise flat on her ass. I yell after him to stop, and Louise raises the gun again to shoot him, but she hits the bathroom door.”
“Yeah, she did,” Hayward said. “A fine shot. That door’s not moving.”
MacLean said, smiling, “That wasn’t bad, Chief.”
“I’ve got the needle,” Hayward said. He handed the needle, still capped and carefully wrapped up in his own handkerchief, to Sherlock.
Savich asked, “Did you recognize his voice, Timothy?”
“Well, no, he had that mask on. It muffled his voice.”
“It was a man?”
MacLean looked at Sherlock. “I don’t think it was a woman, but it all happened so fast—no, I’d have to say it was a man.”
“Young? Old?”
MacLean looked at Sherlock. “Again, he had that mask over his face, mouth included. I don’t know.”
“All right, that’s good, Timothy,” Savich said. “Tell us again what happened then. Slow down.”
Sherlock saw MacLean was beginning to come off his adrenaline high, and she began to stroke his forearm.
“I’ll tell you, it was wild. Louise was yelling, ‘Code blue! Get security!’ And then Louise was in here with me. She was panting, looking hard at me, and she was shaking all over like she’d had the life nearly scared out of her. Then she folded her arms over her chest, stared at Agent Tomlin’s gun, which was still in her right hand, and she started laughing and crying at the same time. I watched her lay the gun very carefully on the table.
“She started examining me then, feeling me up, that’s what I told her, and then she stopped and cocked her head toward the door. We saw all these hospital people working on Agent Tomlin. It sounded like pandemonium to me. I asked her to call you, Agent Savich, and she told me she’d tell Chief Hayward and he’d do it, that was better.
