Collateral Damage - Marc Cerasini [36]
Tony sensed anger and frustration in the woman's voice; he also believed she was telling the truth, though it wasn't his call to make.
"Can you describe him?" Tony asked.
"I can do better than that," she replied. "I shot pictures — even some close-ups — at the airport this morning. The digital camera is in my purse, which was in my car..."
"Then it's in the hospital property room," Tony said.
"Get it, Agent Almeida. Before someone else does."
"Someone else? Like who?"
"Listen, what happened to me wasn't an accident. They knew I was following them and they set me up to be killed. They might try to get my stuff next — or they might try to kill me again and succeed this time."
Tony nodded. "All right, I'll get the camera."
"Get my cell phone, too. I have Emmerick's and Leight's numbers stored inside. If you don't believe what I told you, you can talk to them and they'll back me up. At this point, I don't think secrecy matters anymore."
The woman touched the IV needle in her arm. "I think something bigger is going on," she said.
"I'm gone." Tony moved to the door.
"One more thing, Agent Almeida..."
He paused, one hand on the doorknob.
"I have a cyber lock on the camera's digital contents. If you try to retrieve the data without my password, you'll lose it all."
Tony nodded. "At least I know where I stand."
"I've been an agent too long to trust anyone," said Foy.
In the busy hallway, Tony saw Rachel Delgado. The moment she noticed him, she closed her cell phone.
Who was she speaking to? Tony wondered.
"Do you have a weapon?" he asked, walking up to her.
"Standard nine-millimeter." Rachel held up the bag on her shoulder.
"Guard Deputy Director Foy's door," he commanded.
"Don't let anyone in or out except Dr. Lei and the nurses — and then I want you with them the whole time."
"What's going on?"
"Just do it," Tony replied. "I'll be right back."
* * *
1:59:16 P.M. EDT
Property Room
Newark General Hospital
The property room was adjacent to the hospital morgue, and the two departments shared the same security desk, which Alexi Szudamenko found suitably moronic.
Sure, some of the stuff in the property room was probably valuable, but who would want a corpse?
With his Russian father and Polish mother, Alexi had emigrated from Krakow with his parents in the early 1980s, when he was just a boy. But even after twelve years living in nearby Jersey City, he still didn't quite understand why Americans did some of the things they did.
Like guard dead people.
Alexi pulled the collar of his dark blue security uniform tight. It might be a warm spring afternoon outside, but down here in the basement things got chilly. The reason for the arctic temperatures was cold air seeping out of the morgue's massive refrigeration unit. The constant risk of frostbite made this particular security posting unpleasant. But at least Alexi didn't have to deal with the public, which was infinitely worse than sitting between drawers full of dead people and a wall of steel lockboxes for eight hours a day.
At least it was quiet. So quiet that Alexi sat down behind the security desk and pulled the latest issue of Live Nude Girls out of the drawer. He was just about to open the cover when the intercom buzzed.
Sighing, the big man tossed the glossy magazine back into the drawer and crossed to the door. Running his hand through his light brown hair, he punched the intercom button. "Yes?"
"I need to see someone in the properties department," a voice replied. Alexi looked up at the security monitor. A dark-haired Hispanic man stood on the other side of the door.
Alexi threw the lock and opened the door. "Can I help..."
The silenced weapon barked twice. Alexi stumbled backward, but eerily, he remained on his feet despite the twin holes over his heart.
The man stepped through the door and closed it behind him. Then he shot the guard