TailSpin - Catherine Coulter [107]
“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.