Chapter 120

HOSPITAL, ATLANTA, GEORGIA

The HAZMAT team was on the scene. The patients along the hallway were being moved to other areas in the hospital. The assassin's body was gone. Finally Whatley thought it safe to move Hanes.

The nurses, red-faced and streaming tears, maneuvered the gurney bearing Agent Hanes' 'body' out of the suite and into the hallway. The city police and the agents in the hallway came to attention and solemnly watched as the gurney was pushed toward the freight elevator.

As soon as the elevator door closed, Bobby unzipped the body bag enough so Art's head was clear of the material, then smiled at him through her tears, "Okay?"

"Just hunky-dory," he said, through gritted teeth as he fought the pain.

"We know it hurts," Sandra answered, touching his face. "We snatched your pain meds out of the pump before we left, though. We'll get you back on them as soon as we get a chance."

Art acknowledged her, but lay with his teeth locked together enduring the pain caused by the jostling as he was put on the gurney and moved to the elevator.

(Note: The pain pump gives a metered small dose of pain medication determined by the doctor, and the pump can be set to respond to a button push by the patient. He/she cannot overdose by pushing the button too frequently, because the pump will not respond unless the proper time interval has occurred.)

Grigsby sniffed as Bobby came near and he caught the smell of cayenne pepper, "You..."

Bobby tried to laugh as she wiped her eyes with a tissue. "Yeah, you smelled it, and it's what you think it is. We couldn't conjure up enough tears, so we sprayed each other's eyes with this little can of pepper gas we keep with us. Whether we use the parking lot, or the parking deck, it's kind of scary going out there on dark, winter nights. The administration won't let us have a gun on the property, so we each bought a can of the gas. Wasn't hard to cry after a shot of that," she said, trying to giggle past her tears. "We went in the bathroom, stepped into the shower, pulled the curtain and gave each other the tiniest squirt in the face."

"Don't tell anybody," Sandra added, trying to laugh as the tears streamed down her cheeks, "but that stuff sets your skin and eyes on fire."

Grigsby and Whatley looked at each other, their faces devoid of expression, but both of them knew from personal experience during training just how much the gas hurt. They also knew better than to laugh at the nurses — but it wasn't easy.

The freight elevator had doors at either end. On the first floor, the front door opened into a back hallway, and the rear door opened onto the loading dock. When the elevator stopped, their conversation was interrupted as they opened the door to the dock. As soon as the nurses and Hanes were out, several agents surrounded them, the agents now carrying shotguns, and two other agents standing back with scoped rifles.

One of the agents caught Grigsby's attention. "Sir," he said, pointing. "we found a scooter hidden over there behind that row of hedges. There was a change of clothes with it."

"This was his escape route," Whatley mused aloud.

"Looks that way," Grigsby agreed.

As gently as they could, the agents got Hanes out of the body bag, off the dock and situated in an SUV that had darkened windows. His face was devoid of all expression, but it was still obvious that he was in pain.

Grigsby nodded to the body bag, and one of the agents quickly folded it up and put it in one of the SUVs. Grigsby shoved the gurney back into the elevator and pushed the button for the fourth floor. Even after removing one of their "dead," the FBI had been courteous enough to return the gurney.

"Think of anything else?" Grigsby asked his boss.

"A lot of things, but let's roll," Whatley said in response.

Grigsby got behind the wheel with Whatley riding shotgun — this time for real as he tucked a shotgun between his feet, the barrel pointed toward the floorboard. Whatley was barely aboard when Grigsby began to move, two other vehicles providing escort.

"This is going to take a while, Art," Grigsby said over his shoulder. "We're going to make sure we aren't followed before we head to Sandra and Bobby's home. I know you're hurting and the pain has to be highly exacerbated by the move, but we have no other choice at the moment."

"Just stay away from the potholes," Hanes tried to joke, but the sweat on his brow said more than his words could at the moment.

The two nurses were busy. "I robbed this from the pain pump," Sandra said as she and Bobby got the pain medicine and gave Art a small dose.

A few minutes later, "Oh, that feels better," the young agent said as he felt the medication take hold and the worst of his pain begin to subside.

Bobby tapped Grigsby on the shoulder. "Agent Grigsby, we're going to need more pain medicine later today, and the doctor has already told us he planned to continue the antibiotic and some of the other medications..."

Whatley turned in his seat to look back at the nurses. "I'm working on that right now," he said, indicating the phone he was holding. "We've decided to bring in one of our doctors and let the ones at the hospital continue to think that Agent Hanes was killed. I have personnel working to download the hospital doctor's files so that the new doctor will be up to speed on Agent Hanes.

"And before you ask, the administrator has given me his password to get into the system, but we're going deeper than that. I just received word from our people that there is evidence someone tried to break into the hospital system last night. They were trying to search the database for gunshot victims. They've apparently realized they can't necessarily find him by name, but the diagnosis of gunshot wounds will stand out — providing they can actually get to the records. You have a fairly decent security system in place and it locked them out when they tried the search, but they did get in to some degree. We're preparing to deal with that, also. This was before the attack this morning. We suspect that the first assassin simply walked the halls until he found the metal detector, then assumed it was Agent Hanes' room.

"It seems that someone has pulled out all the stops to get to Agent Hanes, and is engineering a multi-pronged attack. They sent a strong message using a weapon of mass destruction. I suspect they will try to confirm that he was really killed this morning. If we still had a doctor prescribing the same medication that he did under Agent Hanes' hospital alias, the bad guys would know Art wasn't killed. We need to break ties with the hospital completely. That's why I'm bringing in another doctor.

"Also, there's something else. We'll return files to their original condition when this is all over, but I have people working on the hospital's computer files as we speak — working to make sure you two never existed as far as hospital records are concerned. Both of you are on our payroll now; will be until this is over, and these people are arrested and convicted. After that, we'll see. It might be that the only option left will be our witness protection program. I'm sorry, but it looks like your having gone beyond the call of duty with your good hearts and good deeds, has come back to haunt you."

Bobby and Sandra looked at each other, but didn't say anything.

"We were overconfident," Whatley continued. "I apologize. We won't make that mistake again. I do promise you that this won't cost you anything financially, no matter what happens. Just get Agent Hanes well. Special Agent Grigsby and I will take care of the rest."

After a moment Whatley continued, "As soon as we get Agent Hanes situated at your home, I would like for you two to sit down and make a list of the equipment you need, and the medications you have been giving Agent Hanes. And of course, anything else that you feel would be pertinent for the new doctor to know."

"Sometimes doctors don't listen to nurses..." Bobby offered.

"This one will," Whatley said with assurance, "or we'll have another doctor, shortly." Whatley meant to back up that statement if need be. Without those two, we would be mourning a dead agent, he thought with a shudder. And without this guy sitting beside me, I would be dead also, and no telling how many other people as well. Shit, I hate to lose him as my ASAC. That wife of his was just plain stupid. Yeah, he's married to his job, but he was loyal to her, too. He's told me he has never even thought of messing with another woman. I know he loved her; hell, it's obvious he still does. I need to find that bitch and have a sit-down with her. Just leaving a man with nothing but a note isn't the way to end a marriage, especially someone who's inherently a good guy like he is. Come to think of it, I've heard him talk of her often, and he was always bragging on her. Hell, he worshiped the ground she walked on. Yeah, I'm going to put someone on finding her. That lady and I are going to have a real talk. She'll probably still let the divorce go through, but I'm going to put my two bits worth in, anyway.

Later, they arrived at the nurses' house after driving a route that would foil anyone following. In addition, they had stopped to scan their vehicles for bugs and trackers. Whatley spent most of the trip on the phone, setting things up and talking with his superiors.

Grigsby turned into the driveway and gentled the big SUV around to the back. Hanes was sitting slumped down in the seat with his head resting on Sandra's shoulder, mostly asleep from the pain medication, the exhaustion of recent events and the extended ride.

"Could you wait a few minutes before we get Art into the house?" Bobby asked. "I need to change Sandra's bed and get it ready for him."

Whatley eyed the young agent as he slept on Sandra's shoulder. "Sure. I don't see why not," he said as he looked around them at the large back yard with the big oak trees and the overgrown hedges bordering the property. "You can't even see your next door neighbor's house because of those hedges."

Bobby got out and hurried into the house as Sandra responded to the SAC. "The privet hedges are more like trees than hedges, I guess. They've apparently been allowed to grow wild for years before we bought the place. We're eventually going to cut them back and shape them into something a little more reasonable, but we haven't gotten around to it yet. It's going to be a big job, though."

"Works out fine right now," Whatley said. "Nothing on one side of you for a couple of blocks, and the hedges on three sides of the back yard to help separate you from your neighbors even more. Where does that alley, or road, or whatever it is, go?" he said, pointing to a somewhat overgrown alley angling off behind the yard.

"It comes out on another street a couple of blocks down. No one ever uses it. We always come in from the street side in front of the house."

Whatley looked at Grigsby. "You couldn't have done better if you had special-ordered this place. Well, at least as far as the outside is concerned. No one can approach without being seen, and it's private as can be. If we use that back alley, no one will even notice the extra traffic going in and out. We can make this work," he finished, a smile on his face for the first time in a while.

Bobby was back shortly. Grigsby reached for Art's borrowed pistol. "Here, let me put that in my holster until we get you in bed. I'll make sure you get it back."

"I'm just glad you guys stopped and got me some pajamas when you came to check out the house yesterday. Otherwise, I would be doing this with my butt hanging out of that hospital gown," Art said, trying to chuckle, but cutting it off as a sharp pain from his kidney announced its displeasure with events.

"Wasn't me," Grigsby answered, taking a lot of Hanes' weight as he struggled from the SUV. "That was your nurses' idea. I was just the driver."

With Grigsby on one side and Whatley on the other, Hanes hobbled the few steps to the back porch, then sat down on it. "Damn, I'm weak," he said, his body trembling. "Needing help like this is embarrassing."

"You're doing fine, Son," Whatley said as the two agents hopped up on the low porch, positioning themselves on either side of Hanes. "You lived through a point blank gunfight where four other people died, not to even mention the assassins' attacks." Whatley glanced at Grigsby, "All right, on three. One. Two. Three."

Both men, with Art's help, got him standing as one of the other agents pulled up in his vehicle. "Hang on a sec," the driver said, getting out and rushing around to the back of the vehicle. "I have something that will help."

Shortly, the agent unfolded a collapsible wheelchair. "We didn't take one from the hospital because..." Grigsby started.

"Yeah," Hanes injected with a sigh, "it would be suspicious if the FBI wanted a wheelchair for a dead agent."

"Something like that," Grigsby chuckled.

The agent quickly brought the wheel chair to the porch. "My father-in-law used this before he passed on, so you can keep it as long as you need it."

"Thanks man," Art said as they eased him into the chair.

"I have the room ready. This way," Bobby told them as she held the door open.

A few minutes later the nurses had Hanes installed in Sandra's bed. Whatley, and two of the other agents had taken Bobby up on her offer to check out the house and were "exploring" as they called it, but in reality they were making certain the house was safe, and were making plans for defense. Several more were checking out the alley and the outside with Grigsby.

In the bedroom, "Sorry about the feminine decor," Sandra said. "You're the only man who has been in that bed."

Sandra realized what she had said and her face flushed. "I..."

"I'm flattered," Hanes said as he touched her hand.

"My bed either," Bobby felt compelled to say as she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"And no, we're not lesbians," Sandra offered, unnecessarily, her face becoming redder. "We've just been too busy to ... Oh, crap, I keep digging myself in deeper," she quietly said, then all three of them laughed.

"I feel ... awkward taking your bed, Sandra..."

"Hush," the young nurse quietly replied. "I'll sleep with Bobby. We had to share a room and a bed as we grew up, and that bed wasn't as big as the kings we now have in both of our bedrooms. Our salaries are continuing and the FBI is renting our house, so we're doing fine on this. Besides, we've kinda gotten used to you, hmmm."

Bobby moved closer to touch Art's good shoulder. "Sandra and I have to make a list of the things we need for you. Just hit the ... uh. Crap, that's something that's going to be an irritant. You don't have a call light to summon us when you need us, and there's no use us sitting in here with you all the time. You need quiet so you can sleep and get better. For now, just yell out for us. One of us will always be close so we can hear you. We'll think of something a little more dignified shortly. Do you need anything else for right now?"

"Unh uh. I'm fine," Hanes said, obviously very sleepy.

"We'll check on you in a little while," Sandra said, tucking the sheet in, then the two sisters left, leaving the door open a crack in order to hear Hanes' call.

When the ASAC came in through the kitchen door, Bobby and Sandra looked up from where they sat at the table working on their list of things they would need in order to care for Art. "Fresh coffee is in the pot," Sandra said, nodding toward the counter. "Cups are in the cabinet above the pot. We use Splenda, but there is sugar in the cabinet there, if you would rather have it. We use half-and-half in our coffee, and it's in the refrigerator, of course."