Chapter 15

I awoke to lots of activity.

My hospital room was teeming with people! Then I realized I wasn't in a private room, but had been moved to ICU. I wondered why but didn't get a chance to ask.

From the look of things, either I was dead, dying, or something bad was happening that concerned me. From the number of armed people around my bed, I suspected it was the latter. I could count ten agents, each holding a weapon, or with their hand inside their jacket on a weapon. The next thing I wondered was why this was the case. Being that I was drugged up pretty well, awakening to a small army surrounding me was just a bit of a shock.

I recognized Agent Hussing, and when he caught my eye, he stepped to the bed and said, "We had an incursion. At least two members from the group that attacked today just attempted to get into the hospital. The two are in custody, though one won't live long enough to be of much use. We don't know how many others might be involved, so we're taking no chances and flying you out of here, right now.

"Don't worry. We have the hospital locked down and enough manpower to put down a small army, so as soon as the chopper calls that it is in range, we'll move you to the roof and get you out of here." He looked disgusted at the hallway, also full of agents, and added, "I hate this place anyway."

"Why is this happening?" I couldn't imagine why the terrorists would worry about coming after me, since they sacrificed their own with impunity all the time.

"The local and not-so-local imams are raising hell about you killing all six shooters. They think you were the head of a massive plot to insult the 'prophet' and demand your head to soothe their anger. For a bunch of Muslims, it doesn't take much to set them off, and anything their 'holy' men might say tends to be one big trigger. That's why it is so easy for their leaders to manipulate them. They are raised from cradle to grave to do exactly what they are told, and not think for themselves."

The doctor came in then and threw them all out, so he could drug me for the move and give me some instructions. I KNEW I was half out of it and requested a representative from the small army out there to come speak with me, while I was still conscious.

When the doctor stepped out and said something to the nearest agent, two agents arrived almost instantly. They were a man and a woman, and I didn't recognize either of them. I could feel the drugs kicking in and knew I had to talk fast, "I am not going to be able to remain awake for much longer. The drugs and the pain are more than I can fight, so I need you to call a lawyer to come with us, who will be able to speak on my behalf if this thing gets much weirder."

The woman gave me a look and spoke into her radio. "We need a Senior Agent in Charge in the ICU room, stat."

The man blew me off, just as I suspected he would. He looked at the woman like he thought she was an idiot, and said, "Don't worry about anything this punk kid says. He's drugged out of his mind and has no real choice in the matter, anyway."

I would have taken him up on that had a seriously important looking woman not walked in and overheard his comment. Before he had a chance to take it back, she pointed at him, and said, "Get out of this room now, and don't set foot anywhere near this man without my specific approval. EVER!"

Then she turned to the woman agent and said, "How can I help here?"

In profile she reminded me of Catherine. She had the same combination of good looks, and clear competence. Her long, blonde hair was shiny and full. She had to use a very expensive hair stylist, because it was too attractive to be natural. Her figure was hidden behind a serious business woman's suit, and her ensemble shouted class, and at least a little wealth. I guessed her age in her late thirties, but her look and style combined to make her appear remarkably attractive.

The answer came quickly. "Mr. Walsh indicates that his injuries and medications have him unable to look after his own interests and asked that a lawyer be appointed to speak on his behalf until such time as he can resume handling his own affairs.

"Frank just finished ordering me to ignore him." She was clearly not happy about Frank's reaction to my request.

The boss lady turned to me, and said, "Hello, young Mr. Walsh. I am Roberta Ellison, Supervising Agent in Charge of Special Operations for the Tennessee Office of DHS. We are headquartered out of Nashville but keep a sizeable operations staff in Knoxville, which is why we could quickly respond.

"We are thrilled with how you responded to today's shootings, and, as you requested, I will personally have an attorney appointed by Judge Mathers to speak on your behalf going forward. Judge Mathers is a Federal Judge with a great deal of experience dealing with high profile cases, and will understand your concern.

"I promise.

"Now, I understand you are about to take a helicopter ride, so let's let the medical people do their job and talk a little later. Ok?"

She had an engaging smile that framed a troubled face. Roberta Ellison was dealing with something that gave her a lot of concern, which meant I was in trouble.

Try as I might, I simply fell asleep before anyone tried to move me to a helicopter. I could have been strapped into the space shuttle for all I knew. The pain medication was strong to blunt the awful ache in my side and chest. My body was fighting as hard as it could to deal with the invasion of two bullets from high powered rifles. The battle to stay awake was lost before it began.

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I saw was Roberta Ellison. She was standing guard over me like a tigress, daring the jungle to come near. There was an angry, almost violent look about her. She stood beside my bed, confronting everyone and no one, for I was the only other one in the room. The quiet was all around us, as if we had been abandoned like Holly and the girls. My instincts told me that was the source of her discomfort.

There should be noise in a hospital, not dead silence.

I wondered if the silence was predicting my death.

Roberta Ellison seemed almost fatalistically resigned to the inevitable but unwilling to let it happen without a fight. Her stony expression broadcast her innermost fears to me better than words.

I needed a gun.

I needed a gun, RIGHT NOW.

"Give me a gun," I said, startling her.

Her head swung around, her black eyes pinning me to the mattress. "What did you say, David?"

"You know precisely what I said. This place, wherever we are, is way too quiet. Whoever is supposed to be your first line of defense has already been compromised or is dead. Either way, I can tell by your body language that we are in trouble. So give me a gun and step off into the shadows. There is no sense letting them know where you are until you start shooting."

My calm words and logical statement had the desired effect, and Roberta Ellison, Supervising Agent in Charge of Special Operations, handed me not one, but two Glocks. She smiled when she handed over the second one. "I am very aware that you brought your own toy to today's shootout. We – my superiors – decided that there was nothing to gain by introducing that into the reports, so it was casually handed to me. Judge Mathers was the one who suggested that we give it back to you at the appropriate moment to avoid public knowledge of your choice in personal protection.

"By the way, Judge Mathers was very impressed with your request to have an attorney appointed to protect your interests. She spoke highly of a young man who would go toe to toe with terrorists, then have the poise to request help with such a personal nature."

"She?" I asked surprised.

"Yes," Roberta smiled, even as she moved further into the shadows. "Aunt Fran is in your corner. Trust me, that is a good thing."

I couldn't help it. "AUNT FRAN???"

"Yes. Judge Mathers is my God Mother. I grew up calling her Aunt Franny. She nearly raised me herself, after Daddy left and Mommy started to work sixteen hours a day. She was always there for me, and I love her more than I could ever tell her..." She let that hang in the air, as we both heard the first noises that portend trouble. I promised myself I would come back to hear the rest of that story when things quieted down.

"Now ... tell me everything. What are we up against?"

She hesitated and almost cracked. I could hear her suck in a breath, trying not to cry. She was strong, but she faced what she obviously thought was certain death, so I asked again. "What's the situation?"

"We lost our outside team right after the chopper took off. The shots came out of nowhere. The thing is, there is NO WAY anyone knew where we were moving you, so someone right beside me ... someone on my team, sold us out and got a lot of folks killed tonight." She stopped, momentarily overcome with the grief of losing her friends and co-workers.