to me again. You look for him!”
“I’m sorry,” the man in the orange suit said. “We have to get this man back.” He indicated Woody, who was lying on a cot, conscious now, being given first aid.
“Do it,” Woody said through his pain.
“Look for a few minutes,” Laura said. “Paul’s a hard man to kill.”
They followed the Shadowfax’s reverse course for several minutes, the spotlight a white plate floating on the propeller-beaten surface below them.
“He’s not here,” the guardsman at the open door said. Reb was beside him, looking down, Thorne holding the boy back by the shirt gathered in his fist.
As they started the turn for home, Reb screamed and pointed. “Look!”
There was something just outside the spotlight beam, bobbing and waving. When the light moved a few feet to the east, it became Paul Masterson floating on his back with Reb’s birdcage propped on his chest.
“Well, I’ll be fried,” the man in the orange suit said to himself.
62
Thorne Greer found Paul in his hospital room surrounded by flowers. Paul’s left shoulder was wrapped in plaster, and his arm was immobilized so the collarbone could heal. Thorne was carrying a long white floral box.
Sherry Lander, seated in the room’s sole chair, was reading a magazine.
“Agent Greer,” Sherry said. “How are you feeling?”
Paul opened his eye and smiled. “Thorne, come in,” he said. “Excuse me if I don’t get up.” He had a bandage covering the right eye and the damaged brow. The plastic plate had absorbed the deadly blow, but the covering skin had been split wide-open and had taken ten stitches to close. He also had a plaster cast covering the shattered collarbone from Kurt’s bullet.
“Anything on Rainey?”
Thorne shook his head. “Nothing large enough to identify off the bat. Just pieces they’ll have to tissue-type and Martin’s right index and middle finger attached to a bit of hand almost to the wrist. Divers found something that will interest you.” He put the floral box on the bed beside Paul, who opened it and pushed aside the tissue paper. Inside was what remained of Aaron’s cane gun. The ebony that had covered the barrel and the ivory handle were gone. The chamber and trigger were there, but the barrel had been bent twenty degrees by the force of the blast.
“Uncle Aaron’ll have my ass.”
“The breech and handle are fine. I think you can get a smith to make it good as new.” Thorne looked out the window and took a deep breath. “Joe’s on his way from Miami. Looks like Stephanie is going to get a promotion for hanging with Eve. President called Sean’s father personally.”
Sherry stood and put the magazine on a table. “I’m going for a cup of coffee.”
“I’ll get some brought up,” Paul said.
“No,” she said, “I need the walk.” She kissed his cheek as she passed.
The men watched her out the door. “Nice girl,” Thorne said.
“Think as long as I’m here, I should get something done with my face? I mean, the plastic’s cracked and they’ll have to replace it anyway.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Thorne said. “I’m leaving for the Coast this afternoon.” He looked out the window. “T.C. is working up a press release to plug the successful operation, the deaths of two of the world’s most dangerous men and the Cheetah’s successful role. We won’t be mentioned, naturally. Except for our dead who died valiantly.”
Paul gripped his shoulder because the movement hurt him.
“Bastard’ll get the director’s title for sure now,” Thorne said sadly.
“I wouldn’t put money on it,” Paul said. “T.C. has a lot to answer for.”
“T.C.’s a political animal, Paul. He won’t get splashed. Any evidence vanished with Martin and Reid… Spivey, I mean. Had Spivey lived, he would have gone silently into the night.”
“There’s no proof,” Paul agreed. “But I won’t forget. And neither should you.”
“I’ve had all the reality I can stand for a while. I’m out of here for La La Land this afternoon. My boss is going on location in France, and I’m planning to go along for R and R. Next time something like this comes up… don’t call me.”
“Call you!” He laughed and winced from the pain. “You can’t find this sort of excitement watching your celebrities sign autographs.”
“Money’s better, and I don’t need to be shot again to feel alive. My idea of excitement is gonna be tight swim-suits on the Riviera. I’ll leave the blood-and-guts excitement to guys like you.”
“I’m so good at it,” Paul said, smiling.
“Hey, you did all right… for an old man.”
Paul nodded.
“Well, so long,” Thorne said, squeezing Paul’s right knee. “As long as you’re going under the knife, why not have an extra lift to get those little wrinkles around the eyes out? Hollywood is always looking for rugged, handsome types. I know some people.”
Paul laughed. “Get outta here.”
Thorne paused at the door, seemed to remember something, patted his pocket, then took a minicassette player out and tossed it onto Paul’s bed. “By the way, I wanted you to hear something. Keep the Sony. I stole it from the DEA.”
After Thorne had cleared the door, Paul picked up the tape recorder and switched on the tape. It was recorded via laser beam aimed at a window. There was static for a second, then his son’s small voice talking to God about his love for his father.
Paul didn’t want to cry, because the movement made his shoulder throb.
Sherry saw Laura and the children as she was coming out of the cafeteria and knew at once who they were. Reb had the lion’s share of Paul’s features. Riding up in the elevator with them, she found herself staring at the boy. He noticed and smiled, at her.
“Hello,” he said. “We were in the lake bombs.”
“You must be Reb,” she said.
“Yeah, how’d you know that-newspaper?”
“No. I’ve been working with your father in Nashville. I’m Sherry Lander. I was Rainey Lee’s secretary.”
Laura smiled at her, and when their eyes met, Laura knew exactly who Sherry was. “When did you get in?” she asked.
“Early this morning,” Sherry replied. “I’m glad you all are okay. It must have been really terrible. I’ve been reading the coverage. Good Lord!”
Laura looked down for a minute as the memory of Reid and the fact of his death slammed home. “Yes,” she said. “Terrible.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Reb said. “Not really. But did you know there are sharks in Lake Pontchartrain? They come up the river. Could have eaten us all. We were lucky.”
Erin rolled her eyes.
“How’s Paul this morning?” Laura asked. Her eyes were kind and playful, and Sherry was relieved that she wasn’t going to have to play the secretary.
“Fine. Thorne was there when I left.”
Sherry stopped at the arch to the waiting nook, where a man was watching a game show. “I’ll see you later, maybe,” Sherry said.
“Don’t be silly, join us,” Laura said. Sherry shrugged and looked at the floor, suddenly embarrassed. Uncertain.
“Go ahead, kids. It’s room five-twelve,” Laura said. “Down the hall and to the left.” The children went down
