“Just my rear. Let’s get out of here.” He got up gingerly.
The man with the gun was already making his way toward the front of the house, his weapon held in front of him. He spoke over his shoulder. “Todd, did you see anyone outside?”
“Just Kevin on the town plow.”
“Wasn’t Kevin,” gritted Hudson, on his feet with an arm draped over Cilla’s shoulder. “Whoever it was didn’t put the blade down.”
“He’s gone anyway. Came by me like...”
Hudson exhaled noisily. “Todd, grab blankets from that bedroom and get yourself out of here.”
“And turn on heaters in the cars,” said Cilla. “Bob has the keys.”
“He’s at the garage,” said Hudson.
Through the nighttime veil of snow, silhouetted against flames that now enveloped the entire house came the figures escaping it; the two with guns led the way, fanning out to either side as they crunched across what used to be the enclosed porch but now was a jumble of splintered wood and broken glass. Behind them came Cilla with her arms around a limping Hudson, followed by the old man.
“Todd, over here!” The gunwoman called through the bitter wind swirling the snow. Set back further from the road, the garage had escaped the brunt of the blasts. Not so the figure lying very still, half in and half out of the doorway. “Look for car keys, Todd. He must have had them in his hand and scattered when he fell.”
He knelt carefully on the glass-strewn, icy floor to peer under the maroon Subaru wagon. The firelight caught several reflecting objects he at first thought were keys, but were pieces of broken glass, probably from the upper part of the door he’d come through. He found one set by a rear wheel.
“Mine,” said the female James Bond. “Tell Mr. Krestinski Gold needs an ambulance pronto. He’s headed for his cell phone.”
Temporarily abandoning his search, Todd ran to the road. “You Mr. Kristanki?” he asked the man getting out of a grey Pontiac. The man nodded. “The woman in the garage says Gold needs an ambulance pronto.”
“Already on the way. Find those keys?”
“One. Back for more.” As he passed the car in the driveway - with some of the snow brushed off he saw it was a Jeep - he could see the injured man stretched out face down on the rear seat, his legs half curled on the floor. “He all right?” he shouted through the closed window at Cilla in the driver’s seat.
She nodded gently.
It took him five minutes to locate the others, and by then he could hear the sirens of approaching vehicles. The Jeep started without difficulty, and Cilla jockeyed it out of the driveway so the ambulance could back in.
Ingalls, with blanket flapping, came over to the Jeep. Cilla rolled down the window for her. “Hudson, you go in the ambulance,” she instructed.
“No way. It’s taken me until now to get comfortable here.”
“We’ll get to the hospital at the same time,” said Carver from the right front seat.
The FBI woman shrugged and went back to Gold.
As the first fire engine appeared, Hudson propped himself up on an elbow to look at the blazing house. “There isn’t enough to save.”
Cilla was silent, staring out the window at the flames.
“Never quite felt comfortable there anyway.” Hudson shifted to his other side. “It wasn’t really
“Maybe you can wash your hands of it, but my new parka’s in there,” growled Wally from the passenger seat.
“Why?” asked Cilla softly.
“Because this was the first day I’ve worn it, that’s why!”
“Not your coat. Why this?” She placed a flat palm on the steering wheel. “They think we know something, and we don’t.”
They watched the stretcher carrying Bob Gold loaded into the ambulance. Krestinski and Ingalls conferred behind the vehicle, then Ingalls climbed in after Gold. Krestinski walked over to Cilla’s car.
“How is he?” asked Wally.
“Hasn’t regained consciousness. His left leg is in pretty bad shape. It took a piece of metal. You follow the ambulance, and I’ll follow you. How’re you feeling, Hudson?’
“I’m okay. We should get the Subaru out of the garage.”
“Firemen’ll take care of it. Here comes the ambulance.” He walked toward his own car. Cilla rolled up the window.
With flashing lights the rescue vehicle backed out of the yard, and a fire truck pulled in. There was a crash from the house as a timber let go.
“Are they going to be waiting for us at the hospital?” asked Cilla as she put the car in gear.
Hudson knew who “they” were. “There’s a difference between an attack on a lonely country road and at an in-town hospital.”
“And then what?”
“You’ll stay at my place,” said Wally. “We can defend it better at the end of the road.”
Hudson shook his head.
“You don’t agree?” asked Wally.
“I don’t have to like it.”
Bob Gold’s eyes opened. For a moment they gazed blankly at the ceiling. Then they focused on the figure sitting on his bed.
“Ingalls. Am I under arrest?”
“Only the guilty. Not the brave.”
His eyes took in the room. “Hospital. What happened?”
“There was an explosion. You were hurt.”
“Yeah...” Memory returned. “Why are you holding my hand?”
“You were hurt pretty badly.”
“My hand...?” He tested his body. “My leg! I can’t find my left leg!”
She held his hand more tightly. “They had to take it, Bob. They tried desperately to save it.”
“My leg? They took my leg?”
“I’m really sorry.”
“Couldn’t they have asked me?” He raised up on his elbows. “Maybe there was something...!”
“You couldn’t answer.” She eased him back. “And there was nothing else they could do. I saw it, Bob. It was the explosion that shattered it. There was nothing left to repair.”
“How far up is it...?”
“Your knee is okay. Just below it.”
He pulled his hand from hers and turned his face to the wall. Through a window at the foot of the bed came bright morning sunlight. The storm had passed. For some. “Peg Leg Bob. Make it through a dozen fire-fights and lose it moving cars in Bartlett, New Hampshire.” He swiveled his head back. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out securing your perimeter, or whatever agents-in-charge do? You don’t have to sit with me...anyone else hurt?”
“I wondered if you’d get to that. No, not badly.”
“Just Bob the Gimp, huh?”
“Yes. Your leg must have gotten the full force of the grenades.”
“Those weren’t grenades. Bazooka. Why weren’t others injured? Those things pack a wallop.”
“We were all in the back of the house.”
