I paused and grimaced. “Your colonel and I, we’ve set somethings up. Guards on your room won’t help, unless they’re wizards. That’d justput some good cops in the line of fire. So I’m going to spend as much time overhere as I can. Probably sleep in your room. I’m to be the only one who knowswhere you are, and the hospital staff will move you every time I leave so thateven I won’t know what room you’re inwhen I’m not here. If you have any family who you want in on this, give usnames and all that.” I paused again. “If I had any say in the matter, we’d tellthe news-vultures that you died.”
Cash shook her head, slow and groggy again. “Fuck that. Use meas bait. Hand the bastard an engraved invitation. Let him come in, and nail hisass to the wall. And make those medical idiots give me back my guns.”
Oh, sweet Jesus. The hospital staff would flat-out love treating a cranky patient doped-upon painkillers with a high-capacity 9 mm under her pillow and a .22 autostrapped to her ankle . . .
May you live in interesting times.
“No way. Your colonel just about threw a fit when I made thesurgeon patch up your foot. He’d rather have a one-legged Cash than a corpse.”I paused. “So would I.”
But her eyes were closed again.
Just in case she was still listening, I added the rest. “Hesaid he needs good officers. That means you.”
~~~
They rolled Cash off down the corridor, a squeaky wheel onone corner of the bed echoing off the hard walls, electronics and drip polerattling along for the ride. I wanted to follow her, guard her, but I had otherthings I had to do.
I called Sandy again. She was in this time, picked up on thefirst ring like she was hovering over the phone. Nearly had hysterics all overthe place, but she calmed down when I gave her my update and asked her to pickme up. I almost told her about the security stuff regarding Nef, but bit mytongue in time. That was need-to-know level, stuff Nef’s colonel didn’t eventell his lieutenant. Like I wasn’t going to tell Mac or Pendleton or that FBIboss, Black. Not a matter of trust — a matter of self-discipline, a constantreminder of the depth of the shit we’d landed in.
An orderly or whatever rolled me down to the hospital entry,stopping off at supply to issue me a set of crutches on the way, stopping atthe ER desk to sign for my guns outof a locked drawer. I felt much more comfortable with my hardware within reachagain. Looked like the orderly didn’t. Maybe he could read my thoughts from myface and didn’t want to be within range if hell busted loose.
Crutches — Nef was going to have a problem there, with half ofone hand blown off. At least it was her right hand and her left foot. Although,knowing her, she’d figure out some way to use what remained of her right handwith a single crutch, blood dripping through the bandages, and just grit herteeth while keeping her left hand free for shooting. She was like that.
Anyway, Sandy rolled up in her battered Mercedes and poppedthe door open and hovered while the orderly helped me organize crutches andcast and fat ass from the wheelchair to her front seat. Got to hand it to thoseold Benz designers, the seat moved back far enough that I could still fit evenwith my leg poking out and rigid. She climbed in and crunched the car intogear, rolling away to short term parking to clear the pickup area. But then wejust sat there for a minute or two.
Tears glittered on her cheek. “That poor woman and her baby.”
I knew what she meant. I’d live. Nef would live. We’d allknown what we were getting into, Sandy included, when we raised our right handsand took our badges. But two innocents had died, just “collateral damage” in awar they hadn’t even known existed.
When I thought about it, I realized those were the first “innocents”that Kratz had hit. Everyone else had been up to no good. Including Cash andme, from his point of view.
“Dammit, John, didn’t you teach that stupid bitch to park byherself? If she’d only. . . .” Then she stopped and shook herhead. “Sorry. And sorry about last night, as well. I just lost it. I never have learned to keep my temper.”
She’d never had anyone to show her how, no examples in thatsterling home-life I’ve mentioned. By the time she got out on her own, herparents had stamped their mark on everything she did. Operant conditioning, Ithink the psych people call it.
She pulled out a wad of Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes andnose. “That poor baby.”
Which was another thing, another reason why the bomb attackwould hit her hard. Sandy had wanted babies. She couldn’t have any. A lot ofwitches are barren, more of that screwed-up physiology — how many fairy talesdo you know that show a witchsurrounded by her loving children and grandchildren? Maggie had never cared,never tried to get pregnant. Said she’d make a lousy mother, so why bother?
I’d wondered more than once. Maggie didn’t think she’d be agood mother, but she came from a stable home and knew how to raise good kids.From example. Sandy came from a lousy home, her parents didn’t have a clue about parenting, and she wantedkids. And couldn’t have any. Somewhere, God was laughing.
That raised questions about Nef’s newfound drive formotherhood. But apparently black witches lived under a different set of rules.Damned if I knew. Off the charts and into unknown waters.
Sandy blew her nose and tossed the Kleenex into her litterbag. She lit a cigarette, crunched the Benz back into gear, and pulled out.Back under control.
“How’s Cash doing?”
“Better than the doctors hoped.” Then I remembered, loose lipssink ships, we didn’t have a clue howKratz found things out but he damn well did.
