It became a stand-off. Swann could hear their opponents arguing around the corner. He could clearly make out the voice of Senator Maddison.
“Sykes, this has gone far enough. I never should have let you talk me into this. Let’s stand down and try to end this without any more bloodshed!”
“Don’t be a fool, Ed.” Sykes said. “This isn’t the end. It’s the beginning.”
“Huh!” Then a shot, followed by another shot.
“Do it again.” Swann heard Sykes command.
A canister was launched towards Swann and his men. He had no time to call out a warning.
It was a flashbang. The device went off, and Swann and his men went down. The flash blinded all three. The afterimage of the hallway and the canister in the air were branded into Swann’s mind. The loud detonation left him deaf, rupturing one of his inner ears, and shook up the fluids in both ears, causing him to lose his balance.
Time seemed to stand still. The ghost image of a figure stood over him and raised his weapon. But it was already too late.
THEODORE SHOWED UP just as a second man was executed. He had reloaded his nine-millimeter sidearm and raised it as he walked up. Their backs were turned to him as they watched the entrance to the control room.
A contractor lifted his rifle to kill the third man. Theodore shot him through his ear at twelve feet away. He shot the next man at ten feet, before he could turn. The remaining enemies started firing wildly towards Theodore. He shot another man, then jerked as a bullet grazed his leg. The next shot took him up high and sent him flying backwards to land in a heap.
That should have been it for him. Then somebody stepped out of the control room and lit up the last enemy.
The sounds of weapons firing accompanied Theodore as he descended into darkness.
HE WOKE UP IN A BED. Dr. Chopra was standing over him. He had been talking, but Theodore only caught half of it.
“... way I see it, you had tremendous luck on your side. Tremendous!”
“Wah—” was Theodore’s first word. He wanted to reach up to his face but found that his arm lay heavy beside him. He was able to lift his left arm, and his hand went to the dark side of his face. It was heavily bandaged.
“Yes, Mister Theodore. You did lose the eye. But like I said, that wasn’t the worst of your injuries.”
A nurse stepped into view.
“Ah, Clara has your pain meds.”
She walked over to his IV.
Theodore raised his left hand. “Hold on.”
She looked at the doctor and back at Theodore in confusion.
“But surely you must want something for the pain?” Dr. Chopra exclaimed.
“First tell me what happened. How long have I been out? I take it we won ...?”
Dr. Chopra fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable. “Well, you’ve been out for two days. It’s November eight today.” He shook his head. “As far as what all happened, I’m not sure, really. They just brought you in and threatened me with all kinds of violence if I didn’t fix you up. No, I wouldn’t be the right person to talk to about it. But let me find that boy of yours.”
He moved out of sight; a door opening and closing announced his exit.
While they waited for the “boy” Theodore assumed was Winston, he asked Clara about the extent of his injuries.
It turned out that the luck Dr. Chopra was talking about was that the grenade blast really should have killed him. It very nearly did, ten minutes after the blast. Apparently, the shard of metal that had impaled his eye wasn’t the worst damage. Theodore remembered a bunch of shards and slivers going into his face and shoulder, but the one that almost ended him had gone into his shoulder and been sitting against the intersection where his subclavian artery met his carotid artery. A tenth of an inch to the left and he would have bled out in a minute, back in his own office.
He also had a bullet wound in the chest. Apparently, the bullet had grazed his lung.
It took Dr. Chopra and Clara an hour of surgery to bring Theodore from critical to stable condition. Then another six hours of surgery to remove all the metal fragments, set his broken arm (he had no recollection of breaking it), and stitch up his leg.
Theodore mentally went through the injuries and was surprised to find that the leg wound hurt a hell of a lot more than the others. The bullet had grazed the outside of his leg, just above the knee.
He was about to cave in and ask for that painkiller when Dr. Chopra returned with an eager Winston in tow.
The concern and emotion on the young man’s face reminded Theodore of Russel, his old dog. Man, he’d loved that dog. Agatha couldn’t have kids, so they had dogs. None more loveable than Russel, the last one. Theodore had picked up Russel on the same day of her funeral ...
Tears came unbidden to his eyes. Now he was looking at his young aide, and they both had tears in their eyes, but for quite different reasons.
“Hi Winston. Glad to see you made it.”
“Oh, sir! I’m the one who is glad. Glad to see you are alive.” Winston only started tearing up more.
“Ahem.” Theodore was uncomfortable in these situations. He’d fidget in the bed if it didn’t hurt so much. He decided to change the subject asap. “Winston, can you tell me what happened after I got knocked out?”
Winston wiped his eyes and drew himself up. “Yes, sir. I think you know that both special agents Swann and Thompson have died.” Winston shook his head sadly. “Thompson saved us. He shoved us into the control room. I was holed up in that control room with one
