The
Michelle looked at him. 'Okay, I say no confrontation. We don't know how many or how well armed.'
'Agreed. But we have to get the gun. You have your car keys?'
She held them up. 'Way ahead of you.'
'I'll drive. We'll call the cops once we're out of here.'
With her covering him, King slipped into his study, got the lockbox and made sure the gun was inside. They went quietly out the front door.
They climbed into the Land Cruiser's front seat, and King put the key in the ignition.
The blow struck him from behind, and he fell against the horn, which started blaring.
'Sea-' yelled Michelle, but her voice was cut off, along with most of her wind, when the leathery garrote went around her neck and ripped into her skin.
She desperately tried to dig her fingers under the leather, but it had already sunk in too deeply. Very quickly her lungs were bursting, her eyes bulging in their sockets; her brain felt like it was on fire. From the corner of her eye she saw King slumped against the steering wheel, the blood running down his neck. Then she felt the rope twist and tighten and a hand reached over the front seat and grabbed the rusty gun. The rear truck door opened and then closed, and footsteps moved away, leaving her to die.
The garrote kept tightening, and Michelle put her feet up against the dashboard to try and arch her body, to get some leverage and separation from the person who was doing his best to kill her. She dropped back down, her breath nearly gone. The sound of the horn was exploding in her ears; the sight of the unconscious and bloodied King only added to her hopelessness. She arched again and slammed her head into the face of the person strangling her. She heard him cryout, and the rope loosened, but only a bit. Next she reached back, trying to seize hair to pull, skin to tear or eyeballs to gouge. She was finally able to grip her attacker's hair and pulled as hard as she could, but the pressure on her throat kept up. She scratched and clawed at the face, and then her head was ripped back, almost pulling her over the seat. She thought her spine had cracked, and Michelle went limp and slid forward.
She could feel the breath of the person who was killing her, exerting every ounce of strength to finish her off. Tears of desperation and agony slid down her face.
The breath was right in her ear. 'Just die,' he hissed. 'Just die!'
His mocking tone suddenly revitalized her. With her last bit of energy Michelle's fingers closed around her gun. She pointed it backward, against the seat, her index finger finding the slender bit of metal. She barely had any strength left, and yet she found the small reserve of will she needed to do it. She just prayed her aim was true. She wouldn't get a second chance.
The gun fired, and the bullet ripped through the seat. She heard the impact with flesh and next the grunt, and the garrote immediately loosened and then fell away. Free, Michelle sucked in huge amounts of air. Dizzy and sick to her stomach, she pushed open the truck door and fell out onto the ground.
She heard the rear door open. The man climbed out, holding his bloodied side. She raised her gun, but he kicked the door fully open and it slammed into her, knocking her down. Beyond furious now, Michelle bounced back up and aimed her pistol even as he turned and ran.
However, before she could fire, she dropped to her knees and was violently sick to her stomach. When she looked up, her vision was so blurred, her head pounding so hard, that there seemed to be three men running away. She fired six shots; all were placed in a tight bunch at what she thought was the real flesh and blood of the man who had done his best to murder her.
All six missed by a wide margin. She'd picked the wrong image to shoot.
The footsteps hurried away, and a short time later a car started up and raced off, spewing gravel and dirt.
With a final gasp Michelle dropped to the ground.
37
The blaring truck horn finally attracted the attention of a passing deputy who discovered the unconscious King and Michelle. They were taken to UVA Hospital in Charlottesville. King recovered first. His head wound was bloody, but his skull proved hard enough and he'd suffered no serious damage. Michelle's recovery would take a little longer, and she was sedated while her injuries were worked on. When she woke, King was sitting next to her, his head bandaged.
'God, you look awful,' she said in a weak voice.
'That's all I get after sitting in this damn chair for hours waiting for the princess to awaken? ‘God, you look awful'?'
'I'm sorry. It's really wonderful to see your face. I wasn't sure you were alive.'
He studied the marks on her swollen neck. 'Whoever it was did a number on you. Did you see anybody?'
'No. It was a man, that's all.' She added, 'I shot him.'
'You did what?'
'Shot him, through the seat.'
'Where'd you hit him?'
'In the side, I think.'
'The police are waiting to take a statement. I've already given them mine. The FBI and Deputy Marshal Parks are here too. Ifilled them in on finding the gun and my theory about Loretta blackmailing someone.'
'I'm afraid I can't tell them much.'
'There must have been at least two of them: one to flush us out of the house and the other waiting in your truck. They were counting that I'd grab the gun. Saved them from looking for it. Someone must have been tailing us when we were at Loretta's house. They could have seen us discover the gun, and decided to get it back.'
'There were three of them, then, because there were two in the car.' She paused and then said, 'They got the gun, didn't they?'
'Yes. Stupid when you think about it. We should have taken it right to the FBI, but we didn't and that's that.' He sighed and put a hand on her shoulder. 'That was a close one, Michelle, way too close.'
'I fought as hard as I could.'
'I know you did. You're the only reason I'm alive. I owe you.'
Before Michelle could answer, the door opened and a young man came in. 'Agent Maxwell?' He held out credentials that identified him as Secret Service. 'As soon as you're discharged from the hospital, and have talked to the police, you're to accompany me back to Washington.'
'Why?' asked King.
The man ignored him. 'The doctors say you're lucky to be alive.'
'I don't think luck had much to do with it,' King pointed out.
'Why am I going back to Washington?' Michelle asked.
'As of right now, you're being reassigned to a desk at the Washington field office.'
'Walter Bishop's handiwork,' said King.
'I really can't say.'
'I know. That's why
'I'll be here when you're ready to go.' The man nodded curtly at King and left.
'Well, it was fun while it lasted,' said King.
She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it. 'Hey, I'll be back. I'm not going to let you have a good time all by yourself.'
'Just rest for now, okay?'
She nodded. 'Sean?' He looked at her. 'About last night, the swim and everything. It was fun. I think we both needed that. Maybe we can do it again someday.'
'Hell yes, I loved dumping your butt in the water.'
King was walking down the hallway after leaving Michelle when a woman stepped in front
