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 of him. Joan looked both anxious and upset. 'I just heard. You're okay?' She looked at his bandaged head.
'I'm fine.'
'Agent Maxwell?'
'Fine too. Thanks for asking.'
'You're sure you're all right.'
'I'm fine, Joan!'
'Okay, okay, calm down.' She motioned to some chairs in an empty room off the main corridor. They sat, and Joan looked at him, a serious expression on her face.
'I heard you discovered a gun at that woman's home.'
'How the hell did you find that out? I just told the cops.'
'I'm in the private sector, but I didn't turn in my investigative skills when I left the Service. Is it true?'
He hesitated. 'Yeah, I found a gun.'
'And where do you think it came from?'
'I have my theories. But I'm not in a sharing mood.'
'Well, let me jump right in with one of mine. This woman was a maid at the Fairmount Hotel, she had a gun hidden in her garden and she meets a violent death with money stuffed in her mouth. She was blackmailing the person who was the owner of that gun. And that person may have been involved in Ritter's assassination.'
He stared at the woman in amazement. 'Who the hell are your sources?'
'Sorry, I've used up my sharing spirit too. So you get the gun, lose the gun, and you're almost killed in the process.'
'Michelle actually got it a lot worse than I did. They just knocked me out. Apparently they did their best to kill her.'
She looked at him strangely when he said that. 'Do you think this has anything to do with Bruno's disappearance?' she asked abruptly.
He looked surprised. 'How could it? Just because Ritter and Bruno were both presidential candidates? That's quite a stretch.'
'Maybe so. But things that look complex tend to have very simple cores.'
'Thanks for the detective lesson. I'll sure remember that one.'
'Maybe you need some basic lessons. You're the one running around with the woman who let Bruno be kidnapped.'
'She didn't let Bruno be kidnapped any more than I let Clyde Ritter get shot.'
