going to die. Savich turned toward them, focused again. “What information do you have? Do you know who shot her? Do you know what happened to Xu?”
Harry said, “A couple of Virginia’s officers who were positioned two blocks up on California ran into a young guy waving his fists and yelling after a white Infiniti that was fishtailing down the street. Xu had jerked open the guy’s car door, clouted him in the head, and shoved him into the road. We’ve got an APB out on the car and the license plate number.
“Xu is hurt. One of us”—Harry nodded toward Eve and Griffin—“shot him in the suite from behind a wall of flames. Agent Gaines, our maid in the hallway, said Xu was shot in the upper arm and bleeding pretty heavily when he took off down the stairs. He broke her nose but didn’t kill her. When she got herself together, she came in to help us get out, a good thing, since Xu had left a bomb to detonate when he got clear. Griffin’s singed a bit around the edges; we all are, inside and out, coughing a bit, but nothing worse.
“We followed Xu’s blood trail down the stairs to the lobby, and we were in the stairwell when he detonated the bomb. There was pandemonium in the lobby, but we didn’t stop to help, we ran directly outside to find Xu. You were already there, leaning over Sherlock.” Harry looked at the others. “That’s all we know.”
Agent Kain, who’d been one of the agents manning the van with Sherlock, said, “Sherlock spotted Xu. She didn’t say a word, jumped out of the van and took off. We ran after her fast, but there were people clogging the road and the sidewalk. Then that window blew out on the top floor, and people were screaming and trying to escape the flying shards of glass. When we got to you, Savich, you were with her along with those three teenage boys.”
A second agent said, “She had him flattened on his belly with one of the cuffs already snapped on when we heard that single shot. It sounded like a rifle, which meant it could have been fired from anywhere behind us. We’ll have a trajectory as soon as they get forensics out there.”
Savich said, “But who? Xu didn’t know we’d be there at the Fairmont waiting for him. How could he have arranged for someone with a rifle to be covering his back?”
Cheney said, “I don’t know, Savich, but how likely is it that a brand-new player suddenly shows up when Sherlock has Xu down and nearly restrained and then, for whatever reason, shoots her?”
Savich slammed his fist down on the counter. “She had him, it should be over, but now he’s in the wind again. And it must be that Xu isn’t flying solo.”
“The Chinese?” Eve asked.
“It’s possible,” Savich said, “but I don’t see the Chinese doing this. In their position, I would have shot Xu, if anyone, not Sherlock.”
Virginia Trolley said in a voice that could cool boiling water, “We’ve got half the force out near the Fairmont. Someone must have seen him, seen something. Keep the faith, Dillon.”
Cheney said, “It’s a mess at the Fairmont, the streets blocked with fire trucks and police cars. We moved your Taurus, Savich, not to worry. So far, Sherlock’s the only one they seem to have ambulanced out. There were only cuts and bruises, from what I could see.”
“The media were already there when we left,” Eve said. “It’s national by now, since it’s the Fairmont Hotel in San Francisco. They’ve got everything going for them with this story—a bomber they’re calling a terrorist and an FBI agent shot in the head.”
Cheney’s cell rang. He glanced down and frowned. “It’s KTCU.” Savich watched him think for a minute, then answer. He turned away from them as he said, “Agent Stone.”
Almost immediately, Cheney said, “Yes, yes, but I’m not there. What do you know for a fact, so I’ll know if I can add anything?”
Cheney punched off his cell, rejoined the group. “That was the anchor of the six-o’clock news. He told me only a corner suite on the sixth floor of the Fairmont was badly damaged. Naturally, he had no idea it was Xu’s suite. I didn’t tell him I already knew from my own people it was completely gutted, a lot of smoke and water damage on that whole floor, but he did tell me the fire’s out.
“The anchor wanted to know if a terrorist was holed up in the Fairmont and if he managed to shoot the FBI agent in the street. He wondered if the FBI had bombed the suite to get the terrorist to come out.”
Cheney grinned at them. “Where do they get this stuff? Like the FBI carries grenades around with them in their holsters. I told him I was only now finding out anything, and to give me an hour.”
Eve asked, “What will you do when he calls back?”
“I’m going to give him our photograph of Xu to put on TV. Given the bomb was at the Fairmont, you can bet everyone will be watching the news to find out what happened, which means everyone will know what Xu looks like by tonight. If the media wants any more than that, I’ll tell them to talk to the police commissioner.”
“Many thanks,” Virginia said.
Cheney said, “Now, tell me about the bombs, Harry. Was the first one a hand grenade?”
Eve wondered how the devil Harry would know, when Cheney added, “Harry was in Special Forces before he joined the Bureau.”
Harry said, “It wasn’t a conventional grenade or some of us would be dead, Xu included. There was no shrapnel, too much boom, and too much blinding light. It was a flash-bang. We used those suckers a few times in Afghanistan, when the situation called for something debilitating but not fatal, like cleaning out an enemy nest.
“Flash-bangs are powerful, they’re effective, and they’re pretty small. I’ll bet Xu carried one around in his pocket, in case he ever found himself in trouble.
“I’m thinking he must have suspected something wasn’t right when he got to his room at the Fairmont; maybe our agent in the hall spooked him. Anyway, he must have had the canister in his hand when he opened the door to the suite. He threw it at us, and there was a deafening noise and a blinding light. I knew what it was, but that didn’t stop my ears from buzzing or help me see any quicker, and, of course, it hurt.
“There was instant fire everywhere, walls of it, and that was Xu’s doing, too. Flash-bangs make a great incendiary device if you wrap them in an accelerant, like Sterno in a Ziploc bag, and duct-tape the bag to the canister. It would make the canister that much bigger, but not too big to carry in a jacket pocket. The Sterno ignites and gets blasted in all directions. It’s a potent weapon.
“Since Xu knew what was coming, he had a second to turn away, prepare himself. We didn’t, but we did manage to fire through the flames even though we couldn’t see anything. Luckily, one of us hit him.”
Nurse Blankenship returned and nodded to Savich. “Agent Savich, your wife will be going to CT now, before she’s admitted to her room. You can go with her. She’ll be out in a second.”
“There she is,” Eve said.
Sherlock was lying on a gurney, a white sheet pulled up to her neck, what looked to be rolls of cotton bandage wrapped around her head. There were streaks of blood at its edge, probably from her hair. She looked pale. “Give us a moment,” Savich said to the orderly and nurse.
He slipped her hand out from under the sheet and squeezed it. “Sweetheart, are you awake?”
She whispered, “Yes. I was only resting my eyes.” She looked around at everyone. “All of you guys are here? Hey, is this some kind of party? Is it my birthday?”
Savich knew she was trying to make a joke but was too woozy to pull if off. He said, “Yes, it’s a party, and you’re the guest of honor. After you get this dinky head scan to make sure your brains are in good working order, we’re going to cut you a slice of your birthday cake.”
Her eyes dropped to half-mast, her voice faded, but Savich, who knew her as well as he knew himself, heard the whisper of humor when she said, “I sure hope it’s carrot cake.”
“Yes,” Eve said, “with butter-pecan ice cream.”
Savich leaned close. “After the scan, the doctors want you to camp out here for a couple of days. Is that okay with you?”
She closed her eyes, and her voice was starting to fade out. “I don’t think I want to stay here, Dillon. The light’s too bright and I don’t know anybody and my head hurts. Well, maybe I’ll stay if you stay with me and bring me birthday cake.” She attempted a grin. “I’ll share it with you.”
Savich smiled. “You know what? I’m going to see if you can’t camp out with Ramsey. Would you like that?”
