Cliff Ryder - The Finish Line

"That will be the last thing on my mind this evening."

"Well, since I'll be overseeing this recovery and stuck in my hotel suite with room service as my only consolation, I'm still going to assign Jake to provide security for you. Nothing against your own people, you understand. I'd like my own man on the scene. I haven't been out in public for so long, I'd probably forget how to act and end up stabbing my date with my shrimp fork."

Samantha chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't. However, I will take you up on that, particularly since his face won't be immediately recognizable. In fact, we might as well provide him with a suitable companion for his own meal, as well. I have just the operative in mind, too. Someone might as well have a pleasant evening out of all this."

"Samantha, remember — it is your duty, after all."

"Yes, yes, you may need to keep reminding me of that tonight."

"I'll send Jake out to recon the hotel and set up a time to meet with you beforehand to run through how things will be set up."

"Thanks, Kate. I'll talk to you soon."

Kate broke the connection and stretched her arms over her head, beginning a set of isometric exercises to maintain her physique during the long hours in the chair, especially since it didn't look as if she was going to be getting out of it anytime soon.

As if on cue, her computer chimed again. It was Autom8. "You'd asked to be patched in when the team touched down in Paris?"

"You got it."

"All right, here comes the feed. They just set down on the roof of the hospital."

"Thanks, I've got it." Patched in to all five of the Midnight Team's specialized sunglasses, each with a miniature camera built-in, Kate settled in for yet another round of high-stakes television watching, where the bullets and blood were all very real. She could only observe as men and women fought and died when she gave the command, like a puppeteer with invisible strings that stretched around the world.

The Agusta helicopter touched down lightly on the helipad above the French trauma center. Located on the southwest corner of the facility, it was right next to the train station, so close that they could easily see the large yard where the high-speed engines arrived and left.

As soon as the chopper hit the tarmac, a man ran toward it, reflexively bending over to put a little more distance between himself and the whirling rotor. He opened the door and extended his hand to Cody. "Dr. Wesson, it's a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you, let's get inside, shall we?"

David and the rest of the team took their small overnight bags with them and trotted to the stairwell. Once inside, the man handed out red-and-white badges with their cover names on them. Tara and David looked at theirs with odd expressions on their faces as they walked behind the others.

"Dr. Ladysmith?" Tara frowned.

David examined his badge and shook his head. "Yeah, and I'm Dr. Browning. Hey, Robert, what'd you get?"

"They made me Dr. Barrett."

Cory frowned them all into silence as they followed their host into the building. "Who says the French don't have a sense of humor? All right, it's showtime — let's keep our eyes on the prize here." He switched over to another channel. "M-Flight, keep those engines hot. We won't be here long."

"Affirmative." The pilot kept the helicopter's rotors moving, although he powered down his engine to what passed for idling, David supposed.

Once inside, the heavy fire door closed, cutting off most of the outside noise. A stairwell stretched down in front of them, and next to it were the doors of a large elevator for transporting crash carts and hospital beds. They all walked into the elevator, which sank into the hospital proper.

Their guide kept talking as they descended. "I must say it's a pleasure to have such a distinguished assembly of doctors to review the progress of our fellowship. While we were a bit surprised to discover that you were coming, our staff has been able to put together a presentation that we think will impress you."

Behind the man's back, David exchanged worried glances with Cody and his other team members.

Cody took the lead. "We're looking forward to seeing their current lines of work. If you don't mind, why don't you give us a little sample?"

"Well, I don't want to give anything away…"

"Don't worry, we won't tell anyone you briefed us ahead of time," Cody assured him.

"Very well. Of course you know that the fellowship is to explore alternatives to sclerotherapy on prolapsed hemorrhoids."

Tara and Kanelo glanced at each other, and the woman covered her smile with her hand. Robert almost didn't stifle his chuckle in time, but managed to turn it into a strangled cough. Only Cody and David didn't change their expressions. "Ah, I see. You know, on second thought, perhaps we would rather wait until the presentation. I'm sure it will be very enlightening. If we could just have a few minutes to freshen up, we'd appreciate it," Cody said.

"Of course. We'll be ready to begin the presentation at your convenience. We'll take you to a room on the third floor and begin in say, twenty minutes?"

"That would be fine. We're looking forward to it. Thanks very much for setting this up on such short notice."

"Not at all — it's our pleasure." Their guide's pager beeped and he checked it with a glance. "Your room is down this hall, third door on the right. I'll be back up here to collect you in fifteen minutes." With that, he hustled off in the other direction, disappearing around the corner.

As soon as he was gone, Robert guffawed, the sound echoing down the corridor, and causing more than one nurse to frown at them and hold her finger up in the universal "quiet" sign. "Well, what say we world-famous team of ass doctors get to work?" he said.

"I didn't even know there was a fellowship for hemorrhoids." Tara shook her head. "I wonder how long the French have been working on this."

Robert snorted. "Given their general attitude, not long enough."

"All right, can it, all of you." Cody sighed. "At least he didn't stick around to wait for us." He nodded toward the stairwell door. "Let's go, people, we're running out of time."

So far, so good, Anthony thought. This time, they were in control from the start.

He had established a surveillance position with an excellent view of the entire first half of the high-speed train. Sitting on the shoe-shine booth, above the constantly changing heads of the crowd, he had given the shoe shiner fifty Euros and told him to take an early lunch, which the man had quickly agreed to, his protest at losing out on the midmorning rush silenced by the look in Anthony's cold eyes.

He pretended to read that day's newspaper, using the time as he flipped pages to scan the crowd for his target. Liam was farther down on the platform, watching the rear half of the train. Between them they had almost the entire train covered, with Gregor and Carl covering the other side, just in case she exited the train in a more unusual way. Once she appeared, Anthony and Liam would close in until they had her between them, at which time they would escort her off the premises, with Carl and Gregor following as the backup team in case someone else was lying in wait.

After several minutes of watching the steady stream of people flowing out from the train to join the already crowded throng on the platform, Anthony spotted her, doing her best to blend in with the rest of the disembarking passengers. Gotcha — and you're damn sure not getting away this time, he vowed.

"Target exiting the sixth car. Moving to apprehend. Close in behind." Anthony folded his newspaper under his arm, slipped off the shoe-shine booth, and blended in with the masses, just another faceless traveler. He paralleled her, walking a few yards behind and to the left, dodging clusters of reuniting families and groups of friends greeting each other. He was about to move in when his cell phone vibrated. With a silent curse, he checked the caller ID, then answered. "Yes?"