Catherine Coulter: Backfire

Savich called out to the nurse still walking toward them, “It’s okay. Tell Judge Hunt I’ll be in to see him in a few minutes. Thank you.”

“Smart move,” Charlene said out of the side of her mouth, watching the nurse give Savich a smile and a finger wave and turn back to the nurses’ station.

“Cute little gal. From the look she gave you, I think she’d like to fool around with you. You faithful to your wife?”

Savich saw the nurse turn once more and look from him to Charlene, puzzled. Keep going, everything’s okay. Keep all your mad attention on me, Charlene.

“Not going to say anything, huh? You’re probably not faithful, no guy is, including that dog of a husband I had, and do you want to know what-” She stopped again in mid-sentence. Shut up, shut up, Charlene.

Savich opened the stair door and started climbing. What she was saying, it was bizarre, but it was more than that. It was as if her brain suddenly went skydiving, and she was barely able to bring herself back to focus. Could he use that?

They reached the fifth floor, two more floors to go. Thank God no one opened the doors. He wondered how much longer that luck would hold, kept glancing toward her, looking for his chance. His cell rang, and he felt her jump. He listened to it go to voice mail, then silent.

“Keep those legs moving, Savich. I heard your cell ringing; leave it alone. Two more flights, then we’ll get ourselves a nice suntan. It’s actually sunny today, and would you believe it this time of year in San Francisco?”

“Yes, it’s remarkably pleasant.” Savich could hear her breathing. She couldn’t be as fast as he was any longer, no matter how trained up she was. Only one more floor. Should he try for her on the stairs?

He took another quick look back. She was walking three steps below him, her gun steady on his back. “What you looking at, Savich? Are you wondering about your little sweetie? I’d have to say there isn’t much hope for her, Joe-Xu-is a remarkable man. Can you believe that, a real live spy for the Chinese right here in San Francisco, California? He never told me what he took, only that he’d had some problems. Everyone has problems, I told him, and I took care of him. I like him, he’s a gentleman and he said thank you to me for it. So live and let live, I say.” She paused, panting a bit, then, “It’s sad, though, even though we’re supposed to hook up after the bomb goes off, I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

Did she realize she probably wouldn’t get out of the hospital alive? She sounded philosophical about it. Let her talk, Savich thought, talking would take more breath and a bit of her attention. He said, “You don’t think you’ll see him again?”

She surprised him. “Joe asked me to come to Beijing with him, but I can’t imagine such a thing anyway. I mean, all those people who don’t look like me or talk like me and would probably hate me on sight, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. The thing is, Charlene, I think Joe is in trouble with those people. He’s not going to China, no matter what he told you.”

“You think he’s lying to me? Well, he did say then that he was probably through doing what the Chinese told him to do, so maybe we’ll go to Tuscany-that’s a real pretty place in Italy where he told me he wants to buy a villa, become a local eccentric, he said, because he has lots of money saved.

“You’re slowing down, Agent. Yeah, I can see you’re thinking about jumping me. If you try it, I promise I’ll shoot you in midair. You got that? I’d rather follow the plan I had with Joe. I mean, we’re nearly to the roof, how about it?”

Less than one flight left. They heard a door open down a floor, heard fast footsteps going down.

“Lucky day for that bozo,” Charlene said. She glanced down at her watch again, breathing heavily.

“Here at last. Now we exit. The roof stairs are to the left, down the hall. Shove open the door and don’t move.”

Savich did as she said.

She was right behind him. He felt the gun pressed against his spine. They walked only six feet to another, more discreet door that led to the hospital roof.

They heard a man’s voice.

“Hey, what are you doing here? What’s going on?”

A young man wearing a nice blue suit came striding toward them, waving his hands. “You’re not supposed to be up here. Who are you?”

Savich knew Charlene wouldn’t hesitate to shoot him. He said quickly, “I’m Agent Dillon Savich, FBI. We need to check out the roof. We’ll be okay by ourselves.” Please believe me and turn around. Go back to your office.

The man seemed to think about asking to see his ID, but then he shook his head at himself, said, “Hurry it up. No one’s supposed to be up here. Security should have told us. Everyone’s on edge, I guess. Sorry, do what you’ve got to do.” He flapped his hand at them and walked away.

Charlene said, “Good dresser, but he’s got a whine in his voice. I wonder if he’s married. Bet he is and his wife can’t stand him, probably wants to walk out the door and take some loser lover-” She looked blankly at him for a moment. “Now move it. That’s right, you open the roof door.”

Another disconnect, Savich thought, but it hadn’t lasted long enough for him to make a move. He had to be ready when she did it next. She said, “Another dozen steps to the roof, then there’s a door latched on this side.

“I know what you’re thinking, but don’t do it, not unless you want to live five minutes less. And you really want to live, don’t you? Even if your little FBI wife isn’t breathing anymore, you still want those five extra minutes for yourself.”

He felt the gun shoved hard against his back.

He unlatched the roof door, thought about jumping out and diving out of her sight, but Charlene grabbed his jacket, stayed close to him.

They stepped out onto the graveled roof together and looked out at the sprawl of San Francisco. The wind was sharp, a chill in the air, but the sun was bright overhead.

“Let’s walk over to the edge. See, they’ve got the thigh-high railing. I wonder what good they think that’ll do? I mean, if you want to end it all, you just gotta step right over and then you’re flying. Or in your case, you’re going to get a little encouragement.”

She poked the gun hard in his back. “Walk.”

He walked. Savich knew he had to do something or he would shortly be dead. That couldn’t happen. He had to get to Sherlock. She was alive, she’d managed to beat Xu, or Harry had, Savich knew it to his gut. He felt her, strong and whole. He saw Sean, so tickled he was going to Yosemite, his arms around his neck, giving him a big wet sloppy kiss before pulling away to go to his grandfather to begin his excellent adventure. El Capitan were the last words he’d heard Sean say.

He saw her glance at her watch again. The explosion had to be overdue. How long would it be before she realized it?

Sherlock threw open the hallway door on the seventh floor.

“Hey, who are you? You’ve got a gun!”

“FBI! It’s all right,” she called to the young man who, after seeing her SIG, stood stock-still. “Did anyone go up to the roof?”