Michael Palmer - The fifth vial

"Luis," Natalie said after getting a blood pressure reading in the low eighties, "for the time being, I should move you into the room where there is a heart monitor."

The warrior shook his head and lifted the pistol he had tucked beneath him.

"Others are coming," he said. "We must get away or we must be ready."

"We have come this far, Luis. We will make it, but only so long as you are there to save our lives if we get in trouble again. You are my hero, and I have been so busy with everything, I have not thanked you."

She turned to Rosa, pointed to her own lips, and then gestured to Luis's. The woman grinned and nodded her permission.

"Thank you, Luis," Natalie whispered, kissing him lightly on the cheek, then the lips. "Thank you for saving my life."

Luis managed a weak grin.

"It was nothing," he said. "In dangerous situations like this, there is often only one chance. I had to take it."

"The shot that finished Barbosa was amazing. You didn't even seem to aim. I think I felt the wind of the bullet as it went past my head."

"It was a lucky shot," he replied. "If I had hit you, I would have just pulled the trigger again." He punctuated the remark with a wink.

Leaving Rosa to guard their prisoners, Natalie went in to wake up Sandy. In fact, the morphine infusion had run dry, and the woman, already much more conscious, was actually beginning to fight the ventilator.

"Sandy, easy does it," Natalie urged softly, stroking her forehead. "Easy does it. Sandy, squeeze my hand if you understand me…Come on, squeeze my hand…Good. That's it. That's it. Sandy, my name is Natalie. I'm a medical student from Boston and I'm here to help you. Everything is okay. Squeeze if you understand…"

It took just a few minutes for Sandy Macfarlane to wake up enough to have the breathing tube removed. She was hoarse, disoriented, and near hysteria, muttering about her son in Tennessee and also someone named Rudy, but to her credit, she was able to listen to Natalie's explanations and gradually to cooperate enough to roll onto a stretcher.

Natalie wheeled her to the dining room. There was little change in those poisoned. Most of them were still trying to cope with the effects and side effects of the hallucinogen. One of them, the husky man in surgical scrubs, either an anesthesiologist or possibly a surgical assistant, was tucked on his side in a fetal position, not moving and, on closer examination, not breathing. Exhausted and desperate to do something about transportation, Natalie was able to summon little more than a brief pang for the man.

She hurried over and knelt on one knee by Santoro, whose color was a ghastly gray-green.

"Santoro, I need a car or a van. What do you have?"

"I have nothing for you. You are making a mistake, a terrible mistake."

With no time to argue, Natalie forced the muzzle of Vargas's heavy pistol into the surgeon's groin.

"You might not remember me," she said in English, "but I hope you do.

Two months ago, you and your friend Dr. Cho helped steal one of my lungs. You caused me great pain and ruined my life and I will have no problem at all in doing the same to you." For emphasis, she jammed the pistol in even harder. "I'm going to count to five. If you haven't told me where I can find the keys to at least two cars or a van, I'm going to pull this trigger and blow whatever is there between your legs to bits. And you know what? I'll be happy to do it. Maybe you can become the first one on your block to have your privates replaced with a transplant."

"No, wait! Help me, I'm sick, I — "

"Five…four…three…two…"

"Wait, my desk, my desk. The keys to the hospital van are in the top drawer of my desk."

"Van? I didn't see a van, just two small — "

"It's on the other side of the hospital. Down that way. Now help me, I'm going to be sick to my stomach again."

Ignoring him, Natalie raced to the office and located the keys, then hurried back to where Luis lay. His pressure was still in the low eighties and his color was poor. She was certain that he was in pain from his wounds — he had to be. Still, he gave no outward sign of it.

"Luis, we're ready to go. I've got the keys to Santoro's van. There should be room for all five of us."

"I do not think so," he said. "Leave me and Rosa. We have friends in the town. We can take care of ourselves."

"Absolutely not. We need to get you to a hospital. Ben, too."

Luis did not reply. Instead, he put his finger to his lips and pointed in the direction of the landing strip.

"A helicopter," he said. "It just landed."

"I didn't hear anything."

"It probably came in downwind."

Natalie motioned Rosa over.

"Rosa," she whispered, "Luis says he heard a helicopter fly in and land. Did you hear anything?"

"No," Rosa said, "but believe me, if he heard something it is there."

"Maybe we can force the pilot to help us take Luis and Ben to Rio."

"Let me go and check," Rosa said, changing the ammunition clip in her gun. "I will go out the back past the pool, and then move into the forest."

"Just be careful."

There was no time for Rosa to heed Natalie's warning. Her gun ready, she cautiously opened the door to the pool and patio. Before she had taken a full step outside, there was a burst of machine-gun fire, which nearly cut her in two, and drove her several feet back into the dining room before she dropped, lifeless, to the floor.

Natalie had taken no more than two steps toward her when two swarthy men in commando garb and Arab headdresses charged into the room, then two more. In seconds, moving with extreme precision, they stationed themselves strategically around the room, guns ready. One of them flicked his automatic weapon at Natalie, and issued a sharp order in Arabic. Natalie opened her hand and let her gun drop. Then she raised both hands and kept them up.

The soldiers scanned the room, looking for anything threatening, passing over Rosa's crumpled, bloodied corpse as if she weren't there. Then one of them marched back through the door. Half a minute later, he returned leading a man in an elegant robe and headdress.

Was this the patient ticketed to receive Sandy's heart?

Natalie felt as sick as any of those who had ingested Tokima's toxin. The four of them — Ben, Rosa, Luis, and herself- had tried the impossible, and only moments ago it seemed as if they had succeeded. Now, Rosa was dead, Ben was sick, Luis was gravely wounded, and she was standing helpless in the face of a team of professional soldiers. They had tried, they had lost.

"Please," she shouted across the room at the latest arrival, "please listen to me! Do you know what's going on here?" The man, taller than the others, and imperious in his manner and bearing, stared at her blankly. "Do you speak English?" she persisted. "Portuguese? I want someone who speaks English or Portuguese."

"Then you are in luck, Ms. Reyes, because I am fluent in both." With those words, her mentor, Doug Berenger, strode through the door and into the room.

The moment Natalie saw Berenger, the missing pieces of her life began flying into place. Instantly consumed by a hatred more powerful than any passion she had ever known, she slowly lowered her hands and stood, arms folded, watching as he impassively surveyed the carnage and illness surrounding them. Then he turned to her.

"Our friend in the village, Father Francisco, radioed our friend Sergeant Barbosa here at the hospital that a beautiful, sexy tree hugger with clean, new boots had made it out to Dom Angelo. When I heard Barbosa's description of the woman, I had a funny feeling that it might be you. You are to be commended for making it this far."