Chapter 4
Agents Harris and Morris exchanged information via their wrist radios. If this situation hadn't been so grim and critical, it would have reminded one of them of a scene from a Dick Tracy comic strip from years ago. But one of their own was in serious danger, partly due to his extensively bleeding untreated medical trauma; and partly from the unscrupulous and misguided team of former military men he'd been forced to join in an effort to save his brother's life. Now his own hung in the balance.
Booth had gone to Jared's aid yet again, this time to no avail. His brother was dead and the bullet wound to his abdomen was turning septic. The men secreted in the basement of Victor Mausborian's mansion were relishing the haul they had taken from the vintage safe, and had no idea their activities had been exposed. Planning how to leave the mansion undetected, they demanded to know if Booth was with them til the end. Agent Miller's former partner, concerned about Booth's injury, had told their leader, Kevin O'Donnell, that he needed medical attention. Jared's former Army sergeant had firmly refused. "No doctors, no hospitals!"
Booth grimaced but held himself erect despite the increasingly intense pain. "Let's finish this. We need to wait for darkness and slip out singly to avoid suspicion," he suggested.
"No! We move together! At midnight," O'Donnell countered. Although they knew the FBI had found the bodies upstairs, they had escaped detection in the basement, since all but Booth were gone at the time, and he feigned unconsciousness when they returned.
Outside, an FBI SWAT team waited silently for the agents' signal. Once it was given, they silently affixed a magnetic device to the mansion's front door and unlocked it for the second time. Another team mirrored their actions at the back of the house, then waited to cover that exit and prevent any escapes. Slipping inside, they made their stealthy way to the basement entrance.
As the basement door was breached, the men below realized the 'gig was up.' They reached for their weapons, Booth slumping to the floor as he attempted to do so. The FBI agents and SWAT team were quicker, tazing the treacherous trio to avoid retaliation. The three disgrunted team members were hand-cuffed and led away. An EMT squad descended the stairs to assess Booth's injuries.
Lester Morris reached for his cell phone and called Dr. Brennan, who was waiting in a SUV down the street. "We have him, he's safe. The medics are checking him out right now. Harris is calling an ambulance. Come on, Dr. Brennan. You can go with Booth to the hospital."
Oooooooooooooo
A few minutes later, Brennan cradled her husband's head as he lay on a gurney. "Oh, Booth…," she murmured There were no words between them, only a gentle but significant kiss. He opened his eyes and looked up at her. She saw pain, love, grief, regret, and disgust reflected in his silent stare. There would be time for communication and passion once he had healed. Right now, his recovery was tantamount. Brennan knew without a word from the medics that he'd be headed to surgery the moment they reached Washington General. His loss of blood, the depth of the wound, and its deteriorating condition made immediate removal of the bullet imperative. She closed her eyes and thanked Booth's God and her Universe for sparing his life.