The doctor burst through the door whilst Don was still talking to Colby. He was red in the face and clearly out of breath, bracing his hands on his knees as he bent over to catch his breath. There was clearly relief on his face. David took a step towards him but he waved him away with his left hand.
"Lab ran a very quick analysis, it's not cast iron but they think that it was a sedative, usually used in pre op. Harmless when given in the correct dose." He straightened up, stretching out his back as he bent backwards slightly, grimacing as he did so. Sinclair looked across at Don and raised his eyebrows. Don looked at the junior agent and then back at Granger's pale face.
"What if it wasn't given in the right dose?" he asked, moving his hand to Colby's neck, searching for his pulse. The doctor stopped and stood upright for the briefest of moments then he ran across to the monitors. He pressed a few buttons and then stood back and watched the readouts. A few seconds later he was reaching across Don and pushing the emergency call button on the wall above Colby's bed.
"What's going on?" Don demanded as he was pushed to one side.
"His heart beat is irregular; it's struggling against the sedative. That guy must have given him too much, didn't know what he was doing. It's not enough to kill him outright straight away but if we don't get his heart beating normally again he will go into full arrest." The crash team came bursting in through the door, living up to their nickname as the door bounced back on its hinges. There was a lot of bustling round Granger's bed as lines were taken out and new ones added. Nurses and doctors shifted and swapped positions, never bumping into each other, always managing to find space to work in such a small area. In the midst of all the chaos Don and David stood, a small, still island as everything else around them flowed. David couldn't speak for Don but he felt that time had stopped in the space where he was standing and had somehow captured the moment where his partner and friend was still alive He didn't want to look or move. For some reason Charlie's story of Schrödinger's cat came to mind. He supposed it was because at this exact moment Colby was both alive and dead. If he moved, the bubble would burst and Colby would die right there in front of him. If he could have read Don's mind, he would have taken little comfort from the fact that his boss was also feeling trapped, not by time but by history. The scene in front of him was all too reminiscent of the freighter when they had pulled Colby back from the brink. His greatest fear was that though they had cheated death that time, it would not be denied now, not when the circumstances were so similar.
The shrill ringing of a phone in the corner of the room simultaneously wrenched both men back to the awful reality being played out in front of them. They watched as the doctor nodded and then thanked whoever was on the end of the phone. He put the receiver back into its cradle and yelled something -incomprehensible to the FBI-to the medical team at the bed. There was a change in movement. Some people stepped back, others moved closer. Hands were busy passing things over Granger's inert figure; syringes, bottles, swabs. One of the green clad figures moved to one side briefly allowing both men a glimpse of what was happening. A long, thin needle, attached to a syringe was being fed into Colby's chest. Neither agent could be sure but it seemed like it was going directly into Granger's heart. Don closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. David simply turned his head away again.
A groan from the bed grabbed both men's attention. The doctor turned briefly and nodded and smiled at them. Don's stomach seemed to launch itself into his chest as he saw Colby open his eyes. He and David raced the bedside, unconsciously elbowing a male nurse put of the way as they did. David grabbed Colby's hand and looked straight at him.
"Where the hell you been man?" He was amazed at how quickly his partner had recovered his colour and some of his strength.
Colby managed a lopsided smile and then a frown flitted across his features, he turned his head to scan the room and then looked at David.
"I had to save your ass, Idaho." He jerked his head to indicate the dead South African who lay on the floor, almost forgotten in the rush to save Colby's life. Don looked across at the dead man. His blood had pooled on the floor and was slowly creeping towards Don's shoes, almost like one last attempt after death to reach him, soil him with its presence. He easily stepped out of the way and turned his back on Van de Burgh for the last time. The doctor approached him to explain what had happened but Don waved a weary hand at the man. Whatever it was it could wait, he only had one question he wanted answering.
"Will he be OK?" The doctor hesitated, still keen to explain the mechanics of what had happened but he stopped and kept his response simply, sensing that the FBI agent had probably had as much as he could take for one night.
"Most definitely yes. He is in good shape with a strong heart. There should be no lasting effects." Don patted him on the shoulder
"Thanks." He crossed the short distance to the bed and grinned at Colby.
"Seems you are a hard man to put down. Listen, I gotta take care of all of this. I'll drop by later to see you, maybe bring some grapes, whaddya say?" and with a broad smile on his face he left the two men talking about what had happened, David filling Colby in on the details.
De Villiers sensed Don Eppes' presence before he actually saw him; after all, it was a skill that had kept him alive for so many years. He addressed the FBI agent from behind his newspaper.
"Appears you got your man eh? The FBI legend holds true."
"I'm pretty sure that's the mounties" Don sat in the seat next to him and looked across him at the view out of the window. On the tarmac below, the private jet's pilot was doing one last visual check before take off.
"You lied to me. That could have cost you your life" De Villiers put down his newspaper and looked at Eppes. His blue eyes never wavered for a moment.
"I don't have the luxury of being able to use the truth. If I had told you that it was Van de Burgh that shot your man you would have pushed him deep underground and he might not have surfaced for a long time. You might have even got lucky and killed him and where would have that left me? With my arse hanging out in the breeze my friend that is where." Don said nothing; he simply sat matching the diplomats stare.
"Ahh look," De Villiers crumpled his paper shut and set it down on the small table in front of him. "I have big fish to fry, I'm trying to save my country, I hooked up with Van de Burgh long enough to get his contacts. Some careful ground work I can shut these idiots down and then move onto the rest"
Don sat in silence for a moment and then leaned in, his eyes never leaving the big South African's.
"Listen up, you may get to fly out of here, waving your diplomatic immunity at people, the hero of the hour, but one of my men almost died because of your operation, the details of which, in your report, are vague to say the least. Stay away. I appreciate what you did for Colby, warning us about Van de Burgh but I swear, this whole mess lies at your feet and if I ever see your face in LA again, I will personally take a very keen interest in your movements." He glared at De Villiers for a few more seconds and then rose out of the seat and walked to the aircraft door, half expecting De Villiers to say something. He reached for his sunglasses that were tucked into the top of his t shirt, put them on and stepped into the brilliant sunshine of a beautiful Californian day. His cell rang as he walked casually down the steps. As he answered he turned and saw De Villiers standing at the door. The diplomat smiled and waved and then retreated back into the gloom of the aircraft's interior. Don shook his head and then carried on walking down and then across the tarmac
"Yeah, Charlie what is it? No, I have no dinner plans, I thought you and Dad were eating out tonight. What, he's taking her out again?" The rest of Don's voice was drowned out as the private jet started up her engines. By the time she began to taxi away from the stand, Don was gone.