CHAPTER 11
They drove to the meeting place, with George in the back explaining how the tiny microphone disguised as a button on his jacket, would transmit every thing said in close proximity back to them. Bailey and Rachel arranged code words he would use, to tell them when to enter the building, and made him practice them over and over. Then they got out of the car just before it turned into the dirt driveway of the old house, and hid in the thick bushes, alongside two of the local police. Patrick continued to drive up to the house. He slowly got out of the car; they could hear him breathing through the transmitter in George's hands.
Patrick knocked on the door, and walked in, his hands were trembling slightly. She was sitting at a table in a run-down kitchen, and also sitting at the table was the man he knew as Donny, her second cousin, cradling his left arm with his right, and blubbering softly to himself.
She looked up at him and smiled beatifically. "You're here," she said breathlessly. "Oh Patrick, you came to me." And she stood up and came towards him, her arms outstretched. He allowed her to hug him, just for a short time, and stepped back, letting his eyes sweep around the room.
"You wanted me to come here, and I did," he said, "What is it you want, Christine?"
She stared into his eyes, a smile trembling on her lips, her own eyes glowing with joy. She looked beautiful and sweet; he knew she was dark and dangerous. "I only want what you promised me, years ago," she replied. "You promised to love me, you promised to marry me." and her voice grew louder and more shrill.
Donny looked up at him, anger on his usually vacant face. Patrick remembered Rachel's instructions, and reached out to touch her arm. "Things change," he said softly.
"You changed, I never have," she replied and her eyes filled with tears. "You promised to marry me, you promised!"
Patrick looked around the room again, then back at her. "Maybe we can talk about that," he said, still keeping his voice soft, 'Maybe it's not too late. What is it you wanted me here to see?"
"Don't worry about that," she said tearfully, "I'm not stupid, Pat, if you are willing to talk to me now, why not all those other times? You had me thrown out of your office, not once, but many times. You wouldn't speak to me on the phone - you even had your phone number changed, all those times. I had to keep tracking down the numbers, but I did, I did, because I love you."
He bit his lip, thinking furiously, "I was too involved in business," he said, still keeping his voice soft. "I wasn't aware of how much you were hurting. Let me make it up to you."
She came forward again, playing with a small revolver in her hand. "You're not just saying this, do you mean it?"
He nodded, and took her hand. "Christine, what is it you've brought me here to see? Are there any others here besides you and Donny?" and his eyes swept the room again. She backed away from him, her eyes hardening suddenly. 'Why do you want to know?"
"You said you had someone here for me to meet? I am just interested, that's all. Who is it, Christine, who else is here with you?"
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't be cross," she said, "It was Donny's fault." And his heart sank at her words.
"What, what was Donny's fault," he asked, his own voice getting louder. "I've got her son here, the one who made you so unhappy, that bitch Noreen. I've got her son here so you could finish it, sever any connection to her. I was going to make him crawl to you, Pat, on his knees. But."
Patrick took a deep breath. "Christine - he's also my son," he said, "And I want you to take me to him."
He turned slightly away from her, and dropped his head. "It's so cold in here - is there a window open? Take me to him now." And spoke the code words to activate the people listening on the other end of the wire.
She stared at him for a long time, then turned and indicated a door to the left. He went to it and she grabbed his arm. "I did it for us, I did it all for us," she said and ran through the door ahead of him.
John was lying on the floor in the corner of a small dark room. He did not move when the light from the kitchen slanted across his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and fast. His skin was pale, and there was blood smeared across his forehead.
Patrick felt a huge release, at least John was breathing. He heard the door smash open from the kitchen, heard the sound of footsteps rushing into the old house, of Donny being overpowered and Christine screamed in anger, and suddenly produced the small pistol she had been toying with earlier. "You bastard," she hissed, "You of all people, you went to the Police?"
Then Rachel and Bailey rushed into the room. "Stop - stay right there," Christine screamed at them. "You knew what I wanted, you knew it was for us. Why did you go to the police, why?"
"Because I can't let you keep doing this," said Patrick "I can't let you keep hurting those people who are close to me." And he looked at son, and added "And those who aren't."
She began swaying from side to side, backing up until she was standing over the top of the unconscious man on the floor.
"I'll kill him, I'll kill him," she threatened, tears pouring down her face. "Tell me you love me," she begged, "I'll kill him. I did this for us!"
Rachel began edging towards John, but the hysterical woman waved her back. "It's too late for you, you cold bitch," she spat at her. "He's going to die. And you'll never be able to tell him how you really feel."
Rachel froze. "Can't you see, there's nowhere for you to go," she said softly, "Give up the gun, we can get you help."
"Patrick, I love you," moaned Christine, the gun now wavering between John and Patrick. "Why won't you marry me? I love you."
"Because I'm already married," he replied, fully knowing he was pushing her over the edge. "I married Carolyn, the woman who replaced you as my assistant. The woman whose identity you stole."
Christine screamed again, and sobbing turned the gun back towards Patrick. Bailey leapt forward, but was too late to stop her discharging a bullet. Everyone ducked, Patrick swore and grabbed his arm, Bailey grabbed Christine, and the gun, and Rachel ran to John, dropping to her knees to touch his face gently.
"Get the paramedics," she screamed loudly, as she took in the blood matted in his hair, and the soggy, bloody bandage around his waist. "Oh John, what has she done to you," and she kept stroking the hair off his forehead, and touching his cheek, not realizing the tears were streaming down her face.
Patrick came and stood next to her, clutching his left arm just above the elbow, where blood was beginning to flow. "He's alive," he said to Rachel, "He will be all right."
She looked up at him wordlessly, and then at Bailey, who was handcuffing a hysterical Christine. She heard him say "..Under arrest for kidnapping and shooting a federal agent," and then she heard the sirens. "Oh God, hang on," she whispered to the unconscious man, "hang on.."
They drove to the meeting place, with George in the back explaining how the tiny microphone disguised as a button on his jacket, would transmit every thing said in close proximity back to them. Bailey and Rachel arranged code words he would use, to tell them when to enter the building, and made him practice them over and over. Then they got out of the car just before it turned into the dirt driveway of the old house, and hid in the thick bushes, alongside two of the local police. Patrick continued to drive up to the house. He slowly got out of the car; they could hear him breathing through the transmitter in George's hands.
Patrick knocked on the door, and walked in, his hands were trembling slightly. She was sitting at a table in a run-down kitchen, and also sitting at the table was the man he knew as Donny, her second cousin, cradling his left arm with his right, and blubbering softly to himself.
She looked up at him and smiled beatifically. "You're here," she said breathlessly. "Oh Patrick, you came to me." And she stood up and came towards him, her arms outstretched. He allowed her to hug him, just for a short time, and stepped back, letting his eyes sweep around the room.
"You wanted me to come here, and I did," he said, "What is it you want, Christine?"
She stared into his eyes, a smile trembling on her lips, her own eyes glowing with joy. She looked beautiful and sweet; he knew she was dark and dangerous. "I only want what you promised me, years ago," she replied. "You promised to love me, you promised to marry me." and her voice grew louder and more shrill.
Donny looked up at him, anger on his usually vacant face. Patrick remembered Rachel's instructions, and reached out to touch her arm. "Things change," he said softly.
"You changed, I never have," she replied and her eyes filled with tears. "You promised to marry me, you promised!"
Patrick looked around the room again, then back at her. "Maybe we can talk about that," he said, still keeping his voice soft, 'Maybe it's not too late. What is it you wanted me here to see?"
"Don't worry about that," she said tearfully, "I'm not stupid, Pat, if you are willing to talk to me now, why not all those other times? You had me thrown out of your office, not once, but many times. You wouldn't speak to me on the phone - you even had your phone number changed, all those times. I had to keep tracking down the numbers, but I did, I did, because I love you."
He bit his lip, thinking furiously, "I was too involved in business," he said, still keeping his voice soft. "I wasn't aware of how much you were hurting. Let me make it up to you."
She came forward again, playing with a small revolver in her hand. "You're not just saying this, do you mean it?"
He nodded, and took her hand. "Christine, what is it you've brought me here to see? Are there any others here besides you and Donny?" and his eyes swept the room again. She backed away from him, her eyes hardening suddenly. 'Why do you want to know?"
"You said you had someone here for me to meet? I am just interested, that's all. Who is it, Christine, who else is here with you?"
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly. "Don't be cross," she said, "It was Donny's fault." And his heart sank at her words.
"What, what was Donny's fault," he asked, his own voice getting louder. "I've got her son here, the one who made you so unhappy, that bitch Noreen. I've got her son here so you could finish it, sever any connection to her. I was going to make him crawl to you, Pat, on his knees. But."
Patrick took a deep breath. "Christine - he's also my son," he said, "And I want you to take me to him."
He turned slightly away from her, and dropped his head. "It's so cold in here - is there a window open? Take me to him now." And spoke the code words to activate the people listening on the other end of the wire.
She stared at him for a long time, then turned and indicated a door to the left. He went to it and she grabbed his arm. "I did it for us, I did it all for us," she said and ran through the door ahead of him.
John was lying on the floor in the corner of a small dark room. He did not move when the light from the kitchen slanted across his face. His eyes were closed, his breathing shallow and fast. His skin was pale, and there was blood smeared across his forehead.
Patrick felt a huge release, at least John was breathing. He heard the door smash open from the kitchen, heard the sound of footsteps rushing into the old house, of Donny being overpowered and Christine screamed in anger, and suddenly produced the small pistol she had been toying with earlier. "You bastard," she hissed, "You of all people, you went to the Police?"
Then Rachel and Bailey rushed into the room. "Stop - stay right there," Christine screamed at them. "You knew what I wanted, you knew it was for us. Why did you go to the police, why?"
"Because I can't let you keep doing this," said Patrick "I can't let you keep hurting those people who are close to me." And he looked at son, and added "And those who aren't."
She began swaying from side to side, backing up until she was standing over the top of the unconscious man on the floor.
"I'll kill him, I'll kill him," she threatened, tears pouring down her face. "Tell me you love me," she begged, "I'll kill him. I did this for us!"
Rachel began edging towards John, but the hysterical woman waved her back. "It's too late for you, you cold bitch," she spat at her. "He's going to die. And you'll never be able to tell him how you really feel."
Rachel froze. "Can't you see, there's nowhere for you to go," she said softly, "Give up the gun, we can get you help."
"Patrick, I love you," moaned Christine, the gun now wavering between John and Patrick. "Why won't you marry me? I love you."
"Because I'm already married," he replied, fully knowing he was pushing her over the edge. "I married Carolyn, the woman who replaced you as my assistant. The woman whose identity you stole."
Christine screamed again, and sobbing turned the gun back towards Patrick. Bailey leapt forward, but was too late to stop her discharging a bullet. Everyone ducked, Patrick swore and grabbed his arm, Bailey grabbed Christine, and the gun, and Rachel ran to John, dropping to her knees to touch his face gently.
"Get the paramedics," she screamed loudly, as she took in the blood matted in his hair, and the soggy, bloody bandage around his waist. "Oh John, what has she done to you," and she kept stroking the hair off his forehead, and touching his cheek, not realizing the tears were streaming down her face.
Patrick came and stood next to her, clutching his left arm just above the elbow, where blood was beginning to flow. "He's alive," he said to Rachel, "He will be all right."
She looked up at him wordlessly, and then at Bailey, who was handcuffing a hysterical Christine. She heard him say "..Under arrest for kidnapping and shooting a federal agent," and then she heard the sirens. "Oh God, hang on," she whispered to the unconscious man, "hang on.."