Parallelogram : Day Two : Chapter 29

Five Days, Seventeen Hours, Nine Minutes

Donovan opened his eyes and stared up into one of the loveliest of faces he hadn't seen in quite a long time.

"How are you feeling?" Olga asked.

He blinked the sleep from his eyes. Suddenly feeling the dull ache at the base of his skull, the man stayed perfectly still on the hospital bed. "I could be better."

"Is that so?" she tried, smiling at him.

"No," he offered, grinning back at her. "I'm much better now that I'm treated to another friendly face."

Talmadge stepped up to the bed, laying a firm hand on the NSA agent's shoulder. "Well, I guess those sentiments weren't exclusive to just me. You disappoint me, Craig."

Chuckling, Donovan winced at the sudden lance of pain in his temples. The doctor was right. He really needed his rest. "Nothing personal, Bradley." Tiredly, he closed his eyes, trying to will the aches and pains from his body. "Olga is just much prettier than you are."

"I'll try not to take that personally."

Slowly, he reached out for the bedrails and tried to hoist himself up. Immediately, he felt Talmadge's firm hand keep him in his place.

"Not now, Craig," the director said. "You need your rest."

"I need to get up. That's what I need to do."

"You'll be up and around in no time," Olga cautioned him. "But ... for right now ... you lie there. We'll talk, but I want you to stay in bed for a while longer, Craig."

Disgusted over the weakness he felt throughout his entire body, he nodded in resignation. He let go of the rails and slipped his hands across his stomach. After a second – after his mind kicked into its regular level of awareness – he remembered what had happened. He had heard gunshots. He saw the panic in the face of a nurse standing near his bedside. He told her to take cover. He leapt from the bed, ran into the hallway, and there – down the end of the long corridor – he squinted his eyes to make out ...

"DeMarco!" he spat.

"He's escaped," Talmadge explained, and Donovan heard the disappointment in the director's tone. "But don't worry. I have the D.C. police pulling photography from streetlamp cameras. Fortunately, the hospital security camera provided a good photo capture of DeMarco's escape car, and the police are attempting to track down the vehicle right now."

Lying in the bed, Donovan felt his pulse quicken. He sensed the flush of anger wash warmly over his face. "Bradley, that sonuvabitch killed a good man."

"Yes," the director replied. "We heard about your friend – Detective Martin Guerrero." The man drew his mouth into a frown. "I'm sorry for your loss, Craig."

"He killed Marty for nothing," Donovan remarked. "Absolutely nothing! We didn't have him captured. We didn't have him cornered. He left a bomb at a damn hotel room, Bradley." He shook his head. "If we hadn't walked in, the lunatic could've killed a cleaning lady or any number of other innocent people."

"DeMarco is a terrorist," Talmadge explained. "He lives and breathes to serve a single purpose: to terrorize people. Anyone, Craig. DeMarco will kill anyone so long as he believes it serves that purpose."

"I'm gonna get him, Bradley."

"Easy, Craig."

Olga tapped a button on the monitor, turning off the alarm that sounded as Donovan's heart raced. "Craig," she interrupted, her voice soft and smooth, "you must calm down. Your body has suffered a terrible shock. I want you to try to relax."

"Tell me you're going to get me out of here, Bradley," the man insisted, his eyes fixed on his former boss. "Tell me you're going to let me get DeMarco before he can kill anyone else."

The director ran his hand down from the man's shoulder to his forearm. He gripped tightly as he leaned close. "Craig, right now I'm giving you the order to heal thyself. You can't go after DeMarco in the condition you're in. You can't even stand."

"Give me your word, Bradley ..."

"You get well, first," the director ordered.

"That's not what I want to hear ..."

"You have my word, Craig."

Again, Donovan sensed his world starting to spin. He quickly gulped a few breaths of air, and the world slowed down a bit, brightening in his vision. He felt Olga's hand gently on his cheek, and he closed his eyes and fell asleep.


In the hall outside, Olga found herself racing to catch up to Talmadge.

"You're not actually going to let him do this, are you, Bradley?"

The director stopped, allowing her to catch him.

"What?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "DeMarco! You're not actually going to allow Donovan to go after that killer?"

Calmly, the director stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. Gazing quizzically down the hallway at nothing in particular, he asked, "Olga, do you think I could stop him if I wanted to?"

"He's sick," she insisted. "He needs his rest."

"He'll get it," Talmadge agreed. "But you know Craig Donovan as well as I do. He has a very high pain threshold. Incredibly high, I might add, as he was our prime alternate to take over Frank's position after ... well, after he died." He stared at the floor for a moment. "Things didn't work out the way we had planned. All things considered, Craig's threshold doesn't come close to Frank's and it isn't as refined as Channing's, but there's no doubt in my mind that he'll recover from his wounds very quickly." Leaning closer to her, he added, "That said, we have to face the simply facts: we need him, Olga. Right now, we need every man and woman we can trust."

She huffed. "You're right," she conceded despite her best interests.

"Stay with him," he told her. "I want to make certain that he has the best care. I need him on his feet now ... not two days from now."

He turned and started down the hallway.

"Where are you going?" she called.

He glanced back over his shoulder, offering, "It looks like we've a young lady in custody who might be able to tell us more about Richard DeMarco than Richard DeMarco would want us to know."

END of Chapter 29