Chapter Twelve
Outside Barbara's room, the nurse who had opened the door was sitting at the nurses' station, calm but pale; the bullet had barely missed her. The head nurse had immediately called security, and they had called the police, who were on their way. The head nurse was also trying to contact the patient's husband, but she did not know where to find him. Dr. Ramirez would arrive soon.
The nurse who had almost been shot described the scene in the room during the brief seconds she had stood in the doorway: A man with the gun standing over the patient lying on the floor. They reasoned that she had fallen out of bed. How, they didn't know.
The police arrived a short time later. Quickly it became evident that they needed to call Agent Garcia, since the woman was the shooting victim from Garcia's conference. Truth be told, the Miami police wanted none of this. The feds could take care of their own mess, the officers thought.
Unaware of what was happening, McCall had disposed of the weapons in the trunk of Barbara's car, and he was now considering whether to check into a hotel or return to the hospital. It was already 3:00 AM, and he knew he wouldn't get much sleep in any case, so he chose the hospital. When he arrived, the police cars and Agent Garcia's generic sedan were clustered around the entrance. My God, what now, McCall asked himself?
After parking the car, McCall rushed to the third floor. Stepping off the elevator, he saw exactly what he did not want to see: Agent Garcia in consultation with a Miami police officer. McCall strode directly to Garcia, ignoring the policeman.
"Alonzo, what is going on?" he demanded.
Garcia looked at McCall. How would he tell him that his wife was being held hostage in her hospital room, and that he had no idea who was holding her?
"Robert, someone went into Barbara's room about thirty minutes ago. We don't know what happened exactly, but when a nurse tried to enter, he shot at her."
"Is Barbara OK?" McCall asked, holding his breath.
"We know she's alive. There was a crash, and the nurse saw her lying on the floor. But she called out to the nurse that there was a gun, so…."
"On the floor? My God, Alonzo, if she fell on the floor, the wound, it must have…." McCall imagined the worst.
"Yes, I know, Robert. It's not good," Garcia said, putting his hand on McCall shoulder.
McCall turned away from Garcia and walked down the corridor. He had to think. If the man–he had a pretty good idea who it was–wanted her as a hostage, he would have to move her again. That was impossible, given her condition. Damn woman, why couldn't she just stop all of this? How many times had he asked himself that today, he wondered? It didn't matter now, he knew. He had to pull himself together. There must be a way.
Going back to Garcia, McCall asked: "When are you planning to establish contact with him?"
"Right now. It's been long enough; he's got to be worried by now."
"Alonzo, I doubt he's too worried. I think it's Carlos Costa," McCall said grimly.
For Garcia, this was a bolt out of the blue. "What? What in the world are you talking about, Robert? Carlos Costa?"
McCall pursed his lips and looked directly at Garcia: "That's why she was here, Alonzo. She was after him. The German, he was a complete surprise. Costa must have made her after she was shot, I don't know. But if it is Costa, he's not easily worried, as I'm sure you are aware."
"The gun, the silencer, those were for Costa?" Garcia said. "I see. Now he's in there with her, and he knows she was after him, that's what you're telling me, right?" This did not sound good to Garcia.
"Yes, correct. What she did, falling and making all the noise must have been to alert the staff so he couldn't kill her right away. At least she bought herself a little time," McCall said.
"Right. Now we're going to have to figure how to get her out. Time to contact him," the FBI agent replied.
As McCall and Garcia were talking, Dr. Ramirez arrived. They filled him in on the situation.
"She's fallen on the floor, you say? I'm sure you realize that this is very dangerous. The wound could be bleeding again. We've got to get to her," Ramirez said.
"Yes, doctor, we're certainly going to try." Speaking to McCall, Ramirez, and the police officers, he continued: "This is what we're going to do. I will call him, ask him what his demands are."
McCall added: "And find out what her condition is."
"Yes, of course," Garcia agreed.
Garcia went to the nurses' station, picked up the phone, and punched the number for Barbara's room. The man answered.
Garcia spoke first: "This is FBI Special Agent Alonzo Garcia."
"Hello, Agent Garcia. We met earlier today. This is…well, you know me as Filipe Calderon." Costa spoke quietly.
"Mr. Calderon, yes, we did meet earlier today, at the security briefing. Can you tell me why you are in Barbara Williams' hospital room in the middle of the night?"
"Yes, Agent Garcia. I am holding her hostage, and I am going to leave the hospital with her. You will provide a helicopter which will land on the roof of the hospital in one hour."
"I do not understand, Mr. Calderon…,"
"Agent Garcia, you do not need to understand. You simply have to do what I tell you, or she will die."
"If you kill her, how will you get out?"
"Ah, well, we all have to die sometime, is that not correct? But be assured, she will die with me," Costa said, making his threat perfectly clear.
"How do I know she's still alive right now? She was badly wounded. She could already be dead."
After a minute, Barbara came on the line.
"I'm here, Agent Garcia. The wound is…." Her voice broke off.
"She was about to tell you that the wound is bleeding, Agent Garcia," Costa finished for her.
"Mr. Calderon, please stay on the line. I will ask her doctor what we should do about her. It won't help you if she dies. You want to keep her alive." Garcia looked at McCall as he said these words. McCall took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was that bad, he thought.
"No. First you agree to my terms. If you do not agree, there is no reason to treat the woman. I will kill her right now," said Costa. He pointed his gun at Barbara's head and put to phone to her mouth.
"Tell them, madam, go ahead."
"He is pointing the gun at my head," Barbara spoke into the phone.
Costa pulled the phone back.
"Now, Agent Garcia, what do you say?"
"Mr. Calderon, it will take time to…."
"Not good enough, Agent Garcia. One hour. Well, now it is fifty minutes."
"I cannot…."
They heard the gun discharge in the room. They all jumped. McCall ran toward the door.
"Did that get your attention," Costa asked? He put the phone back at Barbara's mouth.
"I'm OK. I…."
"Yes, only a little theater. But next time, it will be real," Costa hissed.
"I will do it," Garcia said.
"Good. Now go talk to the doctor." Costa hung up.
Lying on the floor, listening to Costa discuss her life and possible death, Barbara could feel the blood under her back. She had already lost too much blood from the wound and the surgery; she couldn't afford to lose much more. She had to trust the men outside–Robert was one of them, she was sure–to come up with a plan. Still, she refused to lie there and do nothing.
"Costa, I need the doctor. It's bleeding a lot." This was absolutely true. "You need me alive."
Costa looked at her. He could see the blood forming a circle under the woman's back. Why, he asked himself, had he not made sure she was dead when he first had the chance? Back in El Salvador, he had been more interested in the money than this one American, so he had not tried to catch her. When he saw her again on the gurney at the hotel, he realized with a start that he had seen her leaving the hotel earlier in the day. Why, he asked himself, had he not recognized her in time? It would have been so much easier to kill her yesterday. Now she had trapped him in this hospital room. If he could only kill her now and get it over with, he wished. No, they had to play this game.
The phone buzzed again.
"Yes," Costa answered.
Garcia spoke: "The doctor says he will go in and look at the wound, close it up again if necessary. Then he will leave. That will serve both of us."
Costa considered the idea. It was true that she was of no value to him dead, at least for the moment. He had little choice. He would let the doctor in. Maybe he'd even keep the doctor as a second hostage.
"This is acceptable to me. Send the doctor. No tricks. Remember I will have both of them. If there are any tricks, I can kill either one of them and still have a hostage," Costa warned.
"His name is Dr. Ramirez. He will try nothing," Garcia assured him.
Barbara breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the doctor was coming. At least she would stay alive for a couple more hours, she thought. Or, maybe something else would come of it?
After the call, Garcia, McCall, and Ramirez consulted at the nurses' station.
"Dr. Ramirez, just go in, take care of her, and come out. Don't try anything. It would be too dangerous," instructed Garcia.
McCall broke in. "Wait, Alonzo. Listen to me," he began. Turning to the doctor, he asked: "Do you think you can get a scalpel to her, Dr. Ramirez? I do not expect you to take any unnecessary chances. But perhaps you could get it into her hand somehow? Or put it under her back? You'll be working on her back…."
"A scalpel?" Dr. Ramirez asked incredulously. "What can she do with a scalpel? It could be very dangerous for her. I don't think it's a good idea."
Garcia nodded his head in agreement with the doctor. "Robert, he has a gun, she is weak and injured. I just can't see what good it would do."
Robert McCall knew how his wife would answer them: You're making the same mistake most men make. You're underestimating me.
Pursing his lips and frowning, McCall glared at the two men. Using the tone that inevitably forced people to take notice, he said: "Gentlemen, my wife will know exactly what to do with the scalpel."
Garcia and Ramirez looked at each other. This was the woman's husband, and he wanted to put her at greater risk? They didn't understand.
McCall was aware of what they must be thinking. No, they didn't understand, because they had probably never met a woman like Barbara. That thought suddenly took McCall's breath away, for he had never met a woman quite like Barbara before, either. He did not want to lose her. Was he wrong, he questioned himself? WAS he putting her at greater risk? Closing his eyes for a moment, he heard Barbara's answer: Maybe it's a risk, but that's how I want it.
"Believe me, it is the right thing," McCall told the others with complete conviction. "Unless you would rather not try, Dr. Ramirez? There is some danger for you. I will understand if you prefer not to do it." McCall was consciously challenging the young doctor's bravery. He was very good at this kind of thing.
"No," Ramirez replied, bristling and taking the bait. "I can do it. We'd better get started, or Costa will be suspicious."
Garcia still didn't like it but he had to admit they didn't have a better plan. "OK, let's go."
Ramirez collected the materials and tools he needed, including a scalpel, went to the door of Barbara's room and knocked. Costa called for him to come in.
Once inside, Ramirez found his patient lying on the floor on the far side of the bed. Costa sat on a chair next to her, gun in hand. The floor was littered with everything that had been on the bedside table, and blood was pooling around Barbara. Costa gestured that the doctor should come closer.
"Dr. Ramirez, here is your patient. Do your best. Quickly. Then leave."
Ramirez knelt next to Barbara. "Dr. Williams," he started, "I have to turn you on your side. I'm sorry, this will hurt, but it has to be done."
Barbara murmured her assent and held her breath while Ramirez moved her. She exhaled as the pain shot through her body. Ramirez assessed the wound, which had opened as he feared.
"I've got to redo the sutures. That's all I can do right now. I'm afraid this is going to hurt, too."
Why does he state the obvious, Barbara wondered? What didn't hurt? "Go ahead," she assented.
It did hurt, and it was difficult for her to maintain her position while he worked. Her left hand was under her left side; she held her right against the floor to help her balance. Costa watched from his chair, which faced Barbara. As the doctor was finishing up, the phone buzzed. Costa turned his head toward the noise. At that moment, Ramirez pressed the scalpel under Barbara's right hand. She closed her fingers around it.
"Yes," Costa said into the phone.
Garcia asked: "What is happening?"
"He's finished. He'll be out in a minute." He hung up.
"There, that's as good as I can do. She needs more care, Costa," the doctor said. He gently turned Barbara on her back. The scalpel was in her right hand, pressed against her side. The blade cut her hand, but she didn't care. Now she had a chance.
Costa debated quickly whether he should keep the doctor, then decided against it. It was too complicated.
"Thank you for your services, doctor. Go," he ordered.
Ramirez breathed a sigh of relief. He had closed the wound, and he had delivered the scalpel to the woman. For the moment, that was all he could do.
While the doctor was in the room, Garcia was discussing options with the local police and, by phone, with his superiors at the FBI. Giving Costa a helicopter not an option, but they had to make Costa think it was, so a helicopter was heading toward the hospital. When Costa left the room with the woman, they would take him out. They hoped the woman would survive, but getting Costa was a higher priority than her survival. This was harsh, but true.
McCall was fully aware what Garcia was discussing, and he knew where the FBI's priorities lay. They were not his priorities. What he would, or could, do if Barbara's life were in danger, he didn't know. In truth he was relying on his wife's ability to use the scalpel.
In her room, Barbara was on the same wavelength. This was just another mission, and she was focused on the job: Using this tool to kill this man. She had done it before, albeit under different circumstances, but she knew she could. Under these circumstances, it was essential that Costa be in the right position. She did not have the strength for any move that required much force.
"Well, my dear madam, I hope you feel better? You must get ready, for we will be leaving soon," Costa informed her. Costa had decided he must make his move now. The woman was probably as well as she would be. He picked up the phone and waited for Garcia to come on the line.
"I have done what you wanted. The woman has been treated. Now it is time for you to fulfill your end of the bargain. I gave you one hour to get the helicopter ready. Time is almost up."
As he said this, he could hear a helicopter. They had actually gotten the copter, he thought? Not that he believed they were planning to let him get the copter easily; he was not that naïve. But he still hoped to make it out of this situation alive, just as he had escaped many tight spots before.
"Ah, I hear that you have ordered the helicopter," he said to Garcia on the phone. "Very good. Now the woman and I are coming out of the room. Be very careful. I will kill her if necessary, be certain of that." He hung up.
Looking down at Barbara, he said: "It is time. We must go."
Seizing the opportunity, Barbara said: "There is no way I can walk out of here. I can't even get up by myself."
"Either you walk or I shoot you now."
"OK, OK, but at least you have to help me get up. I really can't get up. Please, help me," she pleaded. She produced some tears, partly because she really hurt, partly because she needed Costa off guard. "Look, you can keep your gun in one hand and put your other arm under my back. You've got to help me," she said in her most pitiable voice.
Women could be such bothers, Costa sighed to himself. But she HAD lost a lot of blood, and she was clearly weak, he thought. It would do him no good if she were injured again. He decided he must help her. Holding his gun in his left hand, he lowered himself down toward the prone woman, put his right arm under her back, and, supporting her, started to stand up.
Throwing her right hand across her body while she twisted, Barbara plunged the scalpel into the right side of his neck, then slashed sideways, slitting his neck open. Costa tried to swing the gun in his left hand around to shoot, but the weapon fell to the ground as he collapsed, pulling Barbara down on top of him.