Chapter 18
The assembled group turned as one to follow the sound of the approaching siren as it neared the turnoff. Lewis had already moved the limo so that it was no longer blocking the entrance to the driveway.
The paramedic unit was the first to arrive. The two medics grabbed their gear and ran to the closer of the two downed victims. Their first patient was a man with a gunshot wound where Danforth-Hayes lay. They hesitated when they saw all the firepower still on display. As they checked his vital signs and his wound, they were reassured by the man's steady pulse, but concerned by his labored breathing.
"Has he been unconscious the whole time?" One of the paramedics asked.
"No... but he didn't really seem to be aware of what was going on, before he passed out." Sir Nigel answered.
"How about his breathing, has there been much change in that?" The medic continued to question.
"It seemed to get worse in the last five minutes or so..." Sir Nigel explained. "I'd say it's been about 20 minutes since he was shot.
The paramedic nodded as he reached for his stethoscope, and placing the chest piece on Danforth-Hayes side, he listened to the man's breathing. Talking to his partner he said, "He must be bleeding into the lung... we need to get this guy out of here. How far out is that ambulance?"
"Maybe five minutes..." his partner said. "You stay with him, I'll go check on the other one.
Richardson was conscious and had convinced Gina and Lewis that he was better off sitting up. Reluctantly, they had helped him up so that he was now leaning up against the side of Eames' car.
"How are you doing buddy?" The paramedic asked as he knelt down beside him. "What happened here? That's a nasty gash you got there..."
"I've been better." Richardson replied. "I was hit over the head with that man's gun." Richardson pointed to the man, sitting on the ground, handcuffed and watched by two men with guns. Where had all these people come from?
"Okay, I see…" He followed Richardson's gaze, and saw two in the group on cell phones. Let's get you checked out a little..." He pulled out his penlight and shone it into both of Richardson's eyes. "Okay, look straight ahead… good." As he reached into his medical kit for some saline, he asked, "Can you tell me your name?"
"Richardson, James Richardson."
"Good. It's nice to me you James, I'm Peter."
"It's a pleasure." Richardson said sarcastically.
Amused, Peter replied, "I'm sure it is." Flashing the light into the man's eyes again, he muttered, "good... good. Pupils are equal and reactive, that's always a good sign. Okay, with your left hand I want to squeeze mine as tight as you can. Now, with your right... good, that's very good. We'll get you to the hospital and patched up. Your head wound doesn't look too serious, but I'm sure they'll want to get some x-rays at the hospital. I think you're going to be fine, just a couple of stitches for that gash and some Tylenol for the massive headache you're going to have."
"Already have, you mean." Richardson looked over the paramedic's shoulder and saw the group hovering around his partner. "What about my partner? How's he doing?"
Peter looked back over his shoulder. "Well, it is a gunshot wound, that's never good, but it seems to have missed the major organs although it seems there's some bleeding into the lung. My guess is that he should be fine - but that it's going to take him a little longer to get there than it will for you."
Richardson nodded, before closing his eyes and leaning his head back. It wasn't long after that the faint sounds of the ambulance captured everyone's attention.
Get away... Get away from everything... Run! Don't let it catch up to you! Those were the only thoughts running through her brain as she ran across the field. She thought she heard someone call her name, but she couldn't be bothered to stop her headlong pursuit of the easy life she'd envisioned watching the deer graze at the wood's edge yesterday. If I can just get there... everything will be okay... everything will be the way it was...
Everything will be the way it was. The way it was supposed to be.
When Bobby turned the corner of the house, he had expected to see Hope sitting on the stone fence, staring off into the copse of trees that they had seen the deer emerge from yesterday. He was surprised to discover that she wasn't. About to go into the house, he scanned the open field behind the house. It was then he saw her racing through the field, heading for the tree line.
"Hope! Stop!" He shouted, even though he doubted she would be able to hear him. With a sigh, he broke into a jog to follow her. He wasn't worried about losing her in the woods. She would soon He realized her run was spurred on by the adrenaline rush fear, anger and frustration at the events of the last few days and the new revelations of her late husband's actions.
By the time he caught up to Hope, she sat slumped against a tree, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, hugging them close to her.
Approaching from the edge of the field, he came forward slowly, dropping to one knee when he was beside her. After her initial shock and flight across the field, he was somewhat surprised at her now quiet and withdrawn posture. A lifetime of dealing with his mother's manic expressions of fear and panic did little to prepare him for Hope's muted response and required skills he had never mastered.
"Hope..."
Her only response was to continue rocking as she pulled her knees tighter to her chest. He reached out for her shoulder, simply resting his hand on her shoulder, hoping the simple gesture would be reassuring. She didn't shrink away from his touch - as his mother had often done - she merely accepted it as something she couldn't avoid.
Realizing she was in no shape to return to the scene or people at the house, he was glad of the precaution he had taken in moving Lewis' old Blazer out to the road. Exhaling forcefully he muttered, "Okay... okay, we're going to get out of here. You don't have to worry about anyone seeing you." This wasn't the situation he had envisioned when he had done so; but was thankful for his tendency to over think things.
"I'm going to go up to the road and drive the Blazer back here, pick you up and drive you back to New York." He could hear cars passing by on the nearby road and figured he wouldn't have too much of a walk.
"It shouldn't take me long to get back with it." Looking closely at her, he added, his voice laced with concern, "Hope, are you going to be okay until I get back?"
There was no reply from Hope; no acknowledgment that he'd even spoken.
He pressed, "Hope... Answer me. Are you going to be all right until I come back?" His now insistent tone must have registered with her. Slowly, she raised her head and nodded at him.
The haunted look in her eyes shot through him, constricting his heart. He reached out and brushed at the strands of hairs stuck to her tear and sweat-stained face as she nodded again and finally found her voice. "Yes... I'll, I'll be fine. Just... just get me out of here. I don't want to go back there... don't want to... I can't do this, any of this."
"You don't have to." Gently he rubbed her cheek with his thumb. He tried to get her to meet his eyes again, but she refused. Admitting defeat, her stood and watched her for several moments before nodding his understanding at her unspoken implication. He not only had the feeling that she had closed a door, but that she had slammed it shut ... on him.
Tightly, he told her, "I'll be right back." This time not asking for or receiving a reply he turned and hurried off towards the sound of the cars rushing by on the road... seemingly in a different world than the one he now found himself in.
Hope possessed neither the strength nor inclination to acknowledge his words or his departure, as she remained slumped against the tree, knees tightly held to her chest.
The ambulance arrived at the tail end of a police escort consisting of the local sheriff and several of his deputies. As the paramedics and ambulance attendants administered to the needs of the two victims, law enforcement personnel huddled around the handcuffed man still sitting on the ground. After a very brief accounting of the events and an introduction to Great Britain's Home Secretary, Sheriff Stanley sent his men back to their patrol routes and quickly and gratefully ceded any jurisdictional concerns over to the federal agents.
Not long after the sheriff's hasty departure with the ambulance, Harris was hustled into the back of agent's SUV as Maxwell pulled up into the drive. Eames had stepped back several paces, her efforts unneeded.
Alex watched as Reynolds slammed the door on Harris' vocal protestations. Catching her eye, he winked conspiratorially at her. The simple gesture brought a smile of recognition to her face. She had done the same in similar situations a number of times.
Agent Reynolds walked over towards her, his hand outstretched. As the two shook hands, he said, "Well Detective, we'll be going now. We're taking Harris down to One Federal Plaza and notifying the British Embassy. While we have him in custody, we'll try to question him..."
"But, without knowing anything about what's going on..." Alex finished.
Smiling, he nodded, "Exactly. Anything that we do discover, I'll see to it that it gets to you and your partner." He glanced at the spot where they had seen first the girl and then him disappear into the stand of trees.
"I appreciate that." Alex pressed her lips together as she nodded.
"About your partner..."
"Um," Alex ran a hand through her hair, "that's... that's nothing to worry about. That will sort itself out." I hope…
Reynolds looked doubtful, but let it pass. "Just understand it's highly unlikely we'll have much of a chance to talk to him before the Brits whisk him away." They had all seen Sir Whitledge on his cell phone, presumably on a call with the British Embassy.
Alex continued nodded, "Anything you can do. Bobby... my partner is going to have a lot of questions in the morning. "
Nigel had ended his call and walked over to join them. Quietly he asked, "I assume you'll be taking him to your federal holding facility in New York?"
"That's correct, Sir Whitledge. Downtown, 20 Federal Plaza."
Nodding thoughtfully, Nigel said, "That's what the embassy assumed. Understand that British security personnel will be awaiting your arrival with all the necessary documents to take custody of him.
Reynolds smirked as he replied, "... just about what I expected."
"National security issues; British national security issues." Nigel explained lamely.
"Of course. Well, we'd better get a move on then, we wouldn't want to keep British security personnel waiting." Reynolds nodded brusquely before turning on his heel and climbing into the SUV. He forcefully closed the car door as Maxwell turned the key in the ignition. Before putting the car in gear, Maxwell raised his hand in salute to Eames and Whitledge.
Seeing the gesture from the corner of his eye, Reynolds remarked, "British security will be waiting for us at Federal Plaza."
"Great." Maxwell spit out. "So we won't have a chance to question him. We're never going to know what went on out here today."
From the back, the two agents heard Harris' British-accented words, "Don't take it so hard. I wasn't going to tell you anything, anyway. Whatever I may or may not have done, it has nothing to do with the United States, just the United Kingdom and its failed imperialist policies in the mid-east. But you would do well to pass even that much on to your President, you would do well learn from the failures of the British government... gentleman. I doubt that I am alone in my sentiments, I'm sure there are quite a few American who feel the same towards your government."
The two FBI agents exchanged puzzled looks before turning onto the main road and heading into New York to make their delivery.
It didn't take Bobby long to get back with the Blazer. Bobby helped Hope to the car, opened the side passenger door, and encouraged her to lie down. He covered her with a slightly musty smelling blanket he'd found in the tail section. Hope's near catatonic lack of response worried him and he considered driving directly to the hospital.
She seemed to sense his thoughts. She caught his stare in the rear view mirror, quietly but forcefully saying, "I just… want to go home. I don't want to see… anyone. I don't need to see… anyone. I just need to get home."
It wasn't long before he realized Hope had fallen asleep. Reaching for his cell phone, he hit the speed dial…
Eames answered after the first ring, "Bobby, where are you?"
"Hope and I are on our way back into New York. She wasn't in any condition to deal with the situation back there… I'm sorry, Alex. Sorry to drop this all on you."
"You were concerned about Hope's welfare, I... I can appreciate that. She's obviously very upset. Everything here is fine, don't worry about this end of things." She continued to assure him that everything was fine and filled him in on everything that happened. Especially how it looked like Harris was going to wind up back in England before they could get any information about what happened.
"Don't worry about things here. I'm waiting up here with Sir Whitledge until his new security detail arrives. The British Embassy is choppering them in. As soon as they get here, I'm leaving to drive back into the city. I think Gina and Lewis have decided to stay up here."
"Um, look, I'll give you a call tomorrow morning… ahh, I'm not sure what …"
"Don't worry about anything Bobby. I'm sure that the Captain will still be a little accommodating about your schedule since the Feds and Brits are still be involved. But, I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow, all right?"
"Yeah… sometime tomorrow." Bobby paused for a moment before adding, "Thanks Alex. I know I owe you." I owe you so much...
Gina and Lewis were finally alone at the house now. Not long before they had watched in shock as a helicopter landed in the field behind the house, staying on the ground only long enough to allow Sir Whitledge to board and leave another man to drive the limo back to the embassy. The rapid departure of both Whitledge and the limo was somehow anti-climactic and had left Alex, Gina and Lewis feeling oddly on edge. It wasn't long before Alex was saying her goodbyes and leaving to drive back into New York.
Wandering around the house aimlessly, Gina feeling strangely nervous, loudly announced, "I'm going to make some coffee."
Lewis had been standing at the same window where Eames had kept her watch. Although he and Gina stayed out of sight and out of everything that had gone down here today, there wasn't much chance that either had missed anything that had happened. They couldn't avoid hearing the raised voices, or witnessing Hope's reaction to everything that had taken place.
She had looked so lost and fragile when she ran into the woods that Lewis had almost followed Bobby when he took off in pursuit of her. Gina had held him back with a shake of her head. It was a great relief to Lewis when Bobby had called his partner, and finding out that he and Hope were on their way back into the city.
Gina called out from the kitchen, "Hey, do you want some of this coffee?"
Instead of answering, Lewis turned away from the dark spot, the spot the result of a man bleeding on the drive. Lewis was still unnerved to have been involved, however slightly in something like this. How can Bobby subject himself to the possibility of this everyday?
Taking a deep breath, he went into the kitchen, and found Gina standing at the counter, watching as the last drops of water filtered through the coffee grounds. Stepping up behind her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back to him tightly. Placing his lips to her hair, he whispered, "I'm sorry."
Grasping his hands, she loosened his grip on her, and she turned, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling his head down until his forehead rested on hers, "I'm sorry too. So... so sorry, I was just so worried about Bobby... but after hearing..." tears came to her eyes and threatened to spill down her cheeks.
"Shhh... I know." Lewis tried to calm her. "I was too. And we took it out on each other. And then…" Lewis stopped himself, continuing in a slightly different direction, "We've just really lucky. Bobby never has been and it looks like Hope hasn't been too lucky lately."
Nodding in agreement, Gina wiped at her tears and said, "I'm still worried about Bobby... and now Hope too! I can't believe it... it's too much to deal with... it's... it's going to be too much..."
Lewis took a deep breath and considered what she'd just said. Stepping back, he held Gina at arm's length and looked into her eyes. Sadly, he could only agree with her.
"You might be right, babe. It might be too much, too soon. Too soon, since they met, too soon since his mom and Frank, but really, what can we do about any of this? Nothing. We should have realized that this morning and stayed out of it. What we can do is be there for Bobby regardless of how this plays out. If we're lucky we can be there for Hope too."
The way the road wound through the wooded countryside, Bobby was surprised to discover that the Blazer was only a few hundred yards from where he had left Hope waiting. It didn't take Bobby long to return to Hope. Bobby helped Hope to the car, opened the side passenger door, and encouraged her to lie down. He covered her with a slightly musty smelling blanket he'd found in the tail section. Her near catatonic lack of response worried him and he considered driving directly to the hospital.
She seemed to sense his thoughts. She caught his stare in the rear view mirror, quietly but forcefully saying, "I just… want to go home. I don't want to see… anyone. I don't need to see… anyone. I just need to get home."
Hope slept the entire drive back into the city. She woke to the sound of squealing tires, horns honking and Bobby's cursing. Slowly she sat up and stared at blocked traffic ahead. Sensing her peering over his shoulder, Bobby turned slightly, "Just rush hour traffic. We'll be moving again soon, with this traffic it should only take us another fifteen - twenty minutes to get back to the apartment."
Nodding, she vaguely acknowledged his statement, before laying her head on the window and closing her eyes again.
She sensed him turn and felt his eyes on her.
Seeing her open her eyes, Bobby began, "Hope..."
"Please, Bobby." She pleaded as she closed her eyes again. She could feel his frustration as he exhaled forcefully. She was just so tired.
Trying to vent some of that frustration on the stalled traffic in front of him, he repeatedly pounded on the horn until traffic began to move.
Twenty minutes later Bobby pulled the Chevy Blazer into his assigned parking slot at the apartment building. Turning off the ignition, he returned both hands to the steering wheel and gripped it tightly, resting his forehead on his hands, trying to see how this was going to play out.
Hope watched him from the backseat in the dim light of the garage. She was feeling guilty for bringing him into her problems. Problems she hadn't known existed, but problems that could have gotten him killed. Problems that had gotten him shot at. She started it all with those foolish letters. Those silly foolish letters that she had no business writing to a stranger - which is what he'd been - no matter how compelling the compulsion to do so. In reality, they were still both just strangers to each other, even though the beginning of something else had been within their reach. Part of her wanted to reach out to him, to tell him everything was going to be fine. Part of her didn't believe it would be.
Lost in her thoughts she didn't see him look up into the rearview mirror, but soon felt his scrutiny. "We should go up…" he said when their eyes met. She nodded and reached for the door handle. It required all her strength to push open the door. Exhausted beyond endurance, she stumbled and swayed threateningly as she stood.
"Whoa... slow down. There's no hurry." Bobby came rushing around the car to steady her and help her to the elevator.
She nodded, but stepped away from him when she felt steady on her feet, leaving him to follow behind her.
She held the elevator door for him, but retreated to the side of the car and stared at the floor when he entered. He leaned against the other side of the car, hands in his pockets, head back, staring at the ceiling. He felt the walls closing in on him. How am I going to stop this from happening?
