Another hawk drifts low over a clearing, hunting. I tuck my wings and drop, claws extended. Feathers scatter as I slam into him, raking him with my talons. For a moment, he is stunned and perches. Zip by him again, so he flies straight out my territory, as fast as he can go. He won't be back.
A distant murmur of voices awakens me. Open my eyes to see Soji seated beside the bed like a statue, watching me. The voices are coming from outside the room. Push aside the covers and sit up slowly. Soji picks me up easily, carries me to the toilet and then helps me clean up afterward.
A few minutes later, dressed in sweats and a robe, leaning heavily on Soji, I limp into the spacious living room where people, mostly men, are standing around or sitting. They watch as Soji moves me to one of my big chairs with an ottoman.
Once I'm comfortable, Bruno sits at one side of me and Don sits at the other. Look over the group. One of the young FBI agents breaks the silence by saying, "Hey Price, nice bowling ball grip on that nurse's eye sockets. How did that neck crunch sound?"
"Satisfying," I tell him. Laughter and then everyone is talking at once. Much of the cotton sensation is gone but some is left. The pain is raw and grindingly intense, but as I told the doc, it's better than being drugged or dead.
Tony George stands and lifts his arms. "Okay everybody, listen up. We have a couple things to cover with you, Jill. After that, we're outta here."
"First, Jill, turns out our shooter is an old pro imported from London. She's singing loudly and clearly about the contract network. We're working with federal and local anti-crime in New York and New Jersey. We have made four arrests based on information from the shooter's network. We will probably make two more directly related to yesterday morning's attempt in the hospital."
One of the cops shouts, "Two bullet wounds, nearly drugged unconscious and she still fuckin' near tears the bitch's head off! Score another righteous kill for Jill Price!" A general cheer goes up among the men and women.
"Second," shouts Tony George. "This is Mr. Harold Kinecki from the justice department."
A stocky man steps forward. He's about sixty years old, wears glasses and a suit. He glances at me and then at the people in the room.
Soji watches him closely.
He says in a soft voice, "This is an on-going federal investigation and prosecution involving multiple jurisdictions. That's what you say. We are clamping down on all media coverage. A short, short list of people outside of this room knows what happened. It stays that way. If this story leaks so we can't make convictions stick, not only will I fire the responsible agent or officer without a pension, I will prosecute him or her for obstruction of justice. That's for starters. Thank you."
Tony George steps forward again and says, "Questions?"
"What happens to the shooter?" asks Don.
"She goes home," says Tony George. "She gave up the whole crew—hers and the money who financed it. Probably retire in Spain for the rest of her life—under house arrest, of course."
"Fuckin' bullshit," says Don.
"Jack was my partner and friend, Don," says Tony George.
Place my hand on Don's hand. Everyone goes quiet. "You say the shooter was a pro?" I ask. "No involvement with me at all?"
"No idea who you are beyond contextual information from the sponsor," says Tony.
"Sure you're getting everything?"
"Even some ancient history. She'll clear a lot of cases, Jill."
"And she'll be under surveillance?"
"Constant surveillance," says Tony.
"Then let her go, Don," I tell him. "I don't care and neither should you."
Don purses his lips, squeezing my hand lightly. After more warnings and threats about leaks to the news media, Tony orders almost everyone out.
Mr. Harold Kinecki representing the justice department walks over to me and glances at Soji, who eyes him suspiciously. "I'd like to speak with you, Miss Price, if it's alright with your bodyguard."
I neither like nor trust the man. Look through the lens of his glasses. "Why?"
He carefully removes his glasses and places them in the inside pocket of his jacket, glancing again at Soji, who is visibly ready. "I've been trying to put Alphonse away for over a decade. Your cooperation has helped drop him into my clutches."
"So?"
"We'll offer him 25 and probably settle on 20 to life. He'll probably get out in 15."
"In exchange for what?"
"Keeping this trial sealed. He and his defense team want this kept out of the media as much as you and I do, Miss Price."
"Why?"
"Alphonse wants his name and affiliations separated from his grand-nephews."
"So what do you want from me, Mr. Kinecki?" I ask.
"Don't talk to anyone, especially the media. Okay?"
"Okay," I tell Mr. Kinecki.
He smiles, which is not a pleasant expression for a lawyer in his position, inclines his head and leaves quickly. Soji relaxes.
Only Tony, Don and Bruno are left besides Soji. I hug Bruno for a minute and then tell him to get going. He asks if I'm sure, gives me a kiss and leaves with Don.
Turning to Tony, I look him in the eye. "Did you tape the shoot, Tony?"
"Yeah and we had the experts analyze it, Jill. Jack was dead before you even grabbed him. You let that go, just like the shooter."
Squirm, irritating my shoulder and fanning the flames of pain. "Yeah, I know that, Tony, but. . . ."
Tony's about my age. He looks at me, his young-old face a witness to much casual brutality and death. He rubs his eyes.
"What do you want, Price?"
"To talk with her."
"The shooter? The fuck for?"
"Don't know, Tony. I'm trying to understand."
"Understand what?"
"I don't know. Maybe myself."
"Bullshit, Price. You're no nut bag. Shit's tight. What?"
"Third time I've been shot, had a friend die in my hands. Christ, Tony, have I asked for anything through three months of attempts on my life? I was the bait, for Christ's sake. I'm askin'."
"I hate this shit," he mutters and picks up my phone and dials. "Doc Pete still there? Yeah." He looks at me and says, "One of the Bureau's shrinks, a criminal psychologist, says you might get more out of the shooter. Thinks she's saving something to tell you alone. Price, I want you to know I'm dead set against this."
"I understand. Thanks, Tony."
He says into the phone, "Okay, Price will talk with her. Yes, now." He takes the phone from his ear, looks at me and says, "Sure?"
Reach for the phone, but he kills the connection.
Frown at him.
He looks at me.
A knock comes at the door. Soji opens the door and in walks two agents with a woman dressed in jeans, sneakers, a sweatshirt and a jacket. Soji takes one look at her and takes her elbow. He guides her toward me.
She walks the length of the room and sits on the corner of the sofa sectional with Soji between us. I put her at fifty, fit and slightly taller than me. She looks energetic, confident and calm. She's wearing a New York ball cap, which seems out of character until I remember the stun grenade that hit her by dumb luck. She's wearing the ball cap to hide bandages.
"Hello," she says to me.
"Hello."
She looks at me for a few seconds. "Jill Price," she says, "I'm Alice Hawkins."
Of course she knows my name, not that I care. I shrug, re-igniting the searing pain behind my right shoulder.
She notices it though. "I'm never sloppy. I was aiming at your voice," says the woman, narrowing her eyes slightly. "I really only saw three or perhaps four silhouettes." She takes a deep breath and releases a sigh, "However, it was the best shot I'd ever had, so I just blazed away, as it were, trying to mow you down, you see."
The best shot I'd ever had. "I could feel the hairs on my neck for a few days now," I tell her.
She nods. "I did try to take you several times. You won't stay still long enough for a trigger pull and you don't telegraph your moves."
So I've had crosshairs on my skull more than once. The realization makes me want to upchuck on the spot. Release a slight burp as the sensation passes and I consider her latest words. Those are the words of an impetuous, young American male and not a patient, aging Brit female. "Why not just snap off a shot?" I ask, watching her.
She laughs a warm, hearty laugh, quite attractive. "Not my style, I assure you." The face gradually loses its warmth and dons the mask of a killer-for-hire. "No, I couldn't take the chance until I was close enough to hear your voice. I simply ran out of time, you see."
Think about that. Suddenly, I have it. A bonus! I look her in the eye and say, "You take me out before a deadline and you get a bonus."
"Not just a bonus. Double and already deposited in escrow. They could withdraw the money at any moment."
"Any moment? Based on what?"
She shrugs. "Something unrelated, a delivery." She moves her head deliberately, carefully. Her headache is returning.
"I'm interested in the people who hired you," I tell her.
"Not much left to kill there, Dearie," she says, stifling a yawn. "Sorry. I hate being on drugs, for the injury, you see. Really, he's already in prison. Go to the trial or see him in prison if you like, but he's out of it."
"Did he say why?"
She looks at me, blinking. "You don't know?" She laughs a hearty laugh that seems quite genuine. "Oh that is truly, truly rich. All that expense in money, effort, time and lives and you don't know why. That is wonderful."
Frown.
"Don't you see the irony, dearie? He intended to send the world a message by killing you. He truly gave it everything he had to no avail. Not only did he fail, you don't even see the point."
"What message?"
"One cannot defy him and live," she says.
Shake my head and say, "Seems anti-climactic."
"An understatement, I assure you," she says. "He and his organization won't even exist after this."
"Why did you give up?"
She shrugs, touching the ball cap with one hand as she palms a slip of paper with the other. "Can't work any more, you see, so it's off to sunny Spain."
Look at her, a retired woman. She seems peaceful and happy about it. Can't help but like her.
"So tell me frankly, Ms. Price," she says, glancing at Tony, who looks at me. "Has a weight been lifted?" Deliberately, she slides the paper under Soji's hand.
Soji takes the paper without appearing to notice.
Shrug without a grimace. "What weight?"
She looks at me, eyes narrowed. "What a legend you are," she whispers. "Even I failed and there is no better—not any longer, because all the best are dead or permanently disabled and retired." She stands and bows slightly, to which I nod once in return. "Good evening, Ms. Price," she says. She turns and walks to the door, the agents in tow.
"So?" says Tony. "Did you have an epiphany?"
"No, did you learn anything?"
"Beats me. Maybe Doc Pete did." He stands, looking at me for a moment. "I hope she's right, though, Jill. I hope they never bother you again. Live long and prosper, as the man with the pointy ears says." He walks to the door and lets himself out.
Soji hands me the paper: a telephone number.
Sit back, take a deep, careful breath, and release a big sigh as Soji begins massaging my feet. Closing my eyes, I relax in the hands of the master.
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