Page 69 of Cross Down
“Er, word is, well…I thought you were suspended,” he says, a touch of embarrassment in his voice.
I put my shield away. “That’s the official story. I’m still working. Can’t say anything more than that.”
The other officer says, “That makes sense. Hold on, I’ll need to let you in. There’s two Bluestone Group guys in there and they can be jumpy.”
He gets up, knocks twice on the door, and says, “Officer Slayton coming in.”
I hear murmured conversation, and Slayton comes out and says, “You’re clear.”
“Thanks.”
Two unsmiling men are sitting in chairs looking at me. They have on jeans and tight black T-shirts and their hair is cut high and tight; they’re instantly recognizable as ex-military.
We exchange nods and I walk over to Alex.
There are the usual IVs stuck in his arms, electronic leads running out to monitors, and a urine drainage tube running from underneath the blankets to a bag hanging from the bed. I go up to him. His face is slack, like he’s sleeping away a hard night out with friends; there’s stubble on his cheeks and chin. It’s good to see him breathe on his own, no ventilator tube in sight.
I gently take his right hand in mine; it’s cool and dry. I lean over, kiss his forehead. “Love you, brother,” I say, squeezing his hand. “Really wish you were out here with me. I’m fighting some complicated stuff and it’s scaring the shit out of me.”
His breathing is slow and measured. Despite all that’s happened to him and to the country, I feel a lightness in my chest at seeing his improvement. I squeeze his hand again. “Gotta run,” I say.
I turn away and there’s a cough.
I whirl around.
His eyes are open.
“Alex?” I ask.
His eyes focus and a slight smile appears. “Big John,” he whispers. “Good to see…”
I go back to his side, hold his hand again; my eyes tear up. “Yeah, well, you better hurry up and get better and get the hell out of here. You won’t believe the bills that are piling up.” I add a stupid joke. “City insurance can only pay so much, Alex, so get your ass to healing and moving.”
He closes his eyes, still smiling, and whispers, “John…the random attacks…I looked into it…not random…how it started. It’s not random…” His voice trails off.
He’s asleep again.
The detective in me wants to shake him awake, find out what the hell he’s talking about.
But his friend won’t do that. His friend will let him sleep and heal.
I kiss his forehead again. Walk to the door. As I leave, one of the men on his security detail says, “Whatever you’re doing, body-bag those sons of bitches for him, will you?”
“On it,” I say.
Chapter
79
Outside the mainentrance to the Smithsonian’s National Air and Space Museum on 600 Independence Avenue SW, Sergeant Louise Tempe of the DC Metro Police is watching the group of demonstrators grow larger, and her concern is growing right along with it. The sidewalks outside the entrance are packed with people, many carrying signs. It seems like a mix of the usual nutcases and cranks.
NO MANDATES
EXPOSE THE MOON HOAX
SUPPORT THE NO-EVOLUTION REVOLUTION
Tempe is in charge of this fourteen-officer detail, and truth be told, she’s scared out of her wits. Twice she’s radioed dispatch asking for more backup, and each time, she was told briskly that there were no more officers to be had. She’d wanted to go out here in full riot gear, with visored helmets and protective shields, but her captain shook her head and said, “No, the chief is worried about the optics. He doesn’t want photos showing the force being militarized.”
