Sudden Prey (41 page)

LaChaise looked at the nurse and said, ''Go. And if you fuck with me . . .''

Weather went back to the microscope and they all waited, silently, her hands barely moving, for two or three minutes, when a man in an operating gown bumped hip-first into the room, his hands at chest level. ''What's going on?''

LaChaise pointed one of the guns at him, and Weather said, ''We've got a gentleman with a gun. Two guns, in fact. He wants to talk with me.''

''The police are coming,'' the new doctor said to LaChaise. In the sterile operating theater, LaChaise looked like a rat on a cheesecake.

''They're always coming,'' LaChaise said.

''However this works out, we've got to finish this,'' Weather said to Feldman, her voice steady. ''Could you take a look?''

The operating scope had two eyepieces, and Feldman, his hands still pressed to his chest, stepped to the operating table opposite Weather and looked into the second eyepiece. ''You're almost done.''

''I need to put in two more knots, and then it's a matter of closing . . .''

She gave him a quick brief on the operation, and finished one of the two knots. ''One more,'' she said.

''I've got to go down and back off mine,'' Feldman said.

''How far are you in?'' Weather asked.

''Not in,'' Feldman said. ''We were just getting the anesthesia started . . . I'll be back.''

He went with such authority that LaChaise let him go without objection. Weather was working in the incision again, and one of the nurses said, ''If I stay here, I'll pee my pants.''

''Then go,'' Weather said. ''Everybody else okay?''

They were okay. The nurse who thought she might pee her pants decided to stay with them.

Feldman returned: ''Where are we?''

''Just finishing,'' Weather said calmly. ''See?''

Feldman looked through the scope and said, ''Nice. But I think you might need one more, at . . .''

He was stalling. Weather said, ''I think that should be all right.'' Feldman looked at her and she gave a small shake of the head. ''You sure?''

''Better to get him out of here,'' Weather said.

''What's going on?'' LaChaise demanded.

''Trying to figure out what we can do here,'' Feldman snapped. ''We're right in the middle of things.''

Weather stepped back from the table. ''But I'm done,'' she said. She looked at LaChaise. ''Now what?''

''Outa here. We need a phone. Someplace where they can't get at me.''

''There's an office at the end of the hall.''

''Let's go,'' he said, waving the pistol at her.

THE OUTER AREA WAS DESERTED. THE NURSES HAD gone, and the cops hadn't arrived yet. Weather pulled off her mask and peeled off the first of her gloves and said, ''What're you going to do?''

''Talk to your old man,'' LaChaise said.

And kill her, while they were on the phone, she thought. She came to the office and said, ''In there. There's a phone.''

She gestured and she went through ahead of him, turned. ''You have a lot of choices to make,'' she said.

''Shut up. What's your old man's number?''

''You could probably dial 911 and they could patch you through. He's out there in his car.''

''Do it, and hand me the phone . . .''

Weather punched 911 and handed it to him. He listened a minute, the gun muzzle steady on her chest, and said, ''This is Dick LaChaise. I want to talk to Lucas Davenport. I'm at the hospital and I'm pointing a gun at his old lady, Dr. Karkinnen.''

Weather said, ''You don't have much time left: you better start thinking this through.''

''I said, shut up.''

''Why? Because if I don't you're gonna kill me? You're already planning to kill me.''

''You don't want it to come no sooner than it has to . . .'' Then he said to the phone, ''Well, get him on. Well, when is he gonna be . . . Yeah? You tell him to call . . .'' He looked at the phone, but there was no number, and he looked at Weather.

''The surgery suite,'' Weather said. Lucas wouldn't get on the phone. He knew what LaChaise would do.

''The surgery suite,'' LaChaise repeated, and he hung up. ''He's on foot somewhere. They're getting him.''

Weather said, ''I've got to sit down,'' and she dropped in the chair on the other side of the desk. ''Look, you're either going to have to shoot me or listen to me, and I think you better listen: My friend Davenport will get here in a few minutes, and if you kill me, he'll kill you. You can forget all about rules and regulations and laws; he'll kill you.''

''Like he killed my old lady and my sister.''

She bobbed her head. ''Yes. He set that up. I talked to him about it, because I couldn't believe he did it. It's caused us some trouble. But when he thinks he's right, he won't turn. And if you kill me . . .'' She shrugged. ''That's the end for both of us. You won't walk out of here.''

''I ain't walking out anyway.''

Now he looked at her, and she saw that she was still wearing one glove, and she pulled it off slowly, watching his eyes.

''There's no death penalty either in Wisconsin or Minnesota. You escaped once. You might have to wait for a while, but there's always the chance that you could be free again. One way or another.''

''Bullshit, they're gonna kill me.''

''No, they won't. Not if you wait a while. They have all kinds of rules. And once you're on television, they won't be able to take you off and shoot you somewhere. Once you're in the system, you'll be safe. My husband, my friend . . .''

''Is he your husband or your friend?''

''We're planning to get married in a couple of months. We live together . . . If you make a deal with him, he won't kill you. But if you shoot me, you can make any kind of deal you want--you can make a deal with the President--and he'll kill you anyway.''

He grinned, and said, ''Yeah, tough guy,'' but he was thinking. He thought about Martin, probably dead already, going cold in the snow somewhere, and he said, ''They'd stick me in the Black Hole of Calcutta.''

''Probably, for a while,'' she agreed. ''Then something bigger and dirtier would come along, and they'll start to forget about you, and they'll give you a little air. Then you'll have a chance. If you die now . . . that's it. No court, no TV time, no interviews, no nothing.''

''Well, fuck that,'' LaChaise said. ''Let's see what your old man says.''

Weather took a breath: it was a start. ''You're bleeding,'' she said. ''We could get a first-aid kit.''

Chapter
Twenty-Nine.

THE DRIVER OF THE SQUAD HAD HIS FOOT TO THE floor, his partner, braced for impact, screaming, ''Slow it down, slow it down,'' and they skidded through the first corner and nearly off the street, then they were on Washington headed toward University Hospitals.

Dispatch came back: ''We don't know what the situation is, but she's still alive. He's got her on the third floor, in surgery. Wait a minute, wait a minute, he's calling in on 911, he wants to talk to you . . .''

Lucas shouted, ''No. I don't want to talk. He wants me to hear him shoot her. Tell him you're trying to get in touch.''

''Got that.''

He sat clutching the handset, the street reeling by. Then Dispatch again: ''You asked for a number at U.S. West.''

''Yeah, yeah.'' He'd almost forgotten, but he took the cellular phone from his pocket and punched the number in as the dispatcher read it.

The phone was answered instantly: ''Johnson.''

''This is Lucas Davenport. I was supposed to call here tofind out what numbers this phone has been calling.''

''Yeah. We've got the number now, we're reading it now, we'll check the billings and get back to you. You can hang up.''

''Get it quick,'' Lucas said. ''Soon as you can.''

''It'll take a few minutes.''

''Whatever. Call me back at the number,'' Lucas said, and he hung up, got on the handset, and said, ''What's happening?'' and the cop in the passenger seat lifted his hands to ward off an oncoming car, but the driver slipped it to the left and then hooked down a ramp and they were on the bridge.

Dispatch: ''He's still in the operating room. Another doctor's going in and out. We've got two cars there, we've got an ERU team a minute away. Listen, the chief wants to talk . . .''

Lucas said, ''You're breaking up . . . I'll get back.''

He turned the handset off and said, ''Stay off the radio, guys.''

''Why?'' asked the white-faced cop in the passenger seat.

''Because Roux wants to take me off this, and I can't do that.''

THEY FLASHED UP THE HILL ON THE FAR SIDE OF THE river, made the turn and slewed down Harvard toward the hospital's front entrance. As they braked to a stop, Lucas said, ''Pop the door,'' and they popped it, and he climbed out with the cops and said to the driver, ''I owe you big time,'' and they all ran into the building.

A half-dozen security guards were in the lobby, and Lucas held up his ID and said, ''What's the deal?''

''They're out of the operating room. They're in an office.''

''Any cops up there?''

''Yeah, but they can't see down through the doors.''

''Let's go up,'' Lucas said. He'd observed at several ofWeather's operations, trying to learn a little about her life. He knew the operating suite, and most of the adjoining offices and locker rooms. They rode up in the elevator, and when they got off, were met by two uniforms, who saw Lucas and looked relieved.

''He's down there, Chief. He's got her in a back office, and he's asking for you,'' one of the cops said.

''You got a phone line into him?''

''Yeah, but he says don't call unless it's you.''

''All right.'' He turned to the security guard. ''I need an exact floor plan, and all the nurses and doctors who work inside.''

''You gonna call?'' one of the cops asked.

''Not yet,'' Lucas said. ''And I don't want anyone to tip him off that I'm here. We gotta figure something out.''

WEATHER WAS FIGHTING LACHAISE. SHE'D COME OUT from behind the desk, rolling out of the office chair, and she said, ''I hope everything goes okay for Betty. I wish you'd come a half hour later.''

LaChaise was standing, holding the door open just a crack, peering down the long hall to the double doors. Davenport, when he arrived, should be coming around the corner just in front of the doors, a thirty- or forty-foot shot. But he was half listening to Weather, and he said, ''Yeah?''

''She's a farm kid,'' Weather said. ''If she loses that thumb, she'll have a tough time of it. I don't know how you work around a farm without a right thumb. I know I couldn't.''

''What do you know about farms?'' LaChaise snapped, looking at her now.

''I grew up in northern Wisconsin--I'm a country kid,'' Weather said. She didn't say, like your wife and sister . ''Other doctors start out dissecting frogs or something; I started outtaking Johnson twenty-fives apart, and putting them back together again.''

''I had a Johnson twenty-five once,'' LaChaise said. ''Hell, I guess everybody did, who had a boat up north.''

''Just about,'' she agreed. ''My old man . . .''

She went on for a bit, talking about her family. She got LaChaise to talk about Colfax and the UP, and she told him about ski trips to the UP, and it turned out that they both knew some of the same bars in Hurley. ''From Hayward to Hurley to Hell,'' she said.

He laughed abruptly, winced and said, ''Ain't that the truth.''

''Are you hurt bad?'' she asked.

''I got some shit in my legs . . . cop at the other hospital got me with a shotgun.''

''Want me to look?''

''No.''

She was about to push him on it, when the phone rang. ''That's him,'' LaChaise said. His eyes flicked over to her.

Not yet , she thought. Please, not yet. She had him going . . .

LUCAS MUTTERED TO THE COP, ''REMEMBER ABOUT Martin . . .''

''Yeah, yeah.''

He dialed and LaChaise picked it up.

''Chief Davenport is on the way. He was in the ambulance with your friend, the Martin guy.''

''Martin's alive?''

''Yeah, but he's hurt,'' the cop said. ''He got hit in the legs and he surrendered. He'll be okay.''

''Martin?'' There was wonderment in LaChaise's voice. ''You gotta be shittin' me.''

''You got a radio or TV? They'll be carrying him into the hospital.''

''Ain't got no TV,'' LaChaise said, looking around the office. ''What about Sandy?''

''Who?''

''Sandy Darling, she was with us.''

''Oh. Yeah. I guess they can't find her,'' the cop said. Then, ''Anyway, Chief Davenport wants you to know that he's coming. He'll be here in five minutes.''

''Don't call back until he gets here,'' LaChaise said.

LACHAISE TURNED TO WEATHER AND SAID, ''THEY SAY Martin made it.''

''Good.''