okay.”
“I know, I could feel it exit.” The sweat poured off Jackson’s forehead.
“You took a round, didn’t you?”
“Nah, vest caught it, I’m okay.” As he slumped back, Sawyer’s savaged
forearm started to pour blood again.
“Oh, God, Lee,” Sidney stared at the crimson flow. “Your arm.”
Sidney took off her scarf and wound it around Sawyer’s wounded limb.
Sawyer eyed her kindly. “Thanks. And I’m not talking about the scarf.”
Sidney slumped against the wall. “Thank God we were able ro fill in
each other’s blanks when you called. I regaled Gamble with my brilliant
deductions to buy you some time. Even so, I didn’t think it was going
to be enough.”
He sat down next to her. “For a couple of minutes, we lost the signal
from the cell phone. Thank God we picked it back up again.” He abruptly
sat up, making the cracked rib even worse. He looked at her battered
face. “You’re okay, aren’t you? Jesus, I didn’t even think to ask.”
She rubbed her swollen jaw gingerly. “Nothing that time and makeup
won’t help.” She touched his swollen cheek. “How about you?”
Sawyer had another jolt. “Omigod! Amy? Your mother?”
She quickly explained about the voice recording.
“Those sonofabitches,” he growled.
She looked at him wistfully. ‘Tm not sure what would have happened if I
hadn’t answered your page.”
“Point is, you did. I’m just glad I had one of your business cards.”
“Maybe this high-tech crap has its uses. In tiny doses.”
In another corner of the room Quentin Rowe huddled behind the desk. His
eyes were closed and his hands were over his ears as he tried to shield
out the sounds exploding all around him. He did not notice the man come
up behind him until the last instant. His ponytail was jerked violently
backward, forcing his chin up farther and farther. The hands then
twisted his head around, and just before he heard the snap of his spine,
he was staring into the vicious, grinning countenance of Nathan Gamble.
The Triton chief let the limp body go and Rowe dropped to the floor,
dead. He had experienced his last vision. Gamble snatched the laptop
off the desk and smashed it so hard over Rowe’s body that it cracked in
half.
Gamble hovered over Rowe’s body for a moment longer, then turned to make
his escape. The bullets hit him square in the chest.
He looked, wide-eyed, at his killer, disbelief and then anger racing
across his features. Gamble managed to grip the man’s sleeve for an
instant before toppling to the floor.
The killer took the disk from where it had fallen next to Quentin Rowe
and made his way out.
Rowe had fallen on his side and his body had come to rest on its back,
his head turned toward Gamble. Ironically, he and Gamble were bare
inches from each other, far closer than the two men ever had been in
life.
Sawyer inched his head above the table and surveyed the room.
The remaining mercenaries had dropped their weapons and were coming out
of hiding, their hands high. The HRT members moved in, and in a moment
the men were down on the floor in handcuffs.
Sawyer noticed the limp bodies of Rowe and Gamble. But then, outside
the French doors he heard running feet. Sawyer turned to Sidney.
“Take care of Ray. Show’s not over yet.” He hustled out.
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
The wind, snow and ocean spray assaulted Lee Sawyer on every front as he
ran along the sand. His face was bloody and swollen, his injured arm
and ribs throbbed like hell and his breath came in thudding fits and
starts. He took a minute to strip off the heavy body armor, then he
plunged on, pressing a hand firmly against his cracked ribs to hold them
in place. His feet twisted and turned in the loose surface, slowing him
down. He stumbled and fell twice.
But he figured the person he was hunting was having the same problem.
Sawyer had a flashlight, but he didn’t want to use it, at least not yet.
Twice he ran through frigid water as he strayed too close to the border