The Rook

  Clambering out of the water, I knelt beside her and saw her face, blank and cold, the color of death already falling across her lips.

  No, no, no.

  I shook her, yelled her name, shook her some more, yelled for her to wake up, to be OK, but she was unresponsive. Her head lolled to the side. Her bluish tongue visible, her face ashen from lack of oxygen. I shook her again, still unresponsive.

  This isn’t happening. It can’t be happening.

  The CPR training I’d received as a raft guide and later reviewed as a federal agent took over, and I tilted her head back and lifted her chin to open her airway. I felt for her breath on my cheek, watched her chest to see if it would rise. No breath. I gave her two breaths, two good strong breaths, then felt for a pulse.

  Airway breathing, circulation.

  No pulse.

  No breathing, no pulse, it’s over.

  No, it can’t be. It’s not, it’s not.

  We live short, difficult, brutal lives and then die before our dreams come true.

  No, not now. Please, not Lien-hua.

  So much I needed to say to her. So much life I wanted to live with her. So much.

  I needed to keep oxygen circulating through her body. I heard a voice in my head, Begin five chest compressions. I interlocked my hands, pressed down against her sternum. Count them off: One.

  I leaned forward. Felt her chest sink beneath my hands.

  Two.

  She’d tried to tell me something, to communicate with me. Signed

  “D… A … E …” but I didn’t understand. What was she trying to tell me? D … A … E … D …

  Three.

  I scrambled the letters in my mind. Unscrambled them. Re-arranged them: ADE— aid her? … EDDE— an eddy in the water?

  … DEAD . . ADD … AED …

  Four.

  Oh … AED.

  Five.

  AED: Automated external defibrillator.

  Lien-hua knew she was about to die. She was telling me to bring her back. The only way to bring her back.

  The defibrillator hung on the wall beside the backboard. I limped over, yanked it down, pulled out the defib pads, and crouched beside her. The dress Melice had put on Lien-hua had only thin straps, so I slid one to the side, placed a pad over her heart, and put the other pad on the left lateral side of her chest beneath her armpit, so the current would go through her body and be more effective. All the while, inside of me, I was screeching out a prayer, awkward and raw, a one-word prayer. Please. Please.

  Tessa’s words from yesterday about readers liking pain and the characters not always surviving at the end of the story haunted me. “It doesn’t always happen, you know,” she’d said. And she was right.

  Please.

  The defibrillator is automatic—it’s supposed to check for a pulse, then give the shock—but I knew we couldn’t wait. I pressed the alternate button to deliver the shock manually. The defibrillator buzzed, Lien-hua’s body arced, lurched. Dropped.

  Again I checked her airway, her breathing, felt for a pulse.

  Still no breath. Still no pulse. Glassy eyes. Open. Staring at me.

  A fixed blank stare.

  No, no, no, no.

  Four minutes. Brain damage after four minutes without oxygen.

  Irreversible.

  I gave her two more breaths.

  Checked for a pulse.

  None. I needed to circulate the blood.

  Beginning compressions. One.

  This time as I depressed her sternum I felt a snap and knew I’d broken one of her ribs, maybe more than one. But I had to keep going.

  Two.

  I heard the broken bone grind and pop as I pressed down again, You almost always break someone’s rib when you give CPR, but you have to do the compressions that hard. You have to go that deep.

  Three.

  I tried to ignore the awful grating sound as I pressed down. But she could live with a broken rib. She couldn’t live without oxygen.

  Four.

  Crack.

  Another rib. But I knew she’d forgive me; knew she’d understand.

  If only she survived.

  Five.

  I saw that the defibrillator had recharged. I pressed the button.

  Another shock. Her limp body jerked. I listened for breath again.

  Nothing, no air. Still no breathing.

  It had to have been four minutes by now … It had to have been …

  I gave her two more breaths, her lips cold and claylike against mine. The water had been cool, maybe it had slowed her metabolism, maybe it would give her more time.

  I felt for her pulse.

  No, the water wasn’t that cold. It wasn’t cold enough. “Come on, come on,” I whispered. She’d been under too long. Please, please, don’t die. Why did I ever doubt you, Lien-hua? I can’t believe I ever thought you were Shade. I’m sorry. So sorry.

  Then. Wait. There. Faint. A pulse. Thready. Weak. A pulse.

  Yes, oh yes.

  Unconscious. Barely alive.

  But alive.

  Alive.

  I gave her two more breaths, and her body quivered, her head jerked backward, and she spit up a mouthful of murky, bile-laced water. I quickly turned her to the side to help clear her airway. She shivered in my arms. More coughing, more sour water. Yes, yes.

  Alive. She was alive. Thank God she was alive. Pale, but breathing. Her color coming back.

  And then I heard footsteps behind me.

  And I knew who it was. Shade.

  Without turning around I spoke his name, “Let me save her, Terry. Kill me if you want to, but first—”

  “Back away, Pat,” said my NSA friend Terry Manoji. “Do it now. I’m a good shot. Back away before I count to three or I’ll shoot you at the base of the neck.”

  105

  Tessa scanned the club. Didn’t see Riker. Thankfully, didn’t see Riker. The crowd was thinning. It didn’t look like anyone was hurt.

  It looked like she’d actually gotten away.

  “One,” said Terry.

  Lien-hua lay on her side, her eyes were open. I saw her throat shudder, and then she spit up another mouthful of water. It was touch and go. Her heart might stop again at any second. Her eyes touched mine. I pressed a finger to her lips, wordlessly telling her, I’ll see you soon, don’t worry about me, we’ll talk more when I get back. A feeble nod. She understood.

  “Two. Back away, Pat.”

  Back up or he’ll kill both you and Lien-hua. Your only hope of saving her is to stay alive as long as possible. Do what he says.

  “Three—”

  “Wait! Listen to me, Terry.” I eased back slightly. Faced him.

  “Do what you want with me. But she might die here. You have to let me help her.”

  “Farther.”

  “Terry—”

  He leveled his gun. “Now.”

  I backed up some more. Lien-hua rolled limply onto her back where she might aspirate on water or vomit at any moment.

  Terry walked past me so that now Lien-hua lay between us.

  “Farther, Pat. It’s my turn to be with her.” He waved me back with his gun and I slid back until he was out of my reach. “I’m sorry it has to be like this, Pat,” he said. “But we warned you that things would not end well for you if you refused to give us the device.”

  Lien-hua’s breathing was weak, her chest rising only slightly.

  The defibrillator lay a couple of feet from me.

  Terry looked past me to the remains of the device I’d shot. “You cost me a lot of money there, Pat. You should have given it to me.

  You should have listened.”

  I could hear Lien-hua coughing, gulping for air. I wanted to make a move, to do something for her, but if I tried, Terry would kill me on the spot.

  “Why, Terry?” I said, desperation rising. “Why are you doing this?” He kept the gun trained on me with one hand, caressed Lien-hua’s cheek with the other.

  ??
?We’re in a stalemate, Pat. Whether we like it or not, everyone’s going to get nuclear weapons. It’s just a matter of time. But it’s a catch-22. No one wants to use them because then everyone else will. The world needs a new weapon, one that’ll tip the scales of power once again.”

  He didn’t just mean the world, he meant someplace in particu-lar. Then I realized what he was saying. “Who, Terry? The Chinese?”

  Lien-hua was still breathing shallowly, faintly.

  “They’re outpacing us. Even passing up DARPA.” He smiled.

  “And I have to say, they pay much better than the NSA.”

  I could hardly believe it. “How long?”

  “Two years now. It’s amazing how naive the U.S. government is.”

  He knelt, reached over, and slowly removed the defib pad from Lien-hua’s chest. “You won’t be needing this anymore, Lien-hua—as Pat might say, I have more than one motive here tonight.” Lien-hua watched helplessly as Terry removed the defibrillator pad. Weakness shrouded everything. She felt just strong enough to move, but not strong enough to fight.

  Then she thought of the defibrillator. Maybe she didn’t have to fight Terry after all.

  While he removed the other defib pad, Terry took a long lingering gaze at Lien-hua then asked me, “How did you know it was me, Pat? A few moments ago. You said my name before you turned around.”

  At least if I was talking he wasn’t killing either of us. “Melice’s identity package, for one. Only a handful of people could hack into AFIS and pull that off. That was my first clue.”

  “That’s not much.”

  “No, but then I realized that when you first watched the video, it only took you one minute and thirty seconds. I know, I remember glancing at my watch when you called me back. But the video was one minute and fifty-two seconds long, and the words on the wall didn’t appear until the last ten seconds. Yet when you called me, you told me the deadline, but you couldn’t have known it unless—”

  “I’d seen the video before.”

  “Right. Or, unless you wrote the words yourself—which you did. I saw your handwritten notes during the video chat and I didn’t realize it at first, but they match the writing on the envelope and the writing on the wall.”

  He gave me only a slight nod for a reply.

  I saw Lien-hua’s fingers speaking to me, spelling AED once again.

  Terry was staring at me; he didn’t see her signing.

  “Then when Angela informed me that you were the only one who’d accessed the satellite imagery of Hunter’s death, the pieces fell into place. That’s how you found out the device was in the car.”

  “Nicely done—but you missed the fact that I tracked you to the Surfside through CIFER. Remember? I designed it. I have the only other copy. I was monitoring you the whole time.”

  “I wondered about that.” Keep him talking. Keep him talking.

  “But why didn’t you just take the device from the evidence room?

  Why wait for Melice to steal it?”

  “Never part of the plan. I was just sent in to confirm it was there.”

  What?

  Sent? Sent by whom?

  “What do you mean, ‘sent’?”

  He ignored my question. “You’ve always been good at your job.

  It’s a shame you have to die.”

  “Who sent you, Terry?” I edged toward him, but he raised his gun again. “Don’t do it, Pat.” Then he stared into Lien-hua’s eyes.

  “I’ve been watching you, Lien-hua, ever since your sister died. Ever since the day I saw you at her funeral. I loved her, you know, even though we never actually met”

  Obviously he wasn’t going to answer my question, but he was going to hurt Lien-hua. I had to stop him. I eased forward but he fired a warning shot off the floor beside me. I froze.

  “I watched her,” he went on. “Followed her, planned a life with her. One day we would have been together. One day.”

  I was shocked that he could have been that fixated on someone for ten years, but then I remembered Lien-hua saying that when some people get obsessed with something it can go on for decades.

  “Oh, you look just like her,” he said to Lien-hua. Then his voice hardened. “I gave you the chance to be with me, but you refused.”

  Keep talking. Stall. The paramedics are on the way. “But Terry,”

  I said, “if you were in love with Chu-hua and Melice killed her, why would you work with him?”

  “For over nine years I looked for her killer. I only found out it was him six months ago when I was searching the web for a missing person. Stumbled across his blog. Don’t you see, Pat? It was perfect.

  Getting the device was the only way I could punish him. The only way I could really hurt him. Just killing him wouldn’t have been satisfying enough. He wouldn’t have felt anything.”

  While he was distracted talking to me, Lien-hua was slowly reaching for the two defib pads.

  “But,” he said, “that device would have done it. I researched it.

  Even with the TrkA1 mutation, Creighton would have finally felt the pain he wanted. I would have given him a depth of pain few humans have ever experienced. And then I would have killed him, but only after I’d made him suffer like he deserved.”

  Here was a man I’d trusted, a friend I thought I knew. “But you let him drown those other women, Terry. How could you?”

  “I had to keep him happy until the timing was right with Hunter, and Lien-hua was called back to work the case. Timing and location, Pat. You should know that. It’s always about timing and location.”

  Terry reached over, brushed Lien-hua’s hair away from her eyes, but kept the gun trained on me. “You had your chance, Lien-hua. If I can’t have you, no one can. One little kiss and you’re going back in the water. I’d say you’re still too weak to swim.” He leaned over her. “Good-bye, Chu-hua.”

  Just before his lips reached hers, he closed his eyes for an instant and that was all it took. Lien-hua whispered, “Good-bye,” and with weak but steady hands, she lifted the defib pads. I dove toward the AED. She stuck the pads to Terry’s temples, his eyes snapped open, a moment of blank confusion crossed his face, and I pressed the button on the defibrillator.

  An airless gasp rose from Terry’s throat as the current jolted through his frontal lobe. I didn’t know what kind of damage that current would do, but the way his body writhed and then convulsed, the defibrillator appeared to be even more effective than I would have guessed. By the time I reached Lien-hua’s side, Terry Manoji’s body had swayed backward and slid into the acclimation pool, dragging the AED with him, sending up a hiss of drowning sparks. And that’s when the ambulance sirens came coursing through the walls.

  I held Lien-hua until two policemen and a team of paramedics burst through the door. Immediately, one of the EMTs called to me, asking if I was Dr. Bowers.

  “Dispatch said you’d be here.” He handed me a cell phone.

  “Lieutenant Mendez. She needs to talk to you.”

  Confused, I took the phone as the medical team leaned over Lien-hua. “Aina, what is it?”

  “A few minutes ago,” she said, “the fire alarms went off at a club, the Future Relic.”

  “I don’t understand.” I tried not to let the pain of my leg seep into my voice. “What’s this about?”

  “I’m at the scene, Dr. Bowers. Your stepdaughter is here.”

  “What? Tessa? How? She’s supposed to be in Denver.”

  “She’s here, Dr. Bowers.”

  I was stunned by the impossibility of what I was hearing. “Is she OK?”

  “Si. She is OK, but please. I need to tell you something. She’s OK, but a boy tried to assault her, sexually assault her. She got away.”

  I felt the chills any parent would feel after hearing those words.

  “Is she there?” My voice cracked. “Put her on.”

  Then Tessa’s voice. “Patrick—”

  “Tessa, did he touch you? Tell me. Did he touch
you?”

  “No. I’m OK. I ran away. But I’m scared. I need you.”

  I looked over at Lien-hua. The paramedics were with her. She was safe. “I’m coming. I’ll be right there.”

  “I’m sorry, Patrick. I—”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m coming.” I shouted to the responding officers, “The Future Relic. The club. Can you get me there fast?”

  One of the men nodded to me. “I got you covered. It’s over by the Horton Grand Theatre where Triple Espresso used to play.”

  Tessa and I ended the call.

  With my gunshot wound, the paramedics were adamant that I stay with them, but Tessa needed me and nothing was going to stop me. Finally, when they saw I was leaving anyway, one of the EMTs hastily dressed the wound and gave me a pair of crutches from the ambulance. “You still need to get to the hospital as quickly as you can,” he said. I assured him that I would.

  Before leaving, I told Lien-hua I’d see her at the hospital, and she nodded beneath her oxygen mask. I kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then, as I used the crutches to head toward the door, I heard one of the paramedics say, “He’s still alive. Hurry, let’s get him out of the water.”

  So, Terry had survived.

  Well, I could deal with that later.

  As we drove to the Future Relic I felt the tug of the undertow once again. The whole way there I imagined all the things I wanted to do to the boy who’d tried to molest my stepdaughter. And after fifteen years of seeing the most hideous things one human being can do to another, I had plenty of images to choose from.

  When you look long into an abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

  I imagined in vivid detail how I would make him suffer and then I thought of how I would justify it all in my mind when I was done. The courts would probably be on my side too, at least to a certain extent, but even if they weren’t, I’d find a way to live with myself.

  I couldn’t let him get away with this.

  I couldn’t. When we arrived, I still wasn’t sure how I’d react when I saw him, but as soon as I stepped out of the car, my thoughts shifted from him to Tessa. She saw me, came running, flew to my arms, and I held her. I held her with the fierce love and pride and dreams and disappointments and fire of a father. She told me she was sorry she’d skipped her flight, and I told her we’d talk about all that later; she told me she’d fought the guy off, and I told her I was proud of her, and then for a moment we were both quiet, and eventually she stopped trembling and stepped back.