Jay hit the accelerator, spinning the wheels onto the bitumen. A van swerved from the inside lane to avoid hitting them. His phone fell from his lap and onto the passenger-side floor. Too busy trying to overtake vehicles and watching the road, he didn't see Pat pick it up.
'My God! What the hell has she done?'
Jay looked over at Pat, who stared at the picture on the phone. He reached over and grabbed it. 'What the fuck do you care? You got her involved in this mess.'
Pat buried his head in one hand and started sobbing. Jay had never seen him like that, and certainly hadn't expected the reaction. Up until then Pat had been unemotional about Sarah, barely mentioning her involvement, only with Jay's prompting. Perhaps the whole operation had taken its toll on him. Maybe he was beginning to realise the consequences of the lives sacrificed to retrieve the document and disc. Perhaps Pat had underestimated Mossad, and now realised that Catherine would do whatever it took to win. Still, he didn't expect this outburst from the director of the nation's spy agency. Not with his experience. No doubt, he would've lost agents before. It was strange indeed.
'She's a psychopath, there's no doubting it. We have to save Sarah at all costs. And we have to hurry,' Jay said.
Pat didn't acknowledge the comment, just kept sobbing.
Maybe the shock of being shot had set in, or perhaps he was having a nervous breakdown. 'You have to get it together,' Jay said. 'I can't do this by myself. I need your help to rescue her. We need to make the drop and get her back.'
The sobbing slowed to a whimper. Pat crinkled his eyes and clutched his shoulder. Jay could tell that the wound was stiffening already; at least it looked like it had stopped bleeding. The loss of blood, coupled with the emotional turmoil, couldn't have been good for him, especially at his age. Jay hoped he wouldn't have a heart attack.
Another message came through on the phone and Jay dreaded checking it, but did. Marriott Hotel. Room key at reception in the name of Harpocrates. LOL. Bring the disc and the document or the bitch dies. Time's running out.
'What ... what is it?' Pat asked.
'The drop is at the Marriott.'
'Was there another picture?'
Jay looked across. Pat had turned white; he didn't look at all well. 'I'm dropping you at the hospital.'
'No!'
'It's on the way.' Jay took the turn-off toward the beach.
'I said no. Not until I know she's safe.'
'I'll call.'
'It's not negotiable.'
Jay shrugged and concentrated on the road ahead. 'OK, but you stay in the car when I go in.'
A wheezing sound sent a shiver through Jay. He looked over at Pat. Shit. Pat's legs were straight, pushing him back into the seat. His left hand clasped the middle of his chest, beside the blood patch. Face crunched and jaw clenched. Veins popped out in the side of his neck. 'Pat. Pat, are you OK?'
No answer, but he replied through his eyes. They begged for help. Jay reached across and grabbed Pat's wrist. He eyed the road, accelerated and changed lanes. An erratic pulse. Jay let the wrist go and grabbed the steering wheel with both hands. The hospital wasn't far away. He weaved through the traffic, put on his hazards and ran a red light. Tyres smoked at an intersection where a utility had to brake and swerve to avoid Jay. Horns blasted at his unpredictable driving. A sign indicated that they were close to the hospital. He dodged a couple more cars and pulled into an 'emergency vehicles only' driveway.
Jay held a hand across Pat to stop him from flying forward as he pulled in hard at the emergency entrance. He hit the horn and leapt out of the vehicle. Not wanting to move Pat himself, he ran to the automatic doors and summoned a passing nurse. Within twenty seconds, a trolley sat next to Pat's open door and a triage nurse was leaning into the vehicle. A doctor came hurrying out.
'What have we got?' the doctor asked.
The nurse called from inside the car. 'Looks like a heart attack, irregular pulse, clammy skin and I think he's been shot.'
The doctor ran around to the driver's side and climbed in with his knees on the seat.
Jay opened the back door, leaned in and addressed the doctor. 'Nine millimetre gunshot wound to the shoulder. High stress levels, loss of blood and shock probably brought on the heart attack. Symptoms for the heart attack started just over a minute ago.'
'OK,' the doctor said. 'Let's get him inside.' The nurse stepped out of the vehicle and brought the stretcher closer. He leaned back into the car. Although Pat wasn't a small man, the triage nurse lifted him with ease and placed him on the stretcher.
The doctor approached Jay while the nurse strapped Pat in. 'What happened?' he asked.
'He's the Director of the National Secret Intelligence Service. ID is on him. Some guy shot him. That's all you need to know.'
The medic shook his head and started pushing the trolley toward the doors. The doctor looked Jay up and down. 'And who are you?' he asked.
'Nobody important.'
He sized up Jay again. 'You have to stay here. All gunshot wounds must be reported to the appropriate authorities.'
Jay closed the passenger side door. 'Doctor, I am the appropriate authority. You do your job and I'll do mine. Run along and save a life.'
The doctor stepped back, turned and hurried after the stretcher. As the automatic doors opened, Jay could see a security guard standing by the counter. The doctor approached him and the guard nodded. As the doors closed, they both looked at Jay. Something wasn't right. It was time to leave.
He ran around to the driver's side and got in. Through the passenger-side window, he could see the automatic doors opening and the security guard stepping outside. He reached down to start the car. The keys were gone. Shit. He knew he hadn't taken them out of the ignition. The doctor.
Jay stepped out of the car, sized up the situation and then brought his attention to the guard. A smile played across the guard's face. He had a chin the size of a brick, and probably as hard. About Jay's size except for the rolls that bunched at the bottom of his shirt. One hand was tucked into the front of his pants, the other held the car keys. Jay looked to the guard's belt. No weapon. Good. Should be over quickly enough.
'National security, buddy. Don't be stupid, throw the keys over,' Jay said.
'You need to come with me, sir. Gunshot wounds must be reported to the appropriate authorities.'
'Think about it. Isn't there a chance I might have a weapon on me?' The guard's smile disappeared. 'Now throw the fucking keys over.'
The guard looked up to the roof. Jay followed. CCTV cameras. Jay counted four. 'I don't give a shit about the cameras, mate. My melon is all over TV as it is.' Jay made his way toward the guard. 'I'm on a schedule and you're starting to piss me off.'
The guard took a step back as the automatic doors opened and two of his colleagues burst through and took up a spot on either side of Jay, at a couple of arms' lengths. Precious time was being wasted. Jay took out his pistol and held it by his side. All three guards reeled back and placed their hands out to the front.
Jay walked forward to the chorus of 'Easy, mister, put down the weapon and we can work this thing through.' He eyed the guard with the keys. He stepped forward, took the keys and turned away. He moved the pistol to his left hand, turned back and landed a ferocious jab in the guard's love-handles. The guard dropped and Jay trotted back to the car. The other two guards hadn't moved. Wise choice.
He started the car up and burned rubber out of the emergency drop-off point.
Jay pulled up at a red light a block down from the hospital. He checked his phone while he waited. One missed message. Must have come in when dealing with Pat and the hospital's rent-a-cops. The message wasn't good news. Not that he was expecting any. It simply told him to hurry the fuck up. At least he hadn't received any more pictures.
The light changed to green. No more than five minutes from the Marriott. He started to wonder why Catherine was so desperate for the recording. If Mossad had taken the general, they would have had four years to extract the information he'd divulged during the interrogation. Catherine was originally after the document; they mustn't have known what the general had said. Why else would they need the document? Its existence wouldn't change any outcome for Mossad. They would have assumed Jay sent a report to the highest levels of government and allies alike. They must have known that the US was aware that the Israelis had taken the WMD. But they still wanted the document.
Suddenly it hit Jay. They didn't know exactly what was said, just that Jay had some credible information. Something must have happened to the general after the Mossad agents took him and before they could get the information from him. Therefore, the disc would be priceless to them. And certainly a nice little career-booster for Catherine, or whatever her name was. Hypothesis would then have to be that the US was holding a big stick over Israel, knowing what happened to the Weapons of Mass Destruction, but probably not telling them about the document. Testing Israel, to see whether she'd lie to Big Brother. Israel was caught in the lie and came after the evidence to see exactly what the US and its allies knew. Jay shook his head as if to shake clear the confusion that calls itself politics. The world game of diplomacy driven by espionage at the highest levels. Conspiracy reigning supreme, and sweeping aside anyone in its path. Betrayal lurking deep within its shadows. Catherine wouldn't let anything come between her and the disc. She would be ready for him.
He rang Bill.
'Hello,' Bill said.
'Good. You're still there.'
'Yeah, I rang the hospital and they said your dad will be out for some time. So I'm going to wait for their call before heading up to see him.'
'Fair enough. Listen, I need your help again.'
'What is it, boy?'
'I'm heading to a meet to get Sarah back. It's at the Marriott on the Gold Coast. If I don't call you within the next hour call the police and tell them where I am.'
'I'll come down.'
'No. I'm almost there. Just wait there for my call.' He hung up and headed for the Marriott.