A CLEAR PLASTIC BAG of fluid hung over Ashley’s head. At the bottom of the bag a tube fed the watery substance into a tiny glass cylinder. She watched a steady drip appear inside the cylinder, then drop methodically into the delivery tube letting it enter her bloodstream. She calculated a drop formed every 10 seconds.
Peggie, a petite, slightly overweight, round-faced nurse hovered nearby. Ashley pointed at the bag, “What’s that stuff?”
“Don’t you worry yourself about things like that, my dear. It’s medicine.”
Ashley took a deep breath and exhaled. Whatever it was, it made her feel good. Not good like a drug induced euphoria, but good like in ‘feeling no pain’. She touched her partially shaved head. Still numb and a bit bumpy around the sutures, she tried to count them. Eight altogether.
“Now dear, don’t touch those stitches, you don’t want to get them infected, do you?”
Ashley shook her head. Peggie was a bit of a magpie, always chattering about something or someone, but good-hearted and eager to please. With a little encouragement she’d tell you everything she knew. After lunch she told Ashley those nice men outside her door wouldn’t be back because the general was sure she would be safe now. That meant Ashley could hobble out the door if she had a mind to, which she didn’t. Hobbling would require her to drag a Frankenstein sized boot that protected her swollen ankle. The doctor who treated her foot called it a malleolar fracture. Whatever that was, it still hurt and she was content to stay put for the immediate future.
Peggie left the white hospital room, and then returned ten minutes later. “Oh, Ashley. You have a visitor,” she announced. “It’s Colonel Myers.”
Ashley raised her head. Myers stood in the doorway with a genuine smile on his face. He moved into the room. “Agent Kohen, I have good news for you.” She didn’t respond. “General Brunel is transferring you to the Los Vegas South Springs Rehabilitation Hospital downtown. We’ve done all we can do for you here.”
She couldn’t resist, “Will I have an armed guard?”
“Oh, no. That was only a precaution. You’ll find the folks at the rehab center highly professional.” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “It’s been an honor to serve you Agent Kohen.” The colonel snapped to attention, saluted and then made a smart about-face and left the room.
It took a few seconds for Ashley to react. She shut her mouth and put her hand to her forehead. What in the hell was that?
Peggie fidgeted with a stethoscope hanging around her neck. “Isn’t Colonel Myers a nice man, and handsome, too.” Ashley considered several answers and rejected them all. “All right dearie, we have to get ourselves dressed and ready to go.”
“Go where?”
“Why to South Springs, like the Colonel said. I have all your things in this bag and some fresh clothes for you to wear.” She held a zippered desert khaki bag and an arm full of matching clothes. Peggie split open the Velcro straps on the orthopedic boot. “There, we have Mr. Black Boot off, how let’s put our pants on. You be careful with your ankle, now.” The dressing operation took longer than necessary because Ashley offered minimal cooperation.
Soon she found herself dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed when a burly male nurse rolled a wheelchair in and positioned it by her side. He offered a muscular arm and assisted her into the chair. Peggie handed her the zippered bag and a pair of green and tan crutches. Ashley felt relieved the wheelchair wasn’t camouflaged, too. They loaded her into an unmarked white van.
South Springs Hospital was a 30-minute drive across town. It felt good to get out into America again. The glittering hotels, flashing lights and cascading fountains made her feel right with the world. She thought about what it might have looked like today if the terrorists had been successful in their plans.
The walls of the two story rehab hospital were made of reflective glass that sparkled in the sunlight. Two staff sergeants dressed in airman-blue helped her out of the truck and wheeled her into the back entrance. Two security guards met them at the door. The airmen, with young eager faces, saluted Ashley. She thanked them with an uncertain tone in her voice. They marched back to the truck as the guards wheeled their patient into a small waiting room a few feet off the lobby. One guard stood by as the other left the room. Ashley turned to the man, “What’s going on?”
The man cut his eyes toward her. “Don’t you know?”
“Know what?”
Before he could answer, Walter Kent and Bill Johnson walked into the room. Breathlessness overtook Ashley. Because her Frankenstein boot got trapped in the footrests of the wheelchair, she stumbled when she tried to get up. Walter caught her in his arms before she fell. Ashley climbed up his frame and locked both arms around his neck. Tears surged over her cheeks as she burst into a radiant smile. He kissed her lightly, and then pulled her close.
Over Walter’s shoulder Ashley saw Bill Johnson and extended a hand to him. Bill took it and bowed as if meeting the queen. He then turned to shield this tender greeting from interruption. That’s when he saw a blond-haired man, impeccably dressed in a white suit and black tie, waiting patiently nearby. He signaled to the man and they met halfway. “Yes?” Bill asked.
“I’m Kevin Weber the hospital administrator. I can see this is…a private moment, and I don’t mean to interfere, but I have a hospital to run. You must understand.” Weber motioned for Bill to follow him into the lobby.
When Bill returned with Weber in tow, Walter was helping Ashley back into the wheelchair. “I don’t need this thing,” she complained.
Bill whispered in Walter’s ear, who nodded. “Call Ramirez, he’ll know what to do.”
Ashley perked up. “Ramirez? Mark is here?”
“Yep, I’ve brought half the field office.” Walter grinned. “Well, not half, but enough to do the job.”
“Do what job?”
Walter leaned down, found a spot where there wasn’t a bandage, and kissed her. “That will have to hold you for a while, Ashley.”
She spread the palms of her hands out with a perplexed look. “What?”
“I’ll show you.” Walter guided the wheelchair into the lobby and stopped behind the two glass front doors. Ashley leaned forward, squinted her eyes, and then recoiled. “God almighty, what is all that?”
“It’s your fifteen minutes or maybe fifteen years of fame waiting for you.”
Ashley gripped the arms of the wheelchair and straightened her body. Arrayed outside was a hoard of journalists holding microphones. They stood pressed against a rickety barricade hastily thrown-up. Photographers leaned forward holding every kind of camera. Reporters jostled to get the best position for an interview. Mobile trucks and vans with satellite dishes were parked behind the crowd of eager broadcasters. They waited like hungry piranhas eyeing their prey.
Ashley stared into the eyes of Walter. “I can’t go out there.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. I have a team of agents ready to manage that bunch. You’ll be safe.”
Ashley shook her head. “No Walter. I mean I can’t go out there like this. Look at me. Bandages, hair a mess, baggy clothes that don’t fit. This bad-ass boot. I look ridiculous. No way am I going out there.”
Walter held on to the wheelchair as he laughed hard enough to make him unsteady. When he recovered, he bent over and tilted her face up to his. “You couldn’t look bad no matter how hard you tried.” She smothered a grin. “Your assignment, Special Agent Kohen is crowd control. I’ve got your back.”