璇玑之心刃·冷血悍将-第127部分

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ped。
‘I‘m　thirsty；‘　she　said。
‘There‘s　a　cooler　on　the　backseat。‘
Pam　smiled。　‘That‘s　right。‘　She　turned　in　the　seat　to　reach　for　a　Coke　…　and　her　body　suddenly　went　rigid。　She　gasped；　and　Kelly‘s　skin　got　that　all…too…familiar　unwele　feeling；　like　an　electric　charge　running　along　its　surface。　The　danger　feeling。
‘Kelly！‘　Pam　screamed。　She　was　looking　towards　the　car‘s　left　rear。　Kelly　was　already　reaching　for　his　gun；　turning　his　body　as　he　did　so；　but　it　was　too　late；　and　part　of　him　already　knew　it。　The　outraged　thought　went　through　his　mind　that　he‘d　erred　badly；　fatally；　but　he　didn‘t　know　how；　and　there　was　no　time　to　figure　it　out　because　before　he　could　reach　his　gun；　there　was　a　flash　of　light　and　an　impact　on　his　head；　followed　by　darkness。
C7
　　　　Recovery
It　was　a　routine　police　patrol　that　spotted　the　Scout。　Officer　Chuck　Monroe；　sixteen　months　on　the　force；　just　old　enough　to　have　his　own　solo　radio　car；　made　it　a　habit　to　patrol　his　part　of　the　District　after　taking　to　the　street。　There　wasn‘t　much　he　could　do　about　the　dealers　…　that　was　the　job　of　the　Narcotics　Division　…　but　he　could　show　the　flag；　a　phrase　he‘d　learned　in　the　Marine　Corps。　Twenty…five；　newly　married；　young　enough　to　be　dedicated　and　angry　at　what　was　happening　in　his　city　and　his　old　neighborhood；　the　officer　noted　that　the　Scout　was　an　unusual　vehicle　for　this　area。　He　decided　to　check　it　out；　record　its　tag　number；　and　then　came　the　heart…stopping　realization　that　the　car‘s　left　side　had　taken　at　least　two　shotgun　blasts。　Officer　Monroe　stopped　his　car；　flipped　on　his　rotating　lights；　and　made　the　first；　preliminary　call　of　possible　trouble；　please　stand　by。　He　stepped　out　of　the　car；　switching　his　police　baton　into　his　left　hand；　leaving　his　right　at　the　grip　of　his　service　revolver。　Only　then　did　he　approach　the　car。　A　well…trained　officer；　Chuck　Monroe　moved　in　slowly　and　carefully；　his　eyes　scanning　everything　in　sight。
‘Oh；　shit！‘　The　return　to　his　radio　car　was　rapid。　First　Monroe　called　for　backup　and　then　for　an　ambulance；　and　then　he　notified　his　District　desk　of　the　license　number　of　the　subject　automobile。　Then；　grabbing　his　first…aid　kit；　he　returned　to　the　Scout。　The　door　was　locked；　but　the　window　was　blown　out；　and　he　reached　inside　to　unlock　it。　What　he　saw　then　froze　him　in　his　tracks。
The　head　rested　on　the　steering　wheel；　along　with　the　left　hand；　while　the　right　rested　in　his　lap。　Blood　had　sprayed　all　over　the　inside。　The　man　was　still　breathing；　which　surprised　the　officer。　Clearly　a　shotgun　blast；　it　had　obliterated　the　metal　and　fiberglass　of　the　Scout‘s　body　and　hit　the　victim‘s　head；　neck；　and　upper　back。　There　were　several　small　holes　in　the　exposed　skin；　and　these　were　oozing　blood。　The　wound　looked　as　horrible　as　any　he　had　seen　on　the　street　or　in　the　Marine　Corps；　and　yet　the　man　was　alive。　That　was　sufficiently　amazing　that　Monroe　decided　to　leave　his　first…aid　kit　closed。　There　would　be　an　ambulance　here　in　minutes；　and　he　decided　that　any　action　he　took　was　as　likely　to　make　things　worse　as　better。　Monroe　held　the　kit　under　his　right　hand　like　a　book；　looking　at　the　victim　with　the　frustration　of　a　man　of　action　to　whom　action　was　denied。　At　least　the　poor　bastard　was　unconscious。
Who　was　he？　Monroe　looked　at　the　slumped　form　and　decided　that　he　could　extricate　the　wallet。　The　officer　switched　the　first…aid　kit　to　his　left　hand　and　reached　in　for　the　wallet　pocket　with　his　right。　Unsurprisingly；　it　was　empty；　but　his　touch　had　elicited　a　reaction。　The　body　moved　a　little；　and　that　wasn‘t　good。　He　moved　his　hand　to　steady　it；　but　then　the　head　moved；　too；　and　he　knew　that　the　head　had　better　stay　still；　and　so　his　hand　automatically　and　wrongly　touched　it。　Something　rubbed　against　something　else；　and　a　cry　of　pain　echoed　across　the　dark；　wet　street　before　the　body　went　slack　again。
‘Shit！‘　Monroe　looked　at　the　blood　on　his　fingertips　and　unconsciously　rubbed　it　off　on　his　blue　uniform　trousers。　Just　then　he　heard　the　banshee…wail　of　a　Fire　Department　ambulance　approaching　from　the　east；　and　the　officer　whispered　a　quiet　prayer　of　thanks　that　people　who　knew　what　they　were　doing　would　shortly　relieve　him　of　this　problem。
The　ambulance　turned　the　corner　a　few　seconds　later。　The　large；　boxy；　red…and…white　vehicle　halted　just　past　the　radio　car；　and　its　two　occupants　came　at　once　to　the　officer。
‘What　d‘we　got。‘　Strangely；　it　didn‘t　e　out　like　a　question。　The　senior　fireman…paramedic　hardly　needed　to　ask　in　any　case。　In　this　part　of　town　at　this　time　of　night；　it　wouldn‘t　be　a　traffic　accident。　It　would　be　‘perating　trauma‘　in　the　dry　lexicon　of　his　profession。　‘Jesus！‘
The　other　crewman　was　already　moving　back　to　the　ambulance　when　another　police　car　arrived　on　the　scene。
‘What　gives？‘　the　watch　supervisor　asked。
‘Shotgun；　close　range；　and　the　guy‘s　still　alive！‘　Monroe　reported。
‘I　don‘t　like　the　neck　hits；‘　the　first　ambulance　guy　observed　tersely。
‘Collar？‘　the　other　paramedic　called　from　an　equipment　bay。
‘Yeah；　if　he　moves　his　head　。。。　damn。‘　The　senior　firefighter　placed　his　hands　on　the　victim‘s　head　to　secure　it　in　place。
‘ID？‘　the　sergeant　asked。
‘No　wallet。　I　haven‘t　had　a　chance　to　look　around　yet。‘
‘Did　you　run　the　tags？‘
Monroe　nodded。　‘Called　‘em　in；　it　takes　a　little　while。‘
The　sergeant　played　his　flashlight　on　the　inside　of　the　car　to　help　the　firemen。　A　lot　of　blood；　otherwise　empty。　Some　kind　of　cooler　in　the　backseat。　‘What　else？‘　he　asked　Monroe。
‘The　block　was　empty　when　I　got　here。‘　Monroe　checked　his　watch。　‘Eleven　minutes　ago。‘　Both　officers　stood　back　to　give　the　paramedics　room　to　work。
‘You　ever　seen　him　before？‘
‘No；　Sarge。‘
‘Check　the　sidewalks。‘
‘Right。‘　Monroe　started　quartering　the　area　around　the　car。
‘I　wonder　what　this　was　all　about；‘　the　sergeant　asked　nobody　in　particular。　Looking　at　the　body　and　all　the　blood；　his　next　thought　was　that　they　might　never　find　out。　So　many　crimes　mitted　in　this　area　were　never　really　solved。　That　was　not　something　pleasing　to　the　sergeant。　He　looked　at　the　paramedics。　‘How　is　he；　Mike？‘
‘Damned　near　bled　out；　Bert。　Definite　shotgun；‘　the　man　answered；　affixing　the　cervical　collar。　‘A　bunch　of　pellets　in　the　neck；　some　near　the　spine。　I　don‘t　like　this　at　all。‘
‘Where　you　taking　him？‘　the　police　sergeant　asked。　‘University‘s　full　up；‘　the　junior　paramedic　advised。　‘Bus　accident　on　the　Beltway。　We　have　to　take　him　to　Hopkins。‘
‘That‘s　an　extra　ten　minutes。‘　Mike　swore。　‘You　drive；　Phil；　tell　them　we　have　a　major　trauma　and　we　need　a　neurosurgeon　standing　by。‘
‘You　got　it。‘　Both　men　lifted　him　onto　the　gurney。　The　body　reacted　to　the　movement；　and　the　two　police　officers　…　three　more　radio　cars　had　just　arrived　…　helped　hold　him　in　place　while　the　firefighters　applied　restraints。
‘You‘re　a　real　sick　puppy；　my　friend；　but　we‘ll　have　you　in　the　hospital　real　quick　now；‘　Phil　told　the　body；　which　might　or　might　not　still　be　alive　enough　to　hear　the　words。　‘Time　to　roll；　Mike。‘
They　loaded　the　body　in　the　back　of　the　ambulance。　Mike　Eaton；　the　senior　paramedic；　was　already　setting　up　an　IV　bottle　of　blood…expanders。　Getting　the　intravenous　line　was　difficult　with　the　man　face　down；　but　he　managed　it　just　as　the　ambulance　started　moving。　The　sixteen…minute　trip　to　Johns　Hopkins　Hospital　was　occupied　with　taking　vital　signs　…　the　blood　pressure　was　perilously　low　…　and　doing　some　preliminary　paperwork。
Who　are　you？　Eaton　asked　silently。　Good　physical　shape；　he　noted；　twenty…six　or　…seven。　Odd　for　a　probable　drug　user。　They　guy　would　have　looked　pretty　tough　standing　up；　but　not　now。　Now　he　was　more　like　a　large；　sleeping　child；　mouth　open；　drawing　oxygen　from　the　clear　plastic　mask；　breathing　shallowly　and　too　slowly　for　Baton‘s　fort。
‘Speed　it　up；‘　he　called　to　the　driver；　Phil　Marconi。　
‘Roads　are　pretty　wet；　Mike；　doing　my　best。‘　
‘e　on；　Phil；　you　wops　are　supposed　to　drive　crazy！‘　
‘But　we　don‘t　drink　like　you　guys；‘　came　the　laughing　reply。　‘I　just　called　ahead；　they　got　a　neck…cutter　standing　by。　Quiet　night　at　Hopkins；　they‘re　all　ready　for　us。‘　
‘Good；‘　Eaton　responded　quietly。　He　looked　at　his　shooting　victim。　It　often　got　lonely　and　a　little　spooky　in　the　back　of　an　ambulance；　and　that　made　him　glad　for　the　otherwise　nerve…grating　wail　of　the　electronic　siren。　Blood　dripped　off　the　gurney　down　to　the　floor　of　the　vehicle；　the　drops　traveled　around　on　the　metal　floor；　as　though　they　had　a　life　entirely　of　their　own。　It　was　something　you　never　got　used　to。
‘Two　minutes；‘　Marconi　said　over　his　shoulder。　Eaton　moved　to　the　back　of　the　partment；　ready　to　open　the　door。　Presently　he　felt　the　ambulance　turn；　stop；　then　back　up　quickly　before　stopping　again。　The　rear　doors　were　yanked　open　before　Eaton　could　reach　for　them。
‘Yeow！‘　the　ER　resident　observed。　‘Okay；　folks；　we‘re　taking　him　into　Three。‘　Two　burly　orderlies　pulled　the　gurney　out　while　Eaton　disconnected　the　IV　bottle　from　the　overhead　hook　and　carried　it　beside　the　moving　cart。
‘Trouble　at　University？‘　the　resident　asked。
‘Bus　accident；‘　Marconi　reported；　arriving　at　his　side。
‘Better　off　here　anyway。　Jesus；　what　did　he　back　in