CHAPTER 97
R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma Center
Baltimore, Maryland
CSTC pilots Felix Green and Tommy Lopez had the Little Bird touching down on the roof at the R Adams Cowley Shock Trauma Center exactly eight minutes after they picked up the package.
Felix had called ahead to the hospital while Rudy worked on Meg inside the tiny space behind the pilots and Oliver and I rode the assaulter benches affixed to the port and starboard skids.
Felix had given the dispatcher the patient’s vitals, as well as the code that an unnamed government agency was making the delivery.
The latter officially qualified the patient as a Jane Doe.
It was a through and through, I repeated to myself. She’s going to be fine. Just need to plug the holes and keep her calm.
A five-person trauma team was waiting on the roof to rush Meg inside the building and into surgery.
I called Tristan. He’d been following the action from the SCIF in Easton and knew everything I knew—and then some.
“So they found the Egorov twins—what’s left of them, anyway—at a rest stop in Aberdeen, Maryland. They are two crispy critters, and the truck was baked pretty good.”
“It wasn’t my money,” I reflected, “so oh well. Bomb, maybe? Remote-detonated, of course. Could have been called in from Virginia—or from anywhere, really. But by who?”
“Not sure,” Tristan said evenly. “Could be the Russian mob, could be the KGB—no idea.”
“I’ve had no time to look at the information in that envelope Egorov handed me,” I said. “But every one of these events has to be connected.”
“Talk it through, Nat.”
“All three Egorovs got stung on the same night, in two different places. Meg took one in the shoulder. Bad shooting or bad luck? I’m thinking bad shooting. The driver didn’t anticipate me returning fire.”
Tristan murmured encouragingly to keep me on track.
“For whatever reason, he had to kill Egorov—and the sons, too. Did he see Egorov pass me the envelope? If he figures out Meg is alive, he’ll make another try at her. Suggest we get a protective detail up here ASAP.”
“Roger that, Nat.” Tristan being Tristan, he got to worrying about everybody else, starting with me. “You doing okay, buddy? Meg’s going to be fine. Sam Starnes will be up soon to make sure the hospital plays nice.”
“Okay, Tristan—cool. Oliver and I will take turns until they get here. I’m going to stick around ’til we get news on Meg.”