The Twelfth Of Never: A suspense mystery romantic thriller (3 page)

"I got to talk to him," Gideon said feebly, but no
one listened or cared.

Al blocked Gideon for a moment, and then shoved him back on
the bench. "Shut up or get out." He turned to the other man, barking
orders. "Get the IV started."

Gideon sat back watching as Delaney eyed the two men working
on him. Delaney turned to Gideon with pleading eyes, but Gideon could do
nothing.

Finally, after the fourth attempt, Al shoved Joe aside,
tightened the rubber tube, and tapped the tender skin. Within moments the
needle was in place and the clear fluid dripped slowly into Delaney’s arm.

Al looked down at the blue tube in Delaney's throat, and then
turned to Gideon. "Shit, who did this?"

Gideon did not reply. He did not have to.

"Did you sterilize anything?"

"There wasn't time." Gideon half smiled, half
snickered at the question.

Al shook his head, quickly ripping open the packet Joe handed
him. He replaced the blue plastic with a sterile clear plastic tube and Delaney
continued breathing. But all Gideon could do was sit back and listen while
Delaney's vital signs were transmitted to the waiting ER. Delaney struggled to
free himself from the groping hands trying to save his worthless life.

Within twenty minutes of the shooting they reached the
hospital. Orderlies gathered at the back door of the ambulance, picked up
Delaney's stretcher, and rushed him through the ER doors.

The cool damp wind blowing off the East River pierced Gideon's
inner body. He stared down at his blood-stained hands. They still shook from
the ordeal. Flashing lights were everywhere, sirens blared, and men barked
orders in life-saving confusion. An ambulance pulled up with more casualties
from a chaotic city.

Gideon stepped back. He watched as two men pulled a stretcher
out of the ambulance that had just whisked Wayne into the ER. Another gurney
was lowered to the ground; a sheet protected onlookers from the motionless body
underneath. Before anyone could wheel it away, Gideon halted their advance. He
reached down, yanked back the sheet, and then pulled off the wig. Gideon stared
into a face void of life. There was a glint of familiarity to the auburn hair
and dark gray eyes that stared blankly at Gideon as if looking into his soul.
Suddenly a cold piercing pain shot through Gideon. He quickly flipped the sheet
back and as he did that, the memories that flashed, ended.

"Take him," Gideon whispered.

Gideon did not know what he expected, but something ate at his
insides. Delaney was listed missing in action and up until two weeks ago Gideon
had thought him dead. He wondered how many others in their unit had actually
survived. It was the first time he really thought about that time in his life.
But Gideon was sure about one thing: the real John Hamilton was dead. For some
unknown reason, there was no doubt about that, and the fact that Delaney was
using the young lieutenant's identity only confused him further.

Gideon followed the orderlies through the swinging doors. He
stopped and just watched as they wheeled the body to the waiting elevator.
Gideon did not follow. There was no need. He turned and walked through the
emergency room doors where Delaney was taken. Attendants in white coats stained
with blood scurried about. But before Gideon knew what hit him, he was back in
the hall again.

"I've got to talk to him," Gideon argued furtively.

Gideon glanced down at the nametag. Thelma Washington only
came up to his chin, but she carried a good hundred pounds more than he and
commanded more authority than most men he knew. There was no arguing. Her black
eyes pierced through his attempt to pass. Thelma stepped forward while he just
backed up. She blocked his advance as she put her hands on her hips.

"No. You don't," she said. Thelma was definitely in
control of the situation.

Gideon did not need to be touched to know he was being pushed
back through the swinging doors. It was only when they shut in his face that
his faculties returned. Thelma stood on the other side, staring at Gideon
through the circular glass window.

"This is important," Gideon mumbled. But he realized
his pleas fell on deaf ears. Everyone around him flashed badges. Gideon knew
the stout black woman was not impressed with any of their credentials and did
nothing to identify himself further.

Gideon could hear Thelma through the closed doors as she
pointed a finger at him. "You will wait with the rest."

Gideon turned, kicking his foot at a metal chair. By the time
it landed across the waiting room, two uniformed officers rushed through the
door after him. Gideon flashed his badge. They backed off, leaving Gideon to
face the wrath of the woman in white who came stomping through the swinging
doors like a fullback ready for action.

"You break anything and I'll send you the bill
personally," Thelma snapped, as she followed Gideon to the overturned
chair.

Slowly Gideon reached down, picked up the chair, and set it
against the wall. Then he turned to the hefty woman who ran the ER. She stood
her ground, her hands folded, her hip cocked with a foot tapping the floor.
Thelma Washington had a presence about her that demanded order.

"Now if you want to stay here, I suggest you sit and be
quiet."

"This is official business," Gideon said again, this
time with more sincerity. But it was no use arguing with the determined woman.

"In this hospital, once they enter those doors," she
turned, pointing at the doors leading to the ER room, "your authority
ends. You get him after they put the pieces back together, and not
before!"

Thelma turned and was about to walk back to her station, but
stopped and glanced back at Gideon, then shook her head. Too often, she had
seen young men brought in all shot up. Once they were patched, they were hauled
away to court for a prison term. Life was not getting easier. With only seven
years left until retirement she did not know if she had it in her to continue.
It was a hard life, watching the streets turn into jungles, with the bodies
brought in only getting more mutilated than before.

"Are there any other phones in this place?" Gideon
asked, glancing at the three booths already in use. Everyone was watching him
by then.

Thelma pointed down the hall to the lobby. Gideon walked away;
there was no use arguing. No one would be allowed to talk to Delaney, not with
Thelma on duty. Colby was waiting for his call. The disaster in the park would
not make him happy, but it was out of Gideon's control, had been from the
start.

Gideon walked down the hall. The aching in his temple made the
room spin for a moment. He stopped until the sensation passed. The telltale
scar from a bullet that almost ended everything for him over five years ago
throbbed as it always did when he lacked sleep.

Gideon pushed through the crowd of people gathering in the
lobby and finally made his way to the row of booths near the entrance. He sat
and rested his head on the wall, hoping the pain would subside. As he shut his
eyes, he remembered a time long ago in a jungle he wanted to forget. There was
the sound of shots echoing in his ears as he envisioned Delaney pulling the
trigger on the young Vietnamese woman they were interrogating. Gideon had a
hard time believing what Delaney said, yet he himself was once witness to
Delaney’s treachery. The man had no conscience even back then. It bothered
Gideon that Delaney turned to him for help after all this time.

Gideon took out his wallet, flipping through the photos
quickly until he was staring at the woman in the sketch. It was the only thing
he had that could ease his pain. A picture of a woman he had never met, or had
he? Gideon did not know or remember. But he was always drawn to her, like she
was the answer to all the pain he felt. He waited for the throbbing to stop
while his eyes watered.

Then slowly he punched in the number for Langley. It was
Colby's private line. Only a few select agents had that number, and Gideon was
one of them. The two went back a long way, ever since Clandestine Operations in
Vietnam. Colby was his Chief back then. Even now Gideon was on special
assignment for Colby. Gideon knew Colby would not be happy with what he had to
say, but he could not avoid the call.

Gideon seriously doubted Wayne would go through with the
speech planned for later in the week at the U.N. Security Council. But in the
world of diplomacy, not even an assassin's bullet was cause for cancellation.
It only put credibility to what was said.

Finally, Colby was on the line. Gideon filled him in on the
details of the fiasco that morning.

"Who called in the locals?" Colby asked in a somber
tone.

"I did," Gideon replied.

"They shouldn't be involved."

"I had no choice."

"We could get into trouble if the press gets hold of
it."

"Don't worry, no one will brag about this one."

"How can you be so sure?" Colby asked.

"Would you blow your horn if it almost got Wayne killed?
I'm telling you, the Feds will do everything in their power to keep this under
wraps."

"What about the locals?" Colby asked.

Gideon could tell Colby was irritated that they were involved,
but there was no going back. If it had not been for them, Wayne might not be
alive.

Finally Gideon answered. "I'll take care of them."

"You better, and keep it quiet this time."

"Is the offer the same?"

"Yeah." There was a pause, and then Colby came back
on the line. "Gideon, do you think it's worth what we're paying him?"

"You're asking me? Remember, I was the one who told you
not to trust the man."

"Yeah, but everything he said is checking out."

"What do we do with the Feds?" Gideon asked.

"Let me worry about them. For now they will be too busy
protecting Wayne to worry about our guy." Colby paused. "You're sure
he wasn't the one who pulled the trigger?"

"Positive."

"Then there's nothing to worry about." Colby left
the line for a moment. In the distance there was mumbling, then Colby was back.
"Gideon, do you trust Delaney?"

"After this morning, you have to ask? Besides, I thought
you said things checked out."

"Yeah, but I want to know what you think?"

"It's getting so I don't even trust myself to know the
time of day."

"What?" Colby asked.

"Nothing," Gideon quickly replied. He hesitated for
a moment and when Colby did not say anything, he continued, "I'll keep you
posted."

Gideon hung up, and then shook his head. He was not so sure
Delaney would trust
him
after what
happened. Gideon did promise to protect him in the park. Some protection it
turned out to be, almost getting Delaney killed in the process.

Slowly Gideon ran his finger along the edge of the photo he
held. He sighed. Gideon did not know what there was about the woman that gave
him peace. Someday, he promised himself, he would find her. Then maybe he would
remember how he came to carry the picture that had become his only salvation in
a turbulent world of high-stakes murder.

The ER waiting room was still the chaotic mess he left twenty
minutes earlier, with one exception. Thelma was nowhere in sight. Gideon walked
up to the doors that separated the ER from the rest of the world. An orderly
was stripping the examining table where Delaney once lay.

The hand on his shoulder startled Gideon. He turned and tried
to free himself, but Thelma held him firm.

"Where is he?" Gideon asked. Fear encompassed his
being as he waited for Thelma to answer.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The gunshot victim." Gideon hung his head fearing
Delaney did not make it and took with him the secrets he carried.

"He's up in OR."

"Did anyone go with him?"

"If you mean the other flatfoots that were waiting
outside, no. They were too interested in the Ambassador to worry about your
man. But do not worry. No one is going to get near him in surgery."

"What floor?"

"Seventh."

Gideon was in pain, he'd been up all night, not to mention the
fact sleep had eluded him for weeks now. And the throbbing in his right temple
was intolerable and getting worse.

"It will be a few hours. Your prisoner is in safe
hands." Thelma shrugged her shoulders as if what she said would make him
feel better.

"He's not my prisoner."

"I thought..."

"You thought wrong. I was protecting him."

"Some protection."

"Tell me about it," Gideon snapped.

"Why don't you get some sleep?"

Gideon turned to Thelma. "Are you running a Holiday Inn
now?" He laughed, but the look on the woman's face told him she found no
humor in what he said.

"Maybe what you need is an attitude adjustment."

"Sorry," Gideon said running his hand through his
thick curls. "It's been a long morning," he said, then hesitated
before finishing. "For that matter, a long life."

"I'll call up there and let the nurses know you're
coming. There's a room off the nurse's station they use for naps. I can let you
know when he's out of surgery."

"I'll get back to you if I need it," Gideon said, as
he glanced down at Thelma while rubbing his chin. He had not even had time to
shave. Gideon thought about Colby and wondered what he would say if he could
see him now. But that was not what concerned him.

Gideon turned and walked away. The throbbing was getting
worse. If he did not rest soon the flashbacks would continue. A cold shiver
crept up his spine as he walked to the elevator. He stood there for a moment.
The doors opened. For some unknown reason, Gideon could not enter the small
enclosure. All he could think about was the sweatbox and the heat of the hot
humid jungle.

Gideon let himself be shoved aside by the flow of people
getting off, while others pushed him out of the way so they could get onto the
elevator. Then, the doors slid shut, leaving Gideon to fight the demon inside.
Gideon leaned up against the wall, gasping for air as beads of perspiration
dripped down his forehead. He finally turned to the sign above the door down
the hall. It would be a long climb up, but it was the only way. He just did not
have it in him to fight the demons that were taking control.