Ambush

Chapter 16

Alex Martinez had done reconnaissance on NewYork — Presbyterian, attached to the campus of Columbia University. The hospital had a stellar reputation. If she thought the gunman would die of his wounds, she wouldn’t bother to follow up. But chances were he’d survive the injury. And that meant he was a risk.

She had come to the hospital earlier to pay a visit to the main security room. She told the uniformed guard she’d lost her wallet, so he sent her to the lost and found department, in the empty administrative office — where the camera feeds were. She disconnected the main cable on the other side of the wall, counting on the fact that it would take an hour for someone to figure it out.

Now, in the late afternoon, no one seemed to notice her as she walked down a fifth-floor corridor, pushing a gurney. She was dressed in billowing blue scrubs designed to hide her shape, and a blue surgical mask covered her face. The outfit would make a description more difficult later. She knew exactly what room the gunman was in and how many nurses were on duty. This was the slow time for the nurses. There were three on duty, and one of them was in the cafeteria on the first floor.

She’d waited until the other two were busy in patient rooms. This was her chance. Alex had a flutter of nerves. No amount of preparation could compensate for a freak coincidence.

She saw the corrections officer sitting on a folding chair in front of the gunman’s door. He paid no attention as she came toward him with the gurney.

Alex did not take killing lightly. There had to be a clear reason and purpose behind taking a life. Usually that reason was money.

Her heart beat faster as she scanned the man for weapons. All he had was an ASP baton on his belt, but he was fit and muscular. She knew she’d have to act decisively.

Just as she started to squeeze past the uniformed corrections officer, he stood up to give her more room. She liked good manners.

He smiled and said, “Can you manage okay?” He made sure she got a good look at his biceps as he held up his hands to let her pass.

She nodded and said, “Aren’t you nice.” Alex noted his relaxed demeanor. Perfect.

When the gurney was past him and she was inches from the officer, she pulled a Taser from under the sheet on the gurney.

The guard stared at her for a moment, trying to make sense out of what he was seeing.

Alex jerked the trigger and fired the weapon before he had worked out what was in her hand. The two tiny darts that carried the charge lodged in his neck and chin. He tried to reach up, but the charge came too fast and too strong.

He made a short gurgling sound Alex could just hear over the crackle of the Taser, sending the electrical current coursing through his body.

After a moment, he dropped right across the gurney.

Alex calmly stepped forward and jabbed him in the neck with a hypodermic needle filled with a relatively small dose of ketamine. He’d be out for twenty minutes.

It was easy to push him the rest of the way onto the gurney. There were only a couple of pillows underneath the sheet.

Then she turned the handle to the gunman’s room and was inside in an instant. The door banged open as she dragged the gurney into the room.

Alex glanced at her watch. Two minutes had gone by since she started pushing the empty gurney. She was well within her time frame. She took a breath to keep calm and centered, then turned toward the bed.

The Dominican gunman was about thirty and had both his arms strapped to the side of the bed. A plastic oxygen mask clung tightly to his face. He looked over, and, for a moment, appeared hopeful. He must’ve thought it was a rescue attempt.

She stepped across the room with another hypodermic needle in her hand. This one she had filled with a homemade concoction that included sedatives and cyanide. Fast and absolute. Like the judgment of God.

The gunman’s eyes grew wide, but he didn’t say a word.

Alex said, “I am very sorry to have to do this. I can’t risk what you might say when you recover.” She injected the solution into his IV bag.

The young man knew exactly what she was doing. He started to thrash in the bed and make a mewing sound underneath the oxygen mask. She watched the milky white substance quickly work its way through the tubes and into the man’s arm.

Alex patted his forehead and brushed his hair with her fingers, trying to keep him calm. She softly said, “It’s okay. Just calm down.”

In less than a minute, he had stopped thrashing, lulled into a stupor, then his breathing stopped altogether.

On her way out of the room, Alex turned the corrections officer’s head to make sure he had an open windpipe. He was breathing regularly, and his pulse was strong.

All in less than three and a half minutes.