The Protector

5

An oxygen mask over her face, an IV blood line going into her left arm, Jamie lay on a gurney that two nurses wheeled urgently through electronically controlled swinging doors toward a brightly lit corridor flanked by operating rooms. Two surgeons quickly followed. A clock on the wall showed it was 12:35. Watching the doors swing shut, Cavanaugh tightened his grip on the blanket wrapped around him.

"I heard you stopped the bleeding with duct tape," a voice behind him said.

Cavanaugh turned toward Rutherford, whose husky dark features looked pale with fatigue. Like Cavanaugh, he still bore the marks of the beating he'd received.

"We're going to have to start teaching that at the Academy," Rutherford said.

Cavanaugh's hollowness made it difficult for him to speak. "Good to see you again, John."

"Hard to believe, given how much trouble you took to avoid me."

"When did you get in?"

"This evening. As soon as it was obvious you were jerking us around again, several of us decided to go sight-seeing in Carmel. In fact, I received your second phone call in a Bureau jet somewhere over Ohio."

"You told the police to report any incidents involving people who matched our description?"

"It seemed a reasonable tactic. Trouble has a way of happening to you." Rutherford nodded toward the doors to the surgical area. "Is she going to be all right?"

Cavanaugh glanced down at his hands. "They don't know."

"I'm very sorry. We could have tried to help you get her back."

" Tried.' A lot to coordinate. No time to do it. The government would have cared more about keeping Prescott than helping me. I couldn't risk it."

"Did the doctors tell you when they'd have word about her condition?"

"Four to five hours."

"A long time to wait," Rutherford said. "You can spend it in jail, or you can spend it with us. Do you think you're ready now to help us get Prescott?"