Jackson took the map and pushed a button on his transmitter. A minute later, he was speaking with a deputy in the Gila County Sheriffs Department in Payson, Arizona.
Hatfield shook a fist at Riggs. “Listen here, Martin, I’m not telling the president that we know where they are, but we’re going to be clandestine about it. We should get the media involved, have them broadcast that reward money promo all over the networks. We’ll get information, fast. Send in the damn military now for crying out loud.”
Riggs glared at Hatfield’s fist and it melted to the table like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Riggs scrolled his eyes right up into the Chief of Staff’s face. “You can tell the president that we’re doing our jobs to the best of our ability. With all of the years of experience putting our lives on the line defending our nation from domestic and foreign enemies, we feel that this tactic has the best chance to succeed. Unless you have some law enforcement training, or military service in your background that I’m not familiar with-we’re not taking any requests.”
Hatfield pursed his lips, but stopped there. Nick could see the frustration in Hatfield’s face. Riggs knew that Hatfield was a former corporate attorney, who stepped in a pile of good fortune by marrying President Merrick’s sister back when he was still a senator in Indiana. Still, Hatfield could make everyone’s life miserable, adding pressure from the executive branch that no one wanted to deal with. He sat back in his seat with a childish frown on his face. With one final act of misguided authority, he said, “Proceed.”
Riggs stood at attention. He pointed to Nick, then Matt. “You two need to get going. Gather the team and head down to Dulles. There will be a Defense Department plane waiting for you. My plane.” He looked at Jackson almost as an afterthought. “That okay with you, Walt?”
Jackson nodded. “Of course. They’re our best assets.”
Riggs looked at Hatfield, who sat rigid, attempting to appear important. Riggs said “Don’t you have some shoes to shine or something?”
For a moment Nick thought Matt might stick his tongue out at Hatfield. Instead, he motioned to the door and said to Nick. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 26
Nihad Tansu entered the hospital wearing green surgical scrubs and a stethoscope draped around his neck. He strode into the lobby with a confident swagger and leaned over the half-circle reception desk, both hands on the white countertop. “I’m Doctor Marshall,” he announced to the white-haired woman sitting behind the desk. He managed to transform his Kurdish accent into a Latin-flavored mixture of Italian and Greek. Just enough to add mystery without being mysterious. “I was called down to see a new patient-Julie Bracco. Could you please direct me to her room?”
The woman scrolled a finger down a laminated sheet of paper hanging from the upper portion of the countertop. “Dr. Marshall?” she said, curiously. “I’m sorry, I’ve never seen your name before. Do you have privileges here?”
Tansu smiled. “Of course, it’s just that I only moved here a couple of days ago and the administrator hasn’t gotten around to adding me to the roster yet.”
The woman nodded her head, but continued to follow her finger up and down the sheet, even turning it over to scan names posted on the opposite side. “I see,” she said.
“I’m a plastic surgeon,” he said. “I’m only here to meet the patient and confer with Dr. Williams about her case.”
With the introduction of Dr. Williams name, the woman seemed to perk up. “Oh,” she said, “well, yes. Dr. Williams just operated on her last night. Poor thing, got a bullet right in the back of the head.” She pointed for effect.
Tansu cringed, but not for the same reason the woman thought it was for. He grimaced at the knowledge that Julie Bracco had somehow survived his gunshot. “Ouch,” he said. “That’s not good.”
The woman looked at him. “But, you must know all about it already?”
He froze.
“I mean if you’ve spoken with Dr. Williams already.”
“Actually,” Tansu breathed relief, “I only received a voice mail from him. He just told me to meet him here at ten-thirty.”
The woman appeared to be checking her computer screen for something. Tansu feared she was checking to see if Dr. Williams was even there. Tansu got his name from the newspaper that morning, but he hoped that would be enough of a password. He cupped his hand under her chin, holding it there as if he were framing her face for a portrait. “I hope you don’t think me rude,” he said, “but I only started seeing patients on Tuesday, and. . um. .”
This got her full attention-a plastic surgeon actually examining her face. “Yes?” she said, anxiously.
“Well, it’s just that, being new and all. . I could use some work to keep me fresh.”
Her eyes widened as he moved around her, touching her cheek ever so softly. She sat perfectly still, as if the slightest movement could cause a miscalculation.
“If you are at all interested, uh-”
“Marie,” she blurted.
“Yes, Marie,” he said, gazing at her bone structure as if it was a fine diamond. “I’d be glad to do a little work on you, maybe a little around the eyes,” he said, gently pulling her skin toward her ear, then using both thumbs to get the symmetrical effect. “It wouldn’t take me more than a couple of hours. I could do it right across the street in my new office. And, of course, I would waive my fee. Like I said, I could use the work. At least until I develop my practice. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course,” she said. What’s to understand, he was offering her every American woman’s dream come true. Free plastic surgery.
“That sounds great,” she beamed.
Tansu looked at his watch. “Uh oh. I’d better get back there. Could you-” he pointed to the door that he hoped led to the patient rooms.
“Oh, yes, of course,” she held her index finger up against the computer screen. “Mrs. Bracco is in room 406.” She stood, then pointed down a long corridor. “Take the second set of elevators to the third floor.”
Tansu was already walking away. “Thank you, Marie. I’ll stop by on my way out and give you my office number.”
She was smiling like a high school girl on her prom night. Tansu couldn’t help but smile back at her. A very helpful woman, he thought. He was almost to the corridor when he heard her yell, “Dr. Marshall.”
He turned.
“There’s a police officer standing guard in front of that room,” she said. They both stood there looking at each other. Tansu held up his hands, unsure what to say. He was prepared to kill a half a dozen people to get to Julie Bracco, one unsuspecting police officer didn’t pose much of a threat.
Marie finally picked up a phone and said, “I’ll call up there and tell him you’re coming.”
Tansu blew her a mock kiss. “Thank you, thank you.”
He made his way down the corridor, searching for a storage room for medical supplies. He came unarmed in case he needed to pass through a metal detector. He knew that a hospital had more than enough weapons for him to choose from.
He wondered why Kharrazi had such a fixation for this Bracco person. It seemed that half of their time was spent attempting to put to death this FBI agent or some family member of his. Tansu tried not to doubt his leader, but sometimes personal reprisals seemed to get in the way of their ultimate goaclass="underline" to force U.S. troops out of Turkey and allow his people to defend themselves properly. Tansu himself had a cousin who was shot by a Turkish soldier. His cousin was simply escorting his wife to the river for water, when a band of soldiers came driving by in an open jeep, waving their machine guns in the air. They were drunk with hatred and didn’t stop to ask questions. If you were Kurdish and lived in Kurdistan, you had a target on your back at all times.