The top document was a certificate of death signed by Cruise with today’s date in the top right block. Cause of death: pulmonary failure.
Turcotte twisted the knob and threw open the door to examining room two. Cruise froze, the needle a few inches away from the old man’s arm. “Don’t move!” Turcotte ordered, drawing his 9mm Browning High Power from his hip holster.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Cruise blustered.
“Put the needle down,” Turcotte said.
“I’ll report you to General Gullick,” Cruise said, carefully putting the syringe down on the countertop.
“What is going on?” Von Seeckt asked in German.
“We’ll find out in a second,” Turcotte said, keeping the muzzle of his pistol on Cruise as he walked over and picked up the needle.
“What’s in it?” he asked.
“His treatment,” Cruise said, his eyes on the syringe.
“It won’t harm you, then, will it?” Turcotte asked with a nasty smile, turning the point toward Cruise’s neck.
“I’m — I—no, but—” Cruise froze as the tip touched his skin.
“This wouldn’t happen to be something that causes pulmonary failure, would it?”
“No,” Cruise said, his eyes wide and staring down at the gleaming metal and glass tube.
“Then there’s no problem if you get a dose,” Turcotte said, pushing the point into Cruise’s neck.
Sweat was pouring down Cruise’s face as Turcotte’s thumb poised over the plunger.
“No problem, right, Doctor?”
“Don’t. Please. Don’t,” Cruise whispered.
Von Seeckt didn’t seem too surprised by any of these events. He was putting his shirt back on. “What is in it, Dr. Cruise? My friend with the needle, he has had a hard night. I would not provoke him into doing anything rash.”
“It’s insulin.”
“And please tell me what that would have done to me?” Von Seeckt asked.
“An overdose would cause your heart to stop,” Cruise said.
“Your death certificate is filled out on the good doctor’s desk,” Turcotte said, looking at Von Seeckt. “He already signed it. The only thing blank was your time of death, but it was dated today.”
“Ah, after all these years.” Von Seeckt shook his head.
“And you are a doctor,” he added, shaking his head at Cruise. “I knew General Gullick was evil, but you should know better. You swore an oath to preserve life.”
“Gullick ordered this?” Turcotte asked.
Cruise almost shook his head, but thought better of it given the steel needle in his throat. “Yes.”
Turcotte slid the needle out, but before Cruise could even draw a deep breath, he slammed his elbow up against the doctor’s temple. Cruise crumpled to the ground unconscious.
“Thank you, my friend,” Von Seeckt said. He pulled his jacket on and picked up his cane. “And now?”
“And now we get the hell out of here,” Turcotte said.
“Follow me.”
He opened the door and stepped out into the waiting room, pistol first. There was only one guard there, reading a magazine. He looked up and kept very still. “Keys to the van,” Turcotte ordered. “With your left hand.”
The guard slowly took the keys out of his pocket.
“Put them on the table, then get on your knees, face to the wall.” The man complied.
“Get them, Professor,” Turcotte said. He edged toward the door, keeping his weapon on the guard. “Where’s your partner?”
The man kept silent, which is what Turcotte would have done in his position. Turcotte slammed the barrel of his pistol down on the back of the man’s head and he dropped to the floor.
“Let’s go.” Turcotte carefully opened the outside door and looked out. Because of the tinted windows he couldn’t tell if the other guard was inside the van, which was parked. Turcotte stuck the hand with the gun inside his parka pocket. He walked out with Von Seeckt, straight up to the van, and slid the side door open. Empty. “Get in.”
On the other side of the street Kelly watched the two men get into the van, the younger of the two holding a gun in his hand. She shifted her eyes and watched the other man, the guard who had come outside to smoke a few minutes ago, turn around and start walking toward the front of the building.
Turcotte turned the key and nothing happened. He tried again. “Fuck,” he muttered.
Von Seeckt leaned over and pointed at a small device under the steering column. “Electronic theft protection,” he explained. “There’s a small conductor that is placed there. Without it, no electrical power. They have begun installing—” “All right, all right,” Turcotte cut in. He hadn’t seen the driver take it out and it wasn’t on the key ring. He looked back at the front door of the clinic. A shadow crossed his peripheral vision — the other guard coming around the corner of the building.
Then it all fell apart. The front door opened and the other guard staggered out, pistol waving about, firing, blinking blood out of his eyes.
Turcotte kicked open the driver side door. “Get out!” he yelled to Von Seeckt. He fired three rounds quickly, deliberately high, causing both guards to drop to the ground.
“Jesus!” Kelly flicked her cigarette out the window and started the car’s engine. The man who had just fired swung around and looked at her, his eyes piercing right through the windshield from twenty feet away, then he spun about and fired again at the black-jacketed men. Too high, Kelly thought, and that decided her.
With a squeal of rubber she peeled out of the parking lot. She drove to the near side of the van, slamming on the brakes and skidding to a halt. “Get in!” she yelled, leaning over and throwing open the passenger door.
The man with the gun shoved the old man in, following right behind. “Go! Go! Go!” he exhorted her.
Kelly didn’t need the advice. She fishtailed out of the parking lot. The two men ran out into the road behind, firing. A group of airmen waiting outside the dental clinic ran for cover.
There were a few plinks as bullets hit the trunk. Kelly took the next corner with her foot still pushing down on the accelerator. They were out of sight of the two gunmen. The main gate to the base was four blocks directly ahead.
“Steady through the gate,” the man with the pistol said. “We don’t want to attract attention.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Kelly replied.
CHAPTER 13
“So, Mr. Mike Turcotte and Professor Werner Von Seeckt, are you the bad guys or the good guys?” Kelly asked. Her hand shook as she lit a cigarette. “You don’t mind, do you?” she asked, indicating the cigarette.
“If I was younger, I’d have one myself,” Von Seeckt said.
They were seated in her hotel room, belated introductions having just been made. “Why were you following us?” Turcotte demanded. “You didn’t just happen to be in that parking lot.”
“I’m not telling you a thing, until you tell me who you are and why those guys were shooting at you,” Kelly said.
Von Seeckt was looking at a piece of paper he’d pulled out of his coat. “To answer your first question, as you Americans say, we are the men in the white hats.”
“And the guys back at Nellis,” Kelly asked, “—the men in the black hats? Who are they?”
“The government,” Turcotte said. “Or part of the government.”
“Let’s try this one more time,” Kelly said. “Why were they shooting at you?” Turcotte gave a concise explanation of the events of the previous twenty-four hours, from Area 51 to Devil’s Nest, back to the Cube, to the hospital annex and Doctor Cruise’s attempt to kill Von Seeckt.