I took a deep breath, then lunged at him with my knife, parrying his arm away as I brought the K-bar up in an underhand motion. The blade sliced through the bottom of his chin, through his mouth and into his palate, where it stuck. I let go of the knife and stepped back.
His eyes widened, and he tried to speak or scream, but I think the blade must have passed through his tongue, and he just made a few unintelligible sounds as blood ran out of his mouth.
He started choking, then amazingly he took another step toward me, and we made eye contact, not three feet apart.
I looked into his eyes. One eye was filled with blood where I'd ripped his eyelid, but the other was bright and burning, and it stared at me.
The handle of my K-bar knife was stuck up to the hilt under his chin, and he looked like he'd sprouted a strange goatee.
I said to him, "My wife is alive. I am alive. You are dead."
He kept staring at me, then he shook his head.
I saw weird green-and-yellow stuff oozing out of his mouth and nose-maybe mucus from his sinus cavity, or maybe this guy was from outer space.
Asad Khalil was dead, but he wasn't finished dying, and I wasn't feeling so well myself.
So we both stood there, a few feet apart, our eyes fixed on each other, and I had the sense that this was a contest of wills-who was going to drop first?
Well, it wasn't going to be me. I managed to keep standing, even though my head was starting to spin.
Khalil suddenly seemed aware that he had a problem, and his right hand came up and grabbed the handle of the knife stuck under his chin.
Well, nobody but me touches Uncle Ernie's combat knife, so I hauled off and smashed him in the face.
He went down, and I knew he wasn't getting up again, so I let myself fall to my knees.
Then I crawled over to Khalil, turned, and dropped my head and shoulders on his chest to keep my wounds elevated.
I could feel his chest still rising and falling.
I stared up at the sky and felt a light drizzle on my face, which felt good.
I found my cell phone and called 911. I said to the dispatcher, "Ten-thirteen…" Officer in trouble. I IDed myself and gave her my shield number, then using cop lingo to make this sound real, I said, "I need a bus, forthwith," an ambulance-now. I gave her the location and had to repeat it, then I said, "Look for the… big semi… Carlino Masonry… yeah… let's be quick."
I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing and my beating heart. This was going to be close.
Within five minutes, I heard sirens up on Church Street, then a minute later I felt Khalil's chest heave and stop.
I turned my head and looked at Vince Paresi dangling from the big crane. I took a deep breath and said to him, "It's over, Captain-we won."
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
I didn't want to go to the closest hospital-I wanted to go to Bellevue, so that's where the EMS ambulance headed.
I had pressure bandages on my wounds and two saline drips in my arms, and I was feeling terrific. Let's do that again.
Actually, I was sort of drifting in and out, but I remember getting to Bellevue and I remember letting the emergency room staff know that my wife was a patient in the security ward-then I don't remember much.
The sun was coming through the window, and hanging from the window cord was a stuffed lion.
I was pretty sure this wasn't a dream, and the room definitely looked familiar.
Someone was squeezing my hand, and I turned my head to see Kate standing beside my bed. She was wearing the white blouse and blue skirt I'd brought her, and it took me a few seconds to process that.
She smiled and asked me, "How are you, handsome?"
I didn't know how I was, but I replied, "Not bad." I added, "You should see the other guy." He's dead.
She forced a smile and said, "You're going to be fine."
"Good." But I can't go to Minnesota.
She had tears in her eyes, and she bent over and kissed my cheek-right where Khalil had bitten into my nerve. Ouch!
I put my hand there and felt a bandage, then another bandage where the asshole took a bite out of my chin. Then, not quite being able to separate what happened from a bad dream, I did the guy thing and felt for the jewels. One, two, exclamation mark. One more time-one, two- "Are you okay? What hurts there?"
"Nothing." I found the bed control and raised myself into a sitting position.
I had tubes and wires attached to me, and I checked out the monitors, which looked okay. I was starting to experience that euphoria you get when the Grim Reaper just missed you, and I leaned forward and said, "I want to get out of here."
Kate informed me, "The doctor said three or four days-but I told him a week."
Not funny.
She further informed me, "You lost some blood, but they gave you a refill." She added, "I told the neurologist you were mentally impaired before the blood loss, so he shouldn't expect much when he evaluates you."
What did I do to deserve this sarcasm?
Kate held a cup of ice water to my lips and I took a sip. I noticed now that her bed was still in the room, and I asked her, "You staying?"
"No, you're staying. I'm leaving."
"Yeah?" I lay back on the bed, and even with the painkillers, I could feel where I'd taken the two knife cuts. In fact, my whole body ached. This sucked.
I stared up at the ceiling for a while, then I said, "Khalil's dead."
"I know."
"Vince Paresi is dead. Khalil killed him."
A silence, then, "I know."
She was crying again, and to be honest, I felt a little lump in my throat. I had no idea how Khalil had killed Vince, but I hoped it was quick.
She pulled up a chair, took my hand, and we sat there for a while.
Finally, she said to me, "Tom is at the… crime scene. He's coming to visit later."
"I'm not receiving visitors named Tom."
"John… he wants to see you, and… congratulate you."
"No photos."
She didn't reply to that, but said to me, "When you're ready to talk about it… I want to know what happened."
I was ready to talk about it now, but I knew I'd be telling the same story at least twenty times to half the Justice Department-not to mention Tom Walsh-so I said, "When I get home." I added, "You can help me with my incident report."
She smiled and said, "Don't puff yourself up."
I smiled.
I was actually hungry, and I asked her, "What's for breakfast?"
"Jail-O."
"What happened to the hard labor boiled eggs?"
She squeezed my hand tight, stood and gave me a teary kiss on my forehead-right where I head-butted the asshole. Ouch!
She looked at me and said, "I want you home with me."
"Me too." I asked, "Where are my clothes?"
She replied, "Probably in an evidence bag."
"Where's my gun?"
"Tom said they have it, and they recovered my gun, too."
"Good." I was going to ask her where Uncle Ernie's knife was, but the last time I saw it, it was sticking out of Asad Khalil's chin-so by now it was downstairs in the morgue where the medical examiner was tugging at it, trying to decide if he should pull it out before or after he cut open Khalil's skull.
Kate and I chatted a bit, and we agreed that I needed a few weeks at home so I could recuperate quietly. I expressed my deep disappointment that we couldn't see her parents or mine in the foreseeable future, and she knew I was full of crap, but she couldn't say that to a man in my delicate condition. I also informed her, "The E.R. doctor said no skydiving for five years."
Breakfast came at about 7:30, and apparently I was on a liquid diet that didn't resemble my usual liquid diet.
Kate chowed down on pancakes and sausages. She asked me, "Would you like more confine mint tea?"
This wasn't as funny as I'd thought when she was lying here.