Harris parked at the front of the Jackson City Hospital, then began walking from shadow to shadow to the rear of the building, and Mariner’s Wood.
Mariner’s Wood stood just behind the hospital, separated only by a single, rough road. The lightly forested area had been paved with gravel and was used primarily for overflow parking, and for the storage of the hospital’s mobile units.
Four RVs that looked like ambulances on steroids were parked there in the dark. One was used for cancer screenings and a second for mammography. They were deployed on a weekly basis for screenings in the remote areas of the Smokey Mountains and in the smaller coastal towns in eastern North Carolina.
The other two RVs both had “Jackson City Emergency Disaster Hospital” painted on their sides in giant red letters. These were massive mobile units, whales, with treatment areas, laboratories, radiology suites for X-rays, MRIs, and CT scans, a pharmacy, and two small but fully equipped operating rooms. One mobile unit alone had treated 200 burn and trauma victims during a West Virginia coal mine collapse.
The mobile units were empty and dark now, and there were no other vehicles parked in Mariner’s Wood. The place was quiet.
Harris maneuvered until he was standing just inside the opening of a narrow tunnel at the back of the hospital, and then waited for two long hours. He grew weary of the fruitless night vigil. People were seeing things. There was nothing out here.
Then something caught his eye — movement in the trees behind the building. He watched attentively for another thirty minutes. Then, a faint glow of light came and went in a fraction of a second. It was a burning cigarette.
With his pistol drawn, Harris quietly left the tunnel entrance and walked to the edge of Mariner’s Wood, only fifty feet from the rear of the building. He stood behind a large red oak tree and peeked around. He smelled tobacco smoke. Someone was close.
Suddenly, the tobacco smell intensified and a limb cracked. The person was behind him. Harris aimed his pistol as he turned to face his attacker. In that moment, the palm of a large hand slapped down hard on the top of his head. The extraordinary downward force instantly shattered his spine and compressed the spinal nerves. Sharp pains shot from his back and into his arms and legs, even into his hands and feet. Harris tried to fire his gun but he couldn’t pull the trigger. He was paralyzed.
Coarse fingernails dug into his scalp. A heavy, half round, ten-inch blade sliced his throat to the bone. A second thrust found the space between two vertebrae and cut entirely through the neck. Harris’ body fell to the ground.
A black SUV drove slowly into the woods. The driver and the killer threw the body and head into the trunk.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Keyes was still in my bed when I awoke the morning after our night of lovemaking. I turned and kissed her. “I’m glad I didn’t succeed in knocking myself off. It would’ve been a shame to miss last night.”
Keyes held me tightly and whispered, “I feel good today, better than I have in a long time.”
“Me too,” I said, stroking her hair from her face
I opened my mouth to speak, but she shushed me with a kiss.
“I’ll make breakfast,” she said.
As we ate, I looked into her sparkling eyes. They were so inviting.
God knows I needed an ally, so over breakfast, I filled her in on my situation. “I know Waters had a hand in Dr. Carey’s and Willie Wilson’s murders. He’s the only person I can think of who would try to kill me or discredit me,” I said. “I wrote that letter to the paper about all the shady stuff that’s been going on since he’s been running the show at the hospital. Now he’s trying to sell it. Somewhere along the way, there has to be something that could expose Waters’ dealings.”
“Maybe I could find a way,” she said.
Thirty minutes later, enough time for me to clean up the breakfast dishes, Keyes walked into the living room wearing form-fitting white jeans and a sheer, ruffled, sky-blue blouse, one that brought out the green in her eyes. Her hair and make-up were flawless, and stunning emerald earrings dangled from her ears. She could’ve stepped out of an issue of Vogue.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to run an errand.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Keyes quickly climbed the steps and entered the private Learjet parked adjacent to runway eight.
“I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to get more dressed up, Omar,” Keyes said as she sat at a round table laden with a lavish spread of foods and wines. She was gorgeous. Her blue blouse ballooned out at the waist, accentuating her breasts. Her blonde hair fell, elegantly, straight to her shoulders.
“Omar, I’m still having some… issues… and need a little more time. Will you please ask Hormand for an extension for me?”
Omar Farok wore a white suit and an open-collared white shirt, expertly tailored to fit his trim, five-foot eight-inch body. He ignored the question and leaned over the table. He grasped her fingers tightly in his small, oiled, manicured hand. A wide-banded gold ring with a sparkling five-carat blue white diamond flashed on his ring finger. His long, thin face was smoothly shaven and splashed with sweet-smelling aftershave lotion. His thin lips barely moved as he said quietly, “You, my dear, have always been beautiful, every second of your life since you were born.”
“But the deadline—”
“Shh… I want you to have something to enhance your beauty.” He looked upward, his eyes catching the gaze of his well-groomed servant wearing a white thobe, with a red and black embroidered waistband.
The servant walked to the table, his outstretched hands holding a shiny object. Farok took the gold and platinum Rolex watch. It was covered with diamonds and emeralds. Looking into her eyes, Farok clasped the watch onto Keyes’ wrist. “My dearest, I have loved many women in my life, but you are my most precious gem. I want you to be mine, heart and soul. This gift to you is but a token of my forever love for you. It is important to me that you always wear this symbol of our love and that you promise never to remove it from your arm, whether you are at a party with the Queen or planting flowers in your garden.”
She smiled as she touched the treasure he’d given her. As beautiful as it was, her sole objective tonight was to escape a horrible death. Her deadline had expired. She was here to beg for mercy.
Returning his gaze, she said, “Omar, it is gorgeous. I will never take it off, if that is your wish. But please, give me a few more days to find Alpha Charlie.”
Farok looked up as a second servant appeared, lifted a bottle of champagne from the ice, and poured it into their glasses.
Holding his glass high, Farok said, “When you return home, we will have the most elegant wedding ever held in the Sudan, and you will be my wife.”
Was a marriage proposal her escape from her death sentence? She tried to smile. After drinking the champagne, Farok took her hand and led her to the bedroom of his Learjet. His eyes never left her face as he undressed and lay down with her.
She cringed at his touch. Her mission tonight was to have Omar intervene and spare her life. Lovemaking was not on her “to do” list.
His hands moved slowly over her body. “Oh, my,” he uttered, as his hands caressed her breasts. “I love your breasts. And your face is prettier than ever.”
Her body stiffened with Omar’s every touch.