He injected the painkiller while the nurse methodically removed or cut off the rest of Lana’s clothes. Just as systematically, Rivera examined every inch of her, turning Lana over to complete the task.
“Just your leg,” he pronounced minutes later.
The nursed draped Lana with a sheet. “Do you want the FBI and Bethesda Police back in here? Can you handle that?”
“That’s fine,” Lana replied.
Robin swept to her side first, asking if she’d seen an African American male anywhere near the attack.
She shook her head. “Why?”
Dr. Rivera turned back to them. “I wouldn’t go into that now.”
“I can handle it,” Lana snapped. “Why?” she asked Robin again.
“There was a beheading down the block from the scene. A black male cut off the head of the man who appeared to have been in charge of the assassination attempt on you.”
“I don’t think it was an assassination attempt,” Lana said. “They could have killed me right at the start, if that’s what they wanted. I think they wanted to take me alive.”
“How many did you see?”
“Four men. Never their faces. But I saw their hands. They were white. A beheading? Really?”
Robin nodded. Dr. Rivera tugged on the agent’s jacket sleeve. “Do you have enough for now?”
“How long will she be under?” Robin replied.
“I don’t think we’ll put her under. I’ll use a local anesthetic. But I want her focused on the procedure. If she feels any serious discomfort, I’ll need to know right away.”
Robin backed out of the curtained cubicle for a second time, already on his phone. The Bethesda police officer followed him.
Dr. Rivera might have wanted Lana thinking about the procedure but all she could do was wonder why Tahir — she figured that was a solid guess — had cut off the man’s head. Did he want to leave the impression that ISIS had advanced into the District’s toniest suburbs? Wasn’t he worried he’d show up on video? Or did his convoluted relationship with U.S. intelligence agencies grant him a special form of immunity? But even if that were the case, why would he want to generate the widespread fear that a beheading would bring?
Or maybe he wants to fight fire with fire?
“Ouch,” Lana squealed as Dr. Rivera probed her wound.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m putting you under,” he said a moment later, nodding at an anesthesiologist. “I’ve got to go deeper than I expected,” he said, turning back to Lana. “Just so you know, you’ll have some scarring down here.”
Lana smiled. That was the least of her…
She hadn’t finished the thought before the drugs took over.
Vinko brought up YouTube, hoping against hope that the failed abduction had not been posted.
1,257,546 views in the first hour and a half.
He groaned.
“Cyber Spy and Park Ranger Heroes” was the website’s headline. All four of the dead attackers were on vivid display. But they didn’t show the colonel’s severed head, though Vinko had no doubt that that grisly sight would show up somewhere, probably sooner rather than later.
He didn’t know how he’d get to Lana Elkins now. And then he told himself to return to basics.
Get her kid. That’s what you were thinking before the colonel fucked things up. Emma’s the bait.
He murmured her name to himself, as if invoking those two smooth syllables would grant him mantra-like powers. Then he got to the point: “I’m coming to get you, Emma. And then I’m taking down your mom.”
It was personal for Vinko now. He’d make sure it would be no different for Lana Elkins.
Chapter 17
Lana sat with her injured leg propped on a hassock in the living room. She had two wounds from the fragments that had ripped into her calf, which were now closed with twelve stitches. The surgeon said the cuts were deep, down to the bone in one case, and insisted that she keep her leg elevated for four days.
She worked effectively enough from the couch, where she glanced up periodically to see if the breeder and dog trainer, Ed Holmes, had arrived yet.
Bob Holmes’s son had been aghast to learn about Jojo, but relieved that the young Malinois would survive, the latest report from the veterinarian’s office. Ed Holmes had phoned Lana last night to say he’d be bringing her a replacement.
“Which one?” Emma had asked when Lana got off the phone.
“I don’t know. Does it matter?”
“He had two other younger dogs, I’m pretty sure.”
There was Ed now. Lana saw Robin greeting him in the driveway, where the FBI agent had just completed another circuit around the house. The dog by Ed’s side looked heftier than Jojo. Actually, he looked… older.
Robin escorted Ed and the hound into the living room.
Better than a butler, Lana thought of Robin, smiling to herself.
Ed introduced himself as Don walked in from the kitchen. He’d been anxious, too, about Jojo’s successor.
“You’re kidding,” Don said, staring at the hound. “That old guy?”
Lana thought Don sounded insulting, but before she could come up with some meliorating words for Ed, Don turned to her and said, “Do you know who this is?” He gestured at the dog.
“No.”
“This is Cairo, the dog that helped take down bin Laden.”
“Seriously?” Lana was now staring at Cairo, too.
“He’s the best I’ve got right now,” Ed jumped in. “The demand is very high. The navy took my two younger ones,” he added with a knowing nod to Don. “Cairo’s not as fast as he once was, but he’s smart, experienced, and has a better sense of people than any creature, including humans, that I’ve ever met. Thing is, he’s not a family dog. He’s all business. Think of him as a battle-hardened grandfather who can’t suffer fools, and you’ll pretty much know what Cairo’s all about. And nobody cuddles up with Cairo. Just feed him, air him, and he’ll secure the premises.”
“So we have a celebrity guard dog?” Lana said.
“Lower case c,” Ed replied. “Don’t go dining out on stories about him, though. There’s a price on his head, and I understand there’s a pretty hefty one on yours, too, so you don’t want some enterprising jihadist aiming for a twofer with both of you in this place.”
Ed did introduce Cairo to her. Lana petted him. He appeared to tolerate her touch, but that was about it. And he barely glanced at Lana, eyes on his new digs. Emma got a reintroduction, and asked if Cairo still high-fived.
“Sure,” Ed replied.
She and Cairo slapped palm and pad.
While Don, Emma, and Ed gave Cairo the tour of the house and grounds, Robin remained in the living room long enough to ask Lana how she was doing.
“Fine. Do you need anything?”
“No, nothing. I’ll leave.”
She didn’t mean to be curt, but realized that must have been how she’d sounded. As he exited the front door, Ed, Emma, Don, and Cairo returned through the kitchen.
“I brought along special senior dog food for him,” the breeder said. “You can pick it up at Whole Pet Central in Rockville when you run out. Or from us if you happen to be up in our neck of the woods. Thing is, don’t ever let anyone else try to feed him but you two and Emma.” He went on to brief her about the importance of Cairo’s rigid feeding regimen. “Now, if you’re going on vacation—”
“We won’t be taking any vacations for the foreseeable future,” Lana interrupted.
“I hear you,” Ed said. “Nobody is. Not even the President’s taking any time at Camp David. I’ll go get that dog food from my truck. Just remember, Cairo does not cuddle.”