“I say so, Mick,” Seline said, sitting down beside Wolfe. He felt her hand on one of his. Her touch was cool, but there was a sweet warmth in it too. “You’re alive. I’m taking your pulse right now. Yep, there it is. Pretty strong.”
“Am I…” He swallowed. His throat seemed gummed up.
“Here—you want some water?”
He felt her left his head a little; felt a paper cup of water at his lips. He drank. It was a beautiful taste. Just cool water.
“Thanks.” He lay back and asked. “Am I under arrest? I mean—is there… did they…”
“It’s complicated, Wolfe. There were bodies on the plane. But… seeing as you saved a city… of course that’s still under discussion. There are people wondering if you might be the guy who…” She bent near his ear and whispered, so closely, he could feel her breath tickle. “…who stole a helicopter and crashed it. I told them no way was that you.”
“Thanks. You’re a great… character witness.”
She chuckled, and sat up. “They aren’t sure. Then there was that Federal Building mess… But Starling is talking. He says you gave him orders to talk—so he’s talking. You really psyched him out, Wolfe. And our mutual friend, Aiden, is using all his contacts on your behalf. And so is DedSec. And the SystemsLeak thing has really gone viral. That vindicates you and makes Verrick look like the creep he was. So with a little luck…”
“I…” He looked around. His eyes almost cleared, for a moment. Then the darkness closed in again. “…gave up on luck… Till I…”
He squeezed her hand. Then he lost consciousness again.
“The testimony of Mr. Starling, and the information from the drone recovered from the lake seems to confirm the story provided by Mr. Wolfe’s lawyers regarding the planned attack on Chicago. The District Attorney declines to prosecute Mick Wolfe, citing…”
Wolfe turned off the radio. “Hey nurse!” he shouted.
He found the button to call her. A minute later a fairly large cocoa-colored nurse with dyed-blond cornrows came into the room. “Who’s hollering in here? That you again, Mick? Did I not tell you to get some rest?”
“Done resting, Martha. I need you to take this IV out of my arm. I’m free to go, no more cops watching my room. I feel better. I can leave.”
“And you got a medical degree when?”
“It’s just common sense, Martha. I know why you’re keeping me here, really. And I don’t blame you. Women cannot resist me. But you have a wedding ring. It wasn’t meant to be.”
She laughed. “Oh listen to him! Now you got to go! I’ll ask the doctor…”
But it was almost two hours before he was out of the hospital, standing on the corner, on a sunny but cold winter afternoon, wondering what had become of his PearcePhone. He could get a standard phone. He knew Seline’s number. He wondered if it was the right thing to call her. Purity, in some form, was still out there. It was being investigated. Iceberg Investments had been shut down. Starling’s testimony had led to Marlon Winters being arrested. But there were still a lot of Purity members out there, most of them under cover. They had reason to hate Mick Wolfe. If they were after him—Seline would be in the crossfire. If, that is, she even wanted to be around him.
He’d thought she’d whispered something to him, while he was semi comatose… something about wanting—
“Mick! I’ve been looking for you, you idiot!”
Seline was walking up to him. She wore a long blue coat, something retro, like you’d expect to see Barbara Stanwyck wear in a 1940s movie, and a matching hat.
“Seline. Hi. I was just wondering if I should call you.”
“Wondering if! What a…”
“I just thought… I’m going to have a lot of enemies now.”
“That’s why you need me to watch your back, dummy.”
“You really want to do that?”
“Did I or did I not pick you up on the freeway when you were trying to get away with Bullock?”
“Yeah. But…”
“Never mind, yeah but. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved. Come on, I’ve got the rental. We won’t have to steal one.”
They started off down the street together. Wolfe felt something strange, as he walked along. After a moment he realized it was something close to happiness. He’d forgotten what that felt like.
After a couple minutes, though, the worries came back. The first one had to do with Pearce. “Where’s the PearcePhone, Seline? I was wondering if someone could use it to trace Pearce.”
“Pearce made sure one of his EMT contacts was there when you were loaded into the ambulance. He had to pull it out of your pants. I guess it was kind of a little too intimate for the guy. But he did it. Pearce has it now.”
“I don’t want the damned thing anymore. It’s a magnet for trouble.”
“It saved your life more than once. But I know what you mean.”
They got to the car, she unlocked it, and they climbed in. She started the car, then turned to him. “Wolfe… I want you to know, you were a perfect gentleman when we were sharing quarters together. I appreciated that.”
“Okay.”
“But Wolfe… that was then. This is now.”
He blinked at her. What was he supposed to do now?
She made a sound of exasperation, and reached out, pulled him to her, and kissed him hard on the mouth.
After a moment he relaxed, and put his arms around her. And kissed her back.
There was that strange feeling again…
“Mr Quinn?”
Niall Quinn put out his hand. “Mr Winters?”
“Call me Marlon.” They shook hands.
“Okay. Call me Niall. Glad to see you made bail. A man like you shouldn’t have to sit in stir.”
“The bastards will never convict me.”
“Sit down, take a load off, Marlon. Have a drink.”
Winters looked around at the interior of the train car. “This is something. Old fashioned. Like something one of the old time tycoons would have—like Vanderbilt.”
“Sure, that’s what I had in mind,” Quinn said. “My dad always wanted one. It’s in his honor. It’s armored. It’s got every kinda electronic contraption you can imagine. I own the train it’s hooked up to. The whole thing is the latest—even though this here looks so old fashioned. Doors are electronic, so they can’t be jimmied or lock picked. It’s a fortress… one that moves!”
“I do admire that.”
They sat in two push red velvet chairs; between them a little round mahogany table held a brass cigar humidor, a cut-crystal brandy decanter and two small snifters. The table and chairs were bolted to the floor, against sudden motions of the train car. The luxurious private car was done in reds and golds, with carpeting, a bar, a breakfast table, a fold-way double bed, fine fringed curtains over the bullet proof windows. Quinn’s old man had indeed admired the private rail cars he’d seen in movies, and Niall Quinn had copied one from an old film about a railroad magnate.
“How about we go the whole hog and have brandy and cigars?” Quinn suggested.
“Fine, fine…”
They drank brandy, smoked cigars. Quinn switched on the fan overhead that drew the smoke from the car.
“I’ve never been a train car guy,” Winters said. “Private jets, that’s me. Mine’s sweet.”
“I’ll bet it is. But see, I don’t trust jets right now. Too vulnerable to hacking.” He winked. “So I heard.”
Winters grunted. “We’re both still vulnerable, Niall.” He blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. “Pearce. Wolfe. DedSec. Long as all that’s in place…”
“I’ve heard of that DedSec. Hard to kill what you can’t find.”