Nemesis (FBI Thriller 19)

“Cal, your arm, it’s bleeding.”

Cal hadn’t felt a thing, but he did now. A streak of pain slashed through his arm. He looked down at a spreading bloody stain on his shirt, pressed his hand against his upper arm. “It can’t be bad, it’s not bleeding very much. It’s probably a through-and-through.” Agents crowded into the bathroom, all of them talking at once. He heard Giusti’s voice, turned to see her white face.

Sherlock looked over at her. “Nasim was right, Kelly. He said he was going to die here.”

“I don’t know how they found us.” Kelly took a step into the bathroom. “Are you all right, Sherlock?”

“Yes, it’s all Nasim’s blood. But Cal took a bullet in his arm covering me.”

“It’s under control, no worries,” Cal said. “He came close to taking Sherlock out, Kelly.”

Jo Hoag yelled from down the hall, “Elliott shot the shooter right out of the tree, but he’s alive! Thompson’s okay, probably concussed. Paramedics will be here any moment. I’m going out to meet them.”

Sherlock said, “Jo, wait. Have the paramedics tend to the shooter and Thompson. Don’t bring them in here. Nasim’s dead, there’s nothing they can do.” She drew a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t think we want it to get out yet that Nasim is dead. Let’s keep the terrorists guessing, at least until we find and hopefully save his family. Nasim didn’t entirely trust the terrorists not to murder his family if he gave himself up and let them kill him, and I believe that’s the reason he told me. I’m his backup.

“I don’t trust the terrorists, either, so let’s hold off—only a day, tops—give ourselves time to find his family. Then we can announce it and take the heat.”

Kelly said, “We can’t, Sherlock. We’d be crucified, accused of a massive cover-up, and that’s the last thing—”

“You don’t understand, Kelly,” Sherlock said right over her. “Unlike Nasim, I believe once the terrorists know Nasim is dead, they’ll kill the family. If they don’t know he’s dead, then maybe we have a chance. We have a name, Hosni Rahal. We can find the family.” She stopped, looked down at Nasim again. His eyes stared straight at the ceiling. There was no surprise on his face. What there was was acceptance.

Kelly chewed this over. “All right, okay. I’ve got to call Zachery, clear it with him. A day, tops. We’re looking for Rahal. If he’s in the U.S., we’ll find him and pray he’s still holding the family.” She looked down at her watch. “The crime scene techs and the ME are a half-hour out. Cal, Sherlock, come into the living room. Before I call Zachery, we’ve got to figure out how this happened. We’re lucky Elliott’s such a great shot or it could have been worse. Do you know he could shoot a feather off an eagle’s wing—”

Kelly realized shock was nibbling at the edges. She had to get herself together.

She saw Cal was shaking his head at her.

“What?”

“This wasn’t your fault.” He’d wanted to blast her for this debacle but didn’t because he knew she’d blast herself enough for all of them.

Giusti gave a scratchy laugh. “Then whose fault was it, Cal?”

“There’s a lot to be done,” he said matter-of-factly, “and you’re in charge. You’re the one everyone will look to.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Giusti nodded, sucked in air, rebooted.

Cal said, “Sherlock came closer to dying than any of us. I saw a bullet part her hair over her ear, scared me spitless. Those last shots were aimed at her and they came well after the shooter had to know Nasim was down. If he hadn’t stayed in that tree to try to take Sherlock out as well as Nasim, he might have made it out of here. Point is, Sherlock wasn’t a bystander, she was one of his targets.”

Kelly looked like she’d taken a punch to the gut. “I’m very sorry about this. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Cal said, “Nah, she’d never admit it to you because if she did, she’d have to spit it out to Savich.”

She closed her eyes. “You swear your arm’s not bad?”

“It’s only a flesh wound,” he said, and grinned at her. Cal saw it steadied her. Good. He knew Giusti had to be wondering about her career prospects in the FBI. She’d lost a major terrorist on her watch. Not good.

Sherlock said, “Cal, let me take a look at it. When the paramedics get here, they’ll have to deal with the shooter and Thompson.” She cleaned the wound with alcohol from the first-aid kit, then wrapped his arm in a soft white bandage. It didn’t hurt all that much. Both of them were listening to the agents discussing what had happened, trying to figure out how it had happened. She said to Cal, “When we get to the hospital, they can take a look. As far as I can tell, all you’ll need is Steri-Strips, Cal. You were lucky.”