Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)

In a smooth, precise move so fast it was a blur, Connie swung her leg out and struck him in his wounded side.

Khalid screamed and fired.

Morganville, Virginia

Amity Ransom shouted “No!” from the living room doorway, and fired the old revolver at Blessed. There was a clicking sound, but nothing else happened. She kept pulling the trigger as Savich dived for Blessed, grabbed him around the neck and jerked him backward against him. “All right you madman, tell the officers to drop their weapons or I’ll twist your neck off.”

“Shoot him!” Blessed screamed at Sherlock. Savich smashed his fist against Blessed’s temple and lurched toward Sherlock. He was on top of her before she could raise her gun, but she was strong, stronger than he’d ever imagined. Slowly, inexorably, he pulled her gun arm out from beneath his chest and pinned her arm to the ground. She lay there, staring up at him with empty eyes. He slapped her hard, once, twice.

It seemed an eternity before she blinked, stared up at him. “Dillon?” Her voice was a tiny thread of a sound. “Why’d you hit me?”

“I’m sorry, I had to. You’re yourself again?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice filled with surprise. “Of course. I’m fine.”

Bibber and Pilson stood quiescent, waiting to be told what to do. Blessed stirred and sat up. Savich walked over and pressed his Glock against his ear. “You say one word and you’re a dead man.”

Sherlock shook her head as she slowly got to her feet. She knew what had happened, but she had no memory of it. She didn’t look at Blessed. She pulled off her jacket and ripped the sleeve off her blouse, handed it to Dillon. He wound it around Blessed’s eyes, knotting it in the back. “Watch him, Sherlock.” He walked to the two policemen, sent his fist into each of their jaws. They grunted in surprise, and then they were back. They straightened, looked at each other, and almost in unison said, “What happened?”

“Are you all right?” The old woman was lightly touching her fingertips to the blood on Sherlock’s temple.

“Yes, ma’am, I think so.”

Amity Ransom looked around her entrance hall. “Goodness, what a to-do. I think all of us need a nice cup of tea.”

Blessed hurled himself up and grabbed Sherlock as he ripped the sleeve off his eyes, stared at her, and shouted, “Kill him! Kill him!”

Savich shot Blessed in the forehead as Sherlock raised her gun. Amity Ransom hit her on the temple with her heavy old revolver. Sherlock sank to the floor on her knees, holding her head and moaning. The old woman leaned down and lightly touched her shoulder. “I don’t understand this, but you should be all right now. Are you back here again?”

“I think so,” Sherlock said.

“I’m sorry. Your poor bruised head. Isn’t that strange how this man can hypnotize you so fast? I simply looked at him and I wasn’t there anymore until you hit me. Are you all right now, child?”

Sherlock’s head was swimming, pain pulsing through her, she wanted to vomit, but somehow she found a smile. “Yes, ma’am, thanks to you I am. Thank you.”

Washington Memorial Hospital

The shot hit the pitcher beside Hooley, not a foot from Natalie. Khalid wasn’t screaming now, he was on his back, clutching his side, moaning, nearly unconscious with the pain, as Davis pulled the gun from his hand. Connie was beside him, applying pressure to his bleeding side.

Davis said over his shoulder, “Perry, get a doctor in here. Connie, I think you’d make a fine FBI agent.”

She never raised her hands, now red with Khalid’s blood. “You think?”

Natalie walked slowly over to where William Charles lay gasping for breath on his back, his eyes glazed with pain. She saw the spreading blood through the white lab coat from his wound, saw the blood covering Connie’s hand. She went down on her knees next to him, lightly touched her fingers to his face. “Billy,” she said, leaning close, “I’m so sorry your father died. I’m so sorry you believed the press that I was the one who brought it about. I didn’t, Billy. I loved him as much as you said.” She paused for a moment, dashed the tears out of her eyes. “Medical help is on the way for you. You’ll get well and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

Perry said, “Mom, he didn’t try to kill me.”

“No, he said he didn’t.” Natalie looked up at her daughter. “So who did?” She rose and moved back as a doctor and two orderlies pushed in to take care of his lordship, Viscount Lockenby.