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“Relax, Mr. Welsh. We don’t intend to let you suffocate. Not until we know what your friends have planned for tonight.”
The tubing was reinserted into his nostrils. His oxygen tank was taken from his car and transported, along with him, to the gray sedan. When they pushed him into the backseat, Daily was comforted to see that Dolly’s remains also had been brought along.
At least he wouldn’t die entirely alone.
* * *
“If anyone stops you and asks, you’re filling in for someone who’s sick.”
Gray had been giving Barrie instructions for ten minutes, ever since their adulterous driver had left his pickup to report for work. As anticipated, the guard at the gate had waved the truck through without checking the camper. They were on the grounds, but not yet inside the hospital.
Gray had produced clip-on photo IDs with phony names for them to wear. “They won’t pass muster on close inspection, but at a glance they look authentic.”
“Dolly Madison?” she said, reading her name. “Speaking of Dolly, I hope she and Daily are all right.”
“He’ll do okay. Remember, there will probably be monitored security cameras, so even when no one’s around, someone could be watching. Walk naturally and—”
“Purposefully. I know, I know. You’ve told me at least a dozen times.”
“I just don’t want us blown before we locate Vanessa.”
“Will there be security guards on the inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“If there are, will they be armed?”
“Possibly. The Secret Service, definitely. But I’ll take care of them.”
“One more thing. Once we have Vanessa, how do you plan on getting out of here?”
“Plan A, I’ll hotwire this truck. You and Vanessa can ride back here.”
“What’s plan B?”
“Hell if I know.”
“Great,” she muttered. But it was she who opened the camper door and stepped out first.
Tabor House was more extravagant than Gray’s description of it. Built in a U shape around a center garden, the house had three floors. Avoiding the grandiose front entrance, they went to the employee side entrance, which Gray had spotted during his reconnaissance the day before. Shifts were changing. Doctors, nurses, and other personnel were leaving as others were reporting in for the graveyard shift.
“I’ll go first,” Gray said as they approached. “Wait a few minutes and then follow me.”
“Follow you where?”
He shrugged. “Don’t worry. I’ll find you.” He started off, then turned back. “Barrie, if something happens to me, get the hell out. Understand? Hide in somebody’s car and ride out the same way we rode in. Okay?”
She nodded.
“You won’t, will you?”
“No.”
With a frown of disgust, he turned and disappeared through the employee entrance door. Trying to appear casual, she opened her satchel and, without taking out the video camera, checked all the mechanisms to make certain they were working properly. She also checked the tape deck to make sure she had remembered to load a cassette. It would be just like her to make history but forget to put a tape in the camera.
As she headed for the entrance, she was assailed by a thousand misgivings. But only one certainty. If she didn’t do this, Vanessa Merritt would die in this building. So she kept her eyes focused on the floodlight above the entrance, letting it guide her as a lighthouse guides a sailor through a perilous reef.
She entered through what had probably been a mud room when Tabor House was a private residence. That anteroom led into a large, well-lighted, well-equipped commissary/lounge where the staff took their breaks. There were various vending machines for food and drinks, a commercial coffeemaker, an industrial icemaker, several microwave ovens, tables and chairs, and two doors designating rest rooms. A bank of metal lockers took up one wall. A roster of telephone extensions had been made into a poster, large enough to be read from any point in the room.