Heroes Never Die (34 page)

“You need to remain calm.  Kyle is keeping a close eye on things, and you’re not in any immediate danger.  We’re going to start packing, and I want you and Bobby to go someplace safe.  My enlistment is over soon.  I’ll join you as soon as I can leave my post.”

“I’m scared, Brian.  I don’t want to be without you.”  She stood to her feet and wrapped her arms around him, including Bobby in her hug.

“We’ll all be together soon.”

Stephanie felt the warmth of his embrace.  She had never felt so incredibly safe and so completely frightened at the same time.

Chapter Thirty-Nine:

Brian sat down on the edge of the hospital bed and removed the sutures from his patient’s abdomen.  He declared him to be as good as new, and then he left his bedside t
o go and see his next patient.

Sandy looked up from her desk at the nurse’s station.  “You have a call on your line, Dr. Fairchild.”

The call was an unwanted interruption.  “We have a full house, Sandy.  Take a message.”

“I already tried.  He said it’s urgent.”

Brian puffed with frustration.  He hurried to his office, picked up the phone, and hit the flashing light.  “Surgery – Colonel Fairchild.”

“He’s on his way,” Kyle warned.

There was a long pause.  Brian suddenly wondered if murder would be any easier if it was someone other than the President.  The stakes were high.  No matter what he chose, he stood to lose it all.  He fixed his stare on Stephanie’s picture that was resting on his desk.  Then he looked at the latest picture of her holding Bobby in her arms.  “All right,” he finally said, his voice apprehensive.  He slowly replaced the phone.  He knew what he had to do.  He just wasn’t sure how to do it.

Robert stepped into Brian’s office and closed the door behind him.  “We have a crisis, Brian.  The President will be here in less than ten minutes, probably with a perforated ulcer, and we’re down two surgeons.”

Brian evaluated the task ahead.  One small undetected slip of the scalpel, and the President was dead.  “I want to do his surgery.”

That’s why I wanted to talk to you in private.  I’ve already assigned Andrea the job.”

Brian felt Stephanie slipping out of his reach.  “But it’s not her niche,” he criticized, knowing that he had to convince the General to change his mind.

“Andrea will do just fine.  Scope and mend – simple as that.  She’s already done the procedure hundreds of times.”

“So have I,” Brian protested.  “I’m more qualified for the job, and you know it.”

“You know damn well this has nothing to do with your qualifications.  I can’t in my right mind allow you to put a knife to the President.  If anything would happen to him, an investigation would follow, and you would be a prime suspect with a sound motive.  I refuse to put your life in that kind of jeopardy.”

Brian wasn’t about to give up.  “Then at least let me assist.”

“Not a chance.  I’m the most senior staff member here.  If I don’t take my place beside Andrea, some serious questions will be raised, and that’s the first thing I want to avoid.”

He had no idea he was protecting the man who had murdered his wife.  His daughter was next.  But it wouldn’t be ethical to put the General in a position where he was forced to choose between the President or Stephanie.  This was Brian’s battle, and one he had to fight alone.  “I disagree with your decision, General, but there’s not much I can do about it, is there?”

“I’m not trying to flex my brass, but if that’s what I have to do to put you in your place, I will.  We can’t afford any slip-ups.  I want you involved in the screen and prep, but under no circumstances are you to prescribe, dispense, or administer any drug.  And when the President is sedated, you are not to ask him any questions that might compromise my daughter’s safety.  Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“In just a few minutes, this place will be crawling with secret service and pushy reporters.  Anyone releasing information to the press, with the exception of Jonathan Chelsey, will be prosecuted in accordance with the UCMJ.  And no one is to enter the President’s room alone.  From here on out, everything is done two-by-two.  I’m warning you, Brian – stay in line.  Because if you’re harboring the misconception that you can somehow get even with the President, you’ll be flat on your ass wit
h a pistol to your head so fast you won’t know what hit you.”

Brian refused to comment.  His anger had already aroused enough suspicion.

“We’re expected to greet the President’s arrival,” Robert said as he glanced at his watch.  “Grin and bear it, Brian.  There’s nothing we can do.”  He headed toward the door.

Brian followed him.  It was impossible to kill the President, especially with the boundaries the General had just set, but his mind kept po
unding away at the idea, unable for Stephanie’s sake, to give up.  Then suddenly he came up with the perfect murder.  He didn’t need a scalpel, he wouldn’t have to prescribe, dispense, or administer any drugs, and the cause of death would be virtually impossible to detect, even for an expert.  All he needed was twenty seconds alone with the President.  Twenty seconds, and the President would be dead.

***

Brian huddled with Robert and Andrea outside of the President’s room.  Andrea had completed the President’s screening, and she had sedated him in preparation for surgery.  Robert confirmed the procedure.  Andrea would first use a scope to determine where the ulcer had torn through the stomach lining, and then she would repair the tear.  Scope and mend – simple as that.

“It’s time for Andrea and me to scrub,” Robert said to Brian.  “I want you to stay with the President and monitor his vitals.  Then bring him down to surgery.”

Brian waited until they were out of sight.  He hurried to the supply room and opened a cabinet.  He grabbed a syringe and slipped it into his pocket.  Then he joined Sandy in the hallway so they could enter the President’s room together.

The secret service agents standing in front of the President’s door were huge strapping men who had been trained to intimidate God.  They knew exactly who could enter the President’s room and who would die if they tried.  All four agents stepped aside to allow Brian and Sandy to pass.

Even though the President was drowsy from the medication, Brian noticed that his eyes opened wide the instant he and Sandy entered the room.  Brian purposely stepped to the same side as the IV injection site.  “How are you feeling, Mr. President?” he asked, wanting everything to appear routine.

“Young man,” the President replied in a cantankerous tone.  “I’ve never felt better in my life.  I shouldn’t even be here right now.  There’s not a damned thing wrong with me.”

Brian grinned at Sandy.  Even sedated, the President was a powerful man.  “Bear with us, Mr. President.  We’ll have you sprung out of here in no time.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not soon enough,” he grumbled.  “I have work to do, I have a country to run, and I have an election to win.”

Sandy gently touched his shoulder.  “You don’t have to worry about the election, Mr. President.  You already have my vote.  And everyone else I know is voting for you, too.”

The President’s wild eyes twinkled.  His constituents believed that he was stronger than superman.  “I knew you were an intelligent woman the moment I saw you.  And you’re pretty, too.  I think I just might like it here, after all.”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Brian quipped.  “We need your bed for patients who really are sick.”

Humored, the President began to relax.  “What was your name again, young man?”

“Fairchild, Mr. President.  Lieutenant Colonel Brian Fairchild.  I recently received a promotion.”  Brian watched to see whether his name would trigger a reaction.

“I know your wife,” the President admitted.

Sandy’s vision jumped to Brian.  Brian grinned and discreetly shook his head at her.  She nodded back.  The President’s medication was making him talk nonsense.

Brian quickly took charge of the situation before the President had a chance to say anything more about Stephanie.  “I need to take your vitals one more time, and then we’re going to give you a ride down to surgery.  Damn,” he mumbled, needing to get rid of Sandy.  “I left my stethoscope at your station.”

Sandy was quick to the rescue.  “I’ll get it for you, doctor.”

“You’re a dear,” Brian said, smiling with appreciation.  “It should be on your desk.”  He waited for her to leave, knowing that he only had a few seconds to work.

Brian looked at the tubing that dripped fluids through the President’s IV.  His eyes followed the tube down to the port closest to the injection site.  He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the syringe.  Ten seconds left.  It was now or never.  Brian pulled back the plunger and filled the syringe with air.  He held the port in one hand and inserted the syringe.  He quickly squeezed the plunger home.  It was too late to turn back.  The air bubble was on its way to the President’s brain.

An agent bolted through the door before Brian had a chance to remove the syringe.  “You’re not permitted to be alone with the President,” he thundered.  “Step out.”

Brian stood still.  A syringe in an open port would be impossible to explain.  He kept the evidence hidden with his frame, and then he turned his head to speak.

“Leave him alone,” the President demanded.  “Or did you think he was going to kill me?”  The agent glared at Brian, and then, following the President’s order, backed up and left the room.

Brian quickly removed the syringe and put it back into his pocket.  He had done his part.  He was counting on Kyle to do the rest.

“Your wife,” the President said, fighting drowsiness, “your wife is a very beautiful woman.”

Brian had just sent him to his grave.  Engaging him in conversation was the last thing he wanted to do.  “You’re sedated, Mr. President.  Don’t talk.”  Brian began to wrestle with his conscience.  He had just murdered the President of the United States of America.

The President kept right on talking.  “I once knew a woman who looked just like your wife.  She was very beautiful, too.  Beautiful women – they’re a pain in the ass.  Don’t you agree?”

Brian was solemn.  “Sometimes,” Brian finally answered.  “But more often than not, I’m the one who’s the pain in the ass.  My wife loves me anyway, Mr. President.  And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her.”

“You still have a lot to learn about women, Colonel, especially the ones who come disguised in perfect packages.  She’ll rip your heart out, and then she’ll love watching you die.  Get rid of her.”

Brian felt sickening revulsion ripping through his gut.  He had never known anyone with such absolute contempt for human life.

Sandy breezed into the room holding Brian’s stethoscope.  “Sorry it took so long.  It wasn’t where you said it was.”

“Sorry about that,” Brian apologized as he took his stethoscope and hung it around his neck.  “Let’s get this show on the road.”

***

Brian stood on the observation deck and watched as the President’s body was draped with linens, leaving exposed only the area to be operated upon.  His abdomen was cleansed with antiseptic.  He inhaled ethyl ether through a mask that covered his nose and mouth.  The anesthesiologist stood next to the President’s head and monitored his vitals on a computerized screen.  Robert and Andrea were dressed in sterile gowns, caps, masks, and gloves.  Brian watched them glance at the screen.  The President’s vitals were better than good.  Then he saw Robert nod at Andrea to begin.

The scrub nurse handed Andrea a scalpel.  Andrea touched the knife to the President’s abdomen.  An alarm suddenly screamed from the monitor.  Brian watched as all eyes jumped to the monitor.  “What the hell?” Brian heard Andrea call out.  Then the room filled with nervous tension.  The pulsating heart rate had dropped flat.

“Increase the oxygen,” Robert ordered.

The anesthesiologist cut the flow of ether and turned up the oxygen.  “We’re losing him,” he yelled.

Robert ran the phone and dialed the star key along with the secret numerical sequence.  “Code blue – Surgical Suite A.”

Brian instantly heard ‘code blue’ being announced over the hospital PA.  Orderlies raced into the operating room to assist.  The entire medical team heroically jumped into action to save the President’s life.

A chest board was slipped underneath the President to begin CPR.  Brian watched as Robert pushed his fingers into the President’s neck to feel for a pulse.  “Defibrillate,” Robert ordered.

Andrea nervously grabbed the paddles.  “Give me 200 Joules.”

The anesthesiologist set the electrical current.  “Ready,” he yelled.

Andrea placed the paddles on the President’s chest to shock him with electricity.  “Clear!”  Everyone took two steps back.  The President’s body jerked in the air and bounced back to the table.

The General felt the President’s neck for a pulse.  “Again,” he ordered.  The procedure was repeated using 300 Joules.  The heart rate was still flat.  Brian’s own heart began to pound in his ears.  The President was not responding.

Robert appeared calm.  “Start another IV with an eighteen gauge.  Let’s shoot epinephrine.  I’ll intubate.”  He inserted a tube down the President’s throat to maintain adequate airway ventilation.  Andrea quickly began chest compression.  She stopped to allow an orderly to squeeze air into
the lungs.  She repeated chest compression, working back and forth with the orderly in perfect synchronization.