Databyte (byte Series 6), page 11
“You okay?” the reporter asked from the floor under the basins.
“Yeah. Hey, what’s your name?” I said to the reporter.
“Rosanne,” she said, standing up and coming closer.
“Do me a favor, outside in the hall with Michael is a big black dude. Go get him, please.”
“Are you sure you are all right?”
“Of course, but hurry,” I said. “I’m not feeling very friendly toward this heap of bubbling snot.” I pointed to the woman on the floor with my foot.
Rosanne walked behind me to the door. Avoiding the sobbing woman. When she was gone I turned my full attention to the woman.
“Who are you?” I asked. It wasn’t the woman Sam and I had flagged from the media event. This one had mousy brown hair, watery blue eyes, and wore less than elegant clothing.
She didn’t reply, cold hatred filling her eyes. The tears were nothing but show. I knew she’d been at the Q and A or she wouldn’t have seen Mike put the Hope Diamond on me.
Heavy footsteps ran in. Sam. He held his finger to his lips. There was no need – I saw Rosanne behind him. “What happened, Miss Graham?”
“This woman attacked me,” I said. “Here.” I handed him the knife. It was a decent sized blade. She had help. There is no way she walked into the museum with a knife.
“Are you hurt?” His eyes never left the woman on the floor but his tone meant the question was for me.
“I’m okay,” I said.
He looked up and gave me a once over. To be honest I was a bit shaky. I hadn’t expected a restroom ambush.
“You’re not. Hang in there for a few,” he said.
I stumbled to the paper towel dispenser and grabbed a handful of towels. Blood dripped down my left hand and onto the floor. I threw a few towels on the bloodied floor and folded up the rest. I shoved the wadded towels inside my tee shirt from the neck and held them against the wound on my shoulder.
He grabbed the woman by the arm and pulled her to her feet. “And you are?”
“Her worst nightmare,” she jeered.
“I don’t think so,” Sam said, pulling both arms behind her back and cuffing her. He called the office. “I need transport for a woman who attacked the lady with Michael Fisher.”
I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation. But I knew how it went. Experience told me it would be at least ten minutes before someone arrived to remove the woman. Blood soaked the shoulder of my tee shirt and seeped through my thin jacket. I had no option but to go out to Mike covered in blood. Sam would drag the woman out but I needed to go to Mike. He was alone. Alone.
She hadn’t worked alone.
Horrible things ran through my mind. I slipped behind Sam and the woman.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“Michael,” I said.
Rosanne followed me out.
“You’re not all right,” she said as she stepped up beside me.
“I’m fine.” I used my most dismissive tone, keeping pressure on my shoulder while trying not to look injured or stand out in anyway.
Mike was in the gift shop, a small open store selling mostly stuffed animals, unlike the large one at the end of the hall. I scanned the entire area but no faces stood out, none from the press conference. This didn’t fill me with confidence – I didn’t recognize the nut in the toilet either, and she was obviously there.
I crossed the stone floor.
“Michael?” I called as I neared him, not wanting to attract too much attention. “Mike?”
“Laura,” he said turning to face me. His brow creased. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I said. “You all need to play a different song.”
Rosanne spoke, “She’s bleeding.”
“I can see,” Mike replied.
“It’s a scratch, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Even I knew that didn’t sound right. I saw the size of the blade. I felt it hit the top my shoulder.
“I suppose now isn’t a good time to ask why no one’s seen Laura until today and what she does for a living?” Rosanne said.
“Not really,” Mike replied. His arm circled my waist and he whispered into my ear, “You’re dripping.”
I pressed harder on the wad of towels. “It’s a flesh wound, it’s nothing,” I whispered back. “Don’t suppose you have a first aid kit?”
“Not on me. We need to leave before someone starts taking photographs.”
Two more of the media people I’d seen upstairs were walking toward us. It was too late. Rosanne saw them too and had heard our whispered conversation.
“We’re screwed,” I said.
“No, you’re not,” Rosanne said. “Go.”
She pressed a card into my hand and hurried into the path of the approaching journalists.
I pushed the card into my pocket. “I’ll call you.”
And I would. Because Laura was a nice person.
I looked around for an exit. Sam waited by the entrance to the women’s restroom with the crazy chick and her knife. He pointed back toward the corridor with the birds. I nodded.
Mike took off his jacket and slung it around my shoulders to hide the blood and my hand pressing on my shoulder.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Don’t mention it.”
“We’re going out the front,” I said.
“I’ll get the car back,” Mike said. He pulled out his phone and called the car service.
I had to let go of my shoulder to find my phone in my bag. Hoping blood wouldn’t drip off my hand – leaving drips across the floor wasn’t cool – I fumbled for the phone. My fingers hit the gun before scooping up my phone. I noticed on the way in that they were using scanners on the designated exit door. Security had closed the main doors and they were using one side door as an entrance and one as an exit, scanners on both. Maybe it was something to do with the attention bestowed on the Hope diamond during the press conference.
Whatever the reason, security was tighter than I remembered and that made things tricky for me. The gun would set off the alarms.
Crap.
I called Kurt. “It’s me. I need you.”
“The three magic words,” he said. “Where will you be?”
“In a town car outside the Castle on Jefferson Drive.”
“See you soon.”
I dropped the phone back into my bag and with a clunk it hit my gun.
I couldn’t leave with my gun. Pressing hard on my shoulder I thought about what I should do.
Sam was still with the woman. I needed to go back to him.
“Mike, I need to see Sam.”
“We need to leave.”
“Hug me,” I whispered.
He wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug.
“What’s up?”
“I have my gun. I can’t go through the scanner ...”
“Distraction?”
“Too many people.”
“Sam,” he said. “Let’s go.”
We turned back toward Sam but media people blocked our way. I didn’t want to ditch the gun and risk someone finding it.
“Mike, we have to go,” I said, my hand growing tired of holding my shoulder and I wasn’t sure how bad the cut was.
We hurried back toward the door. From beside the large elephant we checked the doors. Two guards on each side door: main doors still locked. No way out except through the scanners. From where we stood the exit was the right side of the room and the guards faced the entrance. No one approached the exit.
“Either I drop this gun or I can run it.” Maybe. Pretty sure I could run, stab wound or not. “I can get down the steps before they turn around, and well before they make a call.”
“Alternate plan,” he said. “Gift store, change of clothes. Go tourist.”
That was pretty good but tourists don’t carry weapons.
“We can’t go back through the hall,” I replied.
“I saw a map upstairs. I think there is another gift store down here somewhere.”
It’s the Museum of Natural History, there are gift stores all over.
We slipped around the other side of the elephant, watching as journalists headed for the door. Guess they thought we’d gone. Awesome.
Mike pointed to a directory map, and a gift store nearby. In the store, we bought Smithsonian caps and tee shirts and changed in a more secluded location. Mike pulled a light blue tee shirt with the Smithsonian symbol on top of the tan tee shirt he already wore. He lifted his jacket off my shoulders, and helped me with mine, now bloody. I struggled into my new dark blue tee shirt.
I needed both hands to twist my auburn hair under my new cap and the blood-soaked wad of towels fell onto the floor with a wet splat. Not ideal. We stared at it for a moment.
“That’s a lot of blood,” Mike said.
I felt blood running down my arm again. Crap. I rifled through my jacket pocket for a pack of tissues. I put all of them inside both tee shirts over the wound, and tucked them under my bra strap, hoping that would apply the necessary pressure.
“Nah, it looks worse than it is,” I said with my best dismissive tone. I picked up the saturated paper with my bloodied left-hand, scanned for a garbage bin and disposed of the mess.
A smear of blood decorated the marble floor. My calling card.
Mike took my bright blue jacket and folded it inside out and small, hiding the blood completely. He dropped it into the bag that had held our tee shirts, then slung his black leather jacket around me again.
“All right, now. You go first,” I said. “I’ll meet you where we’re meeting Kurt.”
“Be careful,” he said.
“You, too. I will give you three minutes to get down the steps and into the car, and then I’m coming out.”
I hoped the driver would get him away from the front of the building quickly. I also hoped I could tag along with a group of people as they left. A little bit of confusion would be a good thing.
Mike left as I watched him from beside the elephant. From the corner of my eye I saw Sam and the woman walking toward the door. He must be meeting agents by the door. That could either be good or very bad for me.
When I looked at the entrance I saw Lee and Kurt walk in. All good.
I changed my plan; I could palm the gun off to either of them. Mike’s jacket hid my hands, so I just needed to accidentally walk into their path. I pulled my gun still in its holster from my bag and switched it to my left hand. My right hand clamped back onto my shoulder as I felt blood seep, my bra strap not holding the tissues firmly enough. When Kurt and Lee were almost at Sam, I slipped between them, slid the holster inside Kurt’s waistband, and kept moving to the exit without looking back.
No alarms. No problem.
Walking fast, I crossed the full width of the mall. I stuck to the path and avoided eye contact with anyone. As I approached Jefferson and the Castle I saw the town car waiting. We couldn’t leave yet, Kurt would be on his way and wouldn’t be far behind.
Opening the back door of the car, I scrambled in. My heart thumped at an alarming rate, as I took a few deep breaths.
“Everything okay, Laura?” Mike said.
“Yes, was kinda fun.” I didn’t elaborate, not with the driver in the car.
“How long before Kurt meets us?”
“He probably isn’t far behind me ...”
The front passenger door opened and Kurt climbed in. He looked at the driver.
“Park somewhere then go get yourself a coffee. Be gone fifteen minutes,” he said showing his credentials to the driver.
The driver nodded.
No one said anything until we’d parked and the driver walked away.
Kurt twisted in his seat and looked at me.
“Mike swap places with me,” he said.
Doors opened and closed and Kurt was in the back with me. That was when I noticed he had his bag with him.
“What did you do?” he asked.
I dropped Mike’s jacket from my shoulders. Kurt handed the jacket over the seat to Mike. My shoulder felt uncomfortable but I managed to struggle out of both tee-shirts without help.
“I resent that,” I said. “I was attacked by some nut job who thought Mike should have put the Hope Diamond around her neck.”
Mike turned his head to look at me. “You never told me that.”
“Eyes forward!” I replied. I saw his mouth turn up in a smile, as he obliged.
Kurt held a wound pad against my shoulder. “You’re lucky, it’s not as bad as this wad of soaked tissues looks.”
“As I said, it’s a scratch.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, it’s a little more than a scratch. I can’t glue this.”
Great – glue stings like a bastard.
“If you’re going to stitch, hurry up,” I said and prepared for the local anesthetic. Needles don’t bother me half as much as glue.
I closed my eyes and forced my mind to a happy place while Kurt wiped my arm with alcohol wipes and stuck a needle around the cut on my shoulder.
“Okay?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
A few minutes later Kurt had sewed the cut, covered it with a sticky dressing and wiped all the blood off my arm and hand with some medicated wipes from his bag. “There you go, as good as new.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I need clean clothes before we go to lunch.”
“Yes, you do,” Kurt said holding up the bloodstained tee shirts I’d been wearing. “I saw a street vendor back a bit. I’ll get you a tee shirt.”
I glanced at my arm. The blood was gone and so was the concealer covering the scars. At least it wasn’t my right arm. The scars on my left were higher and easier to hide with clothes. “I don’t have concealer with me. Need a longer sleeve than I was wearing.”
He screwed the shirts in his hand and got out of the car. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Where’s my jacket?” I asked Mike. “Don’t turn around.”
“In the bag on the seat. Do you want mine?”
“It’s okay, mine will be fine.”
I rummaged in the bag until I found it and draped the bloody jacket over myself. Sitting in the back of a town car wearing a bra and jeans wasn’t exactly comfortable, especially with Mike there.
Especially with Mike there.
Kurt came back and threw me a tee shirt, then dropped two more on the back seat.
“Three for ten bucks. Long sleeves,” he said with a smile.
I looked at the one he’d thrown me once I had it on. A million dollar bill. Awesome.
Mike turned around. “You look like a million bucks. Ready for lunch?”
It was so lame I laughed.
Thirteen
You Had Me From Hello
Our driver, Raj, dropped us off outside the Hard Rock Café where Mike gave him instructions about when to pick us up, and also asked him if he’d consider being our driver for our entire stay in Washington. He agreed.
Mike tipped him handsomely.
At the front desk I asked for Simone’s table and a friendly server led us to where she sat, with the view of the Hoover building from the windows behind us.
I couldn’t help but smile. “Simone!” I said, leaning in to kiss her cheeks.
“Laura, you look magnifique!”
“So do you. This is Michael,” I introduced Mike. He shook Simone’s hand then pressed it to his lips.
“A pleasure,” Simone said.
“Tout le plaisir est pour moi,” Mike replied. The pleasure is all mine.
And Simone was instantly won over. She always had been easy. “Je l'aime bien,” she said to me. I like him.
“Me, too,” I replied.
Mike pulled out a chair for me beside Simone, facing the Hoover Building. The server came back with menus.
“How long are you in town?” Simone asked.
“Maybe a few weeks. Mike has some engagements he must attend and I would like to spend some time with friends.”
“When does your show start back on the television?” Simone said, directing her question to Mike.
So she did know who he was.
“Two weeks today.”
She nodded. “I never miss it.”
Me neither, but I decided to keep that to myself.
From my vantage point I watched Kurt and Lee enter our office building. Lee stood in the window of the bullpen and stared out. I could see him but I didn’t know if he could see me.
Cars came and went from the under the building. I spotted Owen hurrying across the road toward the Hard Rock Café. I crossed my fingers under the table and hoped she was coming in for lunch. I’d love to run across her in the restroom.
From memory the woman’s restroom closest to us was a single toilet inside a large room. It wasn’t likely that I’d run into anybody unless they’d just ducked in to wash their hands and hadn’t locked the door.
Hope evaporated.
Owen wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed but even she might smell a rat if someone accosted her in a bathroom. Unless I only spoke French. A smile played upon my lips.
“Penny for them?” Mike said.
“Having improper thoughts about someone,” I replied, and then realized what I’d said.
Simone laughed.
Mike grinned. “J’espère que les pensées coquines étaient à propos de moi.” I hope the improper thoughts were about me.
“Who else?”
Simone laughed louder. “You two are incorrigible.”
Mike did that thing with his eyes again and all my power melted away.
What the hell?
Simone was talking and I couldn’t hear her words. How he stopped me from hearing words by locking his eyes with mine, I did not know.
He blinked and smiled, the spell broken.
“We’re going to talk about that little move of yours later,” I said in a hushed tone.
“It’s a trade secret,” he said with a smile that made his eyes sparkle.
Simone interrupted us. “You two are in your own world, it must be love.”
“Must be,” I said.
Mike’s hand covered mine on the table.
“You are so sweet together. Where did you find this one, Laura?”
Where did I find him? He found me. Sometimes the truth doesn’t need too much tweaking.
