[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
handgun. FBI!
More intent on killing his victim than in escaping, the blond-haired man slashed downward toward the
body on the bed. But Dumenco somehow had enough presence of mind to yank the wet pillow across
his chest. The blade plunged into the pillow.
The assassin twisted the knife free. Craig leveled his gun, as did Jackson and Schultz, who also charged
into the room. The candystriper screamed and backed into the curtain, uncertain where to move in the
confusion.
Jackson s eyes narrowed, and he held up his pistol. The assassin slashed sideways with the knife, this
time severing some of the tubes and cables connecting Du-menco to the oxygen, IV fluids and
life-monitoring ap-paratus.
Alarms squealed from the disconnected apparatus. A louder, more insistent alarm sounded at the ICU s
central monitoring station.
Jackson yelled, Put down your weapon, sir! Now! and tightened his finger on the trigger.
From the other side of the hospital bed the murderous orderly grabbed his cart and shoved it forward,
moving in front of Dumenco. Jackson pulled his gun back, not willing to risk hitting the Ukrainian or the
candystriper.
Block him off, Craig said, moving toward the door. The impostor orderly ran with surprising power,
using the sharp-edged cart like a battering ram. He smashed into Schultz, and Craig heard the sound of
cracking bone. The young candystriper scrambled out of the way, gasping.
With deadly precision the orderly threw his knife at the nearest hospital guard, who also stood in his way
out in the hall. The blade dug into his right breast, and he staggered back, gasping and coughing blood.
Jackson ran after the impostor, but Schultz went down in front of him.
More alarms sounded out in the halls. Doctors came rushing from their emergency stations, while
hospital aides stood at the doors, perplexed and astonished.
As the orderly plunged through the door, Craig dove at his legs, but the man kicked him in the chin. His
teeth clicked together with a noise that vibrated through his skull. In his spinning vision, he saw black
static.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Jackson leaped over a moaning Agent Schultz and passed Craig in hot pursuit after the orderly.
Every-body, out of the way! he yelled. FBI!
Craig struggled to his feet as the first emergency doc-tor arrived in response to the automatic alarms.
Help them! he said, shaking his head to clear it as he ges-tured to where the stabbed guard writhed in
pain. Dumenco lay disconnected from the oxygen, IV fluid, and life-monitoring equipment, wheezing, and
Agent Schultz nursed what appeared to be broken ribs and a broken arm. Get help for all of them.
Craig raced down the hall after his partner. The would-be assassin ran for the stairwell with Jackson
close behind him. Grabbing a metal cart, the orderly flung it behind him like a carnival ride. Jackson
crashed headlong into it. The cart toppled over with a loud clat-ter, spraying medication cups, syringes,
and supplies across the floor.
Jackson didn t slow, hopping over the obstacle and staggering to regain his balance. He held his
handgun out, but didn t fire as he charged ahead. People in the hall squealed and scattered out of the
way.
The assassin hit the stairwell, ripped the metal fire door open, and bounded down the stairs. On
pneumatic hinges, the door began to shut behind him. Jackson, run-ning at full speed, grabbed for the
door.
Craig saw the potential trap and shouted, Jackson on your guard!
The tall, dark agent passed the threshold at full speed into the dimmer light of the stairwell. He posed a
perfect target but Craig shouted his warning at just the right instant, and Jackson apparently realized his
peril. He threw himself sideways just as bullets smashed into the stairwell s metal door, making large
puckered craters.
Jackson wasted no time and swung down his own gun with practiced ease. He didn t bother identifying
him-self and FBI agents were trained not to fire warning shots. Jackson pulled the trigger three times,
clustering the shots around the impostor orderly s chest. Aim for the center of mass. Remove the threat.
The orderly flew backward into the concrete wall, his chest ripped open. With the impact, he bounced
like a rubber ball down the remaining half-flight of stairs, leav-ing a series of red stains until he crashed
against the corner landing. Jackson froze in position, his gun still aimed, waiting to see if the blond man
made a further move. But the attacker lay sprawled, his eyes wide but unseeing. Speckles of blood and
cooling perspiration dotted his smooth forehead.
It had happened in only a few seconds. Craig finally caught up with his partner, who stood panting and
shak-ing in the instantaneous after-rush of the ordeal.
Where s his weapon? said Craig, scanning the floor.
Jackson nodded down the stairwell. Secure it I kicked it away.
Furtively, Jackson glanced over at the bullet holes in the metal door only inches from where his chest and
head had been. His skin took on a pasty appearance, tinting the rich brown of his face with a grayish
cast.
One of the doctors on duty rushed up and knelt over the assassin. It only took a moment to check the
man over and determine that nothing could be done to save him. The doctor stepped away.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
After retrieving the dead man s weapon, Craig felt cold. He had known there was no other option, but
still he shook his head. Is that our killer? he asked. You think that s the guy who triggered the accident
at Fermilab?
Jackson panted, then sank to his knees. He sure didn t want Dumenco to live through the day.
Then the other implications struck home for Craig. Just what we needed, a Board of Inquiry in the
midst of this. We re already short on time. Jackson seemed too wrung out to do more than just stand
motionless. Craig squeezed his shoulder. I ll back you up all the way, Randall. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl rafalstec.xlx.pl
handgun. FBI!
More intent on killing his victim than in escaping, the blond-haired man slashed downward toward the
body on the bed. But Dumenco somehow had enough presence of mind to yank the wet pillow across
his chest. The blade plunged into the pillow.
The assassin twisted the knife free. Craig leveled his gun, as did Jackson and Schultz, who also charged
into the room. The candystriper screamed and backed into the curtain, uncertain where to move in the
confusion.
Jackson s eyes narrowed, and he held up his pistol. The assassin slashed sideways with the knife, this
time severing some of the tubes and cables connecting Du-menco to the oxygen, IV fluids and
life-monitoring ap-paratus.
Alarms squealed from the disconnected apparatus. A louder, more insistent alarm sounded at the ICU s
central monitoring station.
Jackson yelled, Put down your weapon, sir! Now! and tightened his finger on the trigger.
From the other side of the hospital bed the murderous orderly grabbed his cart and shoved it forward,
moving in front of Dumenco. Jackson pulled his gun back, not willing to risk hitting the Ukrainian or the
candystriper.
Block him off, Craig said, moving toward the door. The impostor orderly ran with surprising power,
using the sharp-edged cart like a battering ram. He smashed into Schultz, and Craig heard the sound of
cracking bone. The young candystriper scrambled out of the way, gasping.
With deadly precision the orderly threw his knife at the nearest hospital guard, who also stood in his way
out in the hall. The blade dug into his right breast, and he staggered back, gasping and coughing blood.
Jackson ran after the impostor, but Schultz went down in front of him.
More alarms sounded out in the halls. Doctors came rushing from their emergency stations, while
hospital aides stood at the doors, perplexed and astonished.
As the orderly plunged through the door, Craig dove at his legs, but the man kicked him in the chin. His
teeth clicked together with a noise that vibrated through his skull. In his spinning vision, he saw black
static.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Jackson leaped over a moaning Agent Schultz and passed Craig in hot pursuit after the orderly.
Every-body, out of the way! he yelled. FBI!
Craig struggled to his feet as the first emergency doc-tor arrived in response to the automatic alarms.
Help them! he said, shaking his head to clear it as he ges-tured to where the stabbed guard writhed in
pain. Dumenco lay disconnected from the oxygen, IV fluid, and life-monitoring equipment, wheezing, and
Agent Schultz nursed what appeared to be broken ribs and a broken arm. Get help for all of them.
Craig raced down the hall after his partner. The would-be assassin ran for the stairwell with Jackson
close behind him. Grabbing a metal cart, the orderly flung it behind him like a carnival ride. Jackson
crashed headlong into it. The cart toppled over with a loud clat-ter, spraying medication cups, syringes,
and supplies across the floor.
Jackson didn t slow, hopping over the obstacle and staggering to regain his balance. He held his
handgun out, but didn t fire as he charged ahead. People in the hall squealed and scattered out of the
way.
The assassin hit the stairwell, ripped the metal fire door open, and bounded down the stairs. On
pneumatic hinges, the door began to shut behind him. Jackson, run-ning at full speed, grabbed for the
door.
Craig saw the potential trap and shouted, Jackson on your guard!
The tall, dark agent passed the threshold at full speed into the dimmer light of the stairwell. He posed a
perfect target but Craig shouted his warning at just the right instant, and Jackson apparently realized his
peril. He threw himself sideways just as bullets smashed into the stairwell s metal door, making large
puckered craters.
Jackson wasted no time and swung down his own gun with practiced ease. He didn t bother identifying
him-self and FBI agents were trained not to fire warning shots. Jackson pulled the trigger three times,
clustering the shots around the impostor orderly s chest. Aim for the center of mass. Remove the threat.
The orderly flew backward into the concrete wall, his chest ripped open. With the impact, he bounced
like a rubber ball down the remaining half-flight of stairs, leav-ing a series of red stains until he crashed
against the corner landing. Jackson froze in position, his gun still aimed, waiting to see if the blond man
made a further move. But the attacker lay sprawled, his eyes wide but unseeing. Speckles of blood and
cooling perspiration dotted his smooth forehead.
It had happened in only a few seconds. Craig finally caught up with his partner, who stood panting and
shak-ing in the instantaneous after-rush of the ordeal.
Where s his weapon? said Craig, scanning the floor.
Jackson nodded down the stairwell. Secure it I kicked it away.
Furtively, Jackson glanced over at the bullet holes in the metal door only inches from where his chest and
head had been. His skin took on a pasty appearance, tinting the rich brown of his face with a grayish
cast.
One of the doctors on duty rushed up and knelt over the assassin. It only took a moment to check the
man over and determine that nothing could be done to save him. The doctor stepped away.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
After retrieving the dead man s weapon, Craig felt cold. He had known there was no other option, but
still he shook his head. Is that our killer? he asked. You think that s the guy who triggered the accident
at Fermilab?
Jackson panted, then sank to his knees. He sure didn t want Dumenco to live through the day.
Then the other implications struck home for Craig. Just what we needed, a Board of Inquiry in the
midst of this. We re already short on time. Jackson seemed too wrung out to do more than just stand
motionless. Craig squeezed his shoulder. I ll back you up all the way, Randall. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]