Saint Mary’s Hospital
Minneapolis, Minnesota

Henry Lee wanted to continue pacing. He had been able to pace all he wanted downstairs in the cafeteria, watching for the FBI agent while pretending to sip coffee and burn off nervous energy. Not much of a ruse—he had been nervous, anxious and angry. Pacing helped.

Though disappointed, he felt a slight bit calmer back here, sitting at Hannah’s side, holding her hand and listening to the machines wheeze and hum. There were still too many machines attached to her. But she was sleeping, resting, breathing on her own, now that the tube had been removed from her throat.

Henry glanced at his wristwatch. He had waited in the cafeteria ten minutes longer than his own self-imposed deadline, though the whole time he had been anxious to get back to Intensive Coronary Care. He shouldn’t have been surprised that the FBI agent didn’t meet his request. She must have thought he was some psycho and had passed on the message as a hoax.

Probably just as well. The hospital cafeteria had been a bad idea. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. It was risky. They might be watching him. He couldn’t see them, couldn’t pick them out, but he wondered if they were here. After all, they must have taken Dixon from the hospital. If they had recognized the FBI agent from the TV news clips and saw him talking to her, they would most certainly kill Dixon.

Henry wasn’t sure what he’d do now. He had five hours before they would allow him to talk to Dixon again. He had called his cell phone number anyway. It rang five times before it clicked over and he heard his own voice ask if he wanted to leave a message. He called it three more times. Each time it was the same. That meant they had left the phone on, left it somewhere to ring, probably just out of Dixon’s reach, taunting him, reminding him who was in control.

Henry was worried sick about the boy. He tried to keep from conjuring up images of what they were doing to him. These were ruthless people who didn’t mind blowing up innocent women and children in a shopping mall. People who had an agenda beyond what they were hired to do. He feared they would kill Dixon whether Henry “behaved” or not.

Maybe it was the fatigue, maybe it was sheer madness, maybe it was the realization that he had nothing to lose. They could take the project and twist it into their own selfish scheme, but by God, he would not allow them to take his grandson down with them. They had crossed a line and for that, he’d send them all to hell even if it meant he had to go along with them.

A nurse had left when Henry returned to the room. He’d lost track of the in-and-out traffic. Now a white-coated doctor came in, still gowned up from surgery. Henry ignored them all unless they spoke to him first. He didn’t want them interrupting his thoughts.

This doctor checked the machines, like all the others. Then she stood on the other side of Hannah and did something that surprised Henry. The doctor took a tissue from the side table and gently wiped a small line of drool that had escaped down Hannah’s chin.

Henry raised his eyes to meet the doctor’s. “Hello, Mr. Lee.”

Henry simply nodded. At first he thought she was just another doctor, a polite one taking time to introduce herself. But she held his eyes and little by little he recognized her beyond the black square-framed eyeglasses and the hair that was slicked back to accommodate the surgical cap. She looked smaller in the scrubs, white coat and blue paper shoe covers, but she had donned the role of doctor or surgeon with an air of grace and confidence that had fooled him.

It was too late to hide his surprise or the sigh of relief. She’d come, after all.