[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Suddenly, a storm cloud of fear crossed Jannie's face," I can go home, can't
I?" she asked me.
I nodded and smiled. "You sure can. But what you can't do, is walk out of here
by yourself. Hospital rules, little sister."
Jannie looked a little crestfallen. "Not in a wheelchair. My grand exit."
I reached down and picked her up. "Yes, in a wheelchair," I said. "But you're
all dressed up now. You look beautiful for your departure, princess."
We stopped off at the nurses' station and Jannie said her goodbyes and got
some big hugs. Then we finally left St. Anthony's Hospital.
She was well now. The tests on the removed tumor had come back benign. She had
a clean bill of health and I had never felt so relieved in my life. If I had
ever forgotten how precious she was to me, and I doubt that I had, I never
would again. Jannie, Damon, and little Alex were my treasures.
It took us less than ten minutes to ride home and Jannie was like a frisky
little pup in the car. She had her face out the open window and was gazing
wide-eyed at everything, and sniffing the smoky city air, which she proclaimed
Page 79
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
spectacular, absolutely brilliant.
When we got to the house and I parked the car, Jannie climbed out slowly,
almost reverently. She stared up at our old homestead as if it were the
Cathedral of Notre Dame. She did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn,
checked out our neighborhood on Fifth Street, and nodded her approval.
"There's no place like home," she finally whispered, 'just like in The Wizard
of Oz." She turned to me. "You even got the Batman and Robin kite down out of
the tree. Praise the Lord."
I grinned and I could feel something good spreading through my body. I knew
what it was. I wasn't petrified of losing Jannie anymore. "Actually, Nana
climbed out there and got the kite down," I said.
"You, stop. "Nana Mama laughed and waved a hand at me.
We followed Jannie inside the house and she immediately picked up Rosie the
cat. She held Rosie close to her face and got licked with Rosie's sandpaper
tongue. Then she slowly danced with the family cat for a magical moment or
two, just as she had on the night of little Alex's christening.
Jannie softly sang, "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm so happy I'm home, I
love all of you."
It was so fine and good to watch and be a part of and yes, Jannie Cross,
you're right, there is no place like home. Maybe that's why I work so fiercely
to protect it.
But then again, maybe I'm just rationalizing about the way I am, and probably
always will be.
Chapter Seventy-Two
I went to the FBI field office early the next morning. The floor was buzzing
with faxes, phones, personal computers, and energy good and bad. It was
already pretty clear that Mitchell Brand wasn't our man, and maybe even that
he had been set up.
Betsey Cavalierre had returned from her weekend off. She had a tan, a bright
smile, and looked nicely rested. I wondered briefly where she had been, but
then I was sucked into the powerful vortex of the investigation again.
The high-tech FBI war room was still in place, but now three of the four walls
were covered with possible leads. The FBI point of view was that every avenue
must be explored. The director had already gone on record that it was the
largest manhunt in FBI history. Corporate America was applying enormous
pressure. The same thing had happened after the Unabomber had killed a New
York businessman in the early nineties.
I spent most of the day in a windowless, seemingly airless conference room
watching an endless slide show, along with several agents and Metro police
detectives. Suspects were continuously shown on the big screen, then
discussed, and placed into three categories: Discard, Active, and Extremely
Active.
At six o'clock that night, Senior Agent Walsh held a meeting that covered the
possibility that the crew might strike again soon. Betsey Cavalierre arrived
late for the briefing. She sat in the back and observed.
Page 80
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Two FBI behavioral psychologists had worked up a list of potential future
targets for the Mastermind. The targets included multinational banks, other
top insurance companies, credit-card companies, communications conglomerates,
and Wall Street firms.
One of the behavioral psychologists, Dr. Joanna Rodman, stated that the
robberies demonstrated venom and hatred like she'd never seen before. She said
the perpetrators relished outwitting authorities, and possibly hungered for
fame and notoriety.
Dr. Rodman then made her most challenging statement. She believed that the
Mastermind would strike again. "I'm willing to bet on it," she said, 'and I'm
not a betting type of person."
I remained quiet for most of the meeting. I preferred to sit in the back of
the class and listen. That was the way I had gone through Georgetown
undergraduate and then Johns Hopkins. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Suddenly, a storm cloud of fear crossed Jannie's face," I can go home, can't
I?" she asked me.
I nodded and smiled. "You sure can. But what you can't do, is walk out of here
by yourself. Hospital rules, little sister."
Jannie looked a little crestfallen. "Not in a wheelchair. My grand exit."
I reached down and picked her up. "Yes, in a wheelchair," I said. "But you're
all dressed up now. You look beautiful for your departure, princess."
We stopped off at the nurses' station and Jannie said her goodbyes and got
some big hugs. Then we finally left St. Anthony's Hospital.
She was well now. The tests on the removed tumor had come back benign. She had
a clean bill of health and I had never felt so relieved in my life. If I had
ever forgotten how precious she was to me, and I doubt that I had, I never
would again. Jannie, Damon, and little Alex were my treasures.
It took us less than ten minutes to ride home and Jannie was like a frisky
little pup in the car. She had her face out the open window and was gazing
wide-eyed at everything, and sniffing the smoky city air, which she proclaimed
Page 79
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
spectacular, absolutely brilliant.
When we got to the house and I parked the car, Jannie climbed out slowly,
almost reverently. She stared up at our old homestead as if it were the
Cathedral of Notre Dame. She did a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn,
checked out our neighborhood on Fifth Street, and nodded her approval.
"There's no place like home," she finally whispered, 'just like in The Wizard
of Oz." She turned to me. "You even got the Batman and Robin kite down out of
the tree. Praise the Lord."
I grinned and I could feel something good spreading through my body. I knew
what it was. I wasn't petrified of losing Jannie anymore. "Actually, Nana
climbed out there and got the kite down," I said.
"You, stop. "Nana Mama laughed and waved a hand at me.
We followed Jannie inside the house and she immediately picked up Rosie the
cat. She held Rosie close to her face and got licked with Rosie's sandpaper
tongue. Then she slowly danced with the family cat for a magical moment or
two, just as she had on the night of little Alex's christening.
Jannie softly sang, "Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm so happy I'm home, I
love all of you."
It was so fine and good to watch and be a part of and yes, Jannie Cross,
you're right, there is no place like home. Maybe that's why I work so fiercely
to protect it.
But then again, maybe I'm just rationalizing about the way I am, and probably
always will be.
Chapter Seventy-Two
I went to the FBI field office early the next morning. The floor was buzzing
with faxes, phones, personal computers, and energy good and bad. It was
already pretty clear that Mitchell Brand wasn't our man, and maybe even that
he had been set up.
Betsey Cavalierre had returned from her weekend off. She had a tan, a bright
smile, and looked nicely rested. I wondered briefly where she had been, but
then I was sucked into the powerful vortex of the investigation again.
The high-tech FBI war room was still in place, but now three of the four walls
were covered with possible leads. The FBI point of view was that every avenue
must be explored. The director had already gone on record that it was the
largest manhunt in FBI history. Corporate America was applying enormous
pressure. The same thing had happened after the Unabomber had killed a New
York businessman in the early nineties.
I spent most of the day in a windowless, seemingly airless conference room
watching an endless slide show, along with several agents and Metro police
detectives. Suspects were continuously shown on the big screen, then
discussed, and placed into three categories: Discard, Active, and Extremely
Active.
At six o'clock that night, Senior Agent Walsh held a meeting that covered the
possibility that the crew might strike again soon. Betsey Cavalierre arrived
late for the briefing. She sat in the back and observed.
Page 80
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Two FBI behavioral psychologists had worked up a list of potential future
targets for the Mastermind. The targets included multinational banks, other
top insurance companies, credit-card companies, communications conglomerates,
and Wall Street firms.
One of the behavioral psychologists, Dr. Joanna Rodman, stated that the
robberies demonstrated venom and hatred like she'd never seen before. She said
the perpetrators relished outwitting authorities, and possibly hungered for
fame and notoriety.
Dr. Rodman then made her most challenging statement. She believed that the
Mastermind would strike again. "I'm willing to bet on it," she said, 'and I'm
not a betting type of person."
I remained quiet for most of the meeting. I preferred to sit in the back of
the class and listen. That was the way I had gone through Georgetown
undergraduate and then Johns Hopkins. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]