Nicholas held his gun in his palm, finger off the trigger, nose pointing skyward, his other hand up, too. Open. Vulnerable.
“Drop the knife, Mr. Spenser. You can come in and talk to Vanessa, but I’m covering you every second. You try anything and I will shoot you, understand?”
“You’re Drummond. It’s nice to meet you. I’m the Bishop.”
“No, you’re Matthew Spenser. The other name, it’s nonsense and you know it.”
Matthew stared at the big man, heard the Brit accent and wondered at it. “I’m telling you the truth. I want to speak to Vanessa, tell her I’m sorry. Will she live? The hospital records said she was critical. She survived two surgeries?”
Matthew took a step toward him, shoving Cindy in front of him. Cindy didn’t make a sound, but Nicholas knew she was petrified. She was staring at him, her eyes wide, pupils dilated.
Nicholas said, “She’s going to make it. Amazing for a woman who’d been shot in the chest and left for dead in a burning building, don’t you think? Did you or Andy Tate set the fire?”
“Andy wanted to, but as I told him, I didn’t want to burn down the whole block.”
“Like I said, you can speak to her out here, not in the room.”
“Is Vanessa really in there or is it one of your agents?”
“You let Cindy go and you can come over here and see her. Red hair and all. You’re in luck, she’s awake right now.”
“Have her call out to me to prove it’s really Vanessa and this isn’t a trick.”
On cue, they all heard Vanessa’s voice come from the room—weak, sounding a bit blurred with drugs, and angry. “It’s me, Matthew. I didn’t believe them when they said you’d come back to try to kill me again. I didn’t think you were such an idiot. But here you are. Well, what are you waiting for?”
Spenser went white. His hand holding the knife at Cindy’s throat began to tremble. Not good. He began shaking his head back and forth. What did he think? Vanessa’s voice was coming from the grave?
Nicholas studied Spenser’s face. He watched him lose more control with each passing second. His arm began to fall. Cindy, smart girl, dove to the floor and rolled against the nurses’ station into the fetal position, covering her head with her arms. She didn’t move.
Spenser exploded into action. He ran toward the door, shoving Nicholas out of his way, screaming, “You bitch! You should be dead! You deserve to be dead—look what you did to me!”
Nicholas shouted, “Mike, now!”
Spenser came racing through the door as Mike stepped out of the bathroom and shouted, “Stop!”
But he didn’t.
Carrie rose up, her Glock in her hand, as he sprang toward the bed, arm in a wide arc, the blade flashing red as it slashed down. He screamed, “You’re not Vanessa!”
And the knife kept coming.
Mike pulled the trigger three times, quick succession. Spenser spun around to face her, eyes wild, jaw working. She’d clipped him twice in the hand and once in his arm. He hugged his arm to his body, and moaned with the pain, but somehow he still clutched the knife. He stared at her, then turned slowly to look at Carrie. “I don’t understand. You’re not Vanessa, I know you’re not, but I heard her voice.”
Carrie turned on the recorder. Vanessa’s voice sounded. “Hello, Matthew. Won’t you come in and talk to me?”
He stood quietly, holding his arm, staring at Mike, then Carrie, and the pain was making him weave where he stood.
“That was really smart. A recording,” and he hugged his arm tighter against him, then, amazingly, he began to laugh.
“You tricked me good, didn’t you? She really is dead, isn’t she? What, this is her dying message?”
“Oh no,” Nicholas said from behind him. “She was happy to record this for us. She only wished she could be here to speak to you in person.”
Mike said, “She recorded more for you, Spenser, if you would like to hear it.” And she pressed the button.
69
KING TO G1