"That's a thought. What did Walsh think?"

"We didn't discuss theories. Basically, he just wants me to call out the troops and put these people under the eye."

"Right." I informed Paresi, "Khalil is a loner, but it's possible something will turn up. Like a dead body or two." I added, "He kills people who help him kill people."

"Yeah? That's not nice." He asked me, "What's his beef? I don't know how this started."

I replied, "It started on April 15, 1986, when Reagan sent a bunch of fighter-bombers to blow the shit out of Libya. Asad Khalil lost his whole family in that bombing."

"No shit?" He observed, "I guess he's still pissed off."

"Apparently." I advised him, "That's not public information." I explained, "It sort of gives Khalil justification for what he did three years ago-and we don't want to confuse the news media with questions of moral equivalencies."

"Right, whatever." He asked, "What exactly did he do three years ago? I mean, aside from killing his two escorts and three of our people on the ground?"

I asked Paresi, "Did Walsh mention Chip Wiggins?"

"No. Who's that?"

Apparently Walsh didn't want to share this information with his junior partner. And to be fair to Walsh, Asad Khalil's first visit to America was, as I said, mostly classified information, and the need-to-know about that visit was yet to be determined. Nevertheless, I said to Captain Paresi, "Wiggins was one of the F-111 pilots who bombed Tripoli. Khalil came here three years ago with a list of those pilots and he began murdering them."

"Jeez…"

"I can't say any more about that, Captain, but I can tell you that Kate and I and others stopped Khalil from killing Wiggins."

Captain Paresi thought about that, then said, "Okay, I get it." He asked, "Do we know where Wiggins is?"

"His last known address is Ventura, California."

"I'll bet Khalil knows where he is." Paresi concluded, "Wiggins is already dead."

"Probably."

"For sure. Khalil would take care of unfinished business first. Then… Kate." He asked, "Why not Kate and you?"

"He wanted me to see her die."

"Sicko."

"Very," I agreed.

"Well… maybe we can catch a break here. I mean, think about this-this guy Wiggins, if he's been clipped, was a soft target. He never saw it coming. Same with Kate. Now everybody is a hard target. Including you. Right? The next move that Khalil makes will be his last."

That sounded very optimistic, but I replied, "Hope so."

Paresi said, "Okay. I'm headed right now for the office. I'll call Gabe and have him meet me there and we'll look at your folder."

"Tell him to watch himself. Also, maybe his family wants to take a vacation. He's got a wife, and I think one daughter."

"All right…"

I said to him, "I'll get to the office as soon as I can."

"John, don't worry about it. Take care of Kate. We'll stay in touch. And call me if… Kate takes a turn for the worse."

That would be a very short turn. I said to him, "There is a chance she won't make it."

There was a short silence, then Paresi said, "She'll make it. She's in my prayers." He added, "She's tough."

We hung up, and I sat on one of the chairs in the waiting room.

Kate was on my mind, but I tried to think about Asad Khalil and get into his mind.

Asad Khalil was a showman-a show-off-and like a lot of psychopaths, he enjoyed taunting the authorities. And the authorities were happy to be taunted with phone calls and letters from the guy they were looking for. We call it clues.

Also, Khalil was on a mission of revenge, and revenge and hate distort your judgment and get you caught or killed. That almost happened to him the last time he was here. And I had no doubt that this time Asad Khalil would be captured or killed. But I didn't know how many people he'd murder before we got him, or if Kate or I would be alive to see this case closed.

I heard heavy footsteps in the tiled hallway… a man, walking by himself.

I put my hand in my gun pocket and watched the door.

The door opened, revealing a middle-aged man in green scrubs with a surgical mask around his neck.

We made immediate eye contact, and the next half second lasted an eternity.

"Mr. Corey?"

"Yes."

We walked toward each other, and he put out his hand and introduced himself as Dr. Andrew Goldberg. He put his other hand on my shoulder and said, "She's resting comfortably in ICU."

I closed my eyes and nodded.

He continued, "Her vital signs are stable. Blood pressure and breathing are good."

Again, I nodded.

He steered me toward the chairs, and I had the random thought that he'd been on his feet for over two hours and needed to sit. My second thought was that he wanted me seated for the rest of his report, which might not be so good.

We sat side by side, and he reported in a soft voice, "The surgery was successful in closing the laceration to her right carotid artery."

Once again, I nodded.

He said, "I noticed a contusion to her face, and her lips were swollen, but the anesthesiologist said there were no loose or missing teeth. " He speculated, "That injury may have been a result of her hitting the ground."

Actually, it was a result of Asad Khalil punching her in the face, but I didn't mention this.

He continued, "In any case, it's not significant." He went on, "There were other contusions as a result of her fall, but I don't believe there were any internal injuries, and no internal bleeding, though there may be bone fractures." He assured me, "We'll get her to radiology as soon as possible."

"When will that be?"

"I'm not sure." He continued, "It was a deep puncture-type wound, and there was no other major vascular involvement-no injury to the jugular, or other veins or arteries, and no injury to her trachea." He remarked, "I understand it was a knife wound."

I nodded. It was meant to be a cut across her throat severing everything in its path. But Kate had done something to stop that. I hope she had also kneed him in the nuts.

I asked him, "Prognosis?"

He stayed silent a second too long, then replied, "Guarded."

"Why?"

"Well… she lost six units of blood, and we-and you, I understand-needed to stem the flow of blood… which goes to the brain…"

I knew this was coming, and I waited for the verdict.

Dr. Goldberg continued, "Six units is a significant loss of blood. Also, her windpipe was swollen, which may have caused some oxygen deprivation before the paramedics got a breathing tube down her throat." He stayed silent a moment, then said, "We just don't know if there will be any neurological impairment."

"When will we know?"

"Shortly after she recovers from anesthesia." He added, "Maybe in an hour or two."

I did not reply.

He hesitated, then glanced at my bloodstained jumpsuit and said to me, "I understand that a skydiver attached himself to her during your skydive and caused this injury with a knife."

"That's right."

"I assume this was not an accident."

I replied, "You may have noticed the State Trooper outside the operating room."

He nodded, then asked me, "Any more questions?"

"No."

Dr. Goldberg stood, and I stood also. He said, "She'll get a complete evaluation as soon as possible, including a neurological evaluation. In the meantime, you can check in with the ICU nurses' station. I assume you'll want to stay here until she regains consciousness."

"That's right."

We shook hands and I said, "Thank you."

He patted my shoulder and suggested, "Some prayers would help." He further suggested, "Take a break in the cafeteria. It will be awhile before we have any further news for you." He assured me, "She's in good hands."