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Rudolfo and the Sheriff meet. |
Chapter 25 Rudolfo took his eyes off the screen for a moment to look down at the pad strapped to his side. It was already starting to seep through. The medical treatment was on par with what one might expect from an alcoholic ex-doctor relegated to puppy management at a local animal shelter. The pain was as intense as it was beautiful. Rudolfo understood the greater the trial, the greater the reward that awaited him in heaven. The loss of blood what another thing altogether. One simply didn’t go into battle with an IV rig. If the blood loss became too great he would be at a distinct disadvantage in a couple of hours when he stormed the hospital. He took off his shirt and tightly tapped an additional pad over the current one. Hopefully, the pressure would be enough to stem the flow until he was able to finish his mission. He pushed the wound out of his mind. It no longer existed. There was only the mission and that required complete focus. Things were happening too fast. This was not necessarily a bad thing. Too fast meant too fast for everyone; including Lanier and his team. He looked back up his screen; tapping in the “enter” button as he cycled through the hospital’s cameras. It certainly looked like they’d had an exciting day so far and the sun wasn’t even up yet. While he couldn’t tell exactly what had taken place, there was no doubt that his “target” was as the center of the action. Nothing else would have caused the commotion that took place about five hours ago. After a rough night himself, Rudolfo had returned to his room and decided to look in on the hospital activity. He couldn’t believe it when the first person he saw in the lobby was the infamous Colonel Lanier having a conversation with Jack Barton. Rudolfo didn’t have access to any sound but he safely guessed with all the key players in one location, they weren’t talking football. It was almost a certainty that they’d discovered that Sheriff Tucker was missing. Once that information was out, they’d step up security significantly. Rudolfo knew he’d have to act quickly. What was currently happening in the hospital was only part of the story. The hospital kept a running 12-hour history on its internal video surveillance data server. Rudolfo had only to scroll backwards about five hours to find an event that didn’t fit – Five large men with rifles charging through the lobby. He scrolled backwards a few minutes at a time and soon he saw Dr. Marshal and Jack Barton sprinting through the lobby. Rudolfo began scanning through the various cameras and came across a room on the second floor that seemed to be the center of all the activity. A nurse came running out and then running back with a “janitor” in tow. Marshal and Barton arrive, closely followed by the rifles. Somewhere in the mix a nurse showed up pushing what was most likely a “crash cart.” Soon, other doctors began to arrive. It was fascinating to watch; a giant shit-storm that was like a giant neon sign pointing to whomever all that fuss was about. Rudolfo smiled at their ineptitude. This was going to be too easy. After a few more minutes of scrolling through the history, he found what he was looking for. A man on a gurney was wheeled out of the room that had been the focus of the morning’s activity. He didn’t appear to be dead as several attendants were monitoring him as they moved down the hallway. The patient was taken to a room at the far end of the hallway. Room 2201. Bingo. Rudolfo made note of the room number and then began to formulate his plan. Another glace at the pad on his side told him the odds of this being a one-way trip were going up quickly. The pain meds were masking the impact he knew the wound was having on him. Eight hours earlier… Rudolfo was waiting for him when he got home. An easy feat since the Sheriff’s “tail” followed him to and from work; leaving the small house empty during the day. The house was still under surveillance of sort, but with the human element attached to the sheriff, the professional had only to circumvent a single motion sensor in order to have free reign of the house. His target arrived less than thirty minutes later. Sam had just finished another day of paperwork associated with sheriffing in a small city. Ever since the death of his wife, He’d found less and less joy in his daily life. Frankly, he was bored; seeing less and less reason to do anything at all. What was the use? She was gone and with her went his motivation. Work had become little more than a practiced set of footsteps through the day-to-day grind of life. He’d welcomed the recent excitement brought on by the man found in the desert, but even that had dulled over the last few days. Sam knew his life was in a downward spiral. He was quite aware that is morose perspective only added to his decent towards whatever darkly shrouded end-game awaited him. That suited him just find. Sam reached for the door and hesitated. Something didn’t feel right. Sam took a couple of steps back and examined the front porch. He was careful not to alarm the goons he knew to be following him. If there was something that needed to be taken care of, he’d be the one to do it. This was his home, not theirs. Everything appeared to be in order, still… Sam reached again for the handle and then quickly pushed the door open and stepped inside. Once again, everything appeared to be in order. The feeling stayed with him so Sam drew his pistol and walked back towards his bedroom. Rudolfo’s gun spit twice and Sam found himself unarmed; his right hand with a hole punched neatly through its center accompanied the red blossoming wetness across his lower abdomen. “I suppose you’re the assassin I’ve been told to keep a lookout for,” said Sam, not missing a beat as he shuffled slowly over and dropped into a seat in the corner of the room. “Sheriff, you’ve been listening to too many of Colonel Lanier’s fairy tales. I’m actually here to protect you; to protect all of us from that creature in the hospital.” “That a fact?” asked the sheriff looking down at the blood pooling in his lap. “Seems you’re awful quick with that gun of yours to be too worried about my welfare. I’m not sure I can take much more saving from you.” The assassin studied the old man curiously. He saw no fear. He saw no anger. He saw…nothing. In an instant, Rudolfo realized this was not going to go the way he’d intended. A man with nothing to lose was a most dangerous, unpredictable foe. He brought his gun up to end the all-too-brief interview. It was a shame to have to kill this man now. But it was clear that the Sheriff was much more likely to be a threat than a source of information. The old man moved with such speed that Rudolfo was barely able to get a shot off. In an instant, a knife flew across the room, entering Rudolfo’s lower chest. At the same time, a red circle appeared on the sheriff’s forehead where the assassin’s bullet had struck home. Sam wavered a moment before collapsing to the floor. Rudolfo slowly pulled the large knife out and began to check his vital signs. There didn’t seem to be an overabundance of blood although there was enough to let him know that he’d need to take care of this before too long. He stabbed an auto-injector directly into the wound to administer drugs for both shock and pain. He had no time to deal with either at the moment. He pulled out a small bag of anti-coagulant material and stuffed it into the wound as well before stapling the wound closed. Not according to plan but really nothing more than a bump in the road. Anything that may have been gained from the sheriff would have been a bonus. Now, with the book closed on dead end, it was time to move forward, and quickly. The sheriff’s death was the tilting of the first domino. Thing were about to start happening very fast. Ten minutes later, Rudolfo was out of the house and on his way to rendezvous with a doctor who charged premium rates for not asking questions or remembering faces. Several hours later, Rudolfo making the final preparations for his strike. The sheriff had been of no use. On the other hand, the hospital video was like hitting the lottery. Now he had a specific target in a specific location. The patient looked to be secure in a room on the second floor. Whatever had happened down there at the hospital had served to cause Lanier’s men to show their hand. Rudolfo counted three men dressed as janitors as well as six other men that came from outside of the hospital. He watched when they left the building and went back “undercover.” Rudolfo noted with satisfaction that they went back to the vans he’d originally tagged as the most likely place for them to be. He also noted that there were three “janitors” working for Lanier while he’d only suspected two. “Be careful,” he thought to himself. “Over confidence is the devil’s offering.” The assassin knew that one rarely got a second chance to underestimate Lanier. He could not hope for a third. A knock on his door told him his “room service” had arrived. Hopefully, his man had been able to get everything on the list. It wouldn’t do to go into battle less than fully armed. ***** Earlier that evening, as Tucker was arriving home and JD11 was indicating his strong preference to be removed from his tank, Lanier stood outside of the Artifact building and watched as the ordinance specialists continued to scratch their heads over the failure of the bombs to detonate. The colonel had his own ideas about what was at the bottom of this “lack of an event.” That Artifact, floating in the building behind him had done…something. He didn’t know the How’s or Why’s but he had little doubt that he was right. Finally, one of the experts came over and saluted sharply before, “Sir, my men have disarmed the ordinance. We’ll have to take this back to the armory to find out exactly what happened here. At first blush, all I can tell you is that you should be dead. There is nothing obviously wrong with the mechanisms. All of the firing circuits are fine. The detonators also test positive. I’m sure we’ll find out more once we take them apart.” “Don’t be too sure Captain,” said Lanier. “Why do you say that, Colonel?” Before Lanier could answer, Dr. Szokoly burst out of the Artifact building. Once it became clear that the bombs hadn’t gone off, the doctor had returned to the base, immediately going in to check on his “baby.” “Colonel…” “I know, I know, I’m not going to believe this,” said Lanier feeling the frustration of an all too busy day; and it was only ten in the morning. “Sir, it’s the Artifact…I think it’s dead.”
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