Nasim’s thready heartbeat stuttered, slowed, and stopped. Blood no longer pulsed in his neck. Sherlock pulled him away from the wall, laid him flat on his back, and started CPR, pushing on his chest again and again, breathing into his mouth even after she felt Cal’s hand on her shoulder. “He’s gone, Sherlock. It’s over.”
She didn’t stop, couldn’t stop, not yet. She banged her fist against his bloody chest, breathed her breath into his mouth.
“Sherlock, look at his eyes.”
Three fast shots rang out through the bathroom and shattered the tiles around them. Sherlock felt the hot, fast path of a bullet as it parted her hair at her left temple and crashed bits of tile onto her head. Two more bullets shattered yet more tiles and gouged out the rim of the bathtub. She flattened over Nasim and Cal slammed down over her, covering her as best he could.
There were shouts, more rapid bursts of gunfire, then quiet.
They heard Jo Hoag yell out, “Thompson’s down, but Elliott got the shooter!”
Cal whispered against her ear. “You okay?”
Sherlock looked up at him, nodded. “He’s dead, Cal. He’s dead, like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Cal lifted himself off her, offered his hand, but she rolled to her side, balanced above Nasim, and stared into his empty eyes. “No,” she whispered. She leaned down, touched her hand to his cheek. “We failed him.”
“Come,” he said, and finally she let him help her up. The front of her white shirt and her fisted hands that had banged against his heart were covered with Nasim’s blood.
“Cal, your arm, it’s bleeding.”
Cal hadn’t felt a thing, but he did now. A streak of pain slashed through his arm. He looked down at a spreading bloody stain on his shirt, pressed his hand against his upper arm. “It can’t be bad, it’s not bleeding very much. It’s probably a through-and-through.” Agents crowded into the bathroom, all of them talking at once. He heard Giusti’s voice, turned to see her white face.
Sherlock looked over at her. “Nasim was right, Kelly. He said he was going to die here.”
“I don’t know how they found us.” Kelly took a step into the bathroom. “Are you all right, Sherlock?”
“Yes, it’s all Nasim’s blood. But Cal took a bullet in his arm covering me.”
“It’s under control, no worries,” Cal said. “He came close to taking Sherlock out, Kelly.”
Jo Hoag yelled from down the hall, “Elliott shot the shooter right out of the tree, but he’s alive! Thompson’s okay, probably concussed. Paramedics will be here any moment. I’m going out to meet them.”
Sherlock said, “Jo, wait. Have the paramedics tend to the shooter and Thompson. Don’t bring them in here. Nasim’s dead, there’s nothing they can do.” She drew a deep breath. “Listen, I don’t think we want it to get out yet that Nasim is dead. Let’s keep the terrorists guessing, at least until we find and hopefully save his family. Nasim didn’t entirely trust the terrorists not to murder his family if he gave himself up and let them kill him, and I believe that’s the reason he told me. I’m his backup.
“I don’t trust the terrorists, either, so let’s hold off—only a day, tops—give ourselves time to find his family. Then we can announce it and take the heat.”
Kelly said, “We can’t, Sherlock. We’d be crucified, accused of a massive cover-up, and that’s the last thing—”
“You don’t understand, Kelly,” Sherlock said right over her. “Unlike Nasim, I believe once the terrorists know Nasim is dead, they’ll kill the family. If they don’t know he’s dead, then maybe we have a chance. We have a name, Hosni Rahal. We can find the family.” She stopped, looked down at Nasim again. His eyes stared straight at the ceiling. There was no surprise on his face. What there was was acceptance.
Kelly chewed this over. “All right, okay. I’ve got to call Zachery, clear it with him. A day, tops. We’re looking for Rahal. If he’s in the U.S., we’ll find him and pray he’s still holding the family.” She looked down at her watch. “The crime scene techs and the ME are a half-hour out. Cal, Sherlock, come into the living room. Before I call Zachery, we’ve got to figure out how this happened. We’re lucky Elliott’s such a great shot or it could have been worse. Do you know he could shoot a feather off an eagle’s wing—”
Kelly realized shock was nibbling at the edges. She had to get herself together.
She saw Cal was shaking his head at her.
“What?”
“This wasn’t your fault.” He’d wanted to blast her for this debacle but didn’t because he knew she’d blast herself enough for all of them.
Giusti gave a scratchy laugh. “Then whose fault was it, Cal?”
“There’s a lot to be done,” he said matter-of-factly, “and you’re in charge. You’re the one everyone will look to.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Giusti nodded, sucked in air, rebooted.
Cal said, “Sherlock came closer to dying than any of us. I saw a bullet part her hair over her ear, scared me spitless. Those last shots were aimed at her and they came well after the shooter had to know Nasim was down. If he hadn’t stayed in that tree to try to take Sherlock out as well as Nasim, he might have made it out of here. Point is, Sherlock wasn’t a bystander, she was one of his targets.”
Kelly looked like she’d taken a punch to the gut. “I’m very sorry about this. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Cal said, “Nah, she’d never admit it to you because if she did, she’d have to spit it out to Savich.”
She closed her eyes. “You swear your arm’s not bad?”
“It’s only a flesh wound,” he said, and grinned at her. Cal saw it steadied her. Good. He knew Giusti had to be wondering about her career prospects in the FBI. She’d lost a major terrorist on her watch. Not good.
Sherlock said, “Cal, let me take a look at it. When the paramedics get here, they’ll have to deal with the shooter and Thompson.” She cleaned the wound with alcohol from the first-aid kit, then wrapped his arm in a soft white bandage. It didn’t hurt all that much. Both of them were listening to the agents discussing what had happened, trying to figure out how it had happened. She said to Cal, “When we get to the hospital, they can take a look. As far as I can tell, all you’ll need is Steri-Strips, Cal. You were lucky.”
No, he thought, you were the lucky one. “You guys got any ideas on how they found Nasim?”
Pip Erwin shook his head. “I don’t understand it. No one would break protocol and get us followed. I can’t imagine there’s a leak in the Counterterrorism Task Force.”
Cal looked at Sherlock. “You know, don’t you?”
“Yes, I think so. Remember Nasim kept repeating he was going to be killed, even though he was tucked away in a safe house? All he could talk about was that his life didn’t matter, just his family’s. Once he told me everything he knew, I think Nasim made it easy for them to shoot him. Did you notice the bathroom curtains were wide open? He did that to make an easy target of himself. He thought it was the only thing left for him to do that might let them live—that, and tell me everything. He figured he’d done everything he could to save them.”
Kelly said, “So you think the terrorists were still in control, that they’d convinced him he had to die, one way or the other, if his family was to live? But that leads to the question: How did they find him?”
Sherlock said, “I’m betting the ME will find a small wound hidden somewhere on Nasim’s body, maybe his armpit or inner thigh. He’ll find a low-power chip under the skin, a tracking chip. If I’m right, the terrorists have known where Nasim was every minute since he walked into JFK. With the chip, they could be sure he was walking into the security line and track him if he walked away.”
Cal looked at her like a proud papa. He said to no agent in particular, “She’s really good at this. I’ll bet you she’s right.”
Giusti said, “Whether you’re right or not, Sherlock, it still means we’ve been had. And not by some group of young men with box cutters or homemade bombs. These guys, whoever they are, who they represent, are stone-cold professionals.”
Giusti’s cell rang. She answered it, then hung up. “The paramedics took our shooter directly to the hospital. He’s going into surgery to remove the bullet from his shoulder.” She paused, pressed speed dial. “Time I spoke with Zachery.” And she walked out the front door.
Sherlock called after her, “When the ME gets here, Kelly, he needs to find and remove the chip and leave it here, otherwise the terrorists would know Nasim’s dead.”