| Subject: In the Shadow of Simone 6 |
Author:
Rox
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Date Posted: 15:38:49 12/29/01 Sat
In reply to:
Rox
's message, "In the Shadow of Simone - Sequel to Redemption" on 23:28:26 12/17/01 Mon
* * *
“Michael.” Jurgen stuck his head inside Michael’s office.
“Yes?” Michael looked up from his computer.
“This cold op tomorrow, Simone’s asking for a back up team. Did you authorize it?”
“Back up? No. Did she say why?”
“No. I thought maybe she had already cleared it with you. I just wanted to know who you were pulling to do it.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Michael said, getting to his feet.
Jurgen nodded, and stepped back to let Michael pass. It was odd for Simone to ask for a back up team. Unusual. But then, since her son’s death, she had become more protective of Michael. Jurgen shook his head, and walked back to his office.
“Simone.”
“Yes, Michael?”
“Jurgen told me you requested a backup team. Why?”
“I think you’ll need it. I’ll be in the van doing ops--I won’t be there to back you up, if there’s trouble.” Simone, answered, carefully packing some com gear into a metal carrying case.
Michael looked to see they were alone before gently touching his wife’s face. “I’ll be fine. We’re just going in on an intel gathering mission, not a firefight. Jurgen will be there--Section’s pulled pretty thin right now. I can’t justify a backup team for this.”
Simone dropped her eyes and continued to pack. Michael knew she wasn’t happy with the decision, but he knew she would support him anyway.
“I’ll be careful.” He promised.
She nodded, and closed the case.
“Michael, time of entry in 45 seconds.” Simone sat in the van with two members of the comm team. She stood watching Michael on a small overhead screen as he entered the nearby building.
“It looks quiet.” Michael checked a locked door, before continuing down the hallway.
“Same here, “ Jurgen’s voice broke over the comm-net. He watched the building Michael was searching with binoculars from across the street.
“Are we still getting the signal?” Michael asked softly, as he peered around a darkened corner.
“It’s steady on,” replied one of the comm techs.
“Standby, I hear something. . . “ Jurgen’s voice interrupted.
Shots rang out in all directions.
“Michael! We’ve got shooters! They’ve spotted the van!” Jurgen shouted.
Michael pulled his gun and sprinted back the way he had come. “Simone! Report!” He called out to her as he ran.
“Michael!” Was the last word he heard from her. Fifteen seconds later Michael arrived outside and saw the van explode in a ball of fire. The concussion threw him backwards into the side of the brick building, dislocating his shoulder and knocking him unconscious.
* * *
“Clear!” Robert pressed the paddles against the young man’s bruised chest for the second time and watched hopefully as the cardiac monitor recorded a couple of beats.
The rhythm became erratic and ceased again.
“Come on! Damn it! All right, again!” He pressed the paddles once more to the man’s chest and waited for the tone that told him they were charged and ready. “Clear!”
The young man’s body jerked again as the charge lifted him. The heart beat steady for a few seconds and stopped again.
“Shoot him up! While I recharge.” Robert ordered, waiting for his assistant to inject the patient’s heart muscle with adrenaline.
“Come on! Come on! Don’t make me have to tell her, you quit! Clear!”
The heartbeat skipped a second or two, then fell into rhythm.
“What’s his BP?” Robert asked hopefully.
The assistant listened intently for several seconds to his stethoscope, gave a “thumbs up” and said, “It’s rising.”
“Thank God. Start a second IV in his other arm. We have to keep that blood pressure up.”
* * *
“Miss?”
Nikita opened her eyes and flinched at the brightness of the overhead light.
“What?”
A woman in a nurse’s outfit was bending over her.
“I’m here from admitting. I need your name and the name of your husband.”
“My husband?”
“The man they brought in with you.”
“Michael?” Nikita lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes. “Where is he?”
“In surgery.”
“Is he all right?” Nikita started to sit up, but became so dizzy the nurse had to keep her from falling off the bed.
“I don’t know. I’m just here to admit you. Do you have any insurance?”
“No.” Nikita looked around trying to get her bearings.
“Credit cards?”
“Yes--but not with me.” She murmured, lying back down.
“Your husband?” The nurse walked over to a counter and returned with Michael’s wallet. “We found this on your husband. All I need to get you admitted is your credit card number.” She held the wallet out to Nikita.
Nikita took it and stared at it for a long moment. The instant she used a credit card, Section would know where she was within minutes.
“Can you please tell me how he is?” She asked again.
“As soon as I get you admitted and in a room, I’ll be glad to find out for you.” The nurse replied, holding out her hand for the card.
With resignation, Nikita handed her Michael’s card.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly to her unborn child, once the nurse had gone.
“Nikita.”
Nikita opened her eyes to see Madeline standing in the doorway. She stood there, silently, for a long while before reaching carefully into the handbag hanging on her shoulder.
Madeline screwed on the silencer as Nikita watched from her bed.
“You were warned, Nikita.” Madeline said, leveling the pistol at her.
“I know.” Nikita answered. She lay still. There was nowhere to go, and no way to prevent the inevitable. In some ways she welcomed what Madeline was going to do.
The silencer popped softly twice and Nikita looked down at her blood, as it ran, warm and bright red over the pristine sheets.
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