The Florentine Deception by Carey Nachenberg

Author:Carey Nachenberg [Nachenberg, Carey]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781504027397
Goodreads: 26203321
Publisher: Open Road Media Mystery & Thriller
Published: 2015-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 34

“Help!” I screamed. “We’re being held hostage.”

“He’s coming to,” said an unfamiliar male voice.

“Careful, he has a gun!” I shot up and opened my eyes. My head reeled. Had I been drugged?

“Relax, Mr. Fife, everything’s okay.” A hand gently eased me back down onto the pillow. “You’re in the hospital.”

A heart monitor’s metronome-like beat started breaking through the haze. I tried to focus—it took a few seconds to reorient. I was in an eight-by-ten, beige-colored room, medical equipment everywhere. And tubes. Tubes taped to my arm.

“I’m going to go get the doctor, I’ll be right back,” said the male voice.

“You’re in the hospital, Alex. Everything’s okay now.” It was Steven. That was Steven’s voice.

“Steven? What? Where? Where are we?” My fingers found their way up to a bandage on my shoulder. “Was I shot?”

“No—it’s nothing serious. Just relax, the doctor will be here in a minute.”

I tried to concentrate, to remember what had happened.

“How did I…?” I scanned the room. “What happened?” Things were coming back slowly. “I heard the police cars, then I think I hit Khalimmy and then I … I …”

“You’re okay, Alex. Everything’s okay. The police rescued us and the paramedics brought you here to Torrance Memorial.”

“What about Ronald? Is Ronald Lister okay? He was shot. I think he was shot. I didn’t see.”

“I don’t know. He was in a different ambulance. But he didn’t look good.”

“And Khalimmy? What happened to him? Tell me they caught him. Or better, killed him.”

“I don’t think so,” said Steven, shrugging. “The way the police were questioning me, it sounds like they’re still looking for him.”

“Does Hillary know?” I asked, the blurriness abating. I noticed a pitcher on the bedside table and motioned for Steven to pour me a cup of water.

I downed the cup and handed it back.

“No way. I told her I was meeting you to go through more videotapes.”

“I see the patient is recovering nicely!” came a voice from the door. A sixtyish woman with wiry graying hair, a genuine smile, and funky seventies glasses walked into the room and straight to the heart monitor.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Fife?” she asked, still staring at the LCD display.

“Not bad. I’m still a little hazy from whatever you’re pumping into me.” I lifted my right arm to highlight my many dangling tubes.

“That’s saline.” She smiled. “Salt water. You’re probably feeling the sedative from earlier. It should wear off soon. That, and you took a nasty smack to the head.”

“Is it bad?”

“Your MRIs are in Radiology right now, but I’m guessing you’ll be fine after some rest. You were very lucky. The bullet just grazed your shoulder and took off the top layer of skin. You’re going to have a good week or two of discomfort, but it’s no worse than a first-degree burn.” She walked over to my bed, pulled a pen flashlight from her pocket, and shined it into my eyes. “Good. And your vitals all look good as well.”

I opened my mouth to speak.

“But,” she

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