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After the gunfire tapered off, only the shuffling footsteps of Ellebana Sey trying to give cover in Jason Burke’s trail echoed from the hospital staircase. Mike Arcanghel rolled free from the bullet studded wall nursing an ugly bump on the head care of Jason Burke and his flying dive from behind thrown like a free safety in the NFL. The impact against the wall tore away the Belgian automatic Mike grabbed from the fallen assassin and sent it sliding onto the far hallway to prop with stark gruesomeness the screams of the terrorized inmates.
Mike staggered in a daze towards the room and his wobbly feet tripped on the dead body sprawled by the entrance. Raw nerves impinged on him to give a start. Doing so spooked everybody else in the room who were all jumpy from the travails of the blistering episode just past. Lassel, Mike’s sweetheart, who was cowering by the right wall near the door shrieked in unison with Mike’s bumbling. Marita Dalit flashed again with rapid grace, drew swiftly on one bended knee, and aimed her snub nosed .38 caliber Smith and Wesson in Mike’s direction.
The nurse lifeless form clattered back to the floor with a woeful thud and more morbid bloodletting as Marita who was cuddling her head let go in panic. Marita hissed a sigh of relief and put away the gun grudgingly under her knit sweater. The grip of panic eased when she recognized Mike’s stumblebum appearance who tottered over the back of the unmoving stiff to regain his footing. “Mike, you gave me a real scare!” Marita sniffed over two tiny blobs of tears which dribbled down each cheek. She looked so vulnerable and not like the amazon beauty she puposely strove to radiate. Her karate posturing totally washed away by the benumbing clash, she looked like a wounded fairy princess who needed tender loving attention.
Angela Arcanghel, Mike’s mother and Yna, Mike’s hysterical teen sister, had balled back into a protective cocoon after sounding off with bloodcurdling yells in tandem earlier. Their sobs were muffed in the entwinement. Their backs heaved like aftershocks. Mike took one step towards them then hesitated after remembering Lassel’s beleaguered encroachment by the wall. Flustered by his quandary to choose whose primacy mattered most in the instant, he relegated to an out of place curiousness about Marita, his former high school teacher, Karate master and guru, and the past forbidden love of his adolescent years. “I never knew you packed a piece after all these years. Why?”
Marita stomped to the phone to evade the question. She dialed with perky fingers and blew hotly into the mouthpiece. “Get a team up here real quick! There’s two mortally wounded victims.” She couldn’t bring herself to mutter the word dead after all the steeliness inculcated by years of martial arts discipline. “What room number? You of all should know, you’re the operator, what’s the matter with you, woman?” She shook her head testily. “Room 912”, Mike sheepishly volunteered in the background.
In the middle of the drama, through the silent doorway, Nobuo Abe came rushing forward with a wide eyed look. Marita cringed at the sight of her covert operator from the Kempetai, the Japanese CIA but also felt reinforced by his trustworthiness to fly to her aid during every trying moment of her undercover career as a secret agent which was unknown to all even her close family circle. Dressed in nondescript togs as a harassed sushi chef from Ermita Hotel which was his perpetual cover, Nobuo tried to blurt out something over the heavy breathing. “Daijobu deska? Are you ok?”
Marita shushed him up and looked askance at Mike who looked up from his huddle with Lassel after hastily comforting his mother and Yna and making sure they were okay. “Atode ne, kocherai dozo.” Marita led Nobuo with a tight clutching at the arm to the hallway outside. They were met on their way out by the flustered doctors and nurses who bamboozled past them through the middle and unhinged Marita’s trembling grasp on Nobuo’s left arm.
“I saw what happened in my GPS beamed by the satellite. I ran as fast as I could over ten blocks! Muskashi ne!” Nobuo’s breathing still labored slightly.
“Onegai, dozo, you have to help the American Preacher who’s chasing the gunman, c’mon go go, do something, get on your radio. There’s an armed lady government lawyer with them!” Marita Dalit gave a little nudge to spur her mole to the direction of the exit.
“That Jason Burke, he doesn’t need help. He can take care of himself very well. He’s the cockroach.” Nobuo smiled knowingly.
“Cockroach? You know the American?” Marita Dalit searched Nobuo’s face
“He’s hard to find and hard to kill. Hai, hai, he only thinks he is a cockroach but I see him in my viewfinder all the time!” Nobuo basked in his astuteness as a senior spymaster.
Subarashi, that was excellent shooting by the way!” He waxed with compliments but came across sounding ironical in the light of the events.
“Excellent you say, I missed all my shots and pulverized the wall!” Marita crowed with astonishment over the remark.
“Sometimes you have to miss to hit the mark, beautiful assistant. Your volley threw the enemy back from dishing out the coup de grace to the downed American. That’s better than hitting them and make them fall below him to squeeze off a last round to his unprotected underbelly!”
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