The Fourth Life: Chapter 38

Mac put his black suit coat on. He returned to the courthouse, at which he was lingering earlier that day, posing as a reporter in the crowds.  He'd seen Manning's spectacle, of grabbing his pregnant wife and kissing her, in front of the cameras.  "It's a shame," he said, "that they won't have the chance to see Hesser put away."  He had his special 9 mm, the one he purchased at a gun fair in the South, and put it into the case.  The case looked more like a business brief, in case he was seen.  He had lodged a small pebble in the service entrance of the basement of the courthouse, and another one in the vestibule that lead to the courtroom where the Hesser trial was taking place, in case he was stopped.  He was certain to get back in, either way.  Now, traffic was decidedly less, and he wanted to plant the briefcase where he could access it with ease the next day.


He had researched what to do, and found the idea of a lead-lined, mock briefcase on a website.  Carlo was eager to provide the funds needed to attain it, and gave Mac numbers to call, with the untraceable cell phone, and get the item.  And here it was.  Heavier than he had imagined, it had an artificial side panel for papers, pens and other items, and a center compartment for the gun.  His time in the Marines had not failed him, and the training, kill or be killed, was still as fresh as it were when he arrived at boot camp years back.


He approached the main doors, behaving as if he were a lawyer or other professional, entering  as customary.  He went through the doors and saw the metal detector.  Here was where he struggled a bit with this composure, for if the lead briefcase did not work, he would certainly be caught and the whole thing would be over.  Kathleen, who had just been released, would be dead.  He'd never hold her again.  He would be in prison, and dead soon after.  This had to work.


At first, Hesser had made it seem like a dream come true for Mac Hennessey to work for him.  All the talk of money, millions, and islands, and Kathleen, had sounded like a way for her to have what she had longed for, and him to have her and the money.  It was a perfect arrangement.  When he failed with the bomb, Mac had seen a complete turn around in Carlo, to where he would threaten to kill them more than offer anything.  And, his way of describing how she would die, was so horrible, he had vomited the first time he heard it.  So, he was on his way up the stairs, to the courthouse, with the gun, as a test run for the following day.  How he had gotten a press pass was indescribable, but it was done.  He had done it all.  His military training did pay off and helped him to manufacture every element.  But, he wondered if it would help him appear cool and calm enough to make it through the detector.


"Good afternoon," the guard said, putting his hand out for the case.  

Mac responded, and put the case on the belt himself, so the guard would not notice the weight.  The case began to slide along the belt, as the guard also checked Mac himself with the scanner, and Mac stepped through the walk-through checker as well.  Nothing beeped, and he turned his eyes sideways to see his case, being x-rayed, and the contents flashing on the screen:  papers, folders, pens, a miniature stapler, a cell phone, a money clip with some cash, and a book.


At the end of the belt stood a female guard, petite and blonde, and he was in action.  "Let me get that for you, it's a nail breaker," he said, kindly and smiled his most charming smile.  


She smiled back, and said, "Sure."  He lifted the case and walked off, having made it through the barrier and into the courthouse.  Standing there, he felt a wave of relief and a second one of nausea.  He now had a decision to make; plant the gun somewhere in the Hesser trial area, or try and get through the more-trusted guards that would probably be on duty during the active hours the next day.  


Entering the courtroom, without someone seeing him had been task enough.  Once he was inside the one labeled for Carlo's trial, he scanned it.  The whole front wall was glossy, black marble.  The furniture was mostly a cherry color, and the room was spacious and airy.  It had been recently remodeled, but keeping to its original, 1890s design, there was a balcony above that ran the whole perimeter of the room, except for the front.  Then, it hit him.  He climbed the small staircase to the left, and entered the balcony.  At first intending to plant the gun and return the next day, he realized that his best option was to lie down and sleep there, on one of the bench-like seats, until morning.  He would not have to deal with any guards at the door.  If he were found, he would use his press pass and feign exhaustion, that he fell asleep while working on a story and intended a nap.  The gun would be hidden well away by then.  One concern was the cleaning crew, but he was certain from the amount of dust on the balcony level, that they were not very efficient.  


It became even better when he noticed that the small staircase did not stop at the balcony, but continued up.  He followed the stairs and found that they lead to a room above the courtroom, that resembled a storage area, with several copiers, seeming defunct, old cases of paper, and other office supplies.  He checked the copiers.  Inoperable.  Dust-laden.  Perfect.  Beaurocratic waste paid off.  


First, he hid the gun under a specific pew, so that he could grab it at a moment's notice.  His hands were now gloved, as to keep from leaving any prints.  Then, he established an area, toward the back center, where he could fit underneath the pews and wait, unseen.  This meant, at any given moment, he would be able to hide behind the balcony barrier, point and shoot, and then still scramble away unnoticed through the small staircase that lead to the service entrance.  He'd already decided to leave the briefcase behind, and had thrown it into a large garbage can.  All he had with him was the gun, a stenographer's pad, and his gloves.  Yes, this would work.  He was certain.  He would shoot, and before anyone even realized where it was coming from, he would be up those miniature stairs, where most would assume he would go down to get out of the building, and follow there.  He would go into the room above, and somehow get out before questions were asked.


His plan established, he located himself where he planned, and laid down, and realized it was going to be quite a long night of discomfort.  But, in his training, he had done worse, and in his time in Desert Storm, even worse.  Compared to those memories, this was a breeze.  He planned to stay awake as long as possible, getting a few hours of rest close to dawn.


He awakened the next morning to the noise of people, shuffling about.  The courtroom was open, it was early, but a few people were filing in, here and there, reporters were getting their perches around the door, and staff members were coming in and out of the courtroom to organize their schedules and plan.  The judge was not there, yet, and Hennessey realized that at his current location, directly across from the front wall, the judge would just have to raise his eyes and see him.  So, he crawled, using his elbows, to the right side of the balcony, which would be seen only at the left by the witness and the judge if they happened to look up.  It was less likely they would, since the jury was at their right, and there was nothing to the left but a long wall with paintings they had seen for a whole day already.  So, he made his choice and relocated.  Waiting.


He dozed off.  An hour later, the courtroom was filling again.  Through a small slat at the bottom of the balcony barrier, he could see everything, from a lying position.  He also realized at that moment, that he could feasibly shoot through it as well.  He could shoot, roll as far away as possible, and crawl to the staircase, and up.  It had to work.  She was worth it and so was his own life.  He knew if he failed this time, Hesser warned, he would send his worst man to brutally rape, torture and kill Kathleen, and he would be murdered as well.


He had already made a plan, in case something should go wrong.  He would escape, return to his childhood home of Trinidad and disappear.  He would find a way to bring her with him.  Inside though, he knew that nowhere was safe from Hesser and it would take a miracle to be hidden enough.


He saw Zeus Zelenko, the first witness on the witness list, enter the courtroom with an attractive Hispanic woman on his arm.  Later, he saw The Mannings, she in a lavender maternity suit and he in gray and purple.  "They dress alike," he said to himself.  "Very connected people."


The court came into session twenty minutes later, and Mac was developing sweat on his brow and face.  It would be too conspicuous to do anything about it sans wipe it with his glove.  He had finished the bottle of water he brought with him, and found that his mouth was exceedingly dry, but he would bear it.  He would have to.  It was dryer in the desert of Kuwait, where he at times went a day or two without any liquid.  He would bear it.


Zeus was called to the stand, and he made his move.  Putting the nose of the gun through the slat in the balcony and lying on his side was not working as well as he thought.  He could not be assured of a clear shot and he only had one, or two, at the most.  So, he pushed himself up onto one elbow, and then crouched, silently, still remaining below the balcony barrier line, but able, at any given moment to bring the gun up, balance it on the rail, and aim and shoot.


Tea was holding Zeus' hand today.  She wasn't behind him, she was next to him.  They had gone to dinner together the night before, and had talked past one in the morning.  He was feeling better than he had in months just having her near him.  She whispered, "First, the judge will say some things to recap the proceedings.  Nothing long, it's like housekeeping.  Then, you'll be called."


He nodded, and squeezed her hand.  Across the way, The Mannings, looking more worn, but as stylish as the day before, were sitting with no possible room for air between them, hands clasped together on her lessening lap, in somewhat matching attire.  He whispered, nodding toward them, "Think we'll ever be like that?"


She rolled her eyes, "I certainly hope not."


He wasn't sure of her ever-growing disdain for them, but knew it went back to the days when Manning was married to her.  From what he had gathered and seen, though, the wedding hadn't made much sense.  To him, and probably all the other casual observers, It was always clear that Todd and Blair were in love with each other.  He said, "They love each other.  Very much.  That's all I meant."


She said, in a whisper, keeping one eye on the court, "Don't let a little dinner and conversation get you overworked."


"The prosecution calls Zeus Zelenko."


He looked at Tea and said, "Here I go."


He went, and for a moment, the second he let go of her hand she felt a pang of longing.  She pushed that aside and touched her hand where he was just holding it, looking down to her ring, the one she still wore.  His ring.  How long are you going to fool yourself, Delgado?


After being sworn in, the DA began, "State your name for the court."


"Zeus Alexander Zelenko."


"Mr. Zelenko, when did you first meet Carlo Hesser?"


"***


In the same room, Sister Rebecca Katherine was praying.  That morning, she had awakened with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and at first, asked for Maalox, thinking it was indigestion, or at least, hoping.  When it did not pass, she knew that something was going to require a great deal of prayer, and readied herself for court.  She had already said her part, and gave her testimony, but nothing was going to let her miss the goings on and the support she could give to her 'son' and his wife.  Because of traffic, she and Timothy were late, and had to sit toward the back of the room.  But, she managed.  Blair, who was uncomfortable with her legs bent in front of her, had gotten an aisle seat, and moved legs a slight bit into the walking space as to stretch them more.  Sister Rebecca could see Todd's hand, on Blair's belly, rubbing it absently, in small circles.  She also saw Marty and Patrick, behind them, and John McBain, to the left of them,  She prayed, and used her rosary.  She closed her eyes, and soon after, dozed.


She woke again when Timothy nudged her.  "You'll miss the proceedings, eh?"


She focused her eyes on the judge and Zeus, and her eyes continued upward as she prayed.  There was a sky light, made of stained glass, that let a great deal of light into the room, and it was splaying down, in rays, through the colored panels.  She studied it for a moment, hearing the testimony, and then moved her eye to the side, where she caught glimpse of something moving.  At least she thought.  At that moment, the testimony and prayers both become secondary, as she realized what it was she had seen.  The gunmetal gray nose of a weapon was perched on the rail, a gloved hand holding it, and just as a figure rose up to get view, she screamed, "There in the balcony!  Duck down Mr. Zeus!"  in her brogue, and everyone's attention shifted.  In seconds, so much happened.  Tea screamed, a shot was fired, the another, Zeus dove or fell to the ground, and Todd was on his feet to get Blair out of the room.


"Oh my God, he's been shot!"  Tea shrieked in piercing tones, as she ran to him.  


Todd, trying to help Blair to her feet, said, "Babe, come on, let's get out of here," before noticing that she was slumped over the chair at an awkward angle, and the side facing away from him was splattered with blood.  Panicking, he yelled, "Someone get an ambulance!" and Viki, Timothy and Sister Rebecca Katherine ran to them.  


Viki said, "Oh my God," when she saw Blair's right side covered in blood, and said, "was she hit?"


Todd was frantic.  Viki had only seen his face this way a few times in her life.  He said, "Babe, talk to me.  Please?"


Sister Rebecca Katherine's hands were shaking, and the beads were rattling between her fingers.  In the commotion, no one saw the man go out, the guards were rushing to evacuate the room.   Patrick was on his feet, Marty was at the side of Blair, and John had drawn his gun and was on foot toward the balcony stairs.  Hesser, lead by the guards with his hands in chains, turned to the spectator area and connected eyes for one brief second with Todd.  He had a very thin and concealed smile creeping on his lips, that was readable only to those who had experienced him first hand. 


That was all that was needed.


Todd ran, jumping the spectator barrier and attacked Carlo, full-on.  In his rage, he spouted, "Fuck all this letting go bullshit, I'm going to kill you!"


Patrick followed suit, jumping the rail and grabbing Todd by the shoulders, saying to the guards, "I've got him," and Timothy was right behind, attempting to hold one of Todd's arms.  Patrick finally got a hold on both of Todd's biceps, and held him fast.  He said, "Manning, your wife, she needs you.  This isn't where you need to be."


Todd, as if slapped, looked at him, and ran back, jumping the rail again, to Blair's side.  She was stirring.  Marty was frantically compressing the area, and Todd noticed that even she was speckled with blood.  He said, "Blair?  Blair?  Talk to me, babe, please?"  his voice shattered, "Don't leave me, no leaving, remember?"


Across the room, Tea was already running along the gurney in her heels, as the EMTs made their way across to Todd and Blair.  She opened her eyes and looked up to him.  "I don't know why I'm here," she said.


The EMTs pushed everyone away, but he sprang back, and swallowed, "You're okay.  Stay with me."


He saw her eyes moving to the ceiling, to the light rays coming in through the stained glass, and she said, "It's daylight.  There's God coming down, Todd."


He sobbed once and said, "No, there's no God coming down, look at me, Babe, look at me."


Viki burst into tears and turned away, burying her face without hesitation in Timothy's shoulder.  Sister Rebecca Katherine was praying at record speed; her lips were uttering words so quickly, no one could have kept track of what she was saying.  Patrick moved Todd out of the way of the paramedics, and steadied him by his shoulders.


Todd said, "I know I deserve the worst, but please, not this.  Blair, don't leave me."


Weakly she said, "I won't, I won't leave you.  I won't, ever..." and she closed her eyes.  The EMTs moved her onto the gurney, and rushed her out, Todd frantically trying to follow her.  Patrick, who thought better of the idea, nodded to Sister Rebecca Katherine, who went with her in the ambulance.  Timothy went to get his car and Viki followed.  

Marty, who was watching beside them, was covered in blood.  She was shaking, and still holding the sweater she'd taken off to push on Blair's wound.  John walked back into the courtroom as Todd was yelling, "You stupid Mick, let me go."

Patrick turned Todd to him, who was still fighting his grip, and said, "She's going to need you, Manning.  She's going to need you steady and in control."


Todd sobbed out a long sigh, and put his hand to his forehead.  John said, "The cruiser, better time, let's go," and all four of them followed him to the police car parked on the curb out front.  He turned to Marty, and seeing her covered in Blair's blood, said, "I take full responsibility for your absence from where you're supposed to be right now."


John put the siren on and they beat the ambulance to the hospital.  Waiting for it to drive up and the doors to open, Todd was completely in control.  He was going to be strong for her.  You're not a victim.  Not anymore.  You've got this.   You have to be strong for her, for once.  She wants a hero, you have to be her hero.  Now.


The ambulance raced up, and the door swung open.  Sister Rebecca Katherine was in tears, silent ones, with a smudge of blood on her right cheek.  


He looked directly into Blair's face, which was almost as white as the sheets she was lying on.  "Hey, Mrs. Manning, can you hear me?"  he called to her, as they lifted her gurney out of the cab.  She did not reply, and he tagged along side it, his face ragged.


In the emergency room, the doctors forced Todd to let go of the gurney so they could take Blair into emergency surgery.  He turned, like a lost soul, and covered his face and sobbed.  His eyes rested on Sister Rebecca Katherine, who put her arms out to embrace him.  "Come, here, Todd, it's going to be all right."


Marty, who was still shaking, appeared to be going into shock, and John said, "Marty, are you all right?"


Patrick, who was supporting her weight against him, said, "She's going down," at which point, she fell, and he caught her, and John helped get her to the sitting area.  She came to, and a nurse approached and asked the men to let her take Marty to get cleaned up.  Marty walked off with the nurse, still holding the sweater.  


John said, "I know what you're thinking.  This will set her back, emotionally?"


"I'm not sure what I'm thinking.  She's strong.  She may come out of it better than we think.  Let's hope the same for Blair." Patrick said.


Todd pulled himself together and said, "Was she awake, in the ambulance?"


"Yes, dear, she was."  The nun said.


"Did she talk?  Was she in pain?"


"She did talk, but she was in and out of consciousness.  Dear, we should focus on her now, and what we can do..."


"What did she say?"


"Todd, you must..."


"What did she say?"


Patrick walked up behind Todd, ready if need be.  He'd known the man for years, and Manning's keeping cool when it came to Blair was not his strong suit.


Sister Rebecca Katherine did not want to answer, but he would not give up.  He said, "What, did she say?" between sobs.


"She said, 'Todd,' and I told her you were waiting for her at the hospital."


"What else, did she say anything else?  Did she die?  Is that why you don't want to tell me what she said?"  He panicked, and Patrick, ready, with John standing by, stepped a bit closer.


"No dear, she is not dead.  She told me that she could feel...the baby dying," and her voice broke at the last few words.  


Todd's expression changed, and Viki, who was just coming in the door with Timothy behind her, saw the scene and thought the worst, "My goodness, what's happened?"


Todd fell into a seat, and any tears that he has succeeded at holding back raced out at enormous speed and power as he broke down.  Barely able to catch his breath, he fought to do so.  Viki sat beside him, "Todd,"


"No, Viki, no.  No speeches about anything, no talks about hope, nothing.  No.  Not now."


"All right," she said, putting her arm around his shoulder and bringing him close to her heart.


The doors swooped open and Starr and Jack came running into the waiting area, and she cried, "Dad?  What happened?  Aunt Viki? Oh my God, what is it?  Dad?"  Starr pushed her way toward him.  He was cowering against Viki and crying inconsolably.


Jack stood back, watching his father disintegrate into a sobbing, incoherent man.


Todd looked up to Starr, and said, "She's been shot.  I can't do this, Shorty."


Starr wondered how he could possibly do it, after all he'd been through for the last nine years.  She somehow said, "You can do this, Dad.  You will.  You'll be here for her."


He focused his eyes on her and then searched around and saw Jack, standing, removed from the group.  Tears were falling down his son's face.  Sister Rebecca Katherine was in tatters; she was holding her beads and praying through tears.  John was circling, hands in pockets, trying to avoid seeing the grief.  Patrick's eyes watered as he listened to Todd sob,  "See, you kids have me so wrong.  All of you do.  I'm not some kind of hero.  Look at me!  She was shot right next to me, and I didn't even know it.  She was an arm's reach away from me, and I didn't protect her."  He clenched his fists and banged them on the chair arms, then crying more, he said,  "Shorty, she was talking about God, the light.  I'm scared," he cried, "I can't do anything without her.  I'm no hero, she's the one.  She's the one.  She's been strong, she's raised you kids, she dealt with my ins and outs, my leaving and running off when things went wrong.  She's given me everything, everything that was ever good in my life.  I'm no hero.  Without her, I'm nothing."


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