The Lion

Since I've been in Federal law enforcement, however, it's been a little easier to mushroom-keeping the press in the dark and feeding them shit-if there's a national security angle.

Also, since 9/11, the Feds had gotten what amounted to wartime powers under the Patriot Act and other less well-known legislation. And legislation aside, the attitudes in the Justice Department had changed, and the people in the field doing the actual work had become more aggressive and more tight-lipped with the news media.

As for media coverage about what happened here in Sullivan County, that was fairly easy to manage. First, it happened in the middle of nowhere, and second, it looked to witnesses like an attack by a psychotic-which it actually was. As for the victim, her name was being withheld by the authorities. End of press release.

On the subject of sharing and disseminating information, I told Kate I'd call her parents and tell them what happened, without worrying them, of course. Something like, "Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Mayfield, your daughter had her throat cut by an Islamic terrorist, but she's fine now."

Kate wrote to me, in her neat handwriting, No, I will call them when I get this fucking tube out of my throat.

I said, "Please watch the swearing."

She wrote, See if you can get me a laptop so I can e-mail and get on the Internet.

I didn't want her reading about the Haythams, so I fibbed, "No laptops allowed in ICU. They emit microwaves and stuff that will screw up everyone's monitors."

She seemed to buy that, so maybe it was true.

Anyway, Dr. Goldberg arrived to check on his patient and he was all smiles. It's kind of neat saving someone's life, and it probably makes you feel very good inside. As a homicide detective, almost every crime victim I've seen was on the way to the morgue, not the hospital. And to be up front, I've put a few perpetrators in both places, and it never felt good. Well… sometimes it did.

On the subject of rough justice, I recalled again my last conversation with Asad Khalil on Kate's cell phone, three years ago. He'd said to us, "I just wanted to say good-bye and to remind you that I will be back."

He had apparently developed a strong personal dislike of me and of Kate as well. And to be frank, we didn't like him either. I mean, the asshole was trying to kill us. Not surprisingly, our professional relationship-lawbreaker and law enforcer-had deteriorated into an unhealthy personal animus. Asad Khalil had given up on his pla

So when he told me three years ago that he'd be back, I had replied with enthusiasm, "Looking forward to a rematch."

That's when he said to me, "I will kill you and kill that whore you are with, if it takes me all of my life."

I looked at Kate in the bed, and I recalled that she wasn't real happy with Asad Khalil calling her a whore. And, you know, I don't blame her. On the other hand, there are cultural differences to consider, and as I'd explained to her then, she, as a Federal employee, needed to be sensitive to Asad Khalil's more traditional upbringing regarding gender roles. Hopefully we could resolve these differences before I killed him.

Dr. Goldberg was speaking and he seemed happy with his patient's progress. He assured us that Kate could be moved by medical helicopter to the city in about two days, then a few more days in the hospital, then home, and back to duty within a month. Sounded good, but I could tell that Kate thought that was too long.

After Dr. Goldberg left, she wrote to me, I want to be back to work next week.

I replied, "Let's get you home first. I need to evaluate the extent of your mental impairment."

She tried to flash me the peace sign, but in her weakened condition, she only managed to raise her middle finger.

I wanted to get on the road and get back to work, but I spent another half hour with her. She scribbled a lot of questions regarding what was going on with the case, and I told her what I knew, except about the death of the Haytham family. I also didn't tell her that her cell phone and gun were missing and probably in the hands of her assailant. That kind of thing really gets to a cop or an FBI agent, and though Kate was not at fault, she'd take it badly. Neither did I want to get into exactly what happened after we stepped out of the aircraft, but I knew from her written questions that she was searching for some kind of reassurance that she had done all she could in regard to Asad Khalil getting the upper hand on her. This was a matter of ego-she felt, like most assault victims, violated. Also her professional pride was wounded. Daddy was an FBI agent and his little girl could hold her own with the big bad meanies and all that.

So I said to her, honestly, "He's bigger and stronger than you. Plus he pla

She nodded to herself, then wrote, I tried to knee him in the nuts, but he had his legs wrapped around mine.

"That's why he had his legs wrapped around yours."

I took the opportunity to tell her that the EMS team had performed spectacularly and that I would send a note to their supervisor.

She nodded.

I certainly didn't want to blow my own horn and tell her about how I had bravely risked my own life to get her into free fall so she wouldn't bleed to death. And neither would I mention that I had quickly and expertly stopped her bleeding for a crucial minute before the EMS arrived. No, John Corey is a modest man and seeing Kate alive and healthy was all the reward I needed for my heroic actions.

I was sure, however, that Kate would want to read my full incident report, in which I was obligated to recount all these things in some detail. Plus, she might want to see the videotape of the jump. Then she would draw her own conclusions about her husband's bravery and quick thinking. And I, of course, would say, "Just doing my job." I might also mention that Craig fainted when he saw her bleeding.

I said to her, "Well, I really have to get to the office so I can write my incident report." Apparently her mind was elsewhere, so I added, "There's a lot to tell."

She nodded absently, then wrote on her pad and showed it to me. It said, I want to kill him.

I tore the page from her notepad and put it in my pocket. Even post-9/11, we're not supposed to say-or write-things like that. I assured her, "We will apprehend him and bring him to justice."

She knew, of course, that John Corey had something else in mind, and she made a cutting motion across her throat. I winked.

She began scribbling on her pad again and handed it to me. Her note said, Khalil, like last time, has contacts here. He kills his contacts. If a dead Libyan turns up, check his cell phone and phone records and see who called him recently and who he called. One of those numbers will be Khalil's cell phone. Get CAU on that phone number.

I smiled and handed the pad back to her. "Good thinking." All we needed was to find a dead Libyan who owned a cell phone and we'd be in business. I also said to her, "I think you just passed your neurological examination."

She wrote, Good luck on yours.

I smiled again and said to her, "I'm heading back to the office. I'll keep in touch with the hospital and we'll get you out of here as soon as possible. Meanwhile, get some rest and follow doctor's orders." I added, "And since you're not doing anything else, think about this case."

I kissed her on the cheek and she grabbed my hand and squeezed it. Then wrote, Be very, very careful.

Indeed.