Ryan gave his father…in…law his best smile。 〃That's something I can't tell you； Joe。〃
The stockbroker swore and stalked away。 So much for reconciliation； Jack told himself。 He wished it had gone otherwise。 His estrangement with Joe Muller was occasionally hard on Cathy。
〃Back to the Agency； Jack？〃 Robby asked。
〃Yeah。〃
Ryan spent twenty minutes with his wife； long enough to learn what she'd told the police and to make sure that she really was feeling better。 She was dozing off when he left。 Next he went across the street to the Shock…Trauma Center。
Getting into scrubs reminded him of the only other time he'd done so； the night Sally was born。 A nurse took him into the Critical Care Recovery Unit； and he saw his little girl for the first time in thirty…six hours； a day and a half that had stretched into an eternity。 It was a thoroughly ghastly experience。 Had he not been told positively that her survival chances were good； he might have broken down on the spot。 The bruised little shape was unconscious from the bination of drugs and injuries。 He watched and listened as the respirator breathed for her。 She was being fed from bottles and tubes that ran into her veins。 A doctor explained that her condition looked far worse than it was。 Sally's liver was functioning well； under the circumstances。 In two or three more days the broken legs would be set。
〃Is she going to be crippled？〃 Jack asked quietly。
〃No； there isn't any reason to worry about that。 Kids' bones what we say is； if the broken pieces are in the same room； they'll heal。 It looks far worse than it is。 The trick with cases like this is getting them through the first hour in her case； the first twelve or so。 Once we get kids through the initial crisis； once we get the system working again； they heal fast。 You'll have her home in a month。 In two months； she'll be running around like it never happened。 As crazy as that sounds； it's true。 Nothing heals like a kid。 She's a very sick little girl right now； but she's going to get well。 Hey； I was here when she arrived。〃
〃What's your name？〃
〃Rich Kinter。 Barry Shapiro and I did most of the surgery。 It was close God； it was so close！ But we won。 Okay？ We won。 You will be taking her home。〃
〃Thanks that doesn't cover it； Doc。〃 Jack stumbled over a few more words； not knowing what to say to the people who had saved his daughter's life。
Kinter shook his head。 〃Bring her back sometime and we're even。 We have a party for ex…patients every few months。 Mr。 Ryan； there is nothing you can do that es close to what we all feel when we see our little patients e back walk back。 That's why we're here； man； to make sure they e back for cake and juice。 Just let us bounce her on our knees after she's better。〃
〃Deal。〃 Ryan wondered how many people were alive because of the people in this room。 He was certain that this surgeon could be a rich man in private practice。 Jack understood him； understood why he was here； and knew that his father…in…law wouldn't。 He sat for a few minutes at Sally's side； listening to the machine breathe for her through the plastic tube。 The nurse…practitioner overseeing the case smiled at him around her mask。 He kissed Sally's bruised forehead before leaving。 Jack felt better now； better about almost everything。 But one item remained。 The people who had done this to his little girl。
〃It had wheelchair tags；〃 the clerk in the 7…Eleven was saying； 〃but the dude who drove it didn't look crippled or anything。〃
〃You remember what he looked like？〃 Special Agent Nick Capitano and a major from the Maryland State Police were interviewing the witness。
〃Yeah； he was 'bout as black as me。 Tall dude。 He wore sunglasses； the mirror kind。 Had a beard； too。 There was always at least one other dude in the truck； but I never got a look at him black man； that's all I can say。〃
〃What did he wear？〃
〃Jeans and a brown leather jacket； I think。 You know； like a construction worker。〃
〃Shoes or boots？〃 the Major asked。
〃Never did see that；〃 the clerk said after a moment。
〃How about jewelry； T…shirt with a pattern； anything special or different about him？〃
〃No； nothin' I remember。〃
〃What did he do here？〃
〃He always bought a six…pack of Coke Classic。 Once or twice he got some Twinkies； but he always got hisself the Cokes。〃
〃What did he sound like？ Anything special？〃
The clerk shook her head。 〃Nah； just a dude； y'know？〃
〃Do you think you could recognize him again？〃 Capitano asked。
〃Maybe we get a lot of folks through here； lotta regulars； lotta strangers； y'know？〃
〃Would you mind looking through some pictures？〃 the agent went on。
〃Gotta clear it with the boss。 I mean； I need the job； but you say this chump tried to kill a little girl yeah； sure； I'll help ya。〃
〃We'll clear it with the boss；〃 the Major assured her。 〃You won't lose pay over it。〃
〃Gloves；〃 she said； looking up。 〃Forgot to say that。 He wore work gloves。 Leather ones； I think。〃 Gloves； both men wrote in their notebooks。
〃Thank you； ma'am。 We'll call you tonight。 A car will pick you up tomorrow morning so you can look at some pictures for us；〃 the FBI agent said。
〃Pick me up？〃 The clerk was surprised。
〃You bet。〃 Manpower was not a factor on this case。 The agent who picked her up would pick her brain again on the drive into D。C。 The two investigators left。 The Major drove his unmarked State Police car。
Capitano checked his notes。 This wasn't bad for a first interview。 He； the Major； and fifteen others had spent the day interviewing people in stores and shops up and down five miles of Ritchie Highway。 Four people thought they remembered the van； but this was the first person who had seen one of its occupants closely enough for a description。 It wasn't much； but it was a start。 They already had the shooter ID'd。 Cathy Ryan had recognized Sean Miller's face thought she did； the agent corrected himself。 If it had been Miller； he had a beard now； on the brown side of black and neatly trimmed。 An artist would try to re…create that。
Twenty more agents and detectives had spent their day at the three local airports； showing photos to every ticket agent and gate clerk。 They'd e up blank； but they hadn't had a description of Miller then。 Tomorrow they would try again。 A puter check was being made of international flights that connected to flights to Ireland； and domestic flights that connected to international ones。 Capitano was happy that he didn't have to run all of those down。 It would take weeks； and the chance of getting an ID from an airport worker diminished measurably every hour。
The van had been identified for more than a day； off the FBI's puter。 It had been stolen a month before in New York City； repainted professionally； by the look of it and given new tags。 Several sets of them； since the handicap tags found on it yesterday had been stolen less than two days before from a nursing home's van in Hagerstown； Maryland； a hundred miles away。 Everything about the crime said it was a professional job from start to finish。 Switching cars at the shopping center had been a brilliant finale to a perfectly planned and executed operation。 Capitano and the Major were able to restrain their admiration； but they had to make an objective assessment of the people they were after。 These weren't mon thugs。 They were professionals in every perverted sense of the word。
〃You suppose they got the van themselves？〃 Capitano asked the Major。
The State Police investigator grunted。 〃There's some outfit in Pennsylvania that steals them from all over the Northeast； paints them； reworks the interior； and sells 'em。 You guys are looking for them； remember？〃
〃I've heard a few things about the investigation； but that's not my territory。 It's being looked at。 Personally； I think they did it themselves。 Why risk a connection with somebody else？〃
〃Yeah；〃 the Major agreed reluctantly。 The van had already been checked out by state and federal forensic experts。 Not a single fingerprint had been found。 The vehicle had been thoroughly cleaned； down to the knobs on the window handles。 The technicians found noth