“Je ziet er niet veelbelovend uit. Laat haar gaan. Jouw probleem ligt bij mij.”
” See, that’s where you’re wrong. Your problem is you think this is about problems and solutions. This is about justice. Daryl’s boy died. His marriage fell apart. He lost everything. Now it’s your turn. Mark kept his voice level, buying time for Thomas to position the team. His boy died because Holloway was a criminal who taught his kid the same life. I did my job. If he’d been a better father, his son might have had a chance. Birch’s face darkened. You don’t get to judge. Where’s your family, Cecil? Mark interrupted. Let me guess. You’ve got nobody either because men like you and Holloway, you destroy everything you touch. You blame everyone else for your failures. Shut up. The hand on the switch was trembling. Mark could see Aaron’s eyes pleading with him. She was trying to tell him something. Her gaze kept flicking to Bir’s left hand. The one in a jacket pocket. A second detonator or a gun. You know the funny thing? Mark continued, taking a slow step closer. Holloway thought this would break me. But all he’s done is remind me why I quit the marshals. Because men like you aren’t worth losing time with my family. I said shut. Mark moved. He’d been a wrestler in high school, trained in close combat by the Marshals. His tackle was textbook perfect, driving his shoulder into Birch’s midsection and pinning both arms. They went down hard, Mark’s hand clamping around Birch’s wrist, keeping the switch depressed. Take the shot. Mark screamed into his palms. But Bur was stronger than he looked. His other hand came out of his pocket, not a gun, but a knife. It slashed across Mark’s shoulder, tearing through the vest strap. Pain exploded up his arm. Birch was screaming. try to release the switch. Then Aaron was moving. She’d been working the ropes. Mark realized she’d been loose for minutes, just waiting for the right moment. She kicked the chair into Bir’s back with all her strength. It was enough. Mark got his knee on Bir’s chest, his hand fully controlling the wrist with the switch. Now, Tom. Now the tactical team burst in. Thomas reached them first, taking control of the detonator while two agents wrestled Birch into submission. Ramirez was already checking the device. A crude but effective bomb attached to the propane heating system of the storage unit. Jesus Christ, Mark Thomas breathed. That was insane. Mark didn’t answer. He was pulling Aaron into his arms, ignoring the blood running down from his shoulder wound. She was sobbing against his chest and he was holding her like he’d never let go. I’ve got you, he whispered. I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe. But even as paramedics swarmed in, even as Birch was dragged away, screaming threats, Mark knew this wasn’t over. Holloway was still breathing. And a man like that would never stop unless Mark made him.
Hoofdstuk 5. De waarheid boven tafel brengen. De spoedeisende hulp van het Fair Oaks Ziekenhuis rook naar ontsmettingsmiddel en verbrande koffie. Mark zat op een bed terwijl een dokter de steekwond in zijn schouder hechtte. Zeventien hechtingen, die de brachiale slagader maar net misten. In de kamer ernaast werd Aaron onderzocht, hoewel ze had geweigerd om door meer dan een gordijn van hem gescheiden te worden. Sophie was met Thomas in de wachtkamer. Mark had haar gebeld zodra ze Birch hadden veiliggesteld en haar tranenrijke « Ik wist dat je mama zou redden » had hem bijna gebroken.
“Je hebt geluk,
» zei de dokter, terwijl hij de laatste hechting vastzette.
“Nog een centimeter en je had een operatie moeten ondergaan.”
Mark had hem nauwelijks pijn gedaan. Zijn gedachten dwaalden af; hij probeerde de gebeurtenissen te reconstrueren. Toen de dokter klaar was, schoof Mark het gordijn opzij. Aaron zat op haar bed, gewikkeld in een ziekenhuisdeken ondanks de warme kamer. Ze zag er fragiel uit op een manier die hij nog nooit eerder bij haar had gezien.
