He was just about to turn for the door when the doctor took hold of his arm.
“You won’t have to worry about it,” he said, sounding unperturbed. “Richmond Hills is about to shut down. Along with you.”
Which was when Beau looked down to see that the gun suddenly resting in the doctor’s hand was pointing right at Beau’s chest. He was reaching into his coat pocket when the gun went off.
21
He should have felt something, was Beau’s first thought. At least a punch to his chest. His second was that the doctor’s eyes weren’t focusing, and his hand had begun to drop. When the doctor began to topple, Beau realized that it hadn’t been the man’s gun that had fired at all.
His first reaction was to catch the doctor’s dead weight before it took him down too. His next was to check on Pip, only to find her standing there beyond the Matron, a small smoking pistol in her hand that was still pointed his way. She looked almost as shocked as the matron. Not nearly as shocked as he was.
He thought to check the doctor. Just as he bent, the wall in front of him exploded. A gunshot echoed behind him. After that, all hell broke loose.
Beau spun around to check on Pip to see that more than the doctor were armed. Those two guards were running their way brandishing pistols.
Beau retrieved the doctor’s gun. He saw the first man raise his gun toward Pip. He didn’t hesitate. Stepping away from the doctor, he shot the man in the chest, just as he fired. The guard dropped to splash into the pond of tea. The shot slammed harmlessly into the ceiling.
“Run, Pip!” he yelled, ducking the plaster that rained down on him.
But it was too late. Damn him if the matron didn’t pull her own gun. Before Beau could get to her, Pip grabbed hold of that gun with one hand and slammed the heel of her other hand straight up against the woman’s nose.
The matron screeched, but she held on. So did Pip, even though the matron was at least two heads taller and two stone heavier.
Beau tried to get a bead on the woman, but Pip was in the way. Staff were scattering, most fleeing down the hallway to the back.Where were the patients?Beau wondered briefly, hearing screams and wails somewhere. Then he realized that the second guard hadn’t stopped. And two armed women followed him.
Beau knew he was running out of time and ammunition. And who knew who else was tucked back there waiting for their turn?
“Pip!” he yelled, still unable to get a good shot. “Your knife!”
He thought she would dispatch the matron. Instead, unbelievably, in a move Beau would recount innumerable times over the ensuing years, without letting go of the gun she was struggling over, in one smooth move, Pip lifted her knee to draw a fair-sized knife from an ankle strap and sent it winging hard to embed itself in the other guard’s throat just as he and Beau were both lifting their guns. The guard went crashing to the floor next to the other one, pumping blood over the sterile tiles and into the tea.
Even still struggling, Pip shot Beau a look of astonishment. “Would you look at that.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed. The women kept coming.
He had two shots. What did he do?
He had two more weapons headed his way and the matron who had just grabbed Pip by the throat. He ran towards them, but he couldn’t fire without hitting Pip. Then Pip gave him a brief look and spun around until the matron’s back was toward him. Damn. She’d given him a clean shot. He fired. The woman screamed and dropped her gun. Her right shoulder exploded in scarlet, and she went down by the others. She wasn’t dead. But she was impotent. The floor was getting to be an obstacle course, littered with bodies and various fluids Beau was going to have to step over to get to Pip.
So, he raised his last gun and pointed it at the oncoming women. Pip did the same.
“Now, really,” he said. “Wouldn’t you rather turn state’s evidence? Your other choices are to be shot or hung.”
Both of them, tall women with broad shoulders, skidded to a halt. Looking at each other, they dropped their weapons. Before Beau could do it himself Pip trotted around the growing pool of blood and tea on the floor to pick them up.
“Why didn’t I know you had to have a gun to work here?” she demanded with a sloppy grin.
“They made us,” one of the women said, looking mournful. “Said it was good protection.”
Pip smiled. “I’m glad we didn’t have to shoot you. You’re good people.” Then, turning, she caught sight of the floor. “And who’s going to clean all this up, I’d like to know?”
“You’re not a maid,” one of the women asked. “Are you?”
Pip beamed at them. Beau fought a hot tide of rage. It was normal, he knew. But he wanted to kick somebody. He wanted to…
He looked at Pip and thought how he would have been furious at her before. His heart was still racing, not for fear for himself, but for her. Once, he would have scooped her up and run, chastising her all the way. And yet, he couldn’t. His Pip was amazing.
“No,” a voice behind him said. “She is definitely not a maid. I might not let you two out together again. Look at the mess you made.”
