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“She’s on the move,” Lancelot said. “Heading back toward the road.”
The house was more of an estate than a house, and it sat on several acres of land. At one time, this would have been a plantation house, and everything around it would have been farmland. Now the town of Charleston crowded in on all sides of the walled grounds. The driveway was nearly fifty yards long, and the land between the house and the road hadn’t been overly landscaped, meaning there were plenty of trees she could use for cover. She’d probably parked just outside the gate for a quick getaway.
“I’m going after her,” Lancelot said.
“Lancelot!” Sylvia called out, starting to rise from the floor.
Lancelot shook his head, gestured for her to remain low. “Hold her, Hugo. And stay here.”
Sebastian hesitated, and it was obvious he was torn between following or protecting his leader. Lancelot took the decision away. “You too, Sebastian. You’re the only other person with a gun. If she circles around or takes me out, you’re their only defense.”
“I’ll protect them.” Sebastian was looking at Juliette as he spoke, even though the woman’s eyes were glued to her husband’s face.
Lancelot slid along the wall, toward the doorway that led to the foyer. He paused and looked at Hugo.
“Don’t go,” Hugo said. “It’s too dangerous.”
“This is my job.”
“The American police are coming. They will catch her.”
Lancelot shook his head. “This is why I’m here,” he said again.
He was a knight. It was his duty to protect, to defend. And Hugo didn’t want him to go. This mission had seemed straightforward, if not simple.
Find Alicia.
It had turned into so much more. The time he’d spent with Sylvia and Lancelot had changed him. Changed all of them.
“Stay together,” Lancelot said, some of that darkness leaving his eyes. He looked at them with fierce longing. “Protect her.”
“Don’t go out there!” Sylvia pleaded. “She’s too dangerous.”
“We’re still talking about your English teacher, right?” Oscar asked. “That’s who’s dangerous? Your…English teacher?”
Lancelot slipped out of the parlor. Instead of turning left toward the front door, he turned right, heading toward the back of the house. A moment later there was the faint sound of a door opening and closing. Hugo held his breath, waiting for the sound of more gunfire, but there was only silence.
Sylvia reached for him, and he drew her trembling body into his embrace. “He’s going to be fine,” Hugo assured her, praying it wasn’t a lie. “He’ll be fine.”
“We can’t lose him. We can’t!”
Sebastian quickly stepped in front of the window and fired twice, before ducking back behind the wall. There was no return fire.
The silence was deafening.
Lancelot chose to take his life in his hands and go after Alicia, while Walt continued working on Franco. He’d stopped CPR. Did that mean Franco had a heartbeat again? Or was he beyond hope?
Langston had managed to shove the medical kit across the floor. Walt yanked a plastic bag full of finger splints out of the pack. He yanked the package open, but it was the plastic he needed, not the splints, so he dumped those onto the floor. He slapped the plastic over the wound in Franco’s chest.
“His heart is beating again, but his left lung has collapsed and he’s losing blood.” Walt’s tone was tense, but not panicked.
“Save him,” Juliette demanded.
“If we can get him into an OR in the next twenty minutes, he has a chance. Hold this. You have to press down. You’re forming a seal with the plastic.”
Juliette did as he instructed and Walt reached into his bag once more, pulling out several large surgical clamps.
“Hold him down,” Walt said, taking over the duty of holding the plastic bag over the wound. “He’s probably in shock, but he may feel this.”
