When a person is still suffering from a concussion, their reactions are similar to being drunk, a beat slower than normal, just like Hotchner's current state.
"Walter, why did you shoot him?" When Jack ran up to him, Hotchner was still struggling to focus, a bewildered look on his face.
"He was just pretending to be a passerby. He was actually the one who parked the bomb-laden car in front of you. Garcia has confirmed it through the surveillance. Hotch! Hotch? Are you okay?"
"Don't shake me, I'm going to vomit."
Jack glanced at his unmoving hand on his shoulder in confusion. Seeing the guy's head injury was serious, he casually performed a healing spell.
It turned out that his brain was not seriously injured. His left eardrum was temporarily damaged, but that thing can heal on its own. His left forearm was severely fractured, and there were fragments on the outside of his left leg. Fortunately, his left leg blocked it, otherwise it would be difficult for Harley to conceive a second child.
Looking at Joyner, lying unconscious on the ground, Jack could almost picture what had happened. When the car ahead exploded, Hotchner had been sideways in the driver's seat, and the shockwave and debris had been largely blocked by the Saab's engine. Therefore, most of his injuries were confined to the left side of his body.
Fortunately, he must have regained consciousness soon after the explosion and, despite the excruciating pain, dragged Joyner to the middle of the road. Otherwise, they would both have perished in the ensuing fire.
Joyner's condition was far more serious. She hadn't even gotten into the car when the explosion struck, and the shockwave, carrying the right door, had flung her flying. She had also sustained spinal injuries when she landed. Even if she could get to the hospital quickly and stop the internal bleeding, she would likely be confined to a wheelchair for the rest of her life.
Of course, with a nanny present, that wouldn't be a problem. However, her facial injuries were more severe. Jack wasn't sure Hotchner had examined her thoroughly, so he could only do a rough repair and leave the rest to a plastic surgeon.
After tossing the medical kit to the still dazed Hotchner and instructing him to apply gauze to the bleeding spot on Joyner's waist, Jack approached the utterly disfigured body to examine it.
Though it was summer, it was obvious the man was wearing only a long-sleeved T-shirt. But the absence of a bomb vest didn't mean he didn't have a bomb belt.
C4 is called plastic explosive because of its extreme plasticity; a pound or two wrapped around the waist was enough to unleash a hail of blood in a crowd. That's why Jack activated the signal jammer before firing.
The deceased was a young white man, about the same age as the black man who had died in the alley. There were no explosives or identification on the body, only an unregistered cell phone. Jack breathed a sigh of relief and turned off the signal jammer.
A commotion erupted among the ESU officers hiding at the roadblock in the distance. They had been within the jammer's range just moments before, and Jack's unspoken action of firing directly in the direction of the injured man startled them. Then, realizing their communications were down, they were in chaos. If Captain Warner hadn't known Jack and his close relationship with their own chief, these guys might have treated him like a terrorist.
"Jack! Jack! Can you hear me?" As the signal jammer came off, Garcia's call came over the communication channel again.
Jack quickly replied, "Yes, I did. I just turned on the jammer. Hotchner's fine, but Joyner's seriously injured. Can you get us an ambulance?"
Garcia's voice was filled with unconcealed excitement. "Thank God. Uh... Wait a minute, an ambulance just arrived. I'll try to contact them through NYPD dispatch. It seems it's not needed. It's heading directly towards you and is about to turn the corner."
Jack could already hear the ambulance's sirens. The driver leaned over and spoke, then several ESU officers removed the makeshift roadblock.
He asked, puzzled, "Has the bomb squad completed their investigation?"
"No, an EMT volunteered to help. I heard him negotiate with the ESU," Garcia choked back tears.
"OK, help me track a cell phone number."
Jack didn't have time to be moved at the moment. He opened the anonymous cell phone found on the deceased. There was no incoming call number on it, but there was an outgoing call number. The record showed that this number was called 6 times before the explosion, and each call lasted no more than 1 minute.
Garcia repeated the number, "I'll do it right away. Also, Rossi asked me to inform you that DHS agents found nothing at the 8 shooting locations. No suspicious people or explosive devices were found."
"Tell Rossi that our previous profile was biased and we definitely missed some important information. All the other party's actions are smokescreens with only one purpose, to divert our attention, including the attack just now."
Before Jack finished speaking, the siren of the ambulance drowned out his voice. A uniformed paramedic with a bald head jumped out of the car and rushed forward with a medical kit.
"Oh my God, what happened here?" Seeing Jack carrying an assault rifle and the corpse on the ground, his face suddenly turned pale and he froze in place.
"FBI, that's a terrorist, I've killed him." Jack took out his ID and showed it. "Are you alone? We need a stretcher. My colleague has a spinal injury and can't be moved casually."
The bald paramedic swallowed subconsciously and then put down the medical box with a little hesitation. "Ah, it's fine. They said the scene is very dangerous. My colleague is too scared to come over. Uh. Let me check her condition first."
"Thanks, buddy." Jack patted him on the shoulder, pulled up one of Hotchner's arms, and helped him onto the passenger seat of the ambulance. Then he opened the back door of the ambulance, pulled out the stretcher and pushed it to Joyner's side.
"3, 2, 1, get up."
The two men worked together to lift the still unconscious Joyner onto a stretcher. Jack jumped into the driver's seat and turned back to ask, "Where's the nearest ER?"
Not every hospital in the US has an ER; only emergency personnel know the situation best.
"St. Barkley, go three blocks north, then one block east. The ER entrance is underground. Just follow the signs," the bald paramedic replied as he hooked Joyner up to the water vitals test device.
"Hold on tight." Jack rolled up the small window connecting to the trunk, patted the drowsy Hotchner to keep him conscious, and then stepped firmly on the accelerator. The ambulance took off at an anxious pace.
The hospital was close, and although the ambulance couldn't speed up for some unknown reason, thanks to the NYPD blocking off traffic around it, Jack saw the ER sign in less than ten minutes.
However, an NYPD police car was blocked at the entrance to the underground passage, and several men in black suits, dressed similarly to Jack, gestured for him to stop.
"What's going on?" Jack had just stuck his head out when a man in a black suit shone a flashlight into the cab. Seeing the assault rifle next to him, he immediately felt threatened and drew his pistols. The others also quickly drew their guns and pointed them at the ambulance.
"USSS (Secret Service), identify yourself!"
"FBI!" Jack felt annoyed. Why did the USSS show up again? These guys only check for counterfeit money and protect important people. Why are they blocking the hospital entrance?
"I'm Supervisory Agent Jack Tavola. Next to me is Agent in Charge Aaron Hotchner. Also in the car is Assistant Agent in Charge Kate Joyner. They were all injured in the explosion just now."
"Identification!" The man in the black suit who was pointing the gun at Jack softened slightly, but he still held the gun.
"Don't be nervous. I'm going to reach for my ID now. Watch my movements. Don't be nervous." Although Jack was extremely anxious, the other party's overly nervous attitude really scared him.
He could only lift up his clothes little by little, and then slowly took out his ID. These days, he was not afraid of gunfire and rain of bullets, but he was afraid of friendly fire from his teammates. After reading Jack's ID, the man in the black suit whispered a few words into the intercom, and then he put away his pistol, but the next words made Jack angry again.
"I'm sorry, agent, but this hospital is now blocked, and all emergencies must be transferred to Knox Hill Hospital."
"Are you serious?" Jack suppressed his anger, "I know Joey Reacher in your bureau, call him, he can confirm my identity.
My colleague is dying now, I don't have time to talk nonsense with you, either get out of the way or I'll rush in directly."
"Wait." The man in the black suit picked up the intercom again, and this time he didn't whisper anymore, but used a normal volume, "Director Reacher, there is an FBI agent named Jack Tavola who said he knows you, OK, let you go!"
(End of this chapter)