He was there, at Bishop's bedside, when Sissy and I walked into the hospital room. We had come through Vegas on the last plane out. It was nearly 3 A.M. when we finally arrived.
The hospital room was a double, two beds. The bed nearer the door was empty. Bishop was in the other bed, the one nearer the window. Weiss was sitting in a chair pressed right up against the bed's side. His big form was hunched over Bishop where he lay. For a moment, right after we first walked in, we could hear him murmuring to the fallen man, a steady stream of words, indistinguishable. Then he must've sensed we were there, because he fell silent.
We waited. Without turning around, he said aloud, "I'm glad you came."
I hung back by the door. I felt I had no business being there with the three of them. I had only come because Sissy was such a wreck, in no condition to travel alone. Now I let her move to the bed without me.
"The hospital called," she said softly. "I was the only number they could reach."
Weiss nodded. "I guess I've been out of touch."
He turned. Glanced at me over his shoulder, then looked steadily up at her. He was an awful sight. Old and exhausted and pale. After a night of crying, Sissy didn't look much better. They gazed at each other a long, long moment, appalled, I think, at the pitiful spectacle they made. They were always very fond of each other, these two.
Sissy said, "How is he?"
They both turned to look down at the man on the bed.
Bishop lay on his back in an unconsciousness so deep he seemed almost inanimate. The handsome tough ironic face was drained of every expression. It was drained of color. It seemed made of stone. A white sheet covered him to his waist. A white patient's gown covered his torso. There was a tube full of something running into one of his arms, another in the other, a counter of some kind clicking off the doses, a monitor running his numbers with an occasional beep. He didn't even look like himself. He didn't even look like a man. He looked like part of the machinery, pulsing but lifeless.
"He's bad," said Weiss in a voice infinitely weary. "The doctor said he's lucky to still be alive. But he's very bad." He rubbed his chin as if he was thinking. His cheeks were dark with stubble. "The bullets… I've seen this before. Bullets are strange things. They do strange stuff inside you. Like they go into you and they have a mind of their own. It's-crazy. Anyway, they had to…" His shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath through his nose. "They had to take out his spleen. Then there was some vein-I forgot what she called it. Ill… Illy…"
"Iliac."
"Yeah, the iliac vein. This big vein. One of the bullets sliced it. He lost a lot of blood. She-the doctor-she said his heart stopped beating three times on the table."
"Oh Christ," said Sissy. "Oh Christ."
Weiss laughed miserably. "Yeah. Yeah."
She took a breath. "Well-I mean: is he gonna make it?"
Weiss lifted his hand by way of a shrug. "His chances aren't so good, she said, the doctor said. You know, he's fighting. He's a tough guy but… It's not so good."
Sissy lifted both her hands to massage her eyes. "Does he have any family? Do we know? Does he have parents or anything?"
"No, I don't know," said Weiss. "His father's dead, I think. I don't know."
They were both silent then, hanging over the injured man. As if they had nothing else to say about him but didn't feel right talking about anything else.
After a while Sissy seemed to remember I was there. She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled briefly.
"You don't have to stay."
I was about to protest, but then I realized: she didn't want me there. Neither of them wanted me there. I was just passing through their lives on the way to a life of my own. This was too real to them for me to stand by watching, making a story of it in my head.
"You can go get yourself a hotel room, put it on the Agency," Sissy said. "You can fly out in the morning. I'll get home all right."
I nodded. "Okay."
"Thank you-for negotiating the planes and everything, getting us here. I appreciate it."
I nodded again. I nodded at Bishop. "Good luck," I said.
I left.
For another long time after I was gone, Weiss sat stoop-shouldered over Bishop. Sissy stood over him. He lifted his eyes to her.
"You look like crap, Sis," he said. He moved his head to- ward the door through which I'd gone. "What happened? He dump you?"
She gave a sniffling laugh. She rolled her eyes, fighting tears. "It has been a really, really, really bad night," she said. "It ought to win some sort of bad-night award."
Weiss frowned down at Bishop again, at the empty marble face. "Well," he said. "He was right. To end it. That's the right thing."
She barely got the words out. "Is it?"
"Oh yeah. Sure. Sure it is. It was no good. He's just a kid."
"I know." She laughed, starting to cry again. "It was very nice, though."
"Yeah. Sure. But he's just a kid, Sissy. That's no good."
A sob broke out of her. She put a hand over her mouth. "I'm sorry. It's so stupid. With poor Jim…"
"No, no, no."
"I just feel like everything's falling apart."
Weiss nodded without a word and Sissy cried.
Weiss went on nodding. "Well…," he said then. He stood up slowly. He wasn't wearing a jacket, she noticed, just slacks and a polo shirt. He seemed massive dressed like that. He shuffled toward her, his paunch leading the way. He towered above her.
Sissy wrapped her arms around him. She pressed her face against his shirt. He held her. She wanted to ask him what was going to happen, but it seemed like a childish question. How should he know? So she just pressed against him, breathing the smell of him, rank and comforting.
"I just feel like everything's falling apart," she said again.
He patted her back awkwardly.
She drew away. She looked at Bishop. "He was coming to help you," she said.
"Yeah, I figured. In fact, do me a favor, will you. Tell him that when he comes around. Tell him I figured that."
"He said you'll get killed if you do this alone."
"It'll be all right."
She faced him. Showed him her tears, her mottled cheeks. She knew it affected him. He was very soft for her.
"It's not all right, Scott," she said. "Look at what happened to Jim."
He looked. He nodded. "It'll be all right," he repeated.
Sissy put her arms around him again, pressed to him again, held him hard. "He said this man-this man you're after-Jim said he'll kill you."
"Eh," said Weiss. "He's not gonna kill me so fast."
She laughed, crying against him.
She felt his grip on her loosen. She held on tighter, refusing to let him go. Gently, he pushed her away.
She looked up at his mournful features. "Will I be able to reach you?"
"No. Not for a while."
"But what if…?"
"I'll be back soon."
"Scott…"
"I'll see you, Sissy. Take care of things here, okay?"
"Scott…"
He lifted one of his huge hands and patted her head clumsily. "All right," he said. "That's it. I'll see you."
He took a last look at Bishop. Then he moved slowly out of the room.
Sissy watched him until he was gone. Then she watched the door. Then she sighed deeply.
Then she walked slowly over to Bishop's bed and sat down beside it in Weiss's chair.