Time to Run Read online

  Praise for John Gilstrap

  NICK OF TIME

  “A page-turning thriller with strong characters, excit-

  ing action, and a big heart.”

  —Heather Graham

  AGAINST ALL ENEMIES

  “Any John Gilstrap novel packs the punch of a

  rocket-propelled grenade—on steroids! Tentacles of

  intrigue reach into FBI headquarters and military

  hierarchy. Lines are crossed and new ones drawn. The

  philosophy of killing to preserve life takes on new

  meaning. Gilstrap grabs the reader’s attention in a

  literary vise grip. Each installment of the Jonathan

  Grave series is a force majeure of covert incursions,

  and a damn good read.”

  —BookReporter.com

  “Tense, clever . . . series enthusiasts are bound to

  enjoy this new thriller.”

  —Library Journal

  END GAME

  AN AMAZON EDITORS’ FAVORITE BOOK OF THE YEAR

  “Gilstrap’s new Jonathan Grave thriller is his best

  novel to date—even considering his enviable

  bibliography. End Game starts off explosively

  and keeps on rolling. Gilstrap puts you in the

  moment as very few authors can. And there are

  many vignettes that will stay with you long after

  you have finished the book.”

  —Joe Hartlaub, BookReporter

  DAMAGE CONTROL

  “Powerful and explosive, an unforgettable journey

  into the dark side of the human soul. Gilstrap is a

  master of action and drama. If you like Vince Flynn

  and Brad Thor, you’ll love John Gilstrap.”

  —Gayle Lynds

  “Rousing . . . Readers will anxiously await

  the next installment.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “It’s easy to see why John Gilstrap is the go-to

  guy among thriller writers, when it comes to

  weapons, ammunition, and explosives. His

  expertise is uncontested.”

  —John Ramsey Miller

  “The best page-turning thriller I’ve grabbed in

  ages. Gilstrap is one of the very few writers who

  can position a set of characters in a situation, ramp

  up the tension, and—yes, keep it there, all the

  way through. There is no place you can put

  this book down.”

  —Beth Kanell, Kingdom Books, Vermont

  “A page-turning, near-perfect thriller, with

  engaging and believable characters . . .

  unputdownable! Warning—if you must be up

  early the next morning, don’t start the book.”

  —Top Mystery Novels

  “Takes you full force right away and doesn’t let go

  until the very last page . . . has enough full-bore

  action to take your breath away, barely giving you

  time to inhale. The action is nonstop. Gilstrap knows

  his technology and weaponry. Damage Control will

  blow you away.”

  —Suspense Magazine

  THREAT WARNING

  “If you are a fan of thriller novels, I hope you’ve been

  reading John Gilstrap’s Jonathan Grave series. Threat

  Warning is a character-driven work where the vehicle

  has four on the floor and horsepower to burn. From

  beginning to end, it is dripping with excitement.”

  —Joe Hartlaub, BookReporter

  “If you like Vince Flynn–style action, with a

  strong, incorruptible hero, this series deserves to be

  in your reading diet. Threat Warning reconfirms

  Gilstrap as a master of jaw-dropping action and

  heart-squeezing suspense.”

  —Austin Camacho, The Big Thrill

  HOSTAGE ZERO

  “Jonathan Grave, my favorite freelance peacemaker,

  problem-solver, and tough guy hero, is back—and in

  particularly fine form. Hostage Zero is classic

  Gilstrap: the people are utterly real, the action’s foot

  to the floor, and the writing’s fluid as a well-oiled

  machine gun. A tour de force!”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  HOSTAGE ZERO

  “This addictively readable thriller marries a

  breakneck pace to a complex, multilayered plot.... A

  roller coaster ride of adrenaline-inducing plot twists

  leads to a riveting and highly satisfying conclusion.

  Exceptional characterization and an intricate,

  flawlessly crafted story line make this an absolute

  must read for thriller fans.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  NO MERCY

  “No Mercy grabs hold of you on page one and doesn’t

  let go. Gilstrap’s new series is terrific. It will leave

  you breathless. I can’t wait to see what Jonathan

  Grave is up to next.”

  —Harlan Coben

  “The release of a new John Gilstrap novel is always

  worth celebrating, because he’s one of the finest

  thriller writers on the planet. No Mercy showcases

  his work at its finest—taut, action-packed, and

  impossible to put down!”

  —Tess Gerritsen

  “A great hero, a pulse-pounding story—and the

  launch of a really exciting series.”

  —Joseph Finder

  NO MERCY

  “An entertaining, fast-paced tale of

  violence and revenge.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “No other writer is better able to combine in a single

  novel both rocket-paced suspense and heartfelt looks

  at family and the human spirit. And what a pleasure

  to meet Jonathan Grave, a hero for our time . . . and

  for all time.”

  —Jeffery Deaver

  AT ALL COSTS

  “Riveting . . . combines a great plot and realistic,

  likable characters with look-over-your-shoulder

  tension. A page-turner.”

  —The Kansas City Star

  “Gilstrap builds tension . . . until the last page, a

  hallmark of great thriller writers. I almost called the

  paramedics before I finished At All Costs.”

  —Tulsa World

  “Gilstrap has ingeniously twisted his simple premise

  six ways from Sunday.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Not-to-be-missed.”

  —Rocky Mountain News

  NATHAN’S RUN

  “Gilstrap pushes every thriller button . . . a nail-biting

  denouement and strong characters.”

  —San Francisco Chronicle

  “Gilstrap has a shot at being the next John

  Grisham . . . one of the best books of the year.”

  —Rocky Mountain News

  “Emotionally charged . . . one of the year’s best.”

  —Chicago Tribune

  “Brilliantly calculated . . . With the skill of a veteran

  pulp master, Gilstrap weaves a yarn that demands to

  be read in one sitting.”

  —Publishers Weekly (starred review)

  “Like a roller coaster, the story races along on

  well-oiled wheels to an undeniably

  pulse-pounding conclusion.”

  —Kirkus Reviews (starred review)

  ALSO BY JOHN GILSTRAP

  Friendly Fire

  Aga
inst All Enemies

  End Game

  Soft Targets

  High Treason

  Damage Control

  Threat Warning

  Hostage Zero

  No Mercy

  Six Minutes to Freedom

  Scott Free

  Even Steven

  At All Costs

  Nathan’s Run

  JOHN GILSTRAP

  NICK OF TIME

  TIME TO RUN

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  Praise for John Gilstrap

  ALSO BY JOHN GILSTRAP

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  TIME TO HIDE

  Teaser chapter

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Copyright Page

  Chapter One

  Nicolette Janssen’s hands trembled as she struggled back into her clothes. She was getting out of here. To hell with the consequences. She’d had it with the lies and the false hopes. This time she was leaving for real.

  But she had to hurry. They’d be coming for her soon, and she’d need every second of a head start she could get. She prayed for a ten-minute lead, but doubted she had a chance for that.

  Seven, then. Whatever.

  As she fumbled with the button on her shorts, she tried not to see the deep purple bruises on her arms. Ooh, sorry. We’re almost there. You sure have tiny veins. Sure, blame her veins. Forget about the railroad spikes they called needles.

  Now there was a favor she’d like to return one day. When they yelled and cussed at her to be careful, she’d be sure to smile and tell them in that soft voice that it was really for their own good. See how they liked it.

  Let somebody else be their chemistry set for a while.

  With her pants on and fastened, and her T-shirt in place, Nicki slung her purse over her shoulder and moved tentatively to the door, pausing a beat to thumb the TV remote that was part of the call button that was looped around the side rail of her bed. Oprah and the fears of pending Y2K crises disappeared. Nicki opened the door a crack, just to get a peek, and then stepped out into the wide hallway, standing tall and resisting the urge to run. Just make like you belong, she thought. And why not? With all the hours she’d logged, there ought to be a wing named after her. Her flip-flops squeaked on the tile floor as she turned right and started for the bank of elevators.

  Jeez, what was she thinking? The elevators opened directly in front of the nurses’ station. “Come on, Nicki, think, will you?” she mumbled. If a nurse or, God help her, her dad saw her out here, there’d be serious hell to pay. Patients weren’t supposed to be up and around on their own. Hell, they weren’t supposed to pee without telling someone. Prisons and hospitals had a lot in common, she imagined.

  Oh, shit, there he is! Her dad—the famed prosecutor Carter Janssen—was standing right at the nurses’ station, ranting at the phlebotomist who last dredged her arm. How typical of dear old dad: Better to yell at a stranger than to comfort a daughter.

  An exit sign to her right showed the way to the stair well. As Nicki pushed the door open, she prayed that there wouldn’t be an alarm. There wasn’t. Score one for the home team. It would have been a short chase. She smiled at the thought of what it might have looked like: sprint fifty yards, fall down unconscious, wake up, run another fifty yards . . .

  It turned out that the stairwell was the primary vertical thoroughfare for everyone who wore a lab coat. All of them moved at three times the speed that she could muster, and they were far too busy to notice her.

  She had eight flights to go. That meant sixteen half-flights to the bottom, probably more than the total number of stairs she’d navigated in the last three months combined. See, Dad? she thought. I’m not as fragile as you thought.

  If she made it, there’d be no turning back. Maybe now, finally, they would all understand that she meant what she said.

  * * *

  Carter Janssen knew that Priscilla, the phlebotomist, was the wrong target for his rage, but somebody had to answer for this atrocity, and she was the most available hospital employee. Nowhere near her thirtieth birthday, the technician looked close to tears.

  “All I do is draw blood,” she whined.

  “But you’re part of the team,” Carter growled, leaning on the word he’d heard so often from the transplant crew. “We succeed or fail as a team, don’t you remember?”

  “You need to speak to the doctor,” Priscilla said. She moved to step around him. “I have nothing to do with the decisions that are made.”

  “I’d love to speak to a doctor,” Carter said, making a broad sweeping motion with both arms. “Do you see one here? All I see are people telling me that the doctors are all too busy to speak with me.”

  “Doctor Burkhammer is in surgery. I already told you that.”

  “That’s not possible,” Carter snapped. “He can’t possibly be in surgery, because my daughter was next on his dance card, and she got stood up!” He yelled that last phrase, making Priscilla jump, and drawing uncomfortable glances from the nurses behind the glass. One nurse in particular, a broad-shouldered one in the back who carried herself with the posture of a boss, reached for a telephone. Carter had the distinct feeling that she was calling security.

  “Can I help you?” a voice asked from behind.

  Carter turned to see a chubby redheaded man who must have bought his clothes before going on a diet. He wore woefully out-of-date horn-rimmed glasses with lenses thick enough to start a fire if he looked the wrong way in sunlight. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Dr. Cavanaugh,” the man said, extending his hand. “We met a few months ago. I’m from the Heart-Lung Consortium.”

  Carter’s jaw dropped. The last time he’d seen Dr. Cavanaugh, the guy had been the size of a boxcar. That he was now only thirty pounds overweight meant that he’d lost over a hundred. “I wouldn’t have recognized you.”

  The doctor beamed and patted his stomach. “I decided to start taking some of my own advice. I’m terribly sorry about Nicolette. I don’t mean to sound flippant, but such are the ups and downs of the transplant business.”

  “The ups and downs?” Carter repeated. The words tasted bitter on his tongue. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?”

  Dr. Cavanaugh gently grasped Carter’s elbow with one hand and gestured to the collection of seats in the hallway. “Perhaps we should sit down and discuss this.”

  “No,” Carter said. “I don’t want to sit. I’m waiting for Nicki to get dressed, and I don’t want her to step out and not see me.”

  “Well, let’s keep our voices down, then.”

  “Let’s keep our voices down? What are we, in fifth grade? What the hell happened?” Carter reached under his suit jacket and pulled a pager from his belt. “We got the word,” he said. “The message came through, we came down here just like we were supposed to, we went through all the pre-op bullshit, and then nothing. Nothing. A nurse told us it was just a false alarm, and that it was time for us to go home.”

  Cavanaugh showed Carter his palms in an effort to sooth the situation. “I understand that you’re upset—”

  “What the hell is going on?” That time, Carter’s voice rolled like artillery fire down the hallway.

  Cavanaugh jumped, and seemed conflicted as to whether he should answer. Finally, he said, “They changed their minds.”

  “Who?”

  “The donor’s family.”

  Carter wasn’t sure what answer he was expecting, but this wasn’t it. “They get a vote?” His tone betrayed his utter disbelief.

  Cavanaugh sighed, clearly resigned to the fact that Carter would never understand. “They lost a child to suicide, Mr. Janssen. I know y
ou think you’ve had a blow of bad news, but please don’t ever—not for a moment—think that those poor people owed you anything. They made a decision and then they changed their mind.”

  The words rattled Carter. “I don’t understand,” he said. “They’d prefer that their child’s organs be buried in the ground?”

  “It’s a problem we face with patients like Nicki,” Cavanaugh explained. The rationality of his tone and his words belied the horror of his message. “There are a number of surgeons and patients alike who look at bilateral heart and lung transplants as the ultimate act of selfishness. A grieving parent has to decide, in the height of their grief, as they are being bombarded with one nightmare after another, whether their loved one’s viscera should help only one person, or help many. The vast majority of transplant recipients need only a heart or one lung—”

  “And Nicki needs all three.” Carter closed his eyes against the pain of the revelation.

  “Exactly.”

  “My God.” Carter stared, searching for the next thing to say. He nodded toward that cluster of seats. “I think I’ll sit down after all.”

  Dr. Cavanaugh took the seat directly opposite. “I don’t know if this is a detail you want or need to know, but the reason Dr. Burkhammer couldn’t meet with you and explain this himself is because he had to perform the heart transplant that the family made possible.”