Veronica – Part Five

by

Reagan Kavanagh and Diana Walker

Disclaimer:  This work of adult fiction, loosely based on characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and experiences; you have been warned.  No copyright infringement on the original work is intended.  Copyright Reagan Kavanagh and Diana Walker 2006.

Author's Note:  Wing Commander Ahmed Helfawi is a real person, though he was a Captain in the Royal Saudi Arabian Army at the time I knew him.  He is a sterling representative of his people and his State.  It was both my pleasure and honour to have served with him.  Reagan

Friday, 0530 hours

MAXIMUS

I sat in the villa’s courtyard in the early dawn, Cassandra’s and my blades in hand, sharpening both a final time.  I wondered if she had ever taken life with a blade.  I had never asked, and she had never broached the subject.  I had no doubts she could do so, though I did not like the thought of her being so close to an opponent as to be required to take a life in that manner.  All other weapons were in good order.  This final attention to our blades was merely a means of occupying time.

I had taken numerous lives with a blade, both as a soldier and in the arena.  I did not enjoy it; no man worthy of being called a man enjoys the taking of a life, but there are times when it is required of certain of us.  I knew that today would likely be such an occasion; it was not realistic to believe we would find the villa abandoned but for the child.  We anticipated at least two of the kidnappers would be with her, possibly a third.  The four of us had been over the plan a dozen times and did not anticipate any surprises aside from the possibility of more men in the villa.  We would deal with whatever arose.  I still did not like the notion of Cassandra going in with us, but she had made her position known, and I had accepted it.  I would not mention it again unless she did so.  The final decision was hers and hers alone, irrespective of what Terry had said or my own feelings on the matter.

TERRY

I was up by six, checking everything one last time.  No breakfast today, other than coffee or tea.  None of us anticipated being shot but best to be safe.  It had happened before, and if it happened today, we didn’t want food in our stomachs to have to worry about during anaesthesia.  We’re all of us old soldiers …prepared for anything and leave no one behind.

I got my coffee and walked to the courtyard.  Max was there, putting an even keener edge on his and Reags' blades, assuming that was possible.  They were sharp enough now to skin a man in 43 layers, but that was his way of dealing with the tension of waiting.  He looked up as I approached and sat in one of the deck chairs across from him.

“Sleep well?”  He grunted and looked at me, then smiled.

“As well as ever before a battle.”  I knew what he meant. 

Diana came out a few minutes later with her coffee to stand behind me with her hand on my shoulder.  Reags was right behind her with Dino bringing up the rear.  I looked at my watch.  Zero-seven-hundred.  We’d be on the road by 1030 and planned to be close to the villa by 1100.  If no one entered or left by 1130, we were in - and hopefully - out within ten minutes. 

Friday morning, 0635 hours

VERONICA

There’s one of these guys that really scares me.  I don’t know his name because the others don’t talk to him a lot …he does most of the talking if there’s any talking between him and the rest of the group.  He’s tried to touch me a couple of times, and the others have told him to leave me alone.  I don’t like the way he looks at me.  His eyes are scary.  I’m alone in the house right now because they’ve all gone to the Mosque.  The phone is still under the bed, and I’m going to call Max.  The phone rings three times before he answers it.

“Hello.”

“Max?  It’s Veronica.”

“I know your voice, Little One.  Are you all right?  Has anything happened?”

“Nothing’s happened, but I’m getting really scared.  There’s one guy here who keeps trying to touch me …the others tell him to leave me alone, but he still looks at me a lot.  I’m afraid of him …his eyes are funny, and he’s scary.”

“Veronica, we will be coming to get you in a very short time.  Can you hold out a bit longer?”

“I guess I have to.  Please come get me soon.”

“We will, Veronica, I promise you.  Just wait a short while longer, and we will have you safely back with your family.”

“Okay …but please hurry.”

LACHLAN

I pulled into the car park in front of the villa at 0815, rang the bell, and was keyed inside.  A blonde woman was standing in the open door.  I walked up and introduced myself, and she did the same.

“Hi, I’m Diana Walker …call me Dee.”  She held out her hand, and I took it.  I liked her open, friendly approach.

“Lachlan Curry.  Nice to meet you, Dee.”  There were five suitcases, four briefcases, and a large, green canvas bag on the floor.  I started to pick up the canvas bag, but she stopped me.

“That’s the last thing to go, and I’ll get it.  Let’s get the bags loaded.”  I grabbed two of the suitcases, tucked a briefcase under each arm, and started toward the car.  When I got there, I was surprised to find her right behind me with another two bags and two briefcases.  Transfer agents get more helpful every day, and this one’s not averse to carrying her share of the load.  We got that lot stowed away and went back to the house for the last suitcase and briefcase and the canvas bag.  She pulled a laptop out of the bag and put it over her shoulder as she picked it up.  I looked inside the bag, and there were another four laptop cases there.  We took the canvas bag and suitcase to the car and loaded them, then closed and locked the boot, returning to the house with the fifth laptop still over her shoulder.

“You don’t want to put that in the boot with the rest of them?”

“No.  This one is Terry’s; I’ll hang onto it for him.”  If she was hanging onto Terry’s laptop, she wasn’t a transfer agent or tour guide.  “There’s coffee, if you’d like, or tea.  Everyone else is in the kitchen.”  I nodded.

“Coffee would be nice, thanks.”  We walked through to the kitchen.  Terry, Dino, and Max – whom I’d only met once before – and a second blonde woman were standing about with cups in their hands.  I’d heard from Terry that Max was getting married in the fall, and given that he was standing within two inches of the woman told me that she was the one.  Dee got me a coffee and walked to stand beside Terry, who put one arm round her shoulders and smiled at her.  She wrapped her arm round his waist, a completely unconscious movement, long practiced.

“I wondered where you’d gone.”

“I was in the foyer, waiting for Lachlan.”  He nodded and extended his hand to me, as did Dino and Max.  As Max and I broke our grip, he smiled at the woman at his side.

“Cara, this is Lachlan Curry.  Lachlan, my fiancé, Reagan Kavanagh.”  She extended her hand, and we shook.  Two women with firm handshakes in less than five minutes; that was a first for me. 

Terry bent down and put his lips on Dee's temple.  “You know I could have helped you get the luggage to the car.”

“Lachlan and I did just fine.  Besides, you’re the one who hasn’t wanted us seen together for security.”  He nodded.

“We’ve been shopping together.”

“Yes, but we left separately, went different directions, and met at the market.”  He shook his head slightly as he smiled.  That was one argument he wasn’t going to win, and he knew it.  He looked at his watch, then at me before he spoke again.

“Diana, you and Lachlan need to leave now.” 

Her voice was low when she answered.  “I know.”  She moved away from him and went to the others, hugging each in turn before returning to Terry.  I noted that when she hugged Dino, he took her hands in his, looked at them and allowed his gaze to travel up her arms and smiled.  The rest of us left Terry and Dee to their goodbyes and waited for them in the foyer.  They followed within three minutes.  I opened the door for her, and she turned to look at the four standing there.

She gave them a sunny smile, and her “I’ll see you guys at the airport,” had an upbeat lilt to it.  I think she’s a damned fine soldier’s lady.

DIANA

I felt bad about not saying anything to Lachlan for the first ten minutes of the drive to the airport, but I was too wrapped up in myself.  When I’d walked out the door at the villa, I’d had my head up, shoulders back, and a smile on my face and kept it there.  Once we’d turned the corner, I looked at Lachlan.

“Can you see the villa from here?”  He glanced in the rear view mirror.

“No …they’re on their own now.”  I could stop being the soldier’s lady now.  The smile left my face, and my shoulders slumped as I hugged Terry’s laptop to my chest.  Lachlan actually got to see how much it cost us to put on that brave face when we told our soldiers goodbye.  I wanted to be nice to Lachlan, but all I could think about was saying goodbye to Terry.

Before everyone cleared the kitchen, I’d turned and was all over Terry.  I couldn’t get any closer, and yet, he needed to pull me even closer into his body.  I could feel his hard body crushing me in a good way.  He’d tried to pull the laptop off my shoulder, and I’d stopped him.

“Terry, we don’t have enough time!”

“I just want to get it out of the way so I can touch all of you!”  Oh, okay.  His hand slid under the case, and we were both happy.  My hands were all over him, rubbing his back and his chest under the Kevlar, up his arms to his shoulders and on to his neck and then to cup his face.  His were doing pretty much the same with my body.  I was wearing shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt, tucked in, and his hands tugged it out of my waistband, running up my sides.  When his head came down to kiss me, for the first time since I’ve known him, neither of us closed our eyes.  I guess we both needed as much sensory input as we could get, and looking at each other was part of that.

I’m not sure whose tongue was farther down the other’s throat.  I ran mine over his teeth, seeming to want to memorize how they felt.  For as often as we have kissed, I don’t recall ever before actually noticing the texture of his teeth.  They were so smooth and clean, and I could feel where the sharp edges had worn down over the years.  I felt the ridges in the roof of his mouth and tried to count them.  Somehow, knowing that number was incredibly important.  When he finally broke the kiss, I felt his body tighten, and I held on for another moment, wanting just a little while longer as I do every time he leaves.  Today, I let him go.  I held onto his last words.

“I’ll see you on the plane in a couple of hours.”

*

A few miles down the road, Lachlan spoke.

“Is this your first trip to Egypt?”

“Yes and no.  I was here on an assignment for six weeks.  Terry, Max, and Reags arrived about two weeks after I did.  I went back to debrief after my assignment, then came back on the red-eye.”  He was trying so hard to make conversation and put me at ease, and it just wasn’t working.  “Lachlan, I’m sorry I’m not very good company right now.  Give me a while, and I’ll be fine.”  His hand left the steering wheel, and he patted me on the shoulder.

“No wurries, Love.”  I felt my throat tighten.  My eyes stung, but no tears fell.  If I could keep myself talking, I’d be fine.

“Do you mind if I do the radio check when we get to the plane?”

“Not at all, as long as you allow the cabin crew to stow the luggage.”  We both laughed.  My impression of a teamster had been noticed. 

“I promise.”  Ten minutes later, we pulled onto the tarmac, and the ramp was at the door of the aircraft.  It was a Boeing Business Jet, and much larger than the Lear or Gulf I was expecting.  I looked at Lachlan as we went up the ramp.

“I hope you don’t mind me doing the radio check.  It’s something I can contribute.  I know how to do it, and you have the pre-flight to do.”

“Fine with me, Love, as long as you understand that once they start the extraction, I take over.  You’re too involved with all of them to be running comm then.”

“I can live with that.”

I don’t think I actually realized the size of the plane until we boarded, and I looked around …and noticed a shitload of people already on board, all of them dressed in surgical scrubs.  They were checking some serious medical supplies.  I could feel the blood drain from my face.  I looked at Lachlan and saw his jaw clench.

“Terry didn’t tell you they had an emergency medical team on standby.”

“No.  Somehow, all of them managed to miss that little detail.  Out of all the things I do know about this, they left that out.  Knowing they have more than a medic on hand would've made me feel better.  Who are they?” 

“Médecins Sans Frontières ...MSF.  Doctors Without Borders.”  It took a minute, but what he said finally began to soak into my brain.  “TEO leased a larger aircraft both to carry the surgical team plus all of us, and to have room to perform emergency surgery in the air, if necessary.” 

I felt behind me for a seat and sat before I fell.  He went on to tell me that prior to forming Thorne and O’Reilly and then TEO, Terry and Dino had assisted some of the doctors and nurses from MSF in obtaining medical supplies and helped get critical patients from isolated areas back to civilization for radical treatment that couldn't be performed in the field.  On a couple of occasions, they had managed to get MSF medical staff out of harm’s way before they were either taken hostage or killed in the crossfire.  As a result, they’d gotten on the good side of the directors, men who believed Terry and Dino were just military Special Forces operatives. 

“A couple of years ago, Terry evacuated two doctors, a nurse, and a critical patient out of the Sudan and flew them back to Paris on a jet he leased at the airport in Khartoum when he realised they were about to be abandoned.  He'll have to tell you himself why he was there.  It was just fortuitous for the MSF group that he was there, had the cash to lease an aircraft, and carried no compunctions about shooting his way out of a bit of bother, else they’d have all been dead.  The MSF’s Director General’s only daughter was a member of that team, and the bloke just about pissed himself in gratitude.  He told Terry that if he ever needed a medical team, just ring him up.  Seems he always had a couple of teams on R&R and would be happy to mobilise one of them on TEO’s behalf.  Terry called in the marker.”

I looked around.  “I'll introduce myself to them when things settle down.  Show me where the radio is.”

Friday, 1100 hours

REAGAN

Mahmoud and I got out of the car at the bazaar and walked slowly toward the nearby residential section and the villa.  The Merc with Dino, Maximus, Terry, and Ismail at the wheel had gone ahead of us and parked; we passed it at the corner when we turned toward the villa.  Walking as if I was uncomfortable wasn’t difficult.  You try walking around in 95^o heat and 100% humidity, covered with a black bag, and two M-16s and extra ammunition clips hanging off you, in addition to your sidearm and blade and see how fast you move.  There was also that frigging pillow I’d strapped round my belly to simulate a full-term pregnancy.  As we turned the corner, I went into my act, stumbling, clutching my pillow/belly, and moaning.  Mahmoud turned and glared at me right on cue. 

“Imshii!”  I saw the laughter in his eyes, but he was really getting into this.  I groaned and staggered; he turned and walked the three steps back to me, looking totally disgusted.  Once he picked me up in front of the villa and felt that additional 20 to 25 pounds of weight he had to carry in addition to me, that disgusted look would be for real.  I surreptitiously checked my watch …11:25.  We were dead on time.  Mahmoud looked back down the street as he helped me up from where I had fallen to my knees and gave a slight nod at the Merc.  Terry, Maximus, and Dino shuffled out and down the street toward us then split up, Maximus on one side of the street with Dino and Terry on the walk in front of us.  Ismail stayed at the wheel, the engine idling while he waited.  There wasn’t another person in sight.  The three of them moved quickly toward the villa, through the open gate, and silently onto the porch, taking their positions on either side of the double entry doors.  As Mahmoud and I drew abreast of the wide-open gate, I screamed and dropped to my knees, clutching my belly and feigning agony.  Mahmoud turned toward me and stopped, seemingly in surprise.  I held out my hand imploringly, putting tears and pain into my voice.

“Mahmoud, min fadlek!”  He looked even more startled and returned to me, kneeling, picked me up in his arms, and looked about frantically.  I gestured toward the door of the villa, and he carried me to the door, kicking it with his foot.

“Marhabbah?!”  An answer from inside.  Mahmoud kicked again, and the door opened, the man inside peering out.  Maximus was to our right with Terry and Dino to the left.  Mahmoud was almost babbling, telling the man that I was in labour and asking if we could come in whilst he called my mother and then a cab to take us to hospital.  The fool opened both the double doors to give Mahmoud room to carry me into the house, turning his back to lead us to the lounge, and Terry was in the door.  He was silent as a cat, one arm round the man’s neck, his knife slitting the man’s throat before he could make a sound.  Terry wiped the blade on his pants and sheathed it as the man crumpled to the floor in a spreading pool of blood.  Terry ripped open his shirt and pulled his M-16 round in front of him as Maximus and Dino did the same, moving silently into the house.  I ripped off my abayah, shoving one of the M-16s at Mahmoud and pulling my own into position.  I left the pillow strapped round me; it would slow down a bullet before one could get to my Kevlar.  Mahmoud took his weapon and moved into position in the front garden, pulling the front door quietly shut. 

Maximus and I moved silently along the foyer wall, and Terry moved in front of us as soon as he saw Dino move through the lounge and into the dining room.  Terry slipped round the corner into the first bedroom, looked in and checked, and returned to the door, nodding before Dino entered the kitchen.  Maximus and I moved down the hall, checking the bathroom on the far side of Veronica’s room, then back to the closed door of Veronica’s room.  Ahead of us, we saw Dino slip back into the hallway from the kitchen and move toward the third bedroom.  He checked it and returned to the doorway, nodding at us.  We were good to go for Veronica’s room. 

Maximus opened the door silently and slipped into the room, surprising the man with Veronica, slitting his throat as I called to the child, “Nicki?” and moved toward her, shielding her from the sight of the dead man sliding to the floor.  She hadn’t been on the floor as we’d instructed, likely because she’d not heard us; the man had been talking to her when Maximus opened the door.  I picked her up and hugged her close, shushing her with a finger to my lips and whispering. 

“Don’t talk, Nicki.  I’m Reagan and we’re here to take you home.”  She nodded in silence, her blue eyes as large as dinner plates.  Maximus stepped to the door and called to the others.

“Clear!”  Dino next.

“Clear!” 

And then Terry.  “Clear!”

Maximus moved out of Veronica’s room in front of me, and I followed with her in my arms, thanking God she was fairly small for an 11-year-old; I estimated her weight at about 75 to 80 pounds, the same as the standard field pack.  Dino moved silently down the hallway, stopping just beside the kitchen door.  Maximus moved into the inner foyer, scanning toward the front door.  Terry was still watching the lounge and dining room area as I moved toward him, and Veronica looked back and over my shoulder.  Dino was just behind us.  Textbook thus far. 

I heard Veronica’s sharp intake of breath as she pointed and screamed.  I couldn’t see where she was pointing, but Dino did.

“It’s another one of them!”  I dropped to the floor like a rock, shielding Veronica with my body.  I heard a muffled ‘uuumph,’ probably Dino’s body hitting the guy and then the sharp, barking report of a single shot from an AK-47.  I looked up in time to see that Terry had moved between me and the unseen third man; Terry was falling as his left leg turned red with blood and buckled.  I didn’t think Veronica had actually seen the man in her bedroom go down, but she did see this one topple after Dino slit his throat from ear to ear.  I held Veronica close and whispered in her ear.

“I’m sorry, Nicki!”  God in Heaven.  Terry was down; Dee would fucking kill the rest of us.

Dino slung his weapon over his shoulder, kneeling beside Terry as Maximus dragged Veronica and me to our feet.  I heard Dino's question to Terry.

“How bad?”  Terry grunted out a response.

“Leg.  Through and through.”

Dino dragged Terry to his feet, one arm round his waist and pulling Terry’s arm over his shoulder, moving behind Maximus as he covered Veronica and me with his M-16 as we ran for the door.  Maximus stopped and picked up the body of the man just inside the door and carried him out with us, leaving the bodies of the second and third men inside the house.  Taking one of the bodies with us would slow the remaining kidnappers down for a bit, as they’d be wondering if he’d given them up and joined us.  Mahmoud was already in the car with the sidewalk side doors open – Ismail had already taken off, as planned - and Maximus shouted at him.   

“Open the boot!”  Mahmoud popped the latch from inside the car.  Maximus dumped the body in the boot, slammed it shut, and was first to slide into the car, moving across the back seat.  I shoved Veronica into the front floorboard and climbed in behind her.  Dino shoved Terry, and he tumbled in next to Maximus as Dino followed him into the car.  I looked down at Veronica as Mahmoud peeled away before the doors closed.  I glanced in the back to see Dino tossing his M-16 into the floorboard as he tried to staunch the bleeding from Terry’s leg.  Veronica was trying to get up and look into the back seat.

“Veronica, get down on the floor and stay there, Honey.”  Good girl.  She did exactly as she was told.  She looked up at me as I pulled my pillow off and tossed it to the back, shouting to Dino to use it to put pressure on Terry’s wound.  Veronica spoke for the first time since she had seen the third man.

“You’re the lady from the bazaar …just like Max said.”  I smiled at her.

“Yes, Nicki, and we’re taking you to your Mom and Dad – and Wills - right now.”  Terry was now cursing a blue streak, and Dino’s mouth was adding to the haze.

“Where the FUCK did he come from?”  That from Dino as he barked into his headset.  I heard the crackle of Lachlan’s response and knew he’d received the transmission.

LACHLAN

If all went as planned, we should be hearing from them at any moment.  The medical team, Dee, and I clustered round the radio and leant forward in front of the receiver.  Dee's hand on the casing gave her one more contact with them.  The radio crackled into life, and we heard a curse from Dino.

“Where the FUCK did he come from?”

I responded immediately, holding the transmit button down.

“Alpha Base here.  What’s going on?”  Max’s reply came back sharp and clear; apparently, Dino was now otherwise occupied.

“Alpha Two is down.”  The medical team but for the surgeon immediately moved to the back of the plane breaking open packets, leaving us alone with Dee at the radio.  Jerry, the flight attendant – a man by terms of TEO’s contract and a paramedic into the bargain – leant down to me as the surgeon moved aft. 

“How long until they arrive?”

I pressed the transmit button again.

“ETA?”

“Ten minutes, tops.  Is MacLuhne there for the child?”

“Affirmative.”  Jerry walked aft and spoke to the surgeon who turned and looked at me with his brows raised.  That was an easy face to read.  I pressed the ‘Transmit’ button.

“Surgeon wants a damage report.” 

“AK-47 shell, left thigh, through and through.  The leg is likely broken from the impact.  The wound is bleeding profusely.”  That from Max and the surgeon nodded, turning to his team.  I could see them draping the conference table like a surgical table.  The radio crackled again.

“We are on the airport proper and heading straight for you.”  Jerry ran down the stairs to MacLuhne’s consular car.  I heard his comments as he was wearing a headset like mine and the team’s. 

“Mr. MacLuhne, they’ll be here in a minute.  Mr. Thorne has been wounded.  You take the child and go.”  He was back up the stairs in a flash.  I handed him the transmitter and told him to deal with it as I moved forward to power up, both of us removing our headsets as we went to internal radio.  I heard brakes screaming outside as I stepped into the cockpit and climbed into the left seat, listening.  The first voice I heard was Terry’s, raising bloody Hell, and I smiled; he’d make it.  I looked back and saw Jerry put the handset into the clip on the transportable radio receiver as he moved forward to give the medics room to work.

DINO

Where the fuck did that third bastard come from?  He must have been on the roof when we went in and came down the back stairs when he heard us calling the all clear.  Maybe he’d heard the commotion on the front porch when the guy opened the door to Reagan’s cries of distress.  We should have sent Mahmoud to check the roof after we got inside instead of having him wait in the front garden.  It didn’t matter now, and the son of a bitch managed to get off one shot.  Once Terry went down, Max shoved Veronica and Reags out the door and grabbed the body of the guy lying in the entry hall while I manhandled Terry outside and into the car.  Max dumped the body into the trunk of the car, and we pulled and dragged Terry into the back seat as Reags pushed Veronica into the front seat floorboard and told her to stay there, which she did.  Her obedience shocked the hell out of me.  I guess some kids really are still raised to follow orders.

Mahmoud was behind the wheel, and we blasted through Cairo, running traffic lights, going up onto a sidewalk at one point …Reags said later that it was like riding with any Pakistani cab driver on any given day.  That was good to know; the ride to the airport would have attracted no undue attention in traffic.  I was busy with Terry and Reags with the kid while Max radioed Lachlan that Terry was down; he came back with the surgeon wanting a more complete report.  Do they think I’m a frigging medic?  I shook my head, and Max updated Lachlan and the surgeon.  I heard him tell Lachlan that Terry had been hit with an AK-47 projectile, and that it had gone all the way through …don’t think he told him which specific body part it had gone through, but fuck it.  They’d figure that out once we got him on the plane.  Max did tell them he was bleeding like a stuck pig.  Terry was lucky that the impact of the projo hadn’t shattered the leg.  The shell must have been sub-standard for the black market and undercharged; otherwise, his leg would be back at the villa, and I’d be trying to stop the bleeding on a stump.  We made it to the airport in ten minutes flat.

Dover’s car was on the tarmac beside the plane, and as we bailed out, Reags ran in front of the car and shoved Veronica to Dover, kissing her as she did.  Dover got the kid into his car and took off.  The medics were waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a stretcher; Max and I got Terry out of the car, and they took over.  Max leaned back into the car to give Mahmoud final instructions. 

“Run the fucking car into the Nile and walk away.”  That was only the second time I’ve ever heard Max curse.  It’s good to know he’s human like the rest of us.

Mahmoud smiled, nodded, and took off.  When the rental agency called about the car in a week or so, Terry would tell them he’d left it at the airport, and it must have been stolen.  Finding the body in the trunk along with all the blood in the passenger compartment would lead the local gendarmes to the conclusion that it had been used in the perpetration of a second crime.  With luck, that would be the last we’d hear of it because the theft insurance Tio had taken when he rented it would pay for the Mercedes.  That was all that mattered to the rental company. 

Max shoved me up the stairs from where I’d been watching his last instructions to Mahmoud and followed me onto the plane.  Terry was raising hell as the medics and Dee put him on the conference table, now draped like an operating table.  Max and Reags moved forward and buckled in as Lachlan hit the intercom.

“If you would all sit and buckle in, I’d appreciate it.  We’re cleared for immediate take-off, and I want to clear Egyptian air space as soon as possible.”  I watched as one of the nurses adjusted Terry’s tourniquet, and Dee moved from her seat against the bulkhead and braced Terry along with the nurses to keep him from sliding round during take off.  No one was at his head; it looked like they could use some more manpower.  I grabbed his arms as much to keep him from hitting one of the techs or Dee as to keep him on the table.  The surgeon sat and buckled in; they could manage if one of the nurses fell on her ass, but the surgeon was a necessity.  We were airborne in seconds.

DIANA

I stayed by the radio until I heard the car on the tarmac.  I walked to the impromptu operating theater and slid into the booth seating behind the table.  If I was already there, the medical team would be too busy dealing with Terry's wound to bother about me.  If necessary, I would become the tree on which they could hang his IV; I was not moving.  I buckled my seatbelt; I could always claim that it was jammed, and I couldn't get out of it.  I had about 45 seconds to come up with something to say to Terry when he got to me. 

Should I try to make him laugh?  That would be risky unless it wasn’t as bad as Max made it sound.  I wouldn't be able to tell until he got on board, and the medics finished their assessment.

Should I be sympathetic and concerned?  If it was really bad, that would bother him more.  Seeing my concern might cause his medical condition to worsen.

Should I treat him like he’d just walked in from work?  That was probably the worst idea yet.  I doubt the medical team would be too pleased to see me crawl up on the table to give him a full-bodied hug.  After all, I met these people less than an hour ago. 

There's nothing for it.  I'll say the first thing that comes into my head; they’re wrestling the stretcher through the hatch.  I only have enough time to see the blood soaked pillow strapped to his left leg and see the streaks of blood on his shirt to make my decision that I’ll only look at his eyes. 

“Fucking bloody HELL!  Can't they build aircraft with bigger hatches?”  I wondered if Terry had been swearing all the way to the airport.

“Mr. Thorne, please don't fight so much.  We won't be able to get an IV into you until we hit cruising altitude.  We need you alert.”  I felt sorry for the poor nurse and Terry.  She was being as soothing as he can be when he’s in family response mode.  He didn't appreciate being handled.

“Fuck off.  I can bloody well make it to Cyprus.”

“No, Mr. Thorne, you can't.  You've lost a lot of blood.  Do recall that YOU are the one that requested a medical team.  We want you to get your money's worth.”

“I fucking well know I requested you.  But that was in case some other poor bugger got shot.  Not me!”

The medical team were ready to move Terry onto the table.  “This will jostle you some, Mr. Thorne.”

“It bloody well better not!” 

As soon as Terry was halfway settled on the table, I grabbed his hand.  “Hey, Handsome.  You said you’d see me on the plane.”  I almost had to shout over the whine of the take-off roll. 

He blinked his eyes open and bit his lower lip; my ploy had worked because he was focused on me now rather than yelling at the medics.  I brought his hand to my cheek and leaned into it.  The plane lifted off the runway; man, Lachlan had a damned steep climb rate.  For a few seconds there, it had felt like we had a JATO on top of the regular jet turbines.  Terry started to slide down the table despite the five of us trying to hold him in place.  Dino held his shoulders at much cost to himself; the table cut him across the upper thighs.  The nurse, I think he said his name is Mike, at the other end had Terry's feet jammed into his chest.  I put down Terry’s hand and did my best to stabilize his mid-section by leaning over him to put my hands on each side of his chest and push him towards Dino. 

Terry's significant groan made me realize something was hurting anew.  The nurse’s holding his left foot was putting pressure on the fracture.  Dino must have recognized it about the same time as I; we started screaming at the nurse to let go of his leg.  It's a wonder Mike could decipher what we were telling him to do over our combined voices and the turbine scream.  He dropped Terry's foot like he'd been scalded when he realized how the pressure would be affecting a broken bone.

The plane's trajectory lessened as it continued to climb; Lachlan was giving MSF a chance to go to work before he hit cruising altitude.  Dino kept Terry’s shoulders steady; he must have let up on some of the pressure because his knuckles were no longer white.  “Talk to him, Dee.  He's starting to slip off.”

“They're going to cut your pants off now.  I rather fancied you in those Egyptian pants.  Did you know I imagined seeing all your good bits through the fabric?  And if you’d gone commando today, I could have!”  I scooted so I could talk directly into his ear.  “What a day to wear shorts, Boomer.  More work for them.

“That nurse is gonna need a bigger towel to cover your privates.  She doesn't know you as well as I do, or she’d know you don't have any modesty!  You'd lay there naked without batting an eye.  I'll bet you’re looking forward to being home so you can sleep naked again.  Frankly, so am I.”

I took his hand again and squeezed it hard.  “Terry, you don't have to open your eyes or talk if you don't want to.  Keep squeezing my hand to let me know that you’re listening to me.”  He squeezed.  The medics ripped his shirt open; the blood on it had soaked through to the Kevlar.  They cut through the sleeves, removed the Kevlar and wifebeater, and Terry was shirtless.

“You doing OK?”  He tried to open his eyes.  “Good.  I'll take that as a yes."

Terry winced.  I looked down to where they were working on him.  Dino's improvised bloody bandage had been taken off and a more medical looking one was going on.  “They changed out the bandage.  You can take a little more pain; you're my tough guy.”  My voice had gotten shaky – couldn't have that.

“C'mon.  You can gut it out.  Take some deep breaths with me. 

“Breathe in, big, deep breath.  Let it out. 

“Again.  Inhale. 

“Breathe with me, Terry.  You can do this.  Sometimes I lay awake after you've gone to sleep.  I’ve felt how big your chest can get when you're breathing.  Give me some of those breaths, but stay awake.”  Terry tugged his hand away from mine.  “Where you goin'?  Just because your pants are off doesn't mean you can have a wank with them working on you.”  My feeble attempt at humor fell on deaf ears.  He was having none of it.  He dragged our hands to my midriff.

Ah, skin contact.  I tugged my shirttail out of my shorts; this was the second time in a few hours that it had come out because of Mr. Thorne.  His hand covered my diaphragm and rib cage.  “Every time you feel me breathe I want you to breathe with me.  I know you can do it; will you?”

His satisfied sigh was a good thing.

Dino gave me a chance to concentrate on our breathing.  “Hey, man.  This was no way to get out of taking Dee to dinner tonight.  Always knew you were a cheap bastard!”  Terry grimaced.

“What hurt then?  You have to tell us this time, Boomer.” 

“Irish …insulting me.”  One nurse had his wrist in her fingers for his pulse.  Another had a stethoscope on his chest.

“You can beat the snot out of him when we get home.  I'll hold him for you.”  The two nurses were calling out his vitals.

They slapped the blood pressure cuff on his arm, and the reading was not great.  92 over 55.  Terry heard that and struggled to open his eyes.  The nurse taking his pulse made a note on a pad; I leaned over to look.  138/thready.  That couldn't be good.  I know this man's heart beat.  It’s big and strong, and even after we’ve made love, it gets down to 75 beats a minute quickly before dropping into his normal mid 60s.

“Diana, …sorry.  Shoulda told you ....”  He was starting to slur on me, like he wasn’t thinking clearly.  Of course he isn’t thinking clearly!  He’s been shot!

“You don't have to tell me anything.  At least not right now.”

“Need to tell you about ....”  His voice trailed off.

One of the nurses was slapping the back of his hand, looking for a vein.  “Terry, they need to start an IV on you.  You'll feel the needle going in soon.  It'll be a prick – just like you can be at times.  Do you want me to pinch you so you have something else to think about?”

“No more pain.” 

The nurse spoke.  “We'll give you something soon.  Mr. Thorne …Mr. Thorne!  We need you to talk to us a little while longer.  Just as soon as we get you stabilised, we'll get you something for the pain.” 

“No pinching.”

“OK.  I won't pinch.  I don't have to now.  They've got the (I looked at the bag of IV solution) Ringer's hung.  See?  Having the TV on all those medical shows has helped my medical knowledge.”  Now that they had an IV running, one of the nurses injected something into the IV port.  She looked up at me and smiled as she said “Versed.”

I knew without looking when the doctor started poking and prodding on his leg.  Terry would squeeze my hand between grimaces.  The doctor was talking to Terry, asking him questions about what he could feel, what it felt like when they moved his leg.  My mouth was dry from talking and fear. 

“Had to do something in Quito.  I'm sorry, Diana.”

“Yes, you had to do something in Cairo.  You did it.  I'm so proud of you.”

“Quito.”  Terry's voice was emphatic on the city this time.  “Contact ran whores.  Had to fuck.  Dangerous.  Sorry.”

The rest was pretty unintelligible.  I got whores, fuck, and dangerous.  The Versed had kicked in. 

The doctor was telling me about the pain meds the nurse had injected into Terry's IV.  “It won't adversely affect his blood pressure now that we’re replacing his fluids.  He'll be in and out.  He probably won't remember much.  He may be talking to you but not make much sense.  It will to him, but we aren't inside his head.  He'll still be in pain but won't care.  Versed’s a good, cheap way to gain trust.”

Terry spoke up one last time before he would be out for a while.  “Give her some.”

“I love you, Terry.  I don't need the Versed to trust you.  I love you.”  I think he heard me; he had a smile on his face.  I know the doctor did.  He looked at his shoes and moved away to prepare to put Terry back together.

REAGAN

Once I felt the wheels lock into the bay, I unbuckled and headed to the conference room area for an update on Terry.  Though he was still cursing like a sailor on a spree, his volume level was down, and his attention was beginning to wander.  I looked at the doctor’s badge - Eric Amison – and raised an eyebrow.

“Versed?”

“Ten milligrams in the IV.”  He motioned to the IV now in Terry’s right arm - Lactated Ringer’s – that would help rehydrate him following the considerable blood loss.  He returned his attention to Terry, pinching him to get his attention.

“FUCK!”  Okay, attention obtained, and Amison spoke quickly.

“What’s your blood type, Mr. Thorne?  You’ve lost enough that we need to transfuse you before we start to work on that leg.”  Terry’s lids were getting droopy.  Versed is a powerful anxiolytic as well as an amnestic, and he was fading fast.  He couldn’t get the words out before his eyes closed, and he was out like the proverbial light. 

“O positive.”  Dee answered for Terry.

“You’re sure?”  She nodded, brushing the hair off Terry’s forehead.

“I’ve seen his SAS dog tags.”  She looked from Terry’s face to me, then to the doctor.  God bless her, I don’t think it was until Terry went under that she’d really registered all the gore on Maximus and Dino, in addition to what was splattered on me.  She didn't seem to know or care that Terry's blood was on her cheek.  Terry was covered in his own blood, and I admired her fortitude.  She was taking in all the medical procedures and telling Terry what was happening, forcing herself to watch everything.  I shook my head and laughed under my breath; Dee won't watch the dogs get shots, but here she is observing and narrating a medical procedure.  Wonders never cease.  In her position and if it had been Maximus, I suspect she would have been holding me up; I’m a stoic to a very large degree but I can’t stand seeing someone I love injured.  I could paint the barn with my own blood, but let me get a look at someone I love bleeding or in pain …well, let’s just not go there.  I knew Dee was a strong woman, but I also doubted if she’d ever seen this much blood, particularly this much blood belonging to the man she loved.  Whether or not she’s admitted it to herself at this point is irrelevant; she loves Terry.  She was pale, and I reached out to steady her in case she wavered.  She didn’t and seemed to give herself a mental shake.

“I’m okay.  Worry about Terry.”  Within moments, one of the nurses had supplemented the Ringer’s with a unit of blood pulled from a small Igloo container and was adjusting the rate of flow.  

The next thing was to get enough of the blood off Terry to be able to see just how serious the wound was.  He was covered, but at least the blood wasn’t pumping and was a dark red, rather than the bright red of arterial flow …the arterial bundle had been spared.  He still looked as if he were a refugee from a charnel house, but then so did the rest of us.  The team couldn’t just pour sterile saline all over Terry and wipe him down as was standard procedure in hospital trauma centres; they were apparently more than aware that they were in a luxury jet and didn’t want to trash it totally.  They made do by pouring saline onto 4X4 gauze flats and wiping him down as best they could.  I pulled on a pair of surgical gloves and moved in to help.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Dr. Amison raise his eyebrows at me, and from just over my shoulder, I heard the voice most familiar and most dear to me.

“She knows what she is doing, Doctor.  You may trust her proficiency.”  Maximus.  I smiled as Amison looked at him and then back at me.

“I worked trauma in a military hospital in Saudi Arabia a few years back.  Aside from the occasional RTA, all we got were battlefield traumas …their military uses live ammunition for manoeuvres.”  His eyebrows shot skyward at that, and he finally smiled.

“Good.  We may need an extra pair of hands.” 

Within minutes, we had Terry clean enough that the team could proceed with assessing his wound.  Not to put too fine a point on it, it was nasty.  He had taken the projo about six inches below the hip, in the lateral aspect of his left thigh.  It had missed shattering the femur, thank Christ, though I felt sure there were numerous hairline and compression fractures, entering on the antero-lateral surface, tearing through the abductor previs muscle, barely missing the distal end of the gluteus maximus as it exited in the posterior/dorsal aspect of his leg; it was what is termed a through-and-through wound of the upper thigh.  Messy, yes.  Terminal, no.  Unless the bullet had clipped the nerve bundles, there appeared to be no permanent damage, though he’d be on a walker for a few weeks, then crutches and a cane for equal amounts of time.  He’d be able to begin rehab within a couple of days of the surgery he would undergo in Cyprus.  He’d probably limp for a bit due to soreness but should be back to normal within six weeks to two months.  He should be able to dance at our wedding.  His leg would be sensitive and weak for a while, which would probably be good news from Dee’s perspective because Terry would be unable to take on active field work for at least six months.  It would take that long for the muscular strength to return fully.  Even given the fact that his prognosis was good, I still felt sorry for Dee; somehow, I had the notion that Terry would be less than an ideal patient.  Can’t imagine what lead me to that conclusion.

In exploring the wound, it was clear that the projo had miraculously missed the major nerve bundles and the external pudic artery; it was truly nothing more than a bad flesh wound.  The team worked quickly and efficiently, tying off the smaller arteries and veins and suturing a branch of the external saphenous vein, which was primarily responsible for the blood loss before beginning loose, running sutures in the muscle layers and fascia to preclude their tightening into their severed positions.  On arrival in Cyprus, Terry would be taken to surgery for further exploration of the wound and cleaning of any debris - that wasn’t possible here given the limited facilities on the aircraft - and permanent closure of the muscles and fascia, a check on the repair of the external saphenous vein, and skin closure.  He would probably be in surgery for a couple of hours once he got to hospital. 

We were 45 minutes out of Cairo, and the wound was packed with sterile gauze flats and flooded with saline and antibiotics.  The last bandages holding the skin together were in place, and the Ace bandage holding all the dressings went on an hour before we put wheels down at Larnaca Airport.  The team had waited to put on the Ace bandage until they were sure there was no more bleeding …no point in going through moving him to wrap the leg until they were sure they wouldn’t have to start over again.  It isn’t uncommon for the ties on small vessels to work loose, and you have to go back and retie them.  As we landed and taxied toward the terminal, I could see the ambulance with its flashing lights waiting for us on the tarmac.  We bailed as soon as the stairs were in place, and Terry was in the ambulance moments later.  We sent Dee, Dino, and the surgeon in the ambulance with him, and Maximus, the rest of the surgical team, and I followed in the van that had accompanied the ambulance from Larnaca General.  Lachlan would follow us to the hospital as soon as he had completed the post-flight check, leaving the co-pilot to arrange for clean-up of the jet.  Following that, the rest of the flight crew and cabin attendants would go to the hotel where Terry had reserved rooms for all of us.

MAXIMUS

We arrived at Cairo Airport in good time though I was concerned about the vocabulary to which little Veronica was exposed whilst we were in transit.  Cassandra had done her best to override that exposure, leaning over the child where she sat in the floorboard and talking to her about what she most wanted to do on arrival home.  I could not hear the child’s responses but did hear several soft laughs from Cassandra and hoped that boded well for Veronica’s distraction. 

The medical team was waiting beside the jet when we rolled onto the tarmac.  Veronica was handed over to Dover MacLuhne; he would take her to her family.  The medics loaded Terry from the car onto a stretcher and were up the stairs and into the aircraft in only moments.  By the time Cassandra and I boarded, Terry was on the aircraft’s conference table which had been converted to a temporary operating table.  Dino stood at Terry's head, holding his shoulders in place whilst the surgical technicians braced round the improvised surgical platform.  Had they not done so, Terry would likely have slid off the table and onto the deck as we accelerated for takeoff and gained altitude.  Once we attained cruising altitude, I went to look over Cassandra’s shoulder and make my own assessment of Terry’s wound.  I am aware that we had competent medical assistance for him, but there are few who can assess a battle wound so well as an old soldier.  The medics had removed Terry’s clothing and were exploring the wound as I watched.  A flesh wound, nothing more.  Ugly, certe, as are many flesh wounds, but non-life threatening and non-debilitating beyond the time required for healing.   

I was intrigued at this opportunity to observe the workings of the physicians in this century, as compared to those of my own.  In my day, we dealt with bleeding by cautery, and oftentimes cost the man a limb as cautery eliminated blood flow entirely past the point of the application of the heated blade.  I watched as the large torn vein in Terry’s leg was neatly sewn back together by use of a needle and thread so small as to be virtually invisible; indeed, the surgeon was wearing a pair of glasses with microscopic lenses as he accomplished that task.  The team removed several remnants of fabric from the wound, applied what Cassandra said were loose running sutures to the muscles to prevent their retraction, and packed the wound with gauze moistened in what was identified to me as sterile saline before holding together the edges of the entry and exit wounds as loose bandages were wrapped round the leg.  She advised that once in Cyprus, Terry would be taken to surgery for a thorough exploration of the wound, a search for any further foreign matter which must be removed to preclude infection, flushing with more sterile saline and antibiotics, followed by closure of the layers of muscle and fatty tissue before closing the external wounds.  I turned to Diana with a shake of my head; the process was amazing.

Squatting in front of Diana, I took one of her hands in my own; predictably, it was cold.  She wore her concern as well as any woman I have ever known.  She did not weep or wail but sat quietly and listened as I spoke to her.

“Diana, his wound is ugly, but not life-threatening.  He will heal and within a short time will return to full functioning.  I have had far more severe wounds myself – and certainly have seen far worse amongst my men – and returned to full health, as did my troops.”  She smiled and nodded.  She reached out to take Terry’s hand in her own, sitting quietly, holding it all the way to Cyprus, often speaking softly to his sleeping form.

JERRY  (cabin attendant)

Man, you could tell when the Versed hit Mr. Thorne.  One minute he was listening to Dee/Diana, and the next, he was babbling and drifting in and out of sleep.  The woman named Reags – Dr. Kavanagh, I found out later - was helping the medics, and Mr. Espan moved over to stand just behind her and observe.  Unless I’ve lost my ability to read body language, those two are in it for the long haul, and that’s a fucking big rock on her left hand.  It looked as if Mr. Espan was comparing the technique of the surgical team to others he’d observed in the past; he must have been a medic when he was still in the Army.  When he finished observing what was happening with Mr. Thorne, he turned to Dee/Diana – she’d introduced herself using both names - and spoke quietly to her for a few minutes.  She never left the seat closest to Mr. Thorne and, except for our cleanup work, held his hand the rest of the way into Cyprus.  There’s a relationship there, too.  I know these people are business associates, but they also have a strong personal bond.  It must be nice to be that compatible with your colleagues and have it actually work.

The only members of this group that I’ve met before today are Mr. Thorne and Mr. O’Reilly, and I’ve flown with them on a couple of occasions, though usually in a much smaller aircraft.  Captain Curry told me the first time I flew with them – he’s the one who takes all their flights, apparently by terms of their contract with Executive Jets – that they wanted all male cabin attendants on their charters because of the nature of their work.  Well, they’re paying the bills …I hadn’t realized until today just why they wanted an all male crew, even though TEO did pay for the cabin crew to take firearms and self-defense training and paid our salaries for the time we were off work doing that.  The training should have told me something.  I’m also a trained paramedic; I used to be a firefighter, and that’s part of the job.  That may be one of the things that factored into my being pulled as part of this team.  I finally got tired of running out of burning buildings and getting cats out of trees for little old ladies and was accepted for training as a FA.  The other two attendants – Joe and Martin – had been moving furnishings around the cabin since Captain Curry got the radio call that the passengers were on their way and advised that one of them was wounded.  The Captain had commented briefly that with only men on board, he didn’t have to listen to one of us complaining about breaking a fingernail, and we’d all laughed.  Curry’s a good man.  All the attendants who have flown with him like him because he doesn’t treat us like we’re idiots; that’s comparatively rare for us.

DIANA

I hadn’t fallen apart when I realized Terry had been injured, but I was shaken.  Everyone assured me this was not a ‘serious’ wound.  If this isn’t serious, I don’t want to think about serious.   

From the instant I heard the first transmission until they got to the plane and the medics took over, my chest felt like it had steel bands tightening around it.  I was going on pure adrenalin and shut down my emotional side as best I could.  Terry couldn’t afford for me to have emotions right now.  The medical team needed to focus on him, not worry about me fainting.  Max, Dino, and Reags needed to debrief as soon as possible while the details were still fresh in their minds.  Terry’s debrief would come later, assuming he could remember what had happened.  Reags said that in situations such as this, it isn’t uncommon for the injured person to have no memory of the events surrounding the injury.  Apparently the memories return later, but for a while, they’re repressed …or is suppressed?  I never knew the precise medical or psychological definitions of those terms, and I’ll be damned if I’ll ask Reags; I’m not up for one of her academic lectures right now.  As for Max, Reags, and Dino – anyone, for that matter - contemporaneous, detailed reports are much better than those written from foggy, contaminated memories a few days or weeks later.  From Dino’s brief radio transmission, it was apparent that more than a simple debrief was going to be needed.  There would likely be an intense reconstruction to find out ‘where the fuck did he come from.’  I want to know about that because, obviously, that ‘he’ is the man who shot Terry.  I’m sure that ‘he’ is not alive.  Neither Dino nor Max would have looked me in the eye if ‘he’ had gotten away.  Hell, Max and Dino wouldn’t be on the plane if ‘he’ were still out there.  I’m absolutely sure of that. 

Once the Versed took effect, I moved from Terry's side, beginning to pick up wipes and sponges from the area.  At least that was something I could do to help – and occupy myself - until I would, could sit and just hold his hand.  Bless Jerry’s heart; he saw me with two handfuls of medical waste and held the trash bag for me while I continued making myself useful.  We must have looked like a roadside cleanup crew but with bloodstains.  I made sure the bloody refuse went directly into the bag to save any exposure to Jerry.  Once we got most of it cleaned up without getting in the way of the medical team, Jerry and the trash bag went forward to the kitchen behind the flight deck, and I went to the head to wash the blood off my hands.  That was when I first noticed the blood on my cheek.  It must have come from Terry's hand.  It didn’t take long; I’m not Lady Macbeth.  I have no sins on my soul where Terry’s concerned.   

I really didn’t know what to expect with the effects of the Versed because Terry had been such a motor mouth before it kicked in, and in the silence when it took effect, I had time to mull over what Terry had been babbling about regarding his trip to Quito.  How many times in the past had he sealed an alliance with the contact's whore?  Probably a lot.  This time it had gotten to him because of me.  That explained his drunken arrival in Dallas.  He’d be in and out of consciousness on the flight to Cyprus; I would compartmentalize that knowledge until I had more time during and after his surgery to formulate how I felt about the seedier side of his profession and what I would say to him about it.  I’m sure he won’t remember anything past getting to the plane – if that - once he awakens after surgery in Cyprus. 

When everything finally got quiet, I had a chance to think.  Barely eight months – we’d been together barely eight months.  We’re still feeling our way through this relationship and still have more questions than answers about each other.  It’s pretty weird, living together and not even having our relationship defined.  We may never get it fully pinned down.  I know I love him, and I feel his love for me even though neither one of us has said those exact words.  It's been a long while since I’ve done ‘love.’  I'm not sure I can define it anymore.  I'm not sure about the long-term commitment aspect, but I’m sure as hell giving it a try.

I think I’m starting to get over being in awe of him.  I wonder if he knows that?  That I’m in awe of him.  I wonder if Terry is aware that he makes me feel like a love struck high school nerd-girl who got lucky with the good looking, popular, smart quarterback?  Maybe I won’t tell him that part.  What does he remember about that night we met at the opera?  Old steel-trap mind Terry probably remembers every nuance of every word, and every movement made by either of us.  I suspect he remembers everything we’ve ever done; the question is if he’s interpreted it correctly. 

Does he know how small my hand feels in his much larger one as we walk in from the barn?  Does he know how cherished I feel when he kisses the top of my head?  Does he know how much he has added to my life?  Does he know …?  And whether he knows those things or not, should I tell him?  Am I willing to give away that much of me?

MAXIMUS

Dino paced in front of Cassandra and myself before stopping and speaking quietly.

“We need to go over this, Guys.  I’ve got to know where the fuck that third asshole came from.” 

I looked at Cassandra before speaking.

“As we exited the bedrooms, each of us retraced our steps on entry.  When Veronica saw the third man and cried out, Cassandra dropped to the floor, covering the child.  Terry stepped behind her; Cassandra’s back was toward you and the direction in which the child pointed.  I can only surmise that he was on the roof when we entered the house and came downstairs when he heard us.  You had not seen or heard him, so he must have been behind you as you retraced your steps.  You know what happened from the moment the child saw him.  Anything else is conjecture.”  Dino nodded and looked at Cassandra.

“What did you see, Reags?”

“Very little, Dino.  My attention was focused on Nicki, and as soon as she cried out, I dropped like a rock to shield her and to give Maximus and Terry a clear shot if one was to be had.  I stayed down until Maximus pulled me up and then ran for the car with Nicki.  The only thing I’m absolutely sure of is that he was not in the bedroom with Nicki and the second man.”  She stopped for a moment, thinking, and resumed.

“He certainly could have been on the roof.  Many Middle Easterners go to the roof to pray …they feel it gives them an unobstructed connection with Mecca.  It’s quite probable that he heard us and slipped downstairs to try and help his friends.  I have to agree with Maximus …while this is a possible scenario, it’s truly conjecture.  We may never sort it out, unless Terry saw something that the rest of us didn’t and can elaborate later.” 

Dino stood then and walked back to where Diana sat beside Terry, placing his hand on her shoulder as she looked up at him.  He leaned down and spoke softly, taking her free hand in his in that comforting way he has irrespective of his attempts at being nonchalant.  His hand returned to her shoulder and squeezed it before he returned to sit with us.  I looked at him, asking silently if Diana was holding up well.

“She’s rattled, but she’s a strong woman.”  He looked at Cassandra.  “I told her that one of us would be with her all night at the hospital.  She doesn’t need to be alone.”  Cassandra nodded, as did I.

“Max, we’ll spell her until Tio is fully conscious.  We can all shower at the hospital, and Terry’s buddy can get scrubs for us; our bags will go straight to the hotel.  We need to get rid of these bloody rags before someone mistakes us for road kill.” 

He chuckled, and Cassandra smiled.  I stood and walked back to where Diana sat holding Terry’s hand.  I would stay with her until we landed in Cyprus, and he was out of surgery.

TERRY

The last thing I remember after they got me onto the plane was a pinprick in a vein in my right arm and then the cloud descending a few minutes later; I think I remember rambling on to Diana, but I’m not sure.  I could hear voices but couldn’t string coherent thoughts together to say anything sensible, and I just sort of floated away.  I sort of recall hearing Max’s voice saying it was ugly but only a flesh wound.  I recall fingers poking about in my leg and a bit of pain but not much.  Versed is a great drug …takes away all the wurries so that you don’t remember them but leaves you at least coherent enough to tell them if you need more pain meds.  Good shit, Versed. 

I do remember Veronica’s screaming when she saw the third man, and Reags dropping to protect her.  I’d manoeuvered myself between Reags and the lounge with Dino behind me and further into the lounge, and the bastard just came out of fucking nowhere.  I leveled on him just as I saw Dino loom up behind him and cut this throat …reflexive action made the bastard pull the trigger on his AK-47, and I took the projo in my left thigh.  Thank Christ he’d had the weapon on single-shot.  If it had been on automatic, I’d have been cut to ribbons, and Reags, Veronica, and Max likely would have been as well. 

From that point on, it was pure bloody chaos.  Dino dragged me out to the Merc; Max got into the back seat, and between him dragging and Dino pushing, they got me into the car.  I was bleeding like a fucking stuck pig and cursing like a docker.  It occurs to me that I probably gave Veronica a lesson in vocabulary that her mum and dad would just as soon she’d not had for a few more years.  I remember getting to the airport and them putting me on a stretcher and hauling my arse up the stairs and onto the plane, and feeling the hum, and then the thrust of the turbines as we took off.  I was praying that Lachlan would clear Egyptian air space before anyone copped to what had happened, as TEO didn’t need an international incident laid at its door.

Funny how your thoughts wander when you’re drugged, isn’t it?  I mean, Mate, I almost think I remember telling Diana what happened that last night in Quito …surely I didn’t do that.  Surely I wouldn’t have hurt her that way right now.  I was worried about her reaction to my having been wounded but so glad she was there.  Reags had seen men down before; I’d later learnt from Max that she had taken a bullet when she was still with the Feds.  Wonder why she never mentioned it to Dino or me?  I need to tell Diana what she means to me; she needs to know that.  There’s a lot I need to tell her …have to tell her, before it tears me apart.

REAGAN

Lachlan sent Jerry back to bring me to the cockpit, and I left Dee in Maximus’ and Dino’s capable hands.  I ducked through the cabin door and into the jump seat.  I’d met Lachlan briefly at the villa, and while I didn’t know him, I felt comfortable with him.  After all, he was another of Russell Crowe’s incarnations, so he had to have something in common with the three I did know, right?

“Sit.”  The tone of his voice told me something was up.  I looked across at him.

“What is it, Lachlan?  What’s wrong?”  He motioned toward the radar, and as the beam made its 360^o arc, I saw two blips behind us.  Fuck!  I looked at him, suddenly glad for his years as a fighter pilot even with the trauma it had visited upon him.

“I asked for you to come forward because that will worry Dee less than if I'd asked for Max or Dino.  They caught up with us five kilometres before we cleared Egyptian air space.  Foxbats …MIG-25s.  They’re shadowing us …don’t know their intention, but if they planned to blow us out of the sky, surely they’d have done so by now.  I hope to Christ we’re not about to become an international incident.”   

“Lachlan, we’re in international air space.  If they fire on us now or try to force us down, they create the international incident.”  He nodded.

“True enough, Love, but we’ll still be just as fucking dead.”  The radio crackled, and the Egyptian accent was heavy in the headset Lachlan had me put on when I entered the cockpit.

“Boeing Zero-Seven-Niner, repeat, Boeing Zero-Seven-Niner, this is Wing Commander Ahmed Helfawi, Pharaoh 972, of the Egyptian Air Force.  We are non-combatants requested by the American Embassy and your Ambassador in Cairo to escort you into Cypriot air space where your arrival is anticipated.  Please acknowledge.  Repeat …this is Wing Commander Ahmed Helfawi, Pharaoh 972, repeat, Pharaoh Niner-Seven-Two of the Egyptian Air Force.  We are NON-COMBATANTS sent to escort you safely into Cypriot air space at the request of your Government.  Your imminent arrival in Cypriot air space is anticipated.”  I looked at Lachlan.  Lachlan looked at me and smiled.

“I think we’re home free.”  His voice was strong as he spoke into the radio transmitter.

“This is Captain Lachlan Curry, Executive Jet Service.  We are enroute to Larnaca with damaged cargo.  Repeat, we have damaged cargo aboard and are enroute to Larnaca for assistance.  Do you copy?”  It was only moments before the response came back.

“We copy, Captain Curry.  We will take up position on your wings and escort you into the airport at Larnaca.  If we may be of additional assistance, please advise immediately.”  I looked out the cockpit windows and saw the fighters settle in less than 500 yards off our port and starboard wings.  Lachlan and I could see them clearly, as they rocked their wings in salute; Lachlan smiled at me and rocked ours in acknowledgement …not an easy thing to do in an aircraft as large as this one.  He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath before he spoke.

“Thought we had bought it for a tic back there.  You’d best get back and tell the rest that little wing-rock a moment ago was by way of thanks for safe escort.”  I unbuckled my harness and stood, taking the liberty before leaving the cockpit of leaning down to kiss Lachlan on the cheek. 

“Lachlan, today you’re my hero.  Thank you.”  He smiled up into my eyes and swatted me on the butt as I turned toward the cabin door. 

“And you’re one scrappy sheila, Reagan.”  Coming from Lachlan, I considered that a complement of high order.  Twenty minutes later, we were on the ground at Larnaca Airport.  Amison, Terry, Dino, and Dee were in the ambulance heading for the hospital and, with the help of the American Consular Officer, the rest of us sorted ourselves through Customs and Immigration, the wheels clearly greased because our blood-splattered clothing didn’t even raise an eyebrow.  Forty-five minutes later Maximus and I walked into the Surgical Waiting Room at Larnaca General Hospital, having left Lachlan, Tim, and the cabin crew to see to having the plane cleared through Customs and Immigration before Lachlan followed us to the hospital.

LACHLAN

Mate, I have to tell you that for a few tics back there, I thought we’d fucking bought the farm.  I was breaking a cold sweat by the time Reagan sat down in the jump seat, and then the radio squawked.  Commander Helfawi told us they were Egyptian Air Force, requested by the American Embassy to escort us safely to Cyprus.  I was so fucking relieved, I could have bloody cried.  I sent Reagan back to tell the others with a swat on her arse but not before she’d given me this sweet little kiss, like she’d give a brother.  Made my day, Mate. 

We put wheels down at Larnaca Airport twenty minutes later.  Greased that landing, I did.  With Terry hooked up to all that medical equipment, I could do nothing less.  That and after watching Dee cart that luggage out to the car, I was a little afraid of what she might do to me if I hurt her man any more.  The ambulance and another medical team was waiting to take Terry to hospital.  The Médecins Sans Frontières group briefed the locals, and within minutes, Amison, Dino, and Dee were in the ambulance with Terry and screaming off toward Larnaca General.  Terry had reserved rooms for all of us at the Aeneas Hotel, just across the road from Nissi Beach. 

Now that may not mean a great deal to some, but to a world-weary pilot it was the best news about.  Nissi Beach is the most well known topless beach between Africa and the UK.  It had been yonks since I’d been there, and then I was just passing through on leave between vacating my post in Australia and going to work for Executive Jets in the States; I’d had a couple of days to spare.  This time, I knew I probably had a week here because it would likely be that long before Terry could safely be loaded onto an aircraft for transport back to Texas. 

I was up early the next morning, showered, shaved, dressed, and headed into hospital to check on Terry.  He was still groggy from all the meds, but according to Dee and the doctors – not to mention Max, Reagan and Dino who had all spent the night at his bedside with Dee – he was actually doing better than expected.  At Terry’s request, the surgeon spoke to all of us together.  The upshot of it was that Terry should be out of hospital within 72 hours, assuming he behaved himself and did as told.  They wanted him to remain in Larnaca for four or five days after discharge before returning to the States and required a 24-hour layover in France, the Netherlands, or UK to break the trip and not overly tire him, which meant I’d have seven or eight lovely days on the beach.  I could almost see the smiles on the faces of the medical team and my own crew when I told them they were in for a paid holiday.  Terry could begin rehab by the time he got home, and Dee was on the phone almost immediately, calling a friend of hers who was a physio at Baylor Medical Centre in Dallas and setting up a time for the woman’s first visit to Terry. 

Terry was told that he should use a walker for a couple of weeks or until he was able to put full weight on the leg.  After that, it would be crutches for a while and then a cane to keep his leg from going into spasm.  He could discontinue the crutches when the physio felt it was safe, in conjunction with the orthopaedic specialist he would be consulting in Dallas.  He was also told that whilst he should be able to drive within two weeks, that under no circumstances should he return to fieldwork for six months.  On hearing that, Terry frowned, and Diana smiled.  Looks as if she’s going to have her bloke around for a bit.

Okey, dokey.  That information freed the rest of us up for making plans for our return to the States.  Whilst in Cairo, Max and Reagan had decided that they wanted to stop off in Rome for a bit …curious that, as I’d have thought Rome would be the last place on earth Max would ever want to see again.  Guess he wanted to see what it was like outside the Coliseum and from my convos with Reagan over the last day, I knew she’d been there numerous times.  She should make a good tour guide.  They would fly commercial, as Max didn’t think it prudent to use the company lease for personal reasons.  I was going to enjoy the time here in Cyprus; I planned on being sunburnt when I went home.  I’d call Executive Air and tell them their plane and crew would be parked on the tarmac here for seven to eight days, and then we’d be off to Paris.  I’d have them put a Gulf Stream on standby for us to get from Paris to Texas, and would wait to tell the cabin and flight crews about their holiday until I got back to the hotel.

DIANA

When the doctor was talking to us about Terry’s condition and the requirement for rehab once we got him back to Dallas, I realized I needed to call Gretchen, my physiotherapist riding buddy.  Once the doctor left, I grabbed Terry’s satellite phone and grinned as Max, Reags, and Dino whipped theirs out of pockets.  If they’d been going for guns, it would have looked like the gunfight at the OK Corral.  Reags called Paris …Tour d’Argent to cancel our dinner reservations for tonight.  Ah …so that’s where we were going to have had dinner tonight.  I noted that she sounded appropriately obsequious as she apologized for the inconvenience.  She knows the owner, so by talking to him, we wouldn’t have to pay a cancellation fee and stood a chance of getting reservations there in the future.  After that, she called the Le Meridien at Charles de Gaulle airport to make arrangements for a room for Terry and me – one with the bars in the tub, so Terry could shower – and for Lachlan and the cabin crew.  Dino called Sooze to update her and break the news about Terry’s having been shot.  Max also called Paris and cancelled our reservations that night at the Ritz-Carlton. 

Because of the cacophony of noise – it sounded like a bookie’s joint five minutes before post time, and don’t ask how I know about that - I stepped out in the hall to call Gretchen.  Dr. Amison was also out there, talking to his wife.  The conversation on his side that I overheard was just too good not to relate.

“Bev …we’re in Cyprus and fine.  The contractor’s spotting all of us a few days on the beach here.  Check schedules and get the first flight down …don’t bother bringing the top to your swimsuit.”  He smiled as he listened to her, then told her to call back with her ETA.  He was still smiling when he closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

MAXIMUS

In commenting on Cassandra’s and my decision to revisit Rome, it was apparent from the look on Lachlan’s face that Rome was the last place on earth he thought I should ever wish to revisit.  As one might reasonably expect, my memories of my time in Rome are mixed.  It was a time of a bestial existence; I was forced to kill in order to survive another day, and it was there that I died in that life, in the sands of the Arena.  Rome also represented the only happiness and comfort I had known since the deaths of Ileana and Marcus, for it was there that I found Cassandra, the woman I would love across the continuum of time and space and into this day. 

When we returned to the hotel to bathe and sleep after our night at the hospital, I found myself – much to my own surprise – asking Cassandra if she would again accompany me to Rome for a time before returning to Dallas.  We had briefly discussed doing so whilst in Cairo but had come to no firm decision.  She acceded to my request, saying that we might remain there for as long as I wished.  Less than 72 hours later, we were on an Alitalia flight to Rome’s Fiumicino Airport.  We took a cab into the city, having made a reservation for the rooftop suite at the Regina Hotel Baglione.  Though there were less costly suites on the seventh floor, the rooftop suite afforded panoramic views of the old City and as I had never truly seen ‘the City’ – our stopover last year was far too brief - that had a certain appeal for me. 

We spent the afternoon visiting various shops for clothing suitable to our planned activities.  Though we had with us the clothing we had taken to Cairo, we had nothing suitable for formal dining.  Ensconced in our suite late that afternoon and after I had showered and dressed, I called room service for champagne and light comestibles whilst Cassandra showered and dressed for dinner.  We had reservations at nine at Il Convivio Troiani, a restaurant she had visited in the past and which she felt I would enjoy.  In terms of lodgings and meals, I defer to her judgment.  She knows this city; I do not.

When she joined me on the balcony, she was a vision, wearing an off-the-shoulder creation by some designer whose name should probably be familiar to me; it was not, but perhaps in time I shall learn these things.  I smiled as she came toward me and held out my hand, taking her into my arms for a kiss.  We sipped our champagne as we looked out over the city at the approaching dusk.  Finally, she turned and looked at me for a long moment before speaking.

“Maximus?  This is where it all began for us, as well as where it ended.  Can we make a new beginning in this place and remember only what is good from our earlier time here?”  As I pulled her into my arms and rested my chin on her soft hair, I smiled to myself.  Tomorrow we would return to where we began and pledge anew our love for each other.

To be Continued

NOTES