Harvath didn’t want to watch, but he couldn’t help himself. The way in which she took off her clothes practically begged for a cover charge and a two drink minimum. He disliked everything about her, but when her mouth was shut and her clothes were dropping to the ground, she wasn’t half bad.
The only reason he shifted his eyes away was because he didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing he was looking.
As he focused on getting himself undressed, he had to give her points for style. If he had been a woman travelling in the wilds of Congo, he doubted a thong and sexy bra would have been on his packing list.
Shaking his head, he continued to get undressed. She was a boatload of trouble and he figured she probably knew it. Her undoubtedly expensive lingerie was completely impractical and totally out of place in the middle of the jungle. She had to have known that too.
It was, of course, total theater, but in one of the crummiest places in the world, Jessica Decker had decided that the show must go on. He had to give her an A for effort. Any man who couldn’t applaud, or at the very least appreciate her dedication to maintaining a modicum of sex appeal, didn’t deserve to call himself a man.
While it didn’t mean he had any intention of hanging an “Open For Business” sign on his hammock, he decided to sneak one more peek. When he did, he found that she was already looking at him, admiring his body.
Their eyes met. They were both completely naked and they held each other’s gaze for several beats longer than they should have.
It was Harvath who eventually broke it off and looked away. That word that rhymed with truck leapt back into his mind.
It might have been a game to Decker, but he knew he had to be careful. Hanging off a skyscraper, only a fool whipped out his knife and starting sawing away at the rope. It was amazing, though, how foolish even the most resolute of men could be.
Thankfully, when he looked back over, Decker was nearly dressed. She made a show of pulling the top of her scrubs over her breasts before smoothing it down. She was trouble all right and she definitely knew it. Harvath, though, had enough other things to think about and shifted his mind to those.
Taking only the bare minimum of things they would need, he repacked Decker’s ruck and covered it with one of their ponchos. He used the other poncho to cover a hole he had dug and needed to keep dry. There had been no rain since they had left the Brits back at camp. For the time being, Mother Nature seemed to be smiling on them, or at least unaware of their presence.
When Decker indicated that she was ready, Harvath struck off toward the clinic.
The idea was to get as close as possible before climbing into the stifling heat of their biohazard suits. At most, they would be good for a half hour — and even then it would feel like they had done an Ironman race in one hundred degree heat. Dehydration and heat stroke were very serious concerns, which was why they had been drinking water and would be watching the clock once they were suited up.
At the clinic’s perimeter, Harvath took a long look around and then removed his night vision goggles and allowed Decker to take a look. His primary goal was to put her at ease. If she was at all nervous, the stress would erode the amount of time she could remain in her suit.
His secondary goal was to give her an opportunity to reacquaint herself with the property and see if she noticed anything out of place.
After a couple of minutes, she handed the goggles back to him.
“Does it look the way you remembered it?” he asked.
“Pretty much.”
“Okay. Let’s get suited up.”
Unpacking his ruck, Harvath laid out their gear in stacks of his and hers. Though they had already examined the suits, gloves, hoods, and booties for punctures, tears, or any other vulnerability whatsoever, they went through each pile once more and then switched, checking each other’s work.
Content that the suits had not been compromised they began climbing into their personal protective equipment, also known as PPE.
The process required multiple pairs of sterile gloves and each one had to be taped to your suit. The tape had to be applied in a very specific manner, so as not to “tent,” which might provide an opening for a virus or other deadly pathogens to get in. This was one of the biggest reasons Harvath had been overruled and Decker was along for the assignment. A person not only needed help donning their PPE, but it was crucial to have help in doffing it. It simply wasn’t possible to properly remove the suit on one’s own.
Decker had been through extensive training and knew what she was doing. She stepped Harvath through what he needed to do as her partner.
When he asked about the multiple pairs of gloves, she explained that while they were a protection against the outermost level being punctured or torn, their primary raison d’être was to provide uncontaminated gloves beneath the outer gloves in order to help you get out of your suit.
The whole process, right down to getting out of your boots and slithering out of the suit was like the board game Operation. Touch the sides at any time and that was it. It came down to partnership and absolute trust.
While Decker may have pissed him off immeasurably with her behavior that morning, right now she radiated professionalism.
Taping the seams at his wrists and ankles, running her hands over the exterior of his suit — all of it was expert and clinical. However coquettish she may or may not have intended to be while getting into her scrubs, all of that was now gone. Jessica Decker was one hundred percent business.
They were going through the final stages of taping when Harvath heard her curse.
At first, he thought he had done something wrong. Then, he saw what had triggered the expletive.
A large raindrop had landed on her face panel. It was quickly followed by another and then another. Without any preamble, the clouds had opened up and the rain was now pounding down. Congo.
“We need to work fast,” Decker shouted over the din, “but methodically. Don’t screw up.”
Harvath did as she instructed, taking great care to make sure his tape didn’t tent. They were working beneath their headlamps, which had been wrapped around a tree limb. It was already less than optimal conditions. The rain only made it worse.
When he was done, Harvath flashed her the thumbs-up.
She examined her seams, then his. It was now that faith entered the equation. They had either done everything right, or they hadn’t. Only time would tell.
Taking a step back, Decker moved out of the way so that Harvath could lead.
The suit was extremely uncomfortable. Because of its bulk, his range of motion was severely limited. He felt like the midwestern boy in A Christmas Story, whose mother had over-bundled him with umpteen layers against the severe winter walk to school.
The hood not only impacted his hearing, but it also narrowed his field of view. His peripheral vision was all but nonexistent.
Usually, they would have taken each other’s vitals before suiting up, but they didn’t have the luxury of allowing vitals to dictate go or no-go for this assignment.
After powering up a small IR video camera, Harvath stepped into the clearing and kept his head on a swivel as they walked toward the clinic.
He had told Decker to inform him right away if anything seemed out of place. Twice he looked back at her and twice she flashed him the thumbs-up.
From across the clearing, the clinic had somehow looked more formidable, more robust. The closer they came, the more shabby and run-down it became. He had thought that maybe it was a trick of the rain streaming down his faceplate, but it wasn’t. Like everything else in Congo, even this American-funded medical clinic was woefully underwhelming.