“Maybe a little lighter?” the chief gasped. “I need to breathe a little.”
The girl loosened up as the chief carefully climbed to his feet.
“Please take me home,” the girl whispered in his ear, crying faintly and shaking. “Please? I don’t want to be hurt. Please?”
“I will, sweetie,” the chief said, walking carefully towards the front of the room and unconsciously moving his weapon to a tactical position. “And nobody, nobody, is going to hurt you anymore. Let me teach you a song as we go. It goes like this: Out in the wood there’s a band of small fairies if you walk unwary at night. They’re laughing and drinking and soon you’ll be thinking, that you’d like to join in their life…”
Chapter Fourteen
“All of the surviving hostages have been extracted and are on their way to Germany on a medical evacuation flight,” Secretary Brandeis told the packed audience. “They will be given a brief medical check in Germany, then returned to the States. Our first priority is getting them back to their families, although some of them are in poor psychological condition. On that score, they have bonded rather strongly with the SEAL team that was dropped in to hold the position and the team will be accompanying them all the way back to the States. This is at the rather pointed request of some of the young ladies who refused to board the evac plane unless the SEALs went too.
“The person known as Ghost is on the same evac plane and is in critical condition. Military doctors at the transfer point in Iraq stabilized him enough for movement but it’s touch and go. Doctors have told me that we might not know for days, or even weeks, if he will live.
“As to Syria,” the secretary continued, keying an overhead monitor that showed an oblique view of the set of buildings people had come to know, “this is Aleppo Four. A B-2 has been orbiting Aleppo Four continuously since the SEAL team was inserted. All of our personnel have been evacuated. And this is our answer to Aleppo Four.”
There was a brief pause and then the screen flashed white and clicked out to a broader view that showed a boiling mushroom cloud.
“That is the lowest power nuclear weapon in our arsenal,” Brandeis said, coldly. “Before anyone asks the question about ‘won’t that make people accelerate their WMD plans,’ I’ll make it simple. As our President once said: Bring it on. Every insane group of leaders in the world is trying to craft nuclear weapons, poison gas and biological agents. They have been for decades. Despite what the people in the press think, Saddam was working on it very hard. For today, we are not going into Syria. The state of war still holds. We can now confirm that Basser Assad was present at Aleppo Four, apparently watching the rapings and torture from behind a two-way mirror. He was killed by Ghost. And he was not the only person killed by Ghost.” Brandeis keyed the screen again and a body was shown. It was twisted in death and someone in chemical protective clothing was holding the head more or less in place.
He waited until the shouts, from gleeful to horrified, died down and smiled.
“So for anyone who says there was ‘no proven link to Al Qaeda,’ ” Brandeis snarled, “Agent Ghost also killed Osama Bin Laden, who was also watching the proceedings. He killed him, and Basser Assad, with the very mustard gas which was being produced in the facility. Aleppo Four is now a smoking hole. And let all of the terrorists of the world, all the governments of the world who support them, all the governments that are feverishly working on nukes and gas and germs, let all of them know that this is the end result. So, the question that you have to ask is: Exactly how far do I want to go to piss the United States off? Because now you know, that if you go far enough, what you’re going to receive is a smoking hole and an increase in background radiation. If you push us far enough, our answer is simple: nuke them until they glow and shoot them in the dark. No questions.”
Mike’s throat was terribly sore. Then he forgot his throat as various bits of his body started informing his conscious mind just how very glad they were to have someone to complain to, finally. He managed to drag his eyes open and got a glimpse of acoustic tile.
“I was hoping for Valhalla,” he muttered. Or tried to, it was more of a mumble. “Ow.”
“You’re awake,” a bright young female voice said. “Don’t try to talk. Are you in any pain?”
“Uhhh!” he grunted.
“Let me get you some water for your throat,” the voice said, “then I’ll get the doctor and see if your medication needs to be adjusted.”
A tube was inserted in his mouth and he got a brief flash of one of those unpleasant multicolored smocks nurses had taken to wearing. So much for Valkyries and feasting.
He closed his eyes as the nurse squeaked out in her rubber-soled shoes and wondered where he was. The U.S., probably: the nurse didn’t have the “feel” of military nurses. Which meant he’d been out for a while.
“So you’re finally awake,” a female voice said.
The face that leaned into view wasn’t bad, but it was terribly professional. Brown hair pulled back in a bun, more handsome than pretty. Nice eyes, but a trifle cold.
“How are you feeling?” the doctor asked. “There’s going to be a high degree of soreness from the surgery, but is there any intense pain? Pain remediation at this point is important.”
“If I don’t move,” he said slowly, wondering why he couldn’t talk more clearly, “I’m okay.”
“That’s the idea,” the doctor said. “Don’t move. With the level of morphine in you right now, you’d have a hard time anyway.”
“W’ere my?” Mike asked then worked his jaw. “Where am I?”
“You’re in a… special hospital in Virginia,” the doctor said. “And… we don’t refer to our patients by name. You’re Patient 1357. Sorry.”
“S’okay,” Mike replied. “CIA?”
“Somewhat, but primarily military, sort of,” the doctor said, smiling in a way that cut off that avenue of conversation. “I’m Dr. Quinn.” She looked at him for a moment and nodded. “Go ahead and get it out of your system, otherwise you’ll be bothered until you do.”
“Medicine woman?” Mike said, trying to grin.
“See, feel better?” the doctor said. “No relation. I’ll send the nurse back in to take care of your needs. If the pain gets particularly bad, ring for the nurse and we’ll make an adjustment. Let me be clear: Pain is not weakness leaving the body. You can play that game when you’re operational, but when you’re recovering, high-order pain reduces your ability to heal. We want to keep the pain down. Don’t be a hero. If you’re in a lot of pain, tell us. If you move and it hurts like hell and won’t go away, tell us.”
“Got it,” Mike said. “I take it I’m going to live?”
“You’re going to live,” the doctor said, nodding. “There was some infection, but we got that under control days ago. You’ve been unconscious for nearly two weeks. Not in a coma, just unconscious. Not abnormal with injuries as severe as yours. But you’re well on your way to recovery, now.”
“Thanks,” Mike said, working his head. His neck seemed, other than stiffness, to be the only thing that didn’t hurt.
“You’re welcome,” Dr. Quinn said. “I spent nearly ten hours with my hands in various bits of you. I’m glad to see it was worth it.”
The biggest problem was the tedium. In a civilian hospital, he’d probably have been discharged after a few days to a week, basically when the IV came out, which was three days after he woke up. Since this place was “sort of military,” and he had nobody to help him at home, he had to stay. He watched TV and caught some of the replays of the return home of the girls. The government, thank God, had let them get together with their parents before the news media got a crack. President Cliff had waited until the day after the homecoming to go visit, and hadn’t talked to the media on the way in or out, just turned up, spent some time and left. No grandstanding, no politicking. The scene of the girls getting off the plane in Dix was part of Fox’s lead-in. Charlie Three had, apparently, been their escorts back and for some reason the chief had one of the girls stuck on his back like a limpet. That was a major shot in the lead in.