I saw the reason for the haste when I turned back to look at the building we’d just been underneath. I swear the whole thing was swaying gently, as if one more good shake would see it all come crashing down.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
As soon as Riley had mother and child strapped down he lifted off in the Bell, pirouetting as he rose, and headed straight for the main hospital with Dr Bertrand stabilising her patients en route.
It wasn’t until I’d stripped out of my borrowed harness and helmet that I realised Hope and Lemon had gone too. I searched for Joe Marcus but realised the R&R team had all climbed aboard and left me behind.
Like I said — always nice to know your own worth.
I found Wilson sitting in the load bay of his dig team’s police transport helo having his lacerated arm seen to. In daylight the wound looked far nastier than it had done underground in the dark.
“Hospital,” one of the medics decided. “I hope your shots are up to date.”
“If not they soon will be, eh?”
He saw me and gave a sober nod. The medic gave me a pat on the shoulder as he left. With these guys that passed for high praise.
“If you’re heading that way, can I hitch a ride?”
“Don’t see why not. Marcus left you behind, did he?”
I shrugged, not trusting myself to speak. Wilson’s voice turned quietly serious.
“You wanna watch yourself there.”
I stilled. “Meaning?”
He raised a hand in mock surrender. “Hey, don’t be giving me the daggered looks. Just something I overheard, that’s all.”
“Wilson… Just spit it out, will you?”
“Well, when I brought out the wee bairn and the whole bloody place started shaking and that bloody window tried to guillotine me—” he lifted the shoulder of his injured arm, “—I heard Marcus say to that French doctor about how maybe this would be an ideal time to cut their losses.”
“Cut their losses?”
“They were talking about leaving the pair of you down there, Charlie. Why d’you think I came back in, even bleeding like a stuck pig, eh?”
“Don’t you mean ‘knight in shining armour’?” I corrected.
“Forget it.” He grinned again although he was clearly fast exhausting his supply. “No big thing, eh?”
“Yes it is,” I said. “And I won’t forget.”
Wilson’s stocky police pilot opened the door to the cockpit and hoisted himself in. He pulled on his headset and looked over his shoulder, making a thumbs-up or thumbs-down gesture of enquiry.
Wilson gave him a thumbs-up and eased back from the edge of the load bay. I hopped in alongside him and strapped in. The police helo had no more creature comforts than R&R’s, except the seats were more firmly bolted down and had a fixture which, I assumed, was where they could secure a prisoner’s handcuffs for transit.
The flight to the hospital complex didn’t take long. Oh for one of these to beat traffic back home in New York.
But New York was not really my home, I realised suddenly. It was where I happened to be living. If the situation between Sean and me could not be retrieved, how much longer could I stay there?
I cursed the impulse that had made me confess my sins to him. All our troubles, it seemed, stemmed from me either saying too much or not enough. The next time I saw him I swore I would say everything I had to — everything I should have said a long time ago — even if it was the last time I got the chance.
If I ever saw him again.
I pulled out my phone intending to call Parker for a progress report on that front, but the noise inside the Eurocopter’s cabin made it impractical. Reluctantly, I slid the phone back into my pocket, noting Wilson’s eyes on me as I did so. I wasn’t sure if the look he gave me was sympathy or cynicism.
The police obviously had priority landing rights and were able to set down closer to the main entrance in the spot usually reserved for air ambulances. As soon as we were on the ground and the engines began to spin down I patted the pilot on the shoulder by way of thanks and jumped out, snagging the first person I saw in medical garb.
Fortunately, Dr Bertrand made enough of an impression on everyone she dealt with that the doctor I collared was able to point me in the right direction. I knew I must be close when I spotted Joe Marcus leaning against a wall giving him a view of the lobby area. He was sipping a large coffee and gave me a slight nod of greeting when I walked in.
“What happened to the old infantry motto of ‘leave no man behind’?” I asked.
The look he gave me was a sour one. “You expected us to wait around for you when we had casualties to transport?”
That wasn’t what I’d been referring to and I was pretty sure he knew it, but arguing the point would not have got me far. I glanced about the lobby although I already knew he was alone.
“Where’s Hope?”
He took another sip of coffee and swallowed before answering. “With Riley in the Bell. They don’t allow rescue dogs in here.”
Any question about why they’d left me behind would have sounded like a complaining child, so I restricted myself to pointing out mildly, “I can’t protect her if you whisk her away from me the moment I’m not looking.”
“Then maybe you should have been looking.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a bit difficult from a hole in the ground.”
He raised an eyebrow as if I’d just answered my own question. “You’re either a bodyguard or you’re one of the team, Charlie. Can’t be both.”
“So you didn’t consider Kyle Stephens one of the team either?”
Again he treated me to his best Marine Corps hard stare. It was getting harder to feign indifference to it.
“No, I believe it was Stephens who made that decision.”
Before I could query that statement, the lift doors opened across the other side of the lobby and a man in a wheelchair emerged, being pushed by one of the nursing staff.
I recognised the man right away even in his street clothes. Santiago Rojas was pale and clammy under the artificial strip lights, his jacket hanging awkwardly around the cast on his arm. Half his head was still wrapped in dressings and he looked as though the short ride down from his bed had already exhausted him. Balanced on his lap was a paper bag which I assumed contained his old clothing. They’d had to cut most of it off him so there can’t have been much worth keeping.
Marcus spotted Rojas too and he levered away from the wall, dropping his empty cup into a cylinder bin while he waited for the pair to reach us. I wondered briefly if anything was better than staying to answer my questions.
“Señor Rojas,” he said. “You leaving already?”
Rojas managed the majority of a smile. “All I do is lie down for most of the day and there are many others who need a bed here more than I. If my house still stands I can rest there as easily.”
“He is not fit to go home,” the nurse said stoutly. “Please, if you are his friends, convince him to stay another few days at least. His head injury—”
“I am OK,” Rojas said, reaching back to pat her hand with his uninjured one. “Please, do not worry.”
The nurse’s pager went off. She checked it and relinquished her hold on the wheelchair with reluctance.
“Do not worry,” Rojas said again. “Go. I have called for a car. It will be here soon. And thank you.”
She flashed him a smile and hurried back to the lift, her shoes squeaking on the tiled floor.