Cornell found him down in the cafeteria an hour later. He sat down opposite Mackey.
“Captain Boland’s gone into a coma,” he told him wearily.
“What?”
“He didn’t come out of the anesthetic. All his body functions are guarded.” Cornell lowered his voice. “He’s probably going to die, Colonel. You might as well know it now. They seldom wake up after an injury of this type after they’ve gone into a coma. I’m sorry.”
Mackey bowed his head. “So am I,” he muttered. It only made his resolve to get Lane that much more determined. Now Cathy was their only witness. What would she think of Jim’s death? Would it affect her? He searched his memory for indications of just how much Boland might have meant to her and vice versa. Jim had been protective. Mentally, he crossed his fingers that it had been nothing more than a passing infatuation on his part with Fremont. A one-night stand. He’d find out soon enough when he gave Fremont the news.
THE SECOND TIME Cathy awoke, clarity was there. Her eyes adjusted to the starkness of the room. A nurse appeared and reached down, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her arm. She quietly explained where she was and what had happened.
“You have a visitor, Corporal Fremont.” She smiled after taking the cuff reading. “He can only stay a few minutes.”
Dully, Cathy looked toward the door. Mackey was in his utilities, looking gray and somewhat drawn as he walked over to her bedside. He gave her a warm smile.
“You’re going to be fine, Cathy. Just fine.”
She stared up at him. “Jim?” Her mouth was cotton-ball dry and her voice was like a croak. “He was shot…killed?”
Mackey awkwardly patted her hand, realizing in that instant that whatever she had shared with Boland had been serious. “Yes, he was. I’m sorry, Cathy.” His voice became firmer. “We’ve got to go on, now. You’re very important to me. I want you to rest. Later, when you feel up to it, we’ll talk more.”
She sobbed, the jerking motion sending a shock wave of dulled pain up through her. “No…God, no…” She twisted her head to one side, weeping rawly. “I—I loved him…I didn’t even tell him that. God, no…I want to die….”
TWO DAYS LATER, Mackey signed orders to have Cathy Fremont flown Stateside to the Naval Medical Center near San Diego to continue her recovery. He stopped to check one last time on Boland’s condition before he went back to the regiment to find out what the investigation had revealed thus far.
“His condition hasn’t improved,” Cornell told him bluntly, peering over the bifocals perched on his hawklike nose as he looked up at him from his stately walnut desk.
“It’s been two days,” Mackey protested.
“The tissue is continuing to swell. He probably won’t reach the critical stage for another twenty-four hours yet.”
“You’ll keep me informed?”
“Of course.”
Mackey’s eyes narrowed. “Corporal Fremont is to know nothing of his condition, Doctor. We need her to recover without any other distractions. As far as she’s concerned, he’s dead.”
Cornell shrugged. “The only people who know of Captain Boland’s condition are his parents, Colonel. He isn’t married, according to his personnel file, so no one is privileged to know anything further about his condition.”
“Keep it that way. And that’s an order, Doctor.” Mackey turned away, his mind already centered on the events one month away. By that time, Lane and what was left of the WLF would be sent Stateside to Camp Pendleton, the Marine base in California, to be disbanded and then evaluated by Congress. In a month, Fremont would be well on her way to mending and he’d use his considerable talents to cajole her into working with him and the senator on the investigation. He’d make sure to dangle Jim’s “death” in front of her to make her angry enough to want to take part. Yes, the next step was Washington, D.C., and working with Senator Fredericks.
“WELL, HOW’S our ace witness coming along?” Fredericks asked as he looked out the window. It was raining over the Ceapitol. Summer in the U.S. had been relatively mild. He smiled. He was on time, too. He turned to the colonel, who sat in his tan summer uniform in the wingback leather chair, smoking his cigar.
“Still depressed,” Mackey commented, inhaling the cigar smoke deeply. “Physically, Fremont’s healing up nicely and by next week when you spring the hearings on Lane and the American public, she should be ready. Probably have to keep her in a wheelchair, though. The doctors want that femoral artery to continue healing before she undergoes postoperative physical therapy for muscle damage.”
“That’s fine. It will make good publicity coverage and put Fremont in a sympathetic light to the press. It won’t hurt our case if she comes in wheelchair bound. Are you aware the hearing is going to be broadcast over television just like Watergate was?”
“As long as it all makes us look like the good guys, that’s fine.”
Al turned, his narrow face filled with the delight of a child who had stolen a jar of cookies and knew he wouldn’t get caught. “With those seven WLF women’s debrief reports, Boland’s report and Fremont, we’re going in with a pretty strong hand.”
“I think it’s wise to sit on this Simmons angle,” Mackey said. “Right now we have a secondhand story and no eyewitness to the possible murder.”
Frederick’s grimaced. “It’s circumstantial at best, Mac. I’d just as soon keep Simmons out of it unless we’re forced to bring it up. Frankly, I think we can hang Lane on what we already have. We have an actual eyewitness—Fremont.”
Mackey’s grizzled expression didn’t change as he watched Fredericks, who was nattily attired in an expensive dark blue pinstriped suit. “Don’t underestimate Major Lane’s ability to mount a strong defense for that hearing. All the chips are in on the WLF, Senator. Except for the last two months of fighting, it performed no better and no worse than any other company in our regiment in Thailand.”
Al nodded, sobering slightly as he opened the eighteen-kearat gold cigarette case that had been a “gift” from a prestigious Hong Kong businessman last year. He lit the cigarette, tossing the gold lighter on the desk. “Girls, instead of our sons, coming home in body bags is enough, though, Mac. A high percentage of Americans are furious that Lane lost girls at all. You’ve seen the demonstrations against women in combat. It’s all over the major newscasts. They’re saying the public doesn’t want its daughters coming back dead. They don’t care if their women fill eighty-five percent of the slots in the military already—they just don’t want them in ground combat.”
“I still don’t trust Lane. She’s got that phenomenal magic with the press.”
Al laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You just stick with Cathy Fremont at the hearings. I’m planning on allowing Lane and her entourage to open with their statements first. Ladies before gentlemen.” And then he laughed. “Since I’m heading up the hearing and supposed to be duly and fairly interested in both sides of the coin, I have to let you air our dirty laundry against Lane. I want her hit hard with the debrief reports and Fremont’s testimony right on the heels of it.”
Mackey moved uncomfortably in his chair.
“Why let Lane go first?”
“Because when she gets slapped with the order to attend this hearing next week, she’s going to become a rabid dog ready to bite anyone. Her testimony, I hope, will come across acidly to the American public. It ought to make the public want to puke. And, then, I’ll have her by the balls. With public outrage, I can get the WLF permanently disbanded and Lane can slink off into an early retirement, her wings clipped and no longer a potential threat to anyone.”
“What about the other senators on your committee? Are they all so ready to see Lane hung?” Mackey drawled.
“It’s a split group. Jacob Roman is our opposition. He’s one hundred percent on Lane’s side. He’s a real hawk from the old days of Vietnam. ‘My country, right or wrong.’ The other two senators are pro women. The rest of us are anti-women in ground combat. I believe if
we present our case properly and with a little arm-twisting, we can swing the pro-feminist senators to our way of thinking. That leaves Roman on an island by himself with Lane. What a pair. They deserve each other.”
Mackey grunted. “I’m flying back to San Diego this afternoon to be with Fremont.” He rose and managed a smile. “I sort of like playing father to her. She’s down-and-out and needs some support. I’m giving it to her and she’s responding.”
“Keep manipulating her. She’s your ticket to your first of many stars, Mac. Take good care of your foster daughter,” Al said. “You’ve got three daughters of your own, so it shouldn’t be too hard to pander to Fremont, who needs a father figure right now.” His smile disappeared. “Just keep her safe when I drop that press release next week. I don’t want those idiots from the news media to get to her. No statements, understand?”
“Understood. Besides, I don’t think she’s up to coping with all the pressures yet.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s grieving over Boland’s reported death. You know he’s been transferred to Hawaii, Tripler Medical Center, and is still in a coma?”
“Can we expect his recovery for the hearings?”
“We just don’t know, Senator. I had Dr. Cornell transferred with him to Hawaii while this hearing was gearing up. He says Boland is stabilized and his functions are strong, but he’s not coming out of that coma.”
“Too bad,” Al murmured. “We could have used Boland’s corroborating testimony in all this. But such is life. So, Fremont was a hell of a lot more emotionally involved with him than you first thought?”
“She fell in love with him,” Mackey growled, stubbing out his cigar in the ashtray. “Besides fighting her wound and being in combat, Fremont’s grieving over his death.”
“A bad triple combination,” Al agreed, stroking his cleft chin, worried. “What can be done to help snap her out of it? Anything?”
“I’ve got a couple cards up my sleeve, Senator. I’m getting Dr. Tucker sent back over here. Apparently Fremont and he were close. I intend to have Tucker assigned to her case. I’m also having what’s left of Boland’s Recon team flown in to see her.”
“Sounds good.” Al extended his long, slender hand to Mackey. “Stay in touch.”
“Count on it.”
Chapter 18
MACKEY KNOCKED lightly on Cathy’s hospital door, which was guarded by two burly Marines who looked like bulldogs at stiff attention. Cathy opened it, hobbling with the aid of a cane.
“Mac!” she cried, her face lighting up, “come in.”
He smiled, removing his hat. “I must say, you’re looking better,” he said, meaning it. She nodded and returned to the edge of the bed, carefully lowering herself to it.
“In spite of myself,” Cathy returned, a painful half smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “The Navy nurses have been wonderful to me.” She motioned to the color television set. “Between soap operas, daily therapy and them, I’m kept reasonably busy.” She didn’t add that she missed Jim and what might have been and never would be.
The colonel appraised her very pale face. Her green eyes were a bit too bright for him. She was putting on an act for his sake, he surmised.
He took a chair and sat down opposite her. She wore her usual pink chenille robe over her white hospital gown and fuzzy pink slippers. Her hair was freshly washed and shone beneath the lights, framing her thin face. “I just got back from seeing Senator Fredericks, Cathy. I thought we might take a few minutes and catch up on the details.”
Cathy nodded, relaxing. Her thigh was aching, but that was nothing new. She dreaded the dressing change that would come later. How much more pain could she tolerate? “Fine.” She eased herself up on her bed, fluffing the pillows behind her back, and sat quietly to listen to Mackey’s report. When he was done she asked, “Will I be cross-examined by Major Lane’s lawyers?”
He hedged. “In a hearing, they get sensitive when you call it cross-examination.”
“But that’s what it is, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but don’t let it worry you. Al…Senator Fredericks is going to protect your interests right down the line. He’s a lawyer himself. Besides, he’s got two excellent Washington attorneys whom you’ve already met and worked with. It will be all right, believe me.”
She pushed a stray strand of hair from her face. “I believe you, Mac.”
“After the hearings, you know Fredericks will advocate the disbanding of the WLF, Cathy. How do you feel about that?”
Briefly, a glimmer of life came to her eyes. “You’d better ask the other women that question and not me, Mac. I knew all along I wasn’t cut out to do it.” She inhaled deeply, her eyes troubled. “But I did it anyway. Most of us survived despite Lane. I suppose, in a perverse way, we have to thank her for our survival. It was due in no small part to the training she put us through. I don’t agree with how she handled the women at Delta.” Looking up, she gave him a sad smile. “On the other hand, many of the women in the company were good at what they did, and they did it right. The concept is okay. Putting women into ground combat if they volunteer for it should be allowed. We proved ourselves out there. It was just the leadership that made it a horrible experience. But then, war is never a pleasant experience, is it?”
“Well, it’s just a hearing. It’s up to a grand jury to indict Major Lane and the Congress to change the law if it wants.” He brightened. “Hey, I’ve got two guys that are pretty anxious to see you.”
Color rushed to her cheeks. “Who?”
“Sergeant Buck Arnley and Lance Corporal Gomez. They just flew in and wanted to drop by and see you before they go home on some well-earned leave.”
She clapped her hands. Her heart beat with sudden joy. “Great! When can I see them?”
“Feel like taking a spin in that wheelchair of yours right now?”
“You’d better believe it,” she bubbled. “Oh, it’s going to be so good to see some of the guys.”
Lisa had flown down to see her after being discharged from the WLF. Cathy doubted if she would have fought back as much as she had without Lisa’s unflagging support. But, like life, Lisa had to move on and she had gone back to college to finish up her degree to become an R. N. Now, seeing some of Jim’s unit would fill that void in her life left by Lisa’s absence.
As Mackey brought the wheelchair from the corner and placed it beside the bed, Cathy reached out and hugged him. She laughed like a child who had been given the most precious gift in the world. Mackey managed an uncomfortable smile, always shocked by her ability to share her warmth and genuine care with others. There wasn’t a nurse on the floor who didn’t fight for the right to be assigned to Cathy Fremont. They all loved her, it seemed.
“Calm down, now,” he ordered gruffly, “or you could reinjure yourself.”
Cathy gripped his hand after settling into the wheelchair. “Hurry, Mac. Please,” she begged breathlessly. “I’ve got to see them….”
The sunlight was brilliant, and it warmed her like a blanket as Mackey wheeled her into the large garden area at the rear of the hospital. Tall, gangly white-skinned eucalyptus trees rose around them, their silver leaves moving languidly in the breeze. Everywhere Cathy looked, she was surrounded by bright patches of blooming tropical plants that grew so well in this balmy, seaside climate. It was a crazy quilt of color that rivaled how she was feeling at the moment. Cathy spotted both Marines in the shade of a eucalyptus at the far end of the concrete walk, looking sharp in their pressed, tan summer uniforms. A cry of utter happiness broke the afternoon stillness as she held out her arms toward the two advancing Marines. Mackey placed the brake on the wheelchair and stood back, trying not to be swayed by Cathy’s joy. He couldn’t afford to become emotionally involved with Fremont or he’d lose his objectivity and the goals he’d established for himself at the hearings.
Gomez reached Cathy first, grinning ear to ear. He planted a kiss on her cheek. Then, Arnley. He carefully embr
aced her and Cathy closed her eyes, resting her head against his wiry shoulder. The smell of his ever-present tobacco and aftershave lotion caressed her senses. The fabric of the uniform against her cheek, the momentary silence between them and the unexpected gentleness of Arnley’s action broke down all of Cathy’s shored-up defenses. She began to cry. Softly.
Buck rubbed her shoulder soothingly. “It’s all right, kid,” he whispered gruffly. “Go ahead, get it out of your system. That’s a good girl….”
Gomez knelt on the opposite side, his hand protectively covering her arm. No one looked at each other. If they had, each would have seen an awkward attempt to cover up the moisture building in the corners of their eyes.
“I’ve…been so lost without you guys,” Cathy sobbed.
Arnley wiped his right eye with the back of his hand, glaring over at Gomez. His copper cheeks were glistening with spilled tears.
“We wouldn’t desert you, kid,” he growled, squeezing her arm reassuringly. “After all, you’re one of us. Marines always take care of their own, didn’t you know that?”
“We’re a team, remember, El Gato?” Gomez whispered, choking back a sob.
Cathy pulled away, her one hand resting on the sergeant’s shoulder. Her lashes were beaded with tears and she made an effort to scrub her face dry of them. Looking at Gomez, she touched his wet cheek.
“Do you always get this sentimental?” she teased gently, her voice betraying the strain she had endured.
Arnley snorted, grinning up at the colonel. “That’s all he does in his spare time. Big crybaby.”
Gomez winked. “Aw, that’s okay, Sarge. She’s worth cryin’ over. We missed you, El Gato. You had us all worried.” And then sadness filled his voice as he continued. “At least, what’s left of us. Did you know Chesty died? Billy took a gut wound. He’s recovering—”
“This is supposed to be a happy occasion. Not a damn wailing wall.” Arnley shook his head and cupped her chin, forcing Cathy to look down at him. “Billy is gonna be all right, kid. So quit lookin’ so damned worried.” He scrutinized her closely. “You look like a skinny jaybird. Don’t they feed you ‘round this place?”
Danger Close (Shadow Warriors) Page 34