Deadly Salvage
Page 17
“One of my team’s wounded,” he said. “He needs a dustoff.”
The SEAL said something into his throat mic, then shot a glance at Bolan. “My medic’s moving up the other side. I’ll have him take a look. That your injured man?” He pointed to Ivan.
Bolan shook his head.
“I will take you to him,” Kournikova said.
“And please,” Bolan said, “tell me you have someone who knows how to deal with an armed Soviet nuclear warhead.”
“Yes, sir,” the SEAL said. “We’ve been trained for that.”
Bolan nodded and blew out a long, slow breath as he looked down at Grimaldi, who was still cradling Ivan’s head.
“He saved my life back there,” the pilot said, his voice barely audible.
“I know.” In the ambient moonlight, Bolan could see how stricken his old friend was. “He went out like a true warrior.”
Epilogue
Bolan, Grimaldi and Kournikova sat in the airport bar, their post-mission drinks untouched on the table. It hardly seemed a time for celebration. An empty chair was tilted forward in honor of their departed team member.
Grimaldi picked up his glass. “Here’s to my brother.”
Bolan picked his up as well. “To Ivan.”
Kournikova clinked her glass against theirs and said something in Russian. They drank. Bolan watched as she fingered the empty glass in her hand, and he wondered if she was going to throw it against the wall as the Russian tradition went.
She smiled, as if sensing his thoughts, and carefully set the glass down. “An old Russian custom, but one best left for another time.”
Bolan nodded.
He felt bad about Ivan, but things could be worse. Herman Monk had been reunited with his daughter, and they’d both been transported back to the States, along with the injured Tim Tyler. And the story of their success had hit all the twenty-four hour cable news stations, one of which was playing on the large screen television behind the bar.
“Hey, turn that up, will you?” Grimaldi called out to the bartender.
The man pressed the remote and the newscaster’s words became audible.
“...A major FBI investigation has successfully foiled a terrorist plot of unspecified origin in Puerto Rico that was apparently timed to coincide with the vice president’s visit. Special Agent Tim Tyler, shown here being transported to Bethesda Medical, is scheduled to be awarded a special medal of honor by the President.” A shot of Tyler on a gurney accompanied the voice-over.
“What the hell?” Grimaldi said, his voice drowning out the television. “Opie Taylor getting a presidential medal, and we had to wet-nurse him the whole way.”
Bolan grinned. “Well, in our line of work, if you’re waiting around for some politician to pat you on the back, you’ll have a long wait.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Grimaldi said. “But I wonder what it’d be like getting a medal pinned on you by the President of the United States.”
“Well,” said Bolan, “you can always call up Tim and ask him. I’m sure he’d be glad to tell you. You might have to buy him a beer, though. And don’t call him kid.”
Grimaldi smirked. “He old enough to drink?”
“At least,” Kournikova said, “he is alive.”
No one spoke.
The news continued with a report about billionaire industrialist Willard Forsythe Everett III, who was reported missing in a helicopter crash in the Caribbean. “Coast Guard and naval vessels are continuing to search the area.”
“Good luck with that,” Grimaldi said with a grin. “He’s fish food now.”
“Probably not even enough left for the sharks,” Bolan added.
“It is like an old Russian novel.” Kournikova got to her feet. “After much tragedy, justice finally triumphs. Now I must catch my plane.”
Bolan and Grimaldi stood.
“Sorry about Ivan,” Bolan said. “He was the best.”
She shrugged and wiped away a tear. “Sometimes good men must die for the cause. He knew the risks, as do we all.”
She leaned forward and kissed Bolan lightly on the lips. “Another old Russian custom. You know, I have to return with our navy to direct the recovery of the submarine.” She smiled. “If perhaps you find your way back here we can go for another swim.”
“Hey, what about me?” Grimaldi asked. “Don’t I get a kiss, too?”
“But of course,” Natalia said. She brought her fingers to her lips, kissed them and touched Grimaldi’s cheek. “Does a bear not shit in the woods?”
Bolan and Grimaldi exchanged glances and laughed.
Natalia smiled. “Dasvidaniya.”
They watched as she walked away. Grimaldi smiled and shook his head.
“Just tell me one thing,” he said. “How come the good-looking girls always end up falling for you?”
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781460338995
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Michael A. Black for his contribution to this work.
Deadly Salvage
Copyright © 2014 by Worldwide Library
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