by Julie Rowe
The two men paused, engaged in an intense whispered conversation, then waved at Tom to go inside. They backed away, talking to each other before splitting up and going in different directions.
Great. The whole village was going to know a bunch of sick guys were in the old hospital. A bunch of guys who weren’t villagers.
Unfortunately there was nothing she or they could do about it.
Off in the distance, there was the faint sound of gunfire. Rapid, repeating shots. The supplies dropped would have landed that way. The militants and anyone else in the vicinity must be fighting over them.
Had most of the militants gone after the supplies?
She looked over the village and found a knot of women at the well gathering water. Other people seemed to be taking advantage of the lack of armed men to do needed errands, as there were more people out and about than she’d seen since they’d arrived.
A head popped up over the edge of the roof. Tom. He looked around, but couldn’t see her, hidden as she was in the brush.
She slid out and he nodded in appreciation of her hiding spot.
“Taking over?” she asked when he got close.
“Yeah, Max wants you inside.”
“Got it, thanks. Most of the militants took off after the bait. The two guys who challenged you split up to spread the word. We’re going to have trouble.”
“Shit. Well, we’ll see how far we can stretch the I’m sick card.”
“Cough convincingly,” she urged as she left.
She was careful to look for any watchers as she got off the roof the same way she got on it, then went inside the building.
Daylight made it easier to see the dilapidated entranceway filled with leaves, dirt and other debris that must have been blown inside during the time it had been uninhabited.
Chairs were collected in an intricate knot of legs in one corner.
Chirping alerted her to a bird’s nest clinging to the wall and ceiling in another corner.
Movement deeper inside the building grabbed her focus. A man dressed like she was watched her, his rifle cradled in his arms, ready to fire.
“Stone?” he asked.
“Cold,” she said, making light of the name she was often called after a particularly hard training session.
“Colonel wants to see you.”
“You are?” All bundled up the way he was, he could have been twenty different men she knew in the Special Forces.
“Frank Jessup.”
“Demolitions,” she said, his face appearing in her mind’s eye.
“Gotta love the boom,” he replied as she passed him. “Later.”
Alicia walked toward the operating room Max had been trying to clean when she left, and found it full of men, duffel bags of medical and scientific equipment, and weapons. At first she couldn’t see Max at all, then he appeared from behind a group of four soldiers who’d found a way to get the big spotlight moved out of the way.
A small hand grabbed the back of her pants and she glanced down to find Berez standing behind her, peeking around her leg to see what was going on.
One of the soldiers saw the kid. “What’s he doing here?”
Everyone in the room stopped to look.
Chapter Eighteen
Max looked up at team commander Sergeant Greg Nolan’s question to see Alicia in the doorway of the room, the smallest boy hiding behind her.
“The child,” Max said into the silence, “along with his brother and father, is under our protection.”
“For fuck’s sake, we don’t have time for that,” Nolan said, irritation making his tone harsh enough to make the child duck behind Ali a little further.
“No, I don’t have time for it,” Max corrected him. “You, however, have plenty of time to play nice with the locals. Sergeant Stone is going to collect a few samples for me to test while you and your team keep the militants from killing everyone.”
Nolan stared at Max, his face immobile for several seconds. “Twelve men aren’t enough to keep the peace in a place this size.”
“I didn’t say you had to pin a sheriff’s badge to your chest. The militants are a dangerous and unpredictable threat. They’ve burnt down one building with a significant amount of my equipment in it and killed a number of people. They seem especially interested in capturing Americans. I’d like to know if they’re just fishing or if they’ve already taken Western aid workers captive with the idea of demanding a ransom.”
Max watched Nolan chew on that for a few moments.
“Yeah, that we can do. I’ll leave a couple of guys here to keep people out.” Nolan glanced at his men. “Hunt and Jessup can stay. The rest of us will move out. We’ll check in with you in one hour.”
“Very good,” Max replied. He wasn’t sure Nolan would have heard anything else.
Alicia shuffled out of the way, her young tagalong still stuck to her legs as the team left.
“Sir,” said the one man who’d stayed behind. “I’m Sergeant Jimmy Hunt, medic.”
At least this one wasn’t throwing sarcasm into his face. Yet. He began sorting the duffel bags into a semblance of order. “Well, Sergeant Hunt, care to tell me why Commander Nolan has his panties in such a twist?”
“It’s not you, sir,” Hunt explained. “He’s pissed off at the rotten intel we’ve been getting on this situation. There weren’t supposed to be militants in this place at all, but there are. And now they seem to be multiplying.”
“Given the rapid way people are dying here, that’s saying something,” Ali put in.
“The loss of your equipment and the need for a second team makes his neck itchy, sir.”
“I knew I was at fault somewhere.” Max opened the first duffel bag and pulled out a roll of heavy duty plastic sheeting and some duct tape. “Here, take this end,” he ordered Hunt, then rolled the plastic over top of the long counter that ran the entire length of one wall. Once the plastic was cut and taped into place, Max went back to the bag and pulled out a package of nasal swabs.
Alicia came over, with the boy still clinging to her like Velcro, and took the half-dozen swabs he handed her.
“Go now,” he ordered her. “While people are still distracted by the supplies. Who knows how difficult it will be to get samples once things start to calm down.”
She glanced at Berez.
Max smiled at the child, not much more than three years old, and held out his hands. The boy hesitated only a little before moving into his arms. “Come on,” he said to Alicia. “I’ll return him to his father.”
Max glanced at Hunt. “Do me a favor and cover the other set of counters? I won’t be long.”
“No problem.” Hunt’s relieved smile told Max he’d have to make sure the kids and father stayed away from the operating room.
Ali walked out ahead of him and down the hall to the room the boy’s father had claimed for them. The father and older brother were sleeping.
Max put the younger boy down and said to him in Arabic, “Time to sleep.”
The little one lay down and closed his eyes.
Ali, who’d stayed by the door, led the way out, but Max stopped her before they reached the OR.
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
“No, but I think I’m the best one for the task.”
“Okay, I agree, but we both need more sleep. After you take the samples, I want you back here for some rest.”
She rolled her eyes. “Max, stop mother-henning me. You don’t have the right equipment for it.”
He smiled under his mask. “I’ll take that under advisement. Carry on.”
She saluted smartly and headed out.
In the OR, Hunt had covered the other counter and was going through the bags. He glanced up as Max came in. “
This is an impressive setup, Colonel.”
“Every man has got to have a hobby.” Max began removing items from the duffel bags and placing them on the counters.
Identifying flu viruses was easy up to a point. There were a number of faster detection testing methods available to positively identify influenza. Some of those tests could also differentiate between influenza A, B and C. But determining the specific subtype of influenza—the most common of which were H1N1, H1N2, H3N2—required testing that was neither easy nor cheap. Determining the specific genetic code of a virus to ascertain if it had the potential to become a pandemic threat required a very well-equipped lab.
Max was using one of a handful of analyzers that could accurately determine the specific strain of flu of a sample in very little time.
By the time he had all his equipment unpacked, plugged into the rechargeable batteries and ready to go, Ali was back with the half-dozen samples she’d volunteered to collect.
Her face, what he could see of it, was pale, her eyes almost black.
“What’s wrong? You look...” he studied her face “...sick.”
“I found a lot of dead people,” she said, her voice heavy with sadness and a note of fear. “A lot more of them are sick and soon to be dead.”
“How many dead? Sick?”
“I counted fifty dead and twenty or thirty sick, just collecting those samples.” She met his gaze. “I stayed close by. I have no idea what’s happening on the other side of the village or in the tents.” She swallowed hard. “I also found one body in the street, not far from here with a note written on a piece of cloth covering the dead man’s face.”
A note? Horror took hold of Max’s vocal cords. “What did it say?”
“‘The wrath of God,’ in Arabic.”
“It’s Akbar,” Max managed to say. “It has to be.”
“Does that change our plan?”
It was a valid question. “We don’t have enough information. He’s playing head-games. We should know if there are extremists holding hostages soon from Nolan.”
“Don’t expect good news, Max.” She walked to the wall, leaned her back against it and slid down to sit on the floor. “I’m just going to rest here, if that’s okay.”
“Ah, yes,” Max said sagely. “The first rule of bodyguarding is to stay with the body. Of course you can stay.”
“Is that the reason you’re here, Stone? As the colonel’s bodyguard?” Hunt asked.
Ali gave him a sideways glance. “No, I’m after his Italian recipe collection.” She frowned. “Why did you think I was here?”
Hunt slid Max a look before answering. “Rumor had it you and the colonel are knocking boots.”
“Huh, that must be why Nolan was giving me attitude,” Max said.
Ali laughed. It was a tired and sore sound, but it was still a laugh, and Max would take it.
“I’m here because his aim is terrible and he couldn’t win a wrestling match with a fly,” Ali said, the humor in her voice making her sound almost normal. “Do me a favor and spread that around, okay?” She closed her eyes and appeared to drop off into sleep.
“Was that really the rumor?” Max asked Hunt as he began the first round of testing.
“Yeah, someone saw her coming out of your room one night.”
Sometimes the best way to combat an insidious rumor was with the truth. “She did.”
“Sir?” Hunt asked.
“She snuck in to demonstrate how easy it was for an enemy to lie in wait. Scared a couple of years off my life and smacked me down hard. It nearly made me ask for someone else, but...” Max shrugged. Was misdirection a lie? “She’s the best.”
“She is. She’s one of us.”
The simple statement confirmed Max’s theory about where Nolan’s sarcasm had come from. Out of some misguided attempt to protect her or show solidarity with her.
“I’ve worked with several other Special Forces soldiers and I respect your training and your trainers. I need her and I need you and your team. I can’t do this—” Max waved his hand at all the lab equipment “—without your help.”
Hunt nodded as his expression shifted, became resolute and determined. “How bad do you think this outbreak is going to get?”
Max didn’t respond right away. The question only sounded simple, but it wasn’t. Viruses weren’t known for following rules or staying between the lines. “Any answer I give you would be sophistry, because I just don’t know, but...”
Hunt proved he was a smart communicator by staying quiet and letting Max pick his way through what he wanted to say and what needed to be said.
“...I’m afraid the death toll is going to be very high, and we’ll be lucky to keep it confined to this village.”
“Lucky to keep it confined?”
“If this virus spreads and its infection and mortality rate stays as high as it is now, we could be looking at the next great plague.”
“Like the swine flu epidemic in 2009?”
“Oh no,” Max told him. “Nothing like that.”
Hunt appeared to relax.
“Much, much worse,” Max finished.
Hunt’s eyes widened. “Shit.”
Max fell silent as he finished setting up the first test.
Hunt alternated between watching him and keeping an eye on the interior of the building.
Alicia seemed to be deep into sleep. A good thing. She’d been on alert for a long time, over twenty-four hours, with very little rest. Despite how tough she was, he worried that she was pushing too hard.
She wouldn’t like it if she knew what he was thinking, letting her sleep longer than she probably wanted.
As he started the test, he realized the chatter over the Special Forces radio had fallen to near silence.
He walked over to Hunt. “Should I be worried about the lack of conversation over the radio?”
“Sir, Nolan used the code word for our communications are being monitored. Someone out there is listening in.”
Max’s jaw dropped. “How is that possible?”
“Someone probably got a hold of at least one of our radios.”
“Theft? From where?”
“Things have been going missing,” Hunt said, his voice low and unhappy. “From a number of places on the base, some ours, some locally run.”
“That fits Akbar’s SOP. He likes to work havoc from the inside, and has been behind at least two of the most recent attacks in this part of the world. He’s ruthless and completely without conscience. He doesn’t even care if he kills himself.”
Max kicked himself for the umpteenth time. If he’d figured this out just a few hours sooner, a lot of deaths could have been prevented.
“We were all briefed on him. Scary bastard.” Hunt went back to watching the door. “Here comes Nolan.” He disappeared out the door.
Max glanced at Alicia. Still asleep. She’d earned it.
He left the room and met Nolan along with a half-dozen of his team in the hallway outside the operating room. Hunt was speaking in a low tone to him and Nolan’s gaze met Max’s for a brief, intense moment.
Was his love life or Ali’s that fucking important?
“Someone’s listening in?” Max asked the team leader.
“Yeah.” Nolan shook his head. “We’ve got a hell of a clusterfuck brewing here, Colonel. We counted at least thirty armed men and more were coming in. The supply drop was a good idea. From what we could see, these people have been isolated for long enough that they were running out of food and basic supplies.”
“Did the militants get it all?”
“No, sir. They got a lot of it, but the locals got to a couple of crates before anyone else could come in and chase them off.” Nolan stopped to take a breath. “Sir, I estimate that a thi
rd of the population is dead.” The last word almost seemed to echo. “Another third are sick.”
“What about aid groups? Did you find any that are operating?”
“Not really. Pretty much all of them are dead already, although I did find a couple people from the Red Cross, but they’re both sick and refused to let us get close enough to them to ascertain how sick they are.”
“Damn it.”
“The militants are going to be a problem very soon. You’re right about them looking for Americans. They’re searching tent to tent and house to house, but they are avoiding places with sick and dead.”
“Are they aware of you?”
“That’s how we found out they’re tuned in to our station. One of my guys found a bunch listening in. Now, we told everyone we came into contact with that we were sick and got chased out of a lot of places, tents and houses. That might buy us some time, but we’re going to need a shoot-and-run plan or three ready for when they do finally come after us.”
“I’ll leave that up to you and your team,” Max told him. “You’re the experts.” He was about to turn back to his makeshift lab, but stopped to share the piece of information Nolan needed to know at the moment. “The only person you have to impress is Sergeant Stone. She gets final say on any plans that involve me running, shooting or fighting in any way.”
Nolan frowned. “That’s not how we usually do things—”
“I don’t give a shit.” He didn’t. “Her mission is to keep me safe, so it’s her ass that’s on the line if something goes wrong on your shoot-and-run plan.” Max pointed his index finger at Nolan to punctuate his next words. “You clear it with her or it doesn’t happen, do you understand, Sergeant Nolan?”
Except for a slight raise in his eyebrows, Nolan managed to keep his face neutral.
Max wasn’t sure if it was because the other man was surprised, impressed or disgusted by Max’s words, and he didn’t care. All Nolan had to do was follow his own orders.
“Yes, sir,” Nolan said with a salute. “I’ve got a few men in watch positions around the neighboring buildings, so we should have some warning if things are about to get FUBAR.”