“Patoo can ride in the truck with me.”
The small boy showed a wide, toothy grin, brown eyes saucer-wide.
I hope he remembers. Yousef knew that the child would have a great responsibility one day. This would be the last trip with his father for some time. The family would be moving to Yemen soon. He’d had his brother buy a house near the beach, in Al Hudaydah. It looked out on the Red Sea. There, the boys would be protected and she would be respected.
But Yousef would survive and they would be together again. He constantly reminded his brothers and sisters that they had endured the worst that Russia and America had to offer without harm. The Islamic Emirate of Afghanistan would have new borders extending well into western Pakistan, sharia would rule the land, history would know its founder as Yousef al-Qadi, and it would be protected by nuclear weapons. And the family of Yousef al-Qadi would be strong and live long.
CHAPTER 38
“Easy.”
The rhythm of the blades’ rotation could be felt through the stretcher as William Parker started to come out of the fog.
“Take it easy.” A medic was taping an IV feed to his left arm. The medic wore a bright orange flight suit with a white flight helmet that concealed his face, but he was a sturdy, short, and well-built man. Parker tried to move, realizing suddenly that straps held him firmly to the stretcher.
“Don’t try to move. We’re less than two minutes out from the hospital.” The medic was shouting his words over the sounds of the jet engine.
“Where?”
“We are diverting to RLH.”
“What?” Parker voiced the words but could barely hear his own voice. A familiar smell emanated from the medic leaning over him. What was the smell?
“Royal London Hospital.”
Parker stared at the ceiling of the helicopter with its padded insulation. God, get these straps off. What did he mean by “diverted?” What the hell happened? His memory started to come back, like a computer warming up after being rebooted.
“What about the woman? The child?”
“I don’t know. Just got you.”
Parker knew that he had to force himself to relax. If Navy SEAL training had taught him anything, it was to not resist that which was impossible to resist. A fight against an ocean or a flooding compartment was a waste of energy. He was the only Marine Recon officer in the class, and the senior chief petty officer made it clear on day one that Parker would not make it. Being a Marine and wearing the silver bar of a first lieutenant put two targets on Parker’s back. But Parker’s 13:58 three-mile had swayed the chief.
It was the dive chamber that pushed the limit. They were sealed in this massive chamber that quickly filled with frigid water. The water rose to the point that the only remaining pocket of air was no more than a small box of matches in width, a very small box of matches. The chamber was totally dark. And the airspace was so small, the only way to breathe was to place the end of the tube into the airspace, remaining submerged the entire time. Claustrophobia quickly set in. Many candidates were dragged screaming out of the chamber just before drowning, washed out of the program. Parker had learned an invaluable lesson when the chief advised him not to fight it.
He felt the helicopter’s skids settle on the ground; the gurney started to move, but Parker’s head remained braced in a fixed position. He could tell that they hadn’t given him anything for pain, since he now felt the sting of the straps on the cut on his forehead.
Good, he thought. Treating me for a concussion means no narcotics. I’ll be clearheaded, at least.
Another man had joined the medic, pushing the gurney from behind Parker’s head. He sensed this new person was not a part of the medical staff. They passed through several hallways. The fluorescent lights went by, one after another. And then he felt the wheels of the gurney bounce.
“Thanks, lads, we’ve got it from here.”
Parker recognized the voice.
An elevator.
One man was cutting the tape that held his head in the frame. Another was loosening the body straps.
“Well, Parker, that was a close one.” James Scott pulled the last strap from Parker’s chest.
“Two in one day is pushing it.” Kevin Moncrief, now with the medic’s flight helmet removed, came around to the foot end of the gurney, loosening the rest of the straps.
“Who did it?” Parker started to lean up on his elbows when a ringing started in his ears.
“Hold on a minute.” Scott put his hand on Parker’s shoulder, pushing him back down into the stretcher.
The elevator doors opened behind his head to a hallway with little lighting. They rolled the gurney down the short hallway with Scott on one side and Moncrief on the other. Parker heard a click of a door behind his head and felt the wheels roll over another divider. He slid up on his side to see a solid metal door swing back, closing behind them as they went into another hallway deep below the hospital above. Scott turned the gurney down another hallway and then into a well-lit hospital room.
“Where are we?”
The room had all of the equipment necessary for any medical procedure. A doctor in his white coat was waiting for the new patient.
“This is our own private little hospital, Parker.” Scott was cutting the remainder of the tape holding him down.
The doctor started to flash a light in Parker’s eyes and began examining him.
“How do you feel?” The physician was starting his own mental checklist.
“Fine. How about Sadik’s wife and her child?”
“Not now,” Scott said. “This is someone we trust, but no one needs to be in any conversation beyond his own responsibility.”
The doctor moved Parker’s head and neck.
“Any wounds other than that cut on your head?”
“No.”
“Your man is good to go. A slight concussion, probably a pretty good headache tomorrow, and maybe a stitch or two in that laceration. Otherwise, nothing.”
“Can you use some of this on the laceration?” Scott handed the doctor a small tube. “We don’t need evidence of a lot of medical care.”
“Yes.” The doctor understood. “It is just inside of his hairline. In twenty-four hours no one will know the better.”
“Thanks, Doctor.”
Parker could feel the cold, sticky substance on his forehead and the pressure as the doctor pushed on the wound.
“There you go.”
The doctor left the room without saying more.
Scott waited for the door at the end of the hallway to click and then swing closed.
“What about the woman and child?” Parker repeated the question again.
“Dead.”
The word was simple, unemotional, and to the point. Scott said it in a matter-of-fact manner.
Parker wasn’t feeling so calm. “She saved my life.”
He remembered her holding the child, shielding him from the blast, whether purposefully or not. Parker looked down at his hands.
“We saved your jacket.” Scott held up the raincoat. “More importantly, what was in it.” Scott handed him the envelope with the tickets. “And this.” The small blue pack of chewing gum.
Parker was sitting on the side of the gurney as Scott laid both the envelope and packet next to him. He didn’t touch either.
“I know how you feel.” Scott’s voice changed. For the first time his tone expressed the faint hint of concern. Moncrief stood quietly in the background.