Blaze of Glory (42 page)

“We’re fine, sir.”

“I ordered it, Moyer. You will eat the food and drink the coffee, then tell me how wonderful it was. Clear?”

“Clear, sir.”

“Okay, answer the chaplain’s question.”

Moyer took a breath. “We were under heavy fire and attempting escape to our extraction point. Jerry Zinsser worked his way around the hostiles, commandeered a van, and broke through another line of attackers as the A-10s were getting ready to make another pass.” He told the story of being pinned down in the church and the heroics of his team. “As we were speeding down the main road we took fire. A round went through the side of the van and hit J. J. in the thigh. Doc, who is still in the ER, stopped the bleeding or J. J. would have bled out before we could get on the V-22. Sometime during the escape Zinsser took a round in the gut.” He tried to soften the details. He knew Colonel Mac would want the information straight, but Moyer feared the impact on Tess.

As he was speaking, Doc walked into the room. Behind him followed cafeteria personnel with food and coffee.

“They told me I’d find you here,” Jose said.

“You look like a hundred miles of bad road, Doc,” Mac said.

“It’s good to see you too, sir.” Jose plopped into a chair and rubbed his eyes. “I’m going to sleep for a week.”

“What’s the word?” Moyer pressed.

Doc sighed and leaned back. “They’re working on J. J. now. The docs agree that the bullet passed through cleanly, but it did nick his femoral artery. Fortunately we got the bleeding stopped. The surgeons won’t know what needs to be done until they get in there, but I can tell you his leg looked good: pink and warm. I don’t think he’ll lose it.”

Tess gasped. “It was that bad?”

“I’m sorry, Tess, I’m not at my best. I lose all tact when I’m tired.” He paused. “Yes, the wound was bad, but I was more concerned about the effects of the tourniquet. Cutting off blood flow can severely damage a limb. During the flight Pete and I loosened the tourniquet to allow some blood flow. The human body is an amazing machine. Sometimes artery wounds will seal themselves. I’ve seen arteries in severed limbs retract and cut off blood flow on their own. Right now, my guess is J. J. will be chasing you around the sofa in no time.”

“Zinsser?” Mac said.

Jose shook his head. “He’s in rough shape. The bullet tore up his insides worse than I thought. He’s going to be in surgery for some time.”

“But you think he’ll live,” Mac said.

Jose shrugged.

Moyer studied the two people most impacted by the news: Tess and Chaplain Bartley. Bartley looked stoic. As a chaplain he had dealt with many tragedies. This, however, was personal. Moyer sensed he was being brave for Tess. She kept control of her emotions, but Moyer recognized fear when he saw it. Still, she showed more strength and grace than he thought possible.

Bartley straightened and took Tess’s hand. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need to pray. Would anyone object if I led us in prayer?”

Tess squeezed Bartley’s hand.

No one objected.

MINUTES BECAME HOURS. COLONEL Mac tried to send the team to one of the base’s barracks for sleep. Since he fell short of making it an order, no one budged. Moyer wouldn’t leave and he wouldn’t compel any of his team to do so. They survived the firefight. Now they fought a different kind of battle—one with nerves and the fear of losing teammates.

Lunch came and went. At two that afternoon, a man in uniform, a PFC, entered with a folder. He handed it to Colonel Mac, then stepped outside. Mac opened it. Inside were daylight photos of Frontera. “You guys made a real mess.” He paused and glanced at Tess. “Do you mind stretching your legs for a few minutes? The chaplain will be happy to keep you company.”

They got the hint, rose, and slipped from the room without a word.

“Confidential report?” Moyer said.

“Yeah, but I sent her out for another reason.” He passed the photos around. Bodies littered the church, some burned beyond recognition. “She doesn’t need to see this.”

Moyer took a look at the photos. He wasn’t thrilled at having to see them. Each man took a turn studying the images while Mac read a brief report. “The Mexican government has boots on the ground looking at your handiwork. We may have lost our place on their Christmas list. Twenty-two dead; eleven wounded. One marijuana field burned to the ground. Several dead in a local warehouse.”

He read more. “They have found some shallow graves. This is just a preliminary report, but they think the hostages are buried there.”

“Speaking of hostages . . .” Rich said.

Jose answered. “I checked on her earlier. Dehydrated, distraught, and confused, but she’s going to be fine.”

Mac nodded. “They found her husband’s body in the church basement.” Mac tilted his head. “You guys blew up Hernando Soto’s mansion? When did you have time to do that?”

“We didn’t,” Moyer said. “I saw a flash of light as we were flying out.”

“I guess that’s going to be a mystery for the Mexicans to solve.”

Someone knocked on the door. Bartley poked his head in. “J. J.’s doctor is here.”

Mac gathered up the photos and returned them to the file and resealed it. “Bring him in. Send in the PFC too.” Mac returned the folder with the words, “Keep me posted,” then sent the messenger away.

The doctor was a brick of a man, as if he had been chiseled from stone rather than born. His sharp features looked tired. Dark bags hung beneath his eyes. He found a seat and lowered himself into it, rubbed the back of his neck, then raised his head. “Man, what a day.” He sighed and looked around. He pointed at Tess. “I take it you’re the fiancée?”

“Yes. How is he?”

“The rest of you are part of his team?”

“That’s right,” Mac said.

“That makes you family enough for me. Your man is going to be fine. He’s a tough one, and I’ll admit that we almost lost him on the table. While trying to repair the artery, he started to bleed out again. We hung several units of whole blood and kept at it. We repaired the artery, did some work on the leg muscle, and set up a drain for the wound. He’s going to be off his feet for a while and most likely need a cane for a couple of months. I expect a full recovery if he’ll follow through with physical therapy.”

“He’ll follow through.” Tess and Moyer said it in unison, then laughed.

“You guys practice that?”

Tess offered her first real smile since she’d arrived. “No.”

Moyer wanted to ask if J. J. would be able to return to the team but decided to wait until Tess couldn’t answer for him.

“When can I see him?”

“He’s still a little out of it. We’ll keep him in the recovery room for another hour; then you can visit if you promise not to wear him out.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Tess said.

“Who’s the team medic?”

Jose stood. “I am.”

The doctor studied him for a moment then held out his hand. “Fine work. You not only saved his life; you saved his leg.” The doctor moved to the door, then paused. “Oh, I almost forgot. When we brought him out of the anesthesia, he started mumbling about moving the wedding up.”

Tess smiled. “Sounds good to me. Real good.”

Bartley put his arm around his future sister-in-law. His grin stretched ear to ear.

THREE HOURS LATER ANOTHER surgeon entered the conference room. Unlike J. J.’s surgeon this man looked to be in his sixties and was movie-star handsome. He glanced around the room. “Who’s here for Jerry Zinsser?”

Only Moyer, Rich, and Mac remained in the room. The others were visiting J. J. “All of us.”

The doctor shrugged. “He’s out of surgery but in critical condition. I’ve got him in surgical ICU. We’ll have to watch him for a few days. The bullet tore up his intestines. We had to do a lot of repair and clean up. My biggest fear is infection. He’s on heavy antibiotics and pain meds. You can visit him in a couple of hours. The pain meds will make him a little dopey, so go easy on him.”

“But he’ll live?” Rich asked.

“As long as something else doesn’t develop. We’ll know more tomorrow. Right now he needs rest. Lots of rest.” The doctor looked at Colonel Mac. “Are you his commanding officer?”

“I am.”

“You should know that there is very little chance he’ll return to field duty.”

“Understood, Doctor.”

JERRY ZINSSER GAZED AT the ceiling above him. It looked blurry and ill defined. It took several moments for him to realize he was in a hospital.
Hospital!
Fear flooded him, filling him with dread.

“Easy, pal.”

The voice was familiar. He shifted his gaze to see Moyer, Rich, and Colonel Mac standing by his bedside. Moyer and Rich were still dressed in black.

“Where am I?”

“San Antonio,” Moyer said. “Fort Sam Houston.”

Zinsser’s breathing quickened. His heart shifted to double time.

“Are you okay, son?” Mac asked.

Zinsser didn’t answer. Instead he slowly raised his left arm and was relieved to see it there. He lifted his right arm and it responded. He tried to sit up.

“No you don’t,” Rich said. “No sit-ups until you’re well. Don’t make me sit on you.”

“I need a . . . favor.” His voice wavered.

“Name it,” Moyer said.

“Someone touch my legs.”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

Moyer squeezed Zinsser’s left then right ankles. “Something wrong with your legs?”

The image of legless Brian Taylor rattled in Zinsser’s mind. “Tell me they’re there. Tell me I still have my legs.”

“Of course you have your legs,” Moyer said. “You were shot in the belly, not in the legs.”

Relief washed over Zinsser. “Okay. Thanks. Sorry.”

“You’re thinking of your friend?”

Zinsser nodded.

“You still have all your parts, Jerry, and you are going to be fine.”

He closed his eyes. He couldn’t face them.

Mac’s deep voice washed over him. “I hear you saved the team. I want to thank you for that. Moyer owes me money, and I wouldn’t know how to collect if he were dead.”

Zinsser smiled and took several deep breaths. “I think you’d find a way, sir.” He paused. “I don’t remember anything after we hit the field.”

“Yeah,” Moyer said. “You sorta checked out on us there. Rich had to carry you into the Osprey. He even gave you some of his blood.”

Zinsser groaned. “Tell me you’re kidding. I have his blood in me?”

“What?” Rich straightened. “You got a problem with a black man’s blood in your white body?”

“Not at all. It just explains my sudden urge to sing show tunes.”

Rich laughed. “See, you’re a better man already.”

CHAPTER 45

THE DOCTORS HAD CLEARED Delaram to leave the hospital. Italian intelligence, working with local police, moved her to a safe house in Rome. It was a small stone building at the southern end of the city, well away from tourists and locals. She had full run of one of the two bedrooms and the living room. The other bedroom remained reserved for one of the three guards who kept track of her.

Outside a warm evening breeze rustled through an olive tree in the front yard. Delaram was not wise in such things, but she was smart and guessed that hidden cameras covered every corner of the property and every room of the house. She wondered if there were hidden cameras in the bathroom.