Two days later
Friday night
December 3 – 6:11 p.m. MST
Denver, CO
“Hi,” John said, and sat down on the bed.
Alex rolled onto her back. She smiled at him. He leaned down and kissed her lips.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Little after six-thirty,” he said.
“Wow,” she sat up in bed. “Time flies.”
He gave her a soft smile.
“Are you home for the weekend?” she asked.
“I am,” he said. “I’ve finished up with Dr. Wolfe. I won’t join the Children’s Hospital trauma team until the new year. So, I’m footloose and fancy free. You?”
“I am,” she said.
“How are the calls to refugee camps going?” John asked.
“Not well,” Alex said. “Ten years ago, I would have just gone. Of course, we would have been in the region, so that’s easier. Today, I’d rather nap.”
He smiled.
“How’s your energy level?” he asked.
“Good, mostly,” she said. “With spikes of exhaustion.”
“Your last scan shows that there’s a bit of the knife embedded in your scapula,” John said. “I’m wondering if that’s causing the hemolytic anemia.”
“What do you mean?” Alex asked.
“We know that Steve was programmed to use a specific knife, right?” John asked.
Alex nodded.
“We know the knife had Heparin embedded in it,” John said.
“Right,” Alex said.
“I’ve started to wonder if the knife has other tricks,” John said.
“Tricks?”
“What if they intended to leave that bit in you?” John asked.
“It’s hard to imagine,” Alex said. “If Steve’s programming had gone well, I should have died.”
“I know,” John said. “I’m grateful for Steve’s . . .”
“Capacity to suffer?” Alex smiled.
“Stubborn nature,” John said.
“Me too,” Alex smiled.
“The question is what to do with the bit of knife you have inside you,” John said.
“More surgery,” Alex said. “And I just got my stitches out and my bandages off.”
“Right,” John said.
Alex leaned back against the headboard and stared at nothing. When she didn’t respond, he moved over her to the bed. He tugged on her and she scooted down to rest on his shoulder. Her whole body sighed into him. They lay in the joy of their shared warmth.
“When is the surgery scheduled?” she asked.
“Tomorrow morning,” he said. “It’s unusual to do it on at the weekend, but it’s the first time they could guarantee the security required.”
“Are you doing the surgery?” Alex asked.
“Not this time,” John said. “I’ll be available to assist in case anything pops loose, but this is being done by your orthopedist.”
“Well . . . ,” Alex let out a breath. “I guess we’d better get busy.”
He laughed. She looked up at him. His cobalt-blue eyes scanned her face and he kissed her. She responded with equal fervor.
“You’re not mad?” he asked.
“Mad?” Alex asked. “Sure, I’m mad. I’m furious that no matter what I do, I can’t seem to keep those I love safe. I really try. Every adult in the house is an expert in some martial art. Even the children are martial arts trained. All the doors and windows are locked. Security everywhere and . . .”
“In walks a relative of mine,” John said.
“You couldn’t have known,” she said.
“I know,” he said. “I’m saying it’s hard for me, as well.”
She smiled.
“I’m thinking of changing the way I do things,” she said. “No active warfare, more armchair directing. Why not send in the Marines or the Seals or the Rangers – young, healthy men ready to serve their country?”
He gave her an ironic smile.
“You don’t believe me,” she said.
“I don’t,” he said. “And that’s all right. You let me take that safe, sedate job working with diabetes patients. You didn’t laugh at me or tell me I’d get bored.”
“To your face,” she smiled.
“What?” He looked offended and she laughed. He smiled.
“I’ll say this,” he said. “I like that you’re thinking about it. When we have kids, we’ll both want to be home more. It’s worth giving our lifestyle some real thought.”
“I have. I am,” Alex nodded. “Yes. Right now, I wish I never had to get on another plane ever in my whole life.”
“Uh oh,” John said. “When is your next trip?”
“As soon as I’m fit to go,” Alex said. “It’s either that or abandon Jack Mac Kinney to the refugee camps. At some point, whoever set this up is going to realize that this plan didn’t work out and Jack becomes a liability. He’s expendable now. I only hope . . .”
“What?” John asked.
“There’s a . . . story, I guess, about an Irishman; tall, thinning hair, and working as a volunteer in the camps,” Alex said. “Everyone likes him. He’s moving from camp to camp with a charity group. If it’s him, his movements either put him in more danger or are keeping him alive. I’m not sure which.”
“But you have to go,” John said.
“I think so,” Alex said. “Joseph’s been to the camps with me, but he doesn’t really know people there. This is what I mean; I have to go, but I really . . .”
“You’ve never wanted to go,” John said.
“I know,” Alex said. “It just seems stronger now.”
“In some ways, all these years later, it’s kind of nice,” he smiled.
“It feels so unfair that what I’m good at takes me far, far away from you,” Alex said. “And what you’re good at takes you far, far away from me.”
“Maybe that’s why we’re so good when we’re together,” John said.
“Because we’re good apart?” Alex asked.
“Something like that,” John said. “Are you comfortable with Dawn?”
“As our surrogate?” Alex smiled at the thought of the young, vibrant Air Force wife who’d already surrogated three healthy children. “I like her. She’s done it before, and likes us. What’s not to like?”
“I like her, too,” John said. “Should we start now? Or when you get back?”
“Mmm, when I get back, I think,” Alex said. “I’d rather create new life when my plate is a clear and I’m healthy. Knowing our luck, we’d get pregnant right away and have babies while I’m still wearing this sling. You?”
“Makes sense,” John said. “What would you like tonight?”
“Good food; good sex?” Alex kissed him. “You?”
“How about great food; great sex?” he smiled.
“What did you have in mind?” Alex asked.
“Bath; make love; dinner in bed,” he smiled. “Champagne to celebrate; cheese and crackers; or maybe Chinese like we did when we were in college.”
“What about the rest of the family?” Alex asked.
“What about them?” John shrugged.
“I like the way you think,” Alex got out of bed.
She pulled off her long-sleeved shirt with her left hand and slipped it over her right shoulder. Walking toward the bathroom, she dropped it on the floor. She was slipping off her pajama bottoms when he zipped around her to the tub. He was naked and the tub filling when she got there. She stepped into the luxury of his naked arms. With her healing chest wound pressed against his heart, she felt overwhelming gratitude for one more moment of this life. He tipped her chin up to kiss her and helped take off her bandages.
Together, they stepped into the warm bath.
FFFFF
A week and a half later
Wednesday, midday
December 15 – 11:32 a.m. PKT
(December 14 – 11:32 p.m. MST)
Near Peshawar, Pakistan
They had started in northern Pakistan three days ago. Slowly, the Fey Team worked its way south through refugee camp after refugee camp. Even with Pakistan’s recent initiatives to return refugees to Afghanistan, the settlements were a vast overwhelming press of people and problems. Many of the camps dated back to the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Entire generations had been born and died in what was supposed to be temporary housing.
Dusty and Royce had stayed in Denver to provide administrative support to the team. Raz’s head injury hadn’t healed enough for him to travel. He stayed behind to provide intelligence back up. Their official mission was to familiarize themselves with the workings of refugee settlement camps. Their unofficial mission was to find Jack Mac Kinney. With Raz’s help, they had managed to touch base with intelligence operatives along the route. The message was the same: there was a white man, probably Irish, working as a volunteer; and her old friend, Dr. Sumit Roy, wanted to see her.
So far, they had brought supplies to doctors and assisted camp leaders with work they needed done. The team was in good spirits. MJ and Vince played soccer with kids along the way, while Margaret and Leena connected with Pashtun women. After all the training, language skills, and work to get the team ready, here they were – laughing, talking, listening, and connecting.
They were every bit, every inch, the Fey Team. She couldn’t have been more proud of them. They were pretty proud of themselves.
Alex spent most of her time practicing what her father called “armchair leader” skills. She met with tribal leaders, talked to camp leaders, and connected with Medecins des Frontières doctors and administrators. She also spent a lot of time sleeping on the helicopter.
Trece never left her side. Joseph had arranged for her to partner with her friends along the way. The first day, she spent with Matthew. The next day, Troy was her partner. Today, she was spending the day with Joseph. Overall, the last few days had given her a wonderful chance to connect and catch up with her friends. While MJ worried that there was something more seriously wrong with her than a healing knife wound, mostly she worried about what would happen next, and missed Raz.
“You miss being in the middle of everything,” Jesse said. “Rank has its privileges.”
She raised her eyebrows at him. He was standing in the middle of the passenger section of the Pave Helicopter. He laughed. She put her hand on her right arm where her new Fey Team tattoo lay.
“I wondered when you’d notice that,” Jesse said. “Yes, I got one too.”
She smiled.
“I am, after all, the very center of the Fey Team now,” Jesse said.
Alex tried not to snicker. The music was blaring a mix of “Tik Tok,” “Break Your Heart,” and “Imma Be,” and the other top one hundred songs of the year. After spending a night with Captain Jan and his team in Peshawar, they were chasing down their best lead – the white man was in a refugee camp outside of Kabul.
“How did he pull that off?” Matthew asked.
“No idea,” Alex smiled.
She heard a laugh and looked across the helicopter. They had picked up sixteen-year-old Mohamed Ali Sher and his wife, Khudija. Alex could barely believe that it had been sixteen years since Jax had forced his way into a birthing chamber to save Sher and his twelve-year-old mother’s life. Sher laughed at something Joseph said, and Alex smiled. Sher was handsome, smart, and funny. Jax would be really proud of him.
They were taking the couple to work with Dr. Sumit Roy in the Charahi Qambar and Nasaji Bagrami refugee settlements near Kabul. Sumit and his wife had agreed to mentor Sher for two years, an experience that almost guaranteed him a position at any medical school in the world. Sher demanded Khudija come with him. She wore a blue Hijab and light-green dress that matched her green and umber eyes. Alex saw Margaret was talking to the girl, so Alex clicked her headset to their channel to eavesdrop.
“We moved to Peshawar so that I could improve my knowledge,” Khudija said in Pashto. “The Taliban has banned learning for girls in our region again. But my husband says that we are the hope of our people. We must take advantage of our opportunities to learn and assist our tribe in the twenty-first century.”
“I know that,” Margaret said in Pashto.
“You do?” Khudija asked.
“It’s not very different for me and my people,” Margaret said. “I feel caught between what feels natural to me – stay at home, have children, make a garden, take care of my grandparents – and what only I can do – help my clan and tribe transition to the first world.”
“My mother cried when I left. She wanted me to fall pregnant and stay with her while Sher went to learn, but . . . ,” Khudija gave a soft shrug. “I must do what my husband and his father request of me. I must not let them down.”
“That’s tough,” Margaret nodded.
“You are an American,” Khudija said. “How can you feel the same pressures?”
Noticing Alex’s gaze, Margaret glanced at her and then back at Khudija.
“I’m Diné,” Margaret said. “Like you’re Pashtun.”
“That’s your tribe? The Diné?” Khudija asked.
“Yes,” Margaret said. “My uncle says that only a few of us have the chance help our tribe, our world, because only a few of us can bear the enormous cost.”
Khudija looked around the helicopter compartment until she saw that Alex was watching her.
“Sher is fairy born,” Khudija said. “That’s what my father said. ‘You will follow him to great places,’ my father said. ‘Make sure you keep up.’ So far, I’ve been to Peshawar and now to Kabul. Sher says someday we will go to London or America. He wants me to be a doctor, too.”
“Can you do that?” Margaret asked.
“We have been engaged since we were ten years old,” Khudija said. “His father selected me because I was the smartest girl in my village. I have studied . . . a lot. I thought we would get married a year after we were engaged like most of my friends, but Sher’s father said to wait.”
“Probably better, don’t you think?” Margaret said.
“I wouldn’t mind a baby,” Khudija said. “But Sher’s mother had trouble, so we shall wait until we are ‘mature.’”
“When is that?” Margaret asked.
“The studies show that mothers over the age of nineteen have less infant and mother mortality,” Khudija said.
Margaret smiled.
“See, I am smart,” Khudija said.
“Yes, you are,” Margaret smiled. “Will Sher mind if you’re smarter than he is?”
Khudija blushed and shook her head.
“He already knows?” Margaret asked.
Khudija gave her a sweet smile, and Margaret laughed. The helicopter tipped to the left and flew over Nasaji Bagrami. Khudija looked a little green.
“What’s wrong?” Margaret asked.
“I will meet Dr. Roy’s wife today,” Khudija said. “She will be like a mother-in-law to me. She can tell me to do anything, even prostitute myself, and I will have to do whatever she says. My father and mother were very careful in my marriage, but this . . .”
Margaret smiled.
“Why did you smile?” Khudija asked.
“The LC said that Dr. Roy is an obstetrician,” Margaret said.
“No, Dr. Roy is a general practitioner with a specialty in emergency medicine,” Khudija said. “They are different.”
Margaret smiled and waited. The girl looked at Margaret for a while, before a dawning realization came over her.
“Dr. Roy’s wife is a doctor?” Khudija said.
“I guess they worked in refugee camps right after they were married,” Margaret said. “They went to medical school together. She asked to return to the camps after living in London for a while. They brought their youngest two children. The LC said they are blissfully happy. Dr. Dalal Roy would like you to be her assistant and help with the pregnancies and births. Didn’t Sher tell you?”
“Yes, yes he did, I just . . . ,” Khudija shrugged. “I thought there was only one Dr. Roy.”
Margaret laughed, and Khudija smiled. The helicopter began to descend and Joseph put his hand on her leg to get her attention. She turned to smile at him.
“Bad news,” Joseph said. “I just got word that Emal and Nazo’s village was attacked by Taliban.”
“When?”
“A month ago,” Joseph said. “Eyes on the ground arrived there yesterday. Before you ask, Emal and Farooq are confirmed dead and there’s no word on Felicia or Nazo.”
“There must be some mistake,” Alex nodded to reassure herself. “Nazo and Farooq live in Kabul.”
Felicia Niazi and Farooq Smith had grown up in the projects of Chicago. They went through basic training and did two tours in Iraq and a tour in Afghanistan together. In the last month of their last tour as Army grunts, their team had wandered through a hilly village and the old friends ran right into love. Nazo and her older brother, Emal, were returning to Kabul University when they were stopped by their unit.
It wasn’t much more complicated than that. A year later, when Farooq and Felicia were out of the service, the Fey Special Forces Team had attended their joint wedding.
“I’m sorry,” Joseph said. “I think we have to assume the worst.”
“Let’s hope the intel is wrong,” Alex said.
He gave her a vague smile and Zack settled the helicopter in the landing zone next to the camp. Matthew, Joseph, and Alex, with Trece at her side, walked to where the camp administrators waited for them. A bored group of men stood nearby to watch them, and a crowd of people gathered to see what was happening. Children raced in front of them to see if they had candy. Alex and Matthew gave them hard candy while the team passed out oranges from the helicopter.
They were halfway across the sandy space when a man darted toward them. Before they could react, he slammed into Alex’s right shoulder. Alex gasped and knocked into Matthew. Joseph caught them before they landed on the ground.
“Proper dress,” he said in Arabic. “Infidel. Slut. Whore.”
He raised his hand to hit her, but found himself staring down Trece and his machine gun. The man spat at her instead. The camp security rushed forward to remove the man, but as fast as he had appeared, he disappeared among the people, dust, mud huts, and tents of Nasaji Bagrami.
MJ and Colin jumped out of the helicopter and ran to them.
“Are you all right?” Joseph yelled over the helicopter noise.
“Tore something,” Alex said. “I need . . .”