Chapter Forty
St. Mary’s Medical Center
San Francisco, California, United States of America
December 6, 09:05 a.m.
Carrie spent the night at St. Mary’s Medical Center. She had suffered a small fracture on her right arm’s ulna, about an inch away from the wrist. The bone was not broken all the way through, and doctors placed it in a removable splint. Her spinal cord was not injured, but her back muscles, disks, and ligaments had been damaged by the blunt trauma. Doctors prescribed Carrie some strong painkillers and warned her against placing excessive stress on her body and over-exercising during the next few weeks.
She called McClain on her encrypted phone and briefed him on the situation. Then she placed a call to Justin and gave him a short update. Justin was still at the Gurlar military base in Dagestan, waiting for the doctors to clear him for his travel back to Grozny and then Moscow. He was planning on meeting with Derzhavin to report on the operation against Kaziyev and the plot in the US. If everything went according to plan, Justin was going to be in Ottawa in two days, three at the most, depending on his flight arrangements.
Carrie twisted and turned in her narrow bed most of the night, waking up every half an hour or so because of strange hospital noises or stabbing back pain. She wondered if she should have opted for stronger, narcotic pain relievers, but worried that it would make her appear weak. She knew no extra points were awarded for keeping a stiff upper lip, but her training kicked in and she went into mission mode. She was confined to a hospital bed but it was no reason to forget about self-restraint.
Fox came to check on her around nine o’clock in the morning. He had changed into another white shirt and black suit, but his heavy eyes told her he had not slept much either. A tray with two Starbucks Trenta cups in his hands was another sure giveaway.
“Hi, Fox, nice to see you,” Carrie said and reached for her pillow behind her back.
“Oh, let me get that.”
Fox placed the tray with his coffee cups on the nightstand by Carrie’s bed and fluffed up her pillow. “How is it?” he asked with a smile.
“Perfect.” Carrie smiled back.
She leaned slowly against the pillow and cringed as a jolt of pain shot through her back. Thankfully, Fox had turned around so he did not see Carrie cringe. She reached for the bed remote control and adjusted the lower part of her bed, then smoothed the sheet and the blanket around her body.
“This is yours.” Fox handed Carrie one of the Trenta cups.
Carrie preferred tea but she was not going to say no to a strong black coffee and to Fox’s good-mannered gesture.
“Thanks.” She took a small sip. “Mmmmh, really good.”
“I have sugar and cream here.” Fox pointed at the tray.
“Black is fine. That’s how I like it.”
Fox sat in a chair on the right side of Carrie’s bed.
“So it’s not broken, right?” He gestured toward her arm in the splint.
“No, fractured. It will take about three weeks to heal.”
Carrie took another sip. “You know this 31-ounce Trenta is bigger than your stomach’s entire capacity?”
Fox shook his head. “No, I didn’t know that. But after last night, I could use another one.”
He brought his cup to his mouth and took a long swallow.
Carrie asked, “How did it go?”
“We cleared the construction site where you were wounded and found seven dead terrorists. Adlan Aydamirov and Fayez Ahmadi, suspected leaders of two terrorist cells in the city, were among them. The second site was about halfway to the other bridge tower and we counted six bodies there. One of the terrorists was wounded and tried to blow himself up, but we saved his life. Then we made him talk.”
Fox stopped for another long swig of his coffee. “They had rigged a large part of the bridge—its mid-span mainly—with many explosives. They had wrapped them around the suspension cables and had placed huge piles underneath the bridge deck in various sections. Some were hidden inside the columns and behind newly-repaired sections.”
“The plan must have been in the works for months if not years,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, Marinov—that’s the name of the detainee—admitted that to our interrogators. He said they had penetrated five construction firms, and three of the terrorists were employees of the Bridge Division. It was an extremely sophisticated and carefully laid plot.”
“How were they going to blow up their charges?”
“Their plan called for a series of separate blasts milliseconds apart. Marinov didn’t know all the details as he claimed he was a low-level operative.”
Carrie paused for a moment, then asked, “Do you think their plan was going to work? I mean, would the explosions have brought down the bridge?”
Fox shrugged. “I think so, if they had all blown up as planned. I’m not an explosives expert, but from the amount we’ve recovered, I think it was a very likely possibility. Even if the bridge did not collapse to the water, it would have been severely damaged.”
Carrie smiled. “I’m glad we don’t have to find out.”
Fox returned the smile. “No, we don’t, and it’s thanks to you. These fanatics were scrambling to put their plan into action after they heard about an operation that killed one of their powerful leaders in Dagestan, according to Marinov. They rushed to the bridge and blew up one of their truck bombs through a cellphone. Our jammers didn’t cover the entire bridge.”
Carrie frowned. “What’s the casualty count?”
“Six dead and three wounded, one gravely. The bridge was mostly empty and the SFPD intervened in time.”
Carrie leaned forward and shifted the weight of her body. She moved her head slowly to the left and to the right to stretch her neck muscles.
Fox took a quick sip of his coffee, then stood up.
“You’re leaving already?” Carrie asked.
“I have to. The FBI and the SFPD along with a couple of my men are still examining the entire bridge for more hidden explosives. Maybe Marinov did not tell us the entire truth or maybe he did not know everything about the extremists’ plot.”
Carrie put her coffee cup on the nightstand. “I have a couple of more tests here, but I’ll come out and give you guys a hand.”
Fox gave her a stern frown. “Absolutely not. We have all the manpower we need and you have to follow doctors’ orders and get better. Plus, you’ll have a couple of important visitors later on today.”
Carrie grinned. “The mayor, I assume?”
“And the governor. He flew from Sacramento last night and stopped at the bridge around midnight. He’s attending some high-level security meetings this morning, but he’ll stop here and at San Francis Memorial to see the folks and the officers wounded in the explosion. And even the President may give you a call.”
“Wow,” Carrie said.
“Yeah, there’s talk of a medal as well.”
“There are better men and women down there who deserve a medal more than I do,” Carrie said matter-of-factly without any trace of fake modesty in her voice. “And many others who fought in Dagestan and dug up the intel about the bridge plot in the first place. Me, I did my job, just like you did, Fox.”
He nodded. “Well, that’s a rumor that was brought to my attention. And now you know about it as well.”
“Thanks, Fox, for everything.”
“No, thank you, Carrie. And get well soon.”
“I’ll try,” Carrie said with a smile.