Max.
Smoothly the commander stepped up to intercept the group. He opened his badge case and froze the security guys in place.
“Who’s in charge?” the commander asked.
The three security guys looked at the nurse.
“We won’t need you,” the commander said.
The three security guys faded like morning mist.
Suddenly alone, the nurse looked around nervously.
“I’ll need to speak to the doctor in charge of Gunnery Sergeant McHenry,” the commander said.
“Doctor is busy.”
“Then get someone else who can sign Sergeant McHenry out.”
“Only the doctor can do that.”
The commander sighed. “Then find the doctor and get him here.”
The nurse looked like she was going to protest, but there was something in the commander’s steely gaze that broke her in an instant. She turned and hurried away.
The commander walked back to Shel. “Are you ready to get out of here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s get your kit packed. I’ve got a bed and a doctor waiting for you back at camp.”
Shel grimaced.
“I’m pulling rank on this doctor only to get you clear of the situation so we don’t endanger civilians,” the commander said. “We took Victor Gant down this morning, but that doesn’t mean all the Purple Royals are going to stay clear. Do you read me?”
“Five by five, sir.” Shel saluted.
“Then let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”
Shel took a step and almost fell. Even though he’d been prepared for the eventuality, knowing Shel would push himself past the point of endurance, Don couldn’t get to him in time. But the commander shifted so quick Don almost didn’t see the movement. He slid under Shel’s arm and supported him.
“I’ve got you,” the commander said. “Do you want a wheelchair?”
“No, sir. I got out here on my own two feet. If you don’t mind helping me, I’ll get back the same way.”
“All right.”
Amazed, Don watched them go. Max walked on the other side of Shel.
“Your brother’s a tough man,” Remy said.
“He always has been,” Don said.
“Give him a couple of weeks, he’ll probably be good as new.”
“I know.” Don took a breath and let it out. “I worry about him, though.”
“It’s okay to worry,” Remy said. “It’s good to worry. But you have to realize that he’s going to chart his own course no matter what you say or do.”
“I know that.”
“Brothers are special,” Remy said in a wistful voice.
The tone caught Don’s attention immediately. Whenever someone said cryptic things like that, sounding as if they were halfway in the present and halfway in the past, he knew there was a story. There was always a story.
“You have brothers?” Don asked.
“One,” Remy said but didn’t turn to look at Don. “I had one.”
“I’m sorry,” Don said.
“Yeah,” Remy said. “Me too.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to get going if I’m going to stay up with the commander. It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Don.”
Don took the hand Remy offered. “It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Remy. And if you ever feel the need to sit down and talk about brothers, I’m here.”
Remy held his gaze for a moment. Don saw the pain in the other man’s eyes.
“I appreciate that,” Remy said. “Maybe someday.” Without another word, he took his hand back and walked away.
Don watched him go and wondered at the pain and confusion he’d seen in Remy’s gaze. But Don knew from years of experience that whatever the story was, it was meant for another time.
33
›› Braddock Road
›› Lake Barcroft, Virginia
›› Thirty-Two Days Later
›› 0717 Hours
Death struck without warning on Braddock Road.
Seated in the back of the Suburban, Victor Gant stared through the dust-covered windshield between the two FBI agents. He was cuffed at the ankles and wrists, and the chains from both of those were secured to the thick leather belt around his waist.
Hospitality since he’d been among the FBI under Urlacher’s care had dropped tremendously. Victor no longer received much in the way of preferential treatment. In fact, he was convinced that any day Urlacher would send him back to Charlotte and let them prosecute him.
Victor stared at the forest on either side of the two-lane asphalt road. The early morning sun had barely started to penetrate the tightly packed trees.
“You know,” Special Agent Ralph Pittman said from the seat beside Victor, “this game you’re playing with Urlacher has about run its course.”
Victor ignored the man. Pittman was in his late thirties, old enough to talk with some experience but still too young and too full of himself to know when to shut up.
“Urlacher’s getting tired of bagging small fish,” Pittman said.
The MS-13 connection Victor had given the FBI wasn’t small. Victor knew that. It had been a major coup locally, but it wasn’t the international connection Urlacher wanted.
Victor also knew that not giving Urlacher that information was the only thing keeping him alive at the moment. If he ratted Tran out and Tran found out about it, his life would be over.
But he could hold out only so long.
When the driver’s side window suddenly cracked and the driver’s head jerked sideways and blossomed crimson, Victor thought the sniper had been after him. He realized what the danger was before any of the FBI agents in the car did. After all, none of them had ever had to deal with Charlie shooting at them from the brush.
Victor ducked his head into his lap and wrapped his hands over the back of his head. He’d seen guys who had lost a finger or two in an attack but had kept their heads intact.
The Suburban swerved out of control. The agent in the passenger seat grabbed the wheel and tried to keep the vehicle on the road. Despite his efforts, the vehicle swerved across the oncoming lane.
Two blocker vehicles, one in front and one in back, accompanied the transport Suburban. Instead of keeping Victor in lockdown at FBI headquarters in Quantico, Urlacher had demonstrated control by having Victor roused at 5:30 each morning he was going to be interviewed, then driven from the safe house near Lake Barcroft.
For the last two weeks, Victor had been out of ideas. The only thing that had kept him going was his stubborn refusal to give up and give in.
Now he was going to die.
Explosions sounded all around him.
Pittman cursed and pulled his pistol from his hip.
For an instant, Victor thought about attacking the man and taking the pistol from him. The chains were too
