But she was easy on the eyes, another had said. She pulled in ratings for news stations. A woman in the middle of a war zone was attention-getting enough, but Danielle was also bright and articulate and knowledgeable.
Goose’s opinion was that she was also dangerous to herself. And, just maybe, to the people around her.
Danielle stopped at the side of the Humvee. “I didn’t think you heard me.”
“I’m busy, ma’am,” Goose replied, not addressing the question of whether he had heard her or not.
“Are you on your way somewhere?”
The cameraman hunkered down to line up a shot on Goose.
Pointing at the camera just as the bright cone of light flared out at him, Goose said, “No.”
Danielle adjusted her helmet and squared her stance. “Cezar.”
“Yeah,” the cameraman replied.
“Off.”
The cameraman looked petulant. “But you said you wanted footage of the sergeant. Said he was your golden boy.”
“He’s a first sergeant, not a sergeant,” Danielle said. “There’s a distinction. I said, off. I meant it.”
“You meant it when you said you wanted the footage, too.” Shrugging, Cezar turned the camera off and walked away. “When you decide you want to get back to the job, I’ll be over here.” He walked a few paces away and lit a cigarette.
A cargo truck pulled to a stop in front of the Humvee. Soldiers representing the American, Turkish, and United Nations forces bailed from the truck and began unloading gurneys of wounded soldiers and citizens.
“We’re in the way,” Goose said. “Got people here with jobs to do.”
“No problem.” Danielle vaulted with lithe ease into the rear of the Hummer. She settled in. “Let’s go.”
Irritated, Goose swung around in the seat to face her. “Miss Vinchenzo, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Following up on my story.”
“Get out of the vehicle.”
“No.” Determination showed in her dark eyes.
Goose was surprised to see suspicion in the woman’s gaze as well. “Ma’am, you’ll either leave this vehicle under your own steam or I’ll have you escorted off and placed under guard till I figure out what to do with you.”
“What is the CIA doing here?” Danielle demanded.
Shock locked Goose’s mind down for a moment. He took a breath to figure out his course of action.
“Don’t bother to deny it, First Sergeant,” Danielle said. “I saw the man myself.”
Goose rubbed his face with a hand. The rough contact awakened pain in a dozen cuts and scratches. Stubble rasped against his callused palm.
“Is the U.S. military working with the CIA?” Danielle asked.
“In the defense of this city,” Goose replied, “no, ma’am.”
“Then what is that CIA agent doing here?”
“You’d have to ask him, ma’am.”
“Can’t tell, First Sergeant? Or won’t?”
“The U.S. military has conducted strategic missions with CIA assistance even before the second Gulf war, ma’am. If they’re here, I’m sure their presence is a planned insertion. I’m likewise certain that if they wanted their ops plastered across the media they’d have called and scheduled an appointment with you.”
Danielle didn’t react to the sarcasm. “Do you know that man?”
“No. He introduced himself. That’s all.”
A frown knitted Danielle’s brows together. “What were he and Captain Remington arguing about?”
Goose hesitated.
“I saw them myself,” Danielle said. “You can deny it if you want to, but I’ll know you’re lying. You were standing right there. I saw you take a step forward when the CIA guy closed on Remington.”
Stepping up to the defense of his friend and superior officer was a reflex. “Ma’am, you’d have to discuss that matter with Captain Remington. Or with the other gentleman.”
“Gentleman.” Danielle snorted, folded her arms across her chest, and leaned back. “One thing I can tell you, First Sergeant, is that man is no gentleman.”
Goose’s anger subsided immediately as interest flared to take its place. He looked at the driver. “Private, give me some space.”
“Yes, First Sergeant.” The private switched off the Hummer’s engine and left the vehicle.
Goose swung his attention back to the reporter. “Do you know that man?”
Danielle gazed at Goose in open-eyed speculation. “What name did he give you?”
Shaking his head, Goose said, “No, ma’am.”
“Need-to-know basis, huh?”
“Yes.” Goose shifted in the seat, trying in vain to find a more comfortable spot to ease the throbbing pain in his knee. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got ops to attend to.”
“We need to talk.”
“We talk too much,” Goose said. “I don’t have time to give right now.”
“Then we’ll talk later.”
Goose chose a more diplomatic course. “Later.” That was his answer, but his intention was to stay too busy until she gave up on talking to him again.
“That’s lip service, First Sergeant.” Danielle glared at him, but her instant anger was distracted, too.
“Ma’am,” Goose said, “I’ve got wounded men out there and a defensive line that’s been hurt badly. I need to get to them.”
“Goose.” Danielle’s voice was softer, punctuated by a sudden distant roar of an assault rifle on full auto. “That man, whatever name he gave you, he’s dangerous. I’ve seen him before. In Romania while I was covering a terrorist group the government ordered killed.” She paused. “I was working with an informant. The informant told me about the man I saw talking with Remington in the hallway. The next day, my informant was dead. Someone had hung him inside the shower at his hotel long enough to nearly asphyxiate him, then slit his jugular and let him bleed out. He didn’t die easily.”
The declaration, devoid of emotion, shocked Goose. The woman had seen more than he would have thought. “What does that have to do with the man you saw talking to Remington?” Goose
