Goose felt antsy and ready to get on with it, but he knew Timmons needed the answers to the questions he was asking. He was also aware that the families might only have minutes left before fire or smoke inhalation took them. Or before another unexploded shell went off. Staying active helped him keep his mind off the rift growing between Cal Remington and himself, and off the loss of Chris.
“If there was one round in there,” Timmons said, “there might be more.”
For a moment Goose thought the man might be looking for a way to deny the rescue.
“But if it wasn’t dangerous,” Timmons said with a painful grin, “everybody’d want to work SAR.” He took an oxygen tank and mask from one of his crew and pulled them on with practiced skill, then told them the frequency his team would operate on while inside the burning structure. “We can’t save the building, First Sergeant. We’re all but out of water. But we’ll get those people out of there.”
“Good luck,” Goose said.
The fire-rescue corporal gave Goose a thumbs-up and headed into the building carrying a fire axe.
The experts were in charge here now. All Goose could do was wait. Not wanting to think about the fiery paths the men trod inside the burning wreck or the family they might not reach in time, Goose looked for some quick distraction.
He tuned his headset to the general frequency and listened to the reports pouring into Command. Ranger recon teams worked to update the city’s damage and losses sector by sector, combining their resources with those of the Turkish and U.N. forces.
The death toll and property loss were staggering. Reporters covered a lot of the action, but even the violence that had once again swept over Sanliurfa was eclipsed by the globalwide disappearances.
One of the newest stories getting a lot of play on the news was about a United Nations address by Romanian President Nicolae Carpathia. He was the same man who had cut off U.S. military access to his communications satellite while keeping OneWorld NewsNet in place in the city.
Goose had dismissed the stories. Carpathia was a politician; he was just seizing headlines the way politicians did to carry out their own agenda. All that remained was to see what his agenda was.
Although several of the reporters seemed to think the U.N. address was a big deal due to the present circumstances around the world, Goose had listened politely when it was mentioned, then gotten on with his recon details. Whatever Carpathia was doing, it couldn’t touch him. He still didn’t even know if he was getting out of his present assignment alive.
Or with a career intact.
Goose told himself that he was overreacting to the confrontation with Remington. But at the same time, subconsciously, he knew he was afraid that the captain was going to step over a line. Cal Remington wasn’t a man who graciously lost an argument or a battle. Whatever steps the captain took against the CIA, if there were repercussions, they would definitely spill over onto his first sergeant.
Clicking back into the rescue frequency, Goose listened as Timmons and his team relayed what they encountered. Robinson’s com gave them information he was able to get from the trapped family. They were on the fourth floor in the southeast corner.
“Lotta glad-to-see-yas, Search Twenty-Two,” the com operator said. “Guy also tells me there may be people in the basement who didn’t get clear.”
“We’ll check it out,” Robinson said in a steady, confident voice. “Get me directions to the basement.”
Goose shifted his weight in an attempt to ease some of the throbbing in his knee. He took his canteen from his hip and drank. In the heat, a soldier was supposed to drink whenever he could, as long as water rations were good, to remain hydrated. Those were standing orders. “Com,” one of Timmons’s SAR men radioed back, “affirmative on the basement-door find. Got a heap of debris blocking the way.”
“Six, this is One,” Timmons said over the com. “Did you get the fire contained in that area?”
“Affirmative, One. We’ve got the fire here contained, but it’s still raining down on us.” The man’s voice sounded strained and alien through the oxygen mask.
“We passed up the ignition point on the second floor, Six,” Robinson replied. “You guys are under the hot spot. Keep an eye on the roof. It could all come down on you.”
Goose watched the building burn and hated the useless feeling he had simply standing here. He needed to be helping, to be doing something to bring life out of death. He couldn’t remember how many dead bodies he’d looked at so far, but he knew he’d never forget their faces. A number of teens, citizens of the city as well as sons and daughters of vacationers, had been among the dead. Thank God there were no children.
And that one small realization, that the children had been spared this massacre, rocked Goose. God loved children. Bill Townsend had always told him that. After Chris had been born, news about kids getting killed or hurt had hit Goose differently, on a more personal level. When one of the soldiers in his unit had lost a son to cancer, Goose had struggled to accept the death. In his mind, that could have been Chris. Children weren’t supposed to die, but they did. The world was filled with monsters, accidents, and diseases.
And he had brought a child into that war zone.
When Goose had turned overprotective, Megan asked Bill what she should do. Bill had interceded and talked to Goose about God then. Goose had listened, tried to understand that children who died were admitted to heaven unconditionally.
The thought of losing Chris had gradually waned. Hearing Bill’s convictions helped Goose, as his advice and counsel always had. Goose missed his friend now. Everything that was going on would have been a little easier, a
