Chapter 4 - THE SOLDIER WHO REFUSED TO DIE
Sergeant Marcus Green was awake when I entered his hospital room.
He looked smaller than I remembered.
That happens to people when you see them outside the circumstances in which they seem invincible.
In the field, Marcus was six feet three inches of stubborn determination, with broad shoulders, a dry sense of humor, and a talent for finding reasons to laugh when everyone else was close to breaking.
Now he lay beneath a white hospital blanket, his injured leg elevated, an IV line running into his arm.
A monitor recorded the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
His face was bruised.
His lips were cracked.
But when he saw me, he smiled.
"Ma'am, you're late."
I stopped beside his bed.
"You look terrible, Sergeant."
"With respect, Colonel, you look worse."
For the first time in nearly two days, I laughed.
It hurt my shoulder.
I didn't care.
Marcus lifted his uninjured hand.
I took it.
His grip was weaker than usual.
But it was there.
"How's the leg?" I asked.
"Still attached."
"That's an excellent start."
"Docs say I'm going to walk again."
"Then I suggest you listen to them."
He studied my face.
"Did you listen to yours?"
"Absolutely not."
"Figures."
We smiled.
Then silence settled between us.
Neither of us wanted to be the first to mention the people we had lost.
I pulled up a chair.
"How much do you remember?"
His expression changed.
"Enough."
"Walk me through it."
"Is this official?"
"Not yet."
He glanced at the door.
"Then I need to tell you something before the investigators get here."
I leaned forward.
"Go ahead."
Marcus looked toward the window.
Outside, the base lights shone against the dark.
"You remember when our communications started lagging?"
"Yes."
"It wasn't random interference."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What was it?"
"Someone was pushing unauthorized route data through the contractor maintenance channel."
"How do you know?"
"I saw the access records before the system locked me out."
I frowned.
"Why didn't you tell me immediately?"
"I tried."
He closed his eyes.
"The blast hit before I could finish."
I remembered.
A burst of static.
Marcus shouting something.
Then the entire eastern wall collapsing inward.
"What did you see?"
"A credential label. Carter Aerospace."
I remained still.
"And a system account?"
He nodded.
"Daniel Carter."
My chest tightened.
"Are you certain?"
"About the label, yes. About who was using it, no."
I was grateful for that distinction.
Even wounded and exhausted, Marcus understood evidence better than most people I knew.
He swallowed.
"There's more."
I waited.
"The failed extraction order wasn't the only problem."
"What do you mean?"
"We had a delayed signal from one of the local medical teams. A group of civilians was being moved toward the eastern gate. They'd been told it was the safe evacuation point."
I remembered seeing frightened people moving in that direction.
I had assumed the confusion came from the fighting.
"What told them that?"
Marcus looked at me.
"An automated emergency notification."
The room went quiet.
"Using our evacuation channel?"
He nodded.
I felt sick.
Our team had been sent to rescue a group of American medical personnel and dozens of civilians trapped inside a damaged humanitarian medical compound after fighting spread through the surrounding district.
The operation had been approved to remove people from a rapidly deteriorating security situation.
We had not been sent to take territory.
We had not been sent to pursue an enemy force.
Our job was simple in theory.
Get in.
Get the people out.
Get home.
But the extraction information had changed.
Communications had failed.
And now Marcus was telling me that civilians had been directed toward the most dangerous part of the compound.
Someone had not merely interfered with our rescue.
Someone had tried to shape where the victims would be standing when the next attack came.
"Who had access to those notifications?" I asked.
"Contractor maintenance and the joint coordination system. Maybe more. Investigators will have to verify."
He shifted and grimaced.
I reached for the call button.
"I'm okay," he insisted.
"You're a terrible liar."
He smiled weakly.
Then his eyes filled with something I hadn't seen before.
Fear.
Not fear of pain.
Fear of what he was about to say.
"Colonel, there's something you don't know."
I felt my throat tighten.
"What?"
"When we got back to the temporary landing zone, someone approached me."
"Who?"
"A man in civilian clothes. American. Maybe late forties."
"Did he identify himself?"
"He said he worked in technical recovery."
I frowned.
"Did he have credentials?"
"Yes. I couldn't tell whether they were legitimate."
"What did he want?"
Marcus looked directly at me.
"The data module from my equipment."
Every muscle in my body became still.
"Did you give it to him?"
"No."
"Where is it?"
He hesitated.
Then he said, "I gave it to the medic who helped load me onto the aircraft."
"Which medic?"
His eyes softened.
"Lieutenant Owen Brooks."
I felt something heavy settle in my chest.
Owen.
Twenty-six years old.
A newly married Army medical officer with a baby daughter back in North Carolina.
He had been the medic who begged me not to leave him alone.
He had been conscious when I first reached him.
He had squeezed my wrist and whispered that he didn't want his daughter growing up without knowing his voice.
I had promised him we would get home.
I had meant it.
I had broken that promise.
"Owen didn't make it," I whispered.
Marcus nodded.
"I know."
I stared at the floor.
"What happened to the module?"
"That's what I'm trying to tell you."
Marcus looked toward the door again.
"When Owen took it, he said he'd hide it somewhere no one would think to search."
"Where?"
"He didn't tell me."
I leaned back.
A missing data module.
A compromised route.
My brother's company.
Richard Voss.
And a dead medic who might have carried the evidence that explained everything.
Marcus watched me carefully.
"Ma'am, you okay?"
I swallowed.
"Yeah."
He gave me a skeptical look.
I corrected myself.
"No."
He nodded.
"Me neither."
For several minutes, we sat quietly.
Then he said something I would never forget.
"Those people got out because of you."
I shook my head.
"Because of the team."
"Because you wouldn't leave."
"Marcus—"
"No."
His voice became stronger.
"Listen to me, Colonel. When the first extraction order came through, everyone was scared. The roads were burning, the communications were failing, and we had wounded people everywhere."
I looked away.
"But you looked at that route and said something was wrong. You stayed. You found another way."
"Not everybody made it."
"No," he said softly. "They didn't."
He took a breath.
"But a lot of people did."
I wiped my eyes before he could see.
Marcus noticed anyway.
"Don't tell anyone I saw that."
"Your career would be over."
"Exactly."
I stood.
He reached for my hand again.
"One more thing."
"What?"
"That girl."
I stopped.
The little girl with one shoe.
The child who had clung to me as the building shook around us.
"What about her?"
"She asked for you."
My chest tightened.
"Where is she?"
"Transferred to Walter Reed for evaluation with the other evacuees. She's physically okay."
I closed my eyes.
"Thank God."
"Her name is Leila Haddad."
I repeated it quietly.
"Leila."
"She keeps asking for the American lady who promised not to drop her."
My throat closed.
Marcus smiled faintly.
"I told the nurse you'd come."
I nodded.
"I will."
Then his expression turned serious again.
"Colonel?"
"Yes?"
"There's something else about that girl."
I waited.
"She told the interpreter she saw a man inside the compound before the attack."
"What kind of man?"
"An American."
My heartbeat quickened.
"Did she describe him?"
Marcus nodded.
"He had a silver ring with a black stone."
I remembered something.
Richard Voss wore a ring like that.
A thick silver band.
A square black stone.
He had worn it at every family gathering for more than ten years.
I felt cold.
"Did she recognize him?"
"Not by name."
"Then how did she know he was American?"
"She heard him talking."
I leaned closer.
"What did he say?"
Marcus swallowed.
"He was telling someone on a phone that the woman in charge couldn't be allowed to get out."
I stared at him.
Marcus looked back without blinking.
"Colonel, I don't think they were just trying to stop the rescue."
May you like
He paused.
"I think they were trying to kill you."
