me Doc.”
“Thank God. You’re a doctor.”
“Nope. Got that tag when I was a medic. First job after I joined up at age eighteen. Even after I went to spook school, it just stuck.”
Great, Holly thought. Anything he had learned would be dated by at least thirty years.
Jack interrupted. “The rest of you stay put on the chopper. We’re taking off in about ten. Okay, ready to transport?”
Holly helped roll Will far enough out of the chopper for Jack to get a grip on the upper half of his body while Grayson took his legs. Together they carried him the short distance to the house. Holly opened the door and stepped aside, cautioning them to be careful not to bump him around so much.
Will woke up with a start, his head nearly exploding. The dryness in his throat reduced his cry to a groaning curse and he struggled with whoever was holding him.
“Steady now. We’ll have you settled in a minute,” Mercier said.
Will vaguely recalled there’d been trouble in the hospital. “Put me down. I want…to stand.” He had to know if his legs worked. He had to know. “Please,” he grunted.
“Not a good idea,” he heard Holly say, but they stood him upright, bracing him so he wouldn’t fall.
With effort, he straightened his legs and felt his bare feet resting solidly on the floor. It was everything between his feet and his head that gave him problems. His bones seemed to have melted, his muscles reduced to mush. Tingling mush, as if they had all gone to sleep. Damn!
“Here’s your bed, sir, right behind you. Go ahead and sit down,” said an unfamiliar voice filled with concern. It was deeper than Mercier’s, not as clipped and forceful, but with the same speech patterns. Will thought he should ask who the man was…tomorrow, maybe. He felt his mind slipping, seeking rest.
A softness caught him, pillowed his aching head. Someone lifted his legs and covered him with a blanket. No, a quilt, he realized as he closed his fingers around the puffy upper edge and felt the stitching.
He drifted back into boyhood. Cool summer nights. Grandmother tucking him in, brushing his hair off his forehead, tapping his nose with her finger. “Morning’s waiting on you,” he mumbled right along with her, smiling back.
Her soft laugh sounded younger. “So it is. Go back to sleep, Will.”
“What did he say?” Jack asked. They had settled Will in and Grayson had left them alone.
Holly busily adjusted the covers again, even though they didn’t need it. “He said ‘morning’s waiting,’ and he’s right about that. You’d better take off if you want to make McLean by sunrise.” She knew Jack needed to get back to the office, coordinate the team and locate Odin.
“We need to talk first. Come out in the hall.”
Holly followed him from the room. She could smell coffee brewing. Boy, could she use some of that. Exhaustion was setting in big time. She followed her nose down the hallway.
Jack held back, his hand on her arm. “You can explain the details to Grayson after we’re gone. Just so we’re clear, in addition to guarding Will, your orders are to find out if he can add anything to what we know about the op at the airfield, and report to me as soon as possible.”
She nodded.
“While he’s asleep, you can work up your detailed description and a sketch of the guy in the hospital and get that to us, too. Joe and Clay will have to take over the other cases we’ve got going, which fortunately are in early stages and not critical. Eric and I will be concentrating on this Odin character. However, if things start popping on this, we’ll all be on it.”
Holly faced him, hands on her hips. “You think it was Odin himself in the hospital?”
“I believe it was. I’m counting on his coming after me, thinking I got a glimpse of him, too. And I’ll be a whole lot easier to find than you and Will.”
She leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes.
He grasped her shoulder and gave it a gentle shake. “Do your job, Holly. Let Eric and me do ours. With the SAMs missing and Matt’s death and Will’s being shot on a multiforce investigation like that, every agency will be solidly behind us all the way. They’ll pull out all the stops.”
She nodded. “Any communications gear other than the phone line in this firetrap?”
“Everything necessary and then some. I’ll be waiting on that sketch.”
“My artistic talent leaves a lot to be desired, but I think I can get a fair likeness.”
“We’ll try to match it with ID photos and get you some to compare. Don’t use your personal credit cards while you’re here. You have your cover ID with you?
“Always,” she told him.
“Good. You can use that. If Odin’s working from the inside, he could have resources to pick up an obvious paper trail.”
“You think he’s an agent who’s flipped?”
“Entirely possible. He found out where Will was.” Jack pulled out his wallet and handed her a stack of bills. “Mad money. That’s all I have on me, but I’ll wire more to Roanoke in Grayson’s name tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” she said as he turned to go. “See you, Jack.”
“Soon,” he replied.
None of them ever said goodbye. It seemed too final or something, as if they didn’t expect to meet again. Funny how they all adhered to that without ever having discussed it.
She followed him to the door and locked it, checked on Will and found him still sleeping peacefully, then went to find the kitchen and that coffee she had smelled.
Grayson offered her a mug as soon as she walked in. “Welcome to paradise,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Hungry?”
Holly nodded and he gestured to a plate of sandwiches on the table. She grabbed one and began to munch, realizing she hadn’t eaten anything other than a package of peanut butter crackers since breakfast.
“Got any soup for our patient?” she asked.
“Sure, but he looked like he was down for the count. Want to give me a rundown on what we’re dealing with?”
Between bites, Holly outlined what had gone down and why they were here. Then she added, “Chances are there’s nothing to worry about. I know you’ve had training, but I’d like to know if you have any field experience.”
Grayson smiled. “Yeah, I do. Anything happens, I’ve got your back.”
He looked capable, Holly thought, as she observed him more closely. She guessed he was around sixty, maybe even older, but seemed in pretty good shape. Not a large man, hardly taller than her own five-five, Grayson moved with the tensile grace of a man trained to strike.
His
