saved my life. Will he live?”
Maya nodded and gave her a gentle smile. “I hope so.”
“And his leg…oh, God…will he lose it?”
“Probably,” Maya said, “but I don’t know for sure.”
Breaking into sobs, Valerie buried her face in her arms, her knees drawn up tightly against her thin, trembling body. All Maya could do was slide her arm around the girl’s shoulders, pat her gently and let her cry.
Maya’s thoughts drifted back to Hamilton. Maybe Rolling Thunder could do something to save this heroic marine’s leg. She hoped so.
Chapter Two
“Is Captain Hamilton going to lose his leg?” Morgan Trayhern kept his voice low, but even he could hear the fear in it as he spoke with the bone surgeon, Dr. Jose Del Prado, in his office at the hospital in Cusco.
The physician, a wiry man in his early fifties, stood behind a simple mahogany desk in the spare white room. He was dressed in a long white coat, a stethoscope hanging out of his left pocket, and the report on Hamilton between his thin fingers. With a shrug, he said in stilted English, “I do not know…yet, Mr. Trayhern.” He frowned, stroking his thin gray mustache.
Morgan grimaced. As soon as he’d heard the cryptic message from the spook helicopter rescue crew that had Hamilton and the senator’s daughter safely aboard, Morgan had boarded the Perseus jet in Washington, D.C., and made a beeline for Cusco. Even though Captain Thane Hamilton was in the U.S. Marine Corps, and technically not working for him, the undercover assignment Hamilton had been on had been coordinated by Morgan and his company. Besides, Hamilton was a marine, as Morgan had once been himself. One never left a marine in the field. Not ever.
“I see….”
“No, señor, you do not.” Del Prado’s narrow face became intent. “I did not cut off his leg. I probably should have, to save him the agony he will surely endure not only physically, but emotionally. In the long term, it is my opinion that the officer will find that his leg is too painful to walk on. Right now, I am worried about long-term infection in his bones. If infection cannot be eradicated, he will lose his leg, anyway. Come, I will show you his X rays, so that you have a better understanding of what I did.”
Morgan glumly followed the surgeon down a crowded hallway. The hospital, which was located in the second largest city in Peru, was busy. Every social strata intermixed within the polished halls of white tile flooring and dull green walls—from personnel clothed in white uniforms and lab coats to visitors dressed either in the native costume of the Que’ro Indian people or in the silk suits and fashionable winter dresses of the wealthy.
In the X-ray room, Del Prado quickly put up a series of pictures in front of the light boxes.
“These show Captain Hamilton’s right leg.” He pointed a slender finger at one X ray in particular as Morgan, who was much taller peered over his shoulder.
“You can see, we have placed ten pins to try and get the bones to fuse back together.”
His mouth in a grim line, Morgan stared at the X ray. “Looks like a damned mess in there.”
Del Prado smiled a little. “Not exactly the medical terminology for it, but a good assessment, Señor Trayhern.”
“So, what’s next? May I transport Captain Hamilton in my jet, to continue his recovery at a stateside hospital?”
“Of course. He is stable now. You have a doctor on board to monitor him?”
Morgan nodded. “A trauma-trained emergency room physician. Yes.”
“Then my suggestion would be to wait another twelve hours. He just came out of surgery three hours ago. We have him in a private room, as you ordered. He has just come out of anesthesia and is semiconscious. Give him time to adjust first.”
“Would you suggest a bone specialist for him?”
“Of course. The infection in his bone, if it spreads, must be aggressively followed with antibiotics. And if the antibiotics do not oust it, then the infected part of the bone must be amputated. Otherwise, the infection will spread up his leg and eventually kill him.”
Morgan nodded and sighed. Then he straightened and looked down at the prim doctor. “If he were your patient, what would you do for him?” When Morgan saw the doctor’s blue eyes twinkle with laughter, he wondered what he’d said that was so amusing.
Del Prado’s thin mouth puckered. “How we practice medicine here in Peru is a little different than what my colleagues practice in the U.S.A., señor.”
“Humor me, Doctor. What would you prescribe? They say you’re the best hereabouts, so I’m very interested in your opinion and any ongoing therapy you’d recommend for Captain Hamilton. I’d like to see the man keep his leg. What’s your secret to doing just that?”
With a flourish, Del Prado said, “I would combine standard medical treatment with alternative intervention. Maggots will eat away any gangrenous flesh that is bound to occur, create new blood vessel beds and bring oxygen into the tissue so it will live instead of die. Here in Peru we also utilize homeopathy, an alternative medicine widely known in Europe as well. I would, if he were to stay here, call in one of our staff homeopaths to work with me on the captain’s behalf. We have found that homeopathy is an excellent support to traditional drug treatment, and the patient receives the best of both worlds. I would also suggest physical therapy along with massage. I know in your country that homeopathy and massage are not part of normal protocol for treating such a patient.” He shrugged his thin, proud shoulders, his eyes gleaming. “But you did ask me what I would do, señor.”
“So I did. Thank you, Doctor. You gave me the information I needed. I want Captain Hamilton to have the best chance of saving his leg.”
“Would you care for a referral to one of my norte americana colleagues who studied for a year down here with me on just such cases?”
Again, Morgan saw the twinkle in the man’s eyes. Realizing now that the doctor wasn’t laughing at him, but rather introducing him to knowledge he knew to be foreign to most Americans, Morgan grinned a little in turn. “Absolutely. Who do you suggest?”
“Dr. Jonathan Briggs, a doctor of osteopathy in Arizona who studied with our department a number of years ago. He’s familiar with our protocols in a case such as your friend Captain Hamilton. He is a miracle worker of sorts in complex cases such as this. I can give you his address, Señor Trayhern. He practices out of the Red Rock Hospital in Sedona, Arizona.”
Nodding, Morgan said, “This Dr. Briggs—will he use the same protocols you use?”
“Si.”
“You’re sure?”
With a terse laugh, Dr. Del Prado said, “Dr. Briggs is the man who created this protocol for us in the first place.”
Grin widening, Morgan said, “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see to it that Captain Hamilton ends up in Dr. Briggs’s hospital.”
“Bueno. Good. You can go see Captain Hamilton now, señor. When you are ready, come to me and I will sign the captain’s release forms.” Del Prado escorted him out of
