Thunderbird

by Susan Slater

  “That’ll stay. But we have to hurry.” Tommy was talking to himself. The sweat beaded on his forehead.

  Turned backward, Tommy supported Brenda’s head against his body, pressed against the ladder and inched his way upward. At the top he gently laid her on the ground and yelled above the ’copter noise for a cushion or board or something. The colonel responded with cushions and, directing his men, helped Tommy slip her onto the floor of the ’copter behind the first row of seats.

  “How long will it take to reach Gallup Indian Hospital?”

  “Thirty minutes. I’ll call ahead,” the colonel offered.

  He seemed as shocked by what had happened as they were. Ben looked at Tommy steadying Brenda. Would they be in time? It didn’t look good. Her breathing was shallow and her ashen gray pallor indicated shock from the loss of blood. As if reading his thoughts, the colonel reached across Ben and handed Tommy two wool blankets. Tommy barely acknowledged his helpfulness.

  They rode in near silence. Ben’s call to the hospital seemed to push in on the gloom. At one point the colonel had tried to discuss what had probably taken place, all conjecture, but possible scenarios. Tommy had waved him off. Lovers’ quarrel wasn’t his choice of conversation topic. Not now. He wanted to hear the story from Brenda and a part of him knew he might not have that chance.

  The pilot circled the hospital and then brought the chopper in over the helipad behind the main entrance. Ben looked down on the blue circle with a white “H” and saw two attendants waiting with a gurney. When they had landed, the two paramedics were quick but careful in getting Brenda strapped down and on her way inside.

  Ben, Tommy and the colonel followed. A doctor stopped them at the entrance.

  “Going to have to make you three stay out here. I’ll let you know the minute we can determine her condition. My best bet is we’ll go into surgery after the scan. This could take awhile. I probably won’t have news for a couple hours at the very least.”

  “Doc, is there any way … I mean can you tell …”

  “The extent of her injuries or the severity? Let’s just say I don’t want to get your hopes up. But I’ll keep you posted.”

  With that the doc turned to jog back to the emergency area.

  “Want to use the phone in my office to check in?” Ben had already started down the hall.

  Tommy nodded. His adrenaline seemed spent and he looked half-dead.

  “Colonel? Is there anything that I can get you?”

  “No, thanks. I need to get the chopper out of here and tend to the body of Mr. Cachini. I’ll be back later.” Then he paused in the doorway. “Good work, men. If there’s any chance that woman can be saved, you’ve given it to her. I’m leaving an officer here, of course. We’ll need to talk to her if she pulls through.” With that he was gone.

  Ben checked his watch. A little after two in the morning. What a night. Ben insisted that Tommy stretch out on the couch in his office—damn thing was coming in handy—while he got a blanket. He’d try to catch a couple winks at his desk.

  “Do you think she could kill Ronnie?”

  “I guess tests will have to determine that. Where did she get a gun?”

  “I gave it to her. It’s my service revolver. I thought she’d feel better having some protection when I left her to make a call. I thought there was a bigger chance of two people being seen. Two people would have provided a bigger target. In hindsight, I was stupid not to take her with me. But I was only going to be gone twenty minutes. I wanted her to feel safe.”

  “The gun is yours?” Ben really hoped he hadn’t heard right. Tommy nodded.

  Ben thought of a couple things to say but nothing would match what Tommy had probably already thought about—and under the circumstances beaten himself up over.

  “Do you think Brenda would be capable of taking a life? Especially Ronnie’s?” Tommy asked. “She was trying to protect him; she wanted to believe in his innocence; she wasn’t angry; disappointed would better describe it.”

  “If she found out that he was a killer or if he threatened her—tried to kill her—then it’s not unreasonable to think that Brenda would defend herself” Ben said.

  “She might not have known it was Ronnie—there might have been some mistake.”

  Ben hoped Tommy wouldn’t ask him to speculate on whether she could take her own life. “I guess we have to hope she can explain. In the meantime, we need to rest.”

  + + +

  The doctor knocked on the door about four-thirty. Ben and Tommy were both awake instantly.

  “Not good news, but not the worst. The bullet took some scalp with it and left an ugly wound but that’s not the problem. Apparently, she struck her head—didn’t Colonel Bertrand tell me he had tried to get the gun? Anyway, she took a powerful blow to the back of the head that’s resulted in a severe concussion with a fair amount of edema. She’s not responding to stimulus—”

  “She’s in a coma?” Tommy was standing now.

  “To put it bluntly, yes. As you both probably know, head wounds are unpredictable and given the trauma of the situation, I don’t even want to venture a guess as to when she might come out of it—an hour from now, a day—”

  “Never?”

  “That isn’t what I believe.”

  “But possible? She might never regain consciousness?”

  The doctor sighed. “Possible.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Still in recovery, but I’m moving her to a private room.”

  “I want to stay with her.”

  “I don’t have any problem with that. I’ll have a cot moved into the room.”

  Ben stepped into the hall with the doctor. “What are the chances that we’ll lose her?”

  “Always a chance. Frankly, I’m worried about the coma. She’s really not responding at all but, otherwise, vital signs are good. She’s been through a lot of trauma—the palms of her hands are badly cut, there’s a massive bruise to her left hip, another knot and bruise on the right side of her head not to mention the broken arm. My guess is that she’s been beaten.”

  “Beaten?” This was the last thing he expected to hear. By whom? Ronnie? But she willingly went back to him. Which he reminded himself fit the profile of a battered woman. “I guess waiting is the only choice we have.”

  “Unfortunately, yes. There’s no way to hurry this. The healing has to take place first, then we’ll see.” The doctor excused himself and hurried off down the hall.

  Tommy had tucked his T-shirt into his jeans and stood in the office doorway. “I’m going to go down to her room. Are you coming?”

  “I thought I’d go home and get some clothes. You and I could use a shirt.”

  Tommy was quiet, then, “It’s tough to live with the fact that the gun was mine. I mean if she dies, I might have just as well been her killer …”

  “Tommy, you were only trying to protect her. You had no way of knowing that Ronnie would intercept, that there would be a fight or whatever happened.” Ben hesitated to tell him about the extent of the bruising. “Maybe Ronnie picked it up when he hiked down to get her—or had followed her—maybe, she tried to leave it for you. No use beating yourself up until you have some answers.”

  “Yeah. You know something, though, if I can’t imagine what could have made her want to kill him, I have a harder time imagining her turning the gun on herself. She would always put Mariah first.”

  There it was—finally. Ben knew Tommy would question that. And it did seem out of character. Still, under the circumstances …

  “Emotions can cause people to do crazy things.” Ben took a deep breath. “You know about the broken arm which the colonel thought had happened when he tried to get the gun, but there was other bruising—”

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “She could have been a victim of battering.” He just spit it out and watched as Tommy’s jaw muscles worked just below his right ear.

  “Ronnie beat her up? It’s hard to
believe but sometimes we just don’t know people. Maybe under the circumstances …”

  “We won’t know what happened until Brenda wakes up, so let’s not try to second guess. Go stay with her and I’ll see you for breakfast. Did you get the dispatcher?”

  “Yeah. Left a message. If I know Leonard, he’ll be here in the morning.”

  “That should be it for tonight, or morning I should say. It’ll be breakfast before you know it.” Ben smiled but there wasn’t any feeling in it.

  Ben walked down the hall with Tommy in time to see the orderlies push Brenda into Room 123. She looked small and ashen against the white sheets. She was dwarfed by the bandage across her forehead and the soft cast on her arm looked like a swollen blue and white club. A young airman stood outside the door to her room. Tall, deeply tanned, the uniform hugged a muscular body. He nodded as Ben approached. Ben thought he had been the pilot of the chopper. How was that for double-duty? The name tag on his pocket read Captain Quintana. Maybe he was New Mexican.

  A cot was already in place on the far side of the bed and Tommy sat on the edge. The room was crowded with machines and monitors. Ben was struck at how sterile and surreal it was.

  “I’m going to call Brenda’s brother. I want him to be prepared. I’m going to suggest that they don’t bring Mariah to see her quite yet.”

  “I agree.” Tommy glanced at the bed and the monitors. “Mariah wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try not to worry. It won’t help. We have to give this thing time.”

  Tommy nodded then swung his feet up and laid back. “Just the same I really appreciate your being there. It means a lot to me.”

  Ben reminded Tommy about what friends were for, hoped he didn’t sound too trite, and closed the door. He acknowledged the guard and went to the receptionist’s desk to sign out a hospital car. His was hopefully safe at the Center. He’d try to remember to call the rangers to fill them in. They would have to send a team to the kiva, make a report. He was sure the Air Force would be collecting Ronnie’s body as soon as they could.

  + + +

  Armed with a clean shirt for Tommy, Ben returned to the hospital at seven thirty. Nothing seemed to have changed. Captain Quintana was still outside the door and a very groggy Tommy answered the third tap.

  “Any change?” Ben whispered.

  Tommy just shook his head.

  “I’ll wait here if you want to go change. The restrooms are around the corner.”

  “Thanks. Not a bad idea.” Tommy took the denim shirt and walked down the hall.

  “Captain Quintana? Can I get you coffee or something from the cafeteria?” No response. The man didn’t even turn his head. How could that be? Ben was just a few feet away, surely the man had heard him. “Captain Quintana?”

  “Oh, sorry, I not hear good. What you want?”

  “How about coffee? I’m going to the cafeteria in a few minutes and could bring you a cup-or something else?”

  “Nothing, no thank you.”

  Odd. Heavy accent. Not Hispanic. Probably not a local. Funny, Ben couldn’t remember hearing any of the airmen at the cave even speak before. That was certainly odd, come to think of it. He’d have to get their background from the colonel. Probably some specially trained international group.

  Ben walked into the room and checked on Brenda. It hadn’t taken much persuasion to deter Brenda’s brother from bringing Mariah to the hospital. She looked so ill; it would have been a shock for the child.

  “Great shirt. I might forget to give this one back.” Tommy whispered, then grinned. First time Ben had seen a hint of his old self in a couple days. Now, if Brenda would just recover.

  “Hey, that didn’t take long. You need a break. Go down to the cafeteria, I’ll stay here.” Ben kept his voice low.

  “I’m afraid to be away. Brenda could wake at any minute and it will mean a lot if I’m here.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” Leonard Tom looked like he’d rather be any place on earth but where he was, pushing through the door, chin dragging the ground as Ben’s grandmother used to say.

  “Leonard …” Tommy greeted his boss but didn’t look happy to see him. Ben thought he knew what was coming. “Let’s step out here.” Leonard held the door open and both men followed him into the hall. “The charge is aiding and abetting … but then you know that. I have to take you in for questioning. I’m sorry as I can be about this, but it’s been called to my attention that a service revolver was used in the murder of Mr. Cachini and the wounding of Miss Begay.” Leonard stuttered, then, “A revolver given to Miss Begay against all restrictions—”

  “How did you come by this information?” Ben interrupted. Who knew? He hadn’t told anyone.

  “Colonel Bertrand thought I better handle things outside his jurisdiction. Tommy, you know I hate to do this, but we need to get going. I need to have you turn over any other fire-power that you might be carrying.”

  His boss knew about the automatic; everyone carried backup—something in addition to his service revolver. He handed over the gun and the two extra magazines.

  “That it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s move.”

  Tommy turned to Ben. “Stay with Brenda?”

  “Sure.” What else could he say? Ben knew what this meant to Tommy. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here. But I am going to get a cup of coffee—I’ll be gone ten minutes, no more.”

  “No problem. Call me if there’s any change?”

  Ben nodded. Would Tommy be in jail? Probably. He walked with Tommy to the front entrance. The cafeteria was past the main double glass doors at the back of the first floor. Ben watched Tommy and Leonard continue out into the parking lot. Something was bothering him. Something not quite right, and it was probably right in from of him.

  For starters, he couldn’t figure the accent of Captain Quintana standing guard. Spanish name but more than likely a Middle Eastern accent … and for that matter, the man didn’t even answer to his name—acted like it wasn’t his. Ben slowed, then stopped. What was it Brenda had told Tommy? She had overheard a language she didn’t recognize as the group of men dragged a body toward the plane. And the men were tall. Two of the four men he’d seen were taller than he at six-one—the other two were his height. This was probably overreacting and he had no proof. But what if Hap’s killer wasn’t Ronnie? The description of the airmen with Colonel Bertrand fit Brenda’s description of the hijackers. Flimsy. But if even a part of his suspicion was true, Brenda was in danger at this very moment.

  He didn’t realize that he had turned around, was walking faster, now jogging toward the room and Brenda. And Colonel Bertrand knew the gun was Tommy’s—because he had found it? Watched Tommy give it to her? Ben could be wrong, really wrong. But what if Ronnie Cachini wasn’t the one who had killed Hap? What if Colonel Bertrand had killed Hap? And then had to kill Ronnie? By now, he was running. It was the perfect setup. If Brenda didn’t regain consciousness, no one would know what had happened. No one. Even Bruce’s tapes wouldn’t completely exonerate Ronnie.

  He’d left Captain Quintana alone with Brenda. Alone with Brenda—the words pounded in his brain. He turned the corner. The airman wasn’t on guard. He was gone—but Ben knew better … he was in Brenda’s room.

  Ben hit the door and without losing momentum grabbed the airman as he turned toward the sound—the palms of both hands wrapped with the ends of a two foot strand of wire stretched taut between. Knocked off balance, both landed hard on the floor. Staggering upright, Ben grabbed the man’s shoulder as he twisted to the side. Ben ducked the first blow, and landed one hard to the kidneys reaching up for the gun that the man had pulled from a pocket. Ben leveraged all his 180 pounds to keep the man off balance then he grabbed the gun, forcing the man back wards, off balance, before the two of them crashed to the floor again.

  “What the hell is going on? Break it up.” Leonard might look short and squat and sound out of breath, but he had the strength o
f a bull. He neatly kicked the gun out of the airman’s hand that Ben had pinned to the floor, sent it skittering across the room and with both hands on his own revolver ordered the man to stand.

  “You can explain this?”

  Ben nodded. He’d caught the airman in the act. One second later and Brenda would have been dead.

  “Ben, what happened? We saw you run back … Is Brenda …?” Tommy stood in the doorway.

  “Get a doctor.” She was breathing but it seemed too shallow—had the airman been successful? Had he harmed her?

  “Tommy?”

  It was a second before Ben realized that Brenda had spoken. “He’s gone to get the doctor. Try not to speak. You’ve been injured and you’re in a hospital.” Then he added, “You’re safe, Brenda. It’s over.” He watched as she closed her eyes.

  The doctor pushed through the door. “Clear the room. I need to examine Brenda without an audience.”

  “She spoke. She asked for Tommy.”

  Ben watched the tears well up in Tommy’s eyes.

  Suddenly, the airman lunged for the bed. This time he was screaming something in his language. He was quick but the doctor was in the way. He struck the doctor swinging clasped hands as a club, stumbled as the man struck the floor under his feet and couldn’t duck Tommy. Tommy jerked him backwards, got his arm around his neck, spun him around and delivered a deciding blow to his chin.

  “He’ll be out for awhile, but these will come in handy.” Tommy cuffed him, arms behind his back. “Now, explain. How’d you figure out—?”

  “Explain in the waiting room.” The doctor, badly shaken, had lost all patience.

  “OK by you?” Tommy turned to Leonard.

  “I’ll know where to find you.” Leonard bent over the silent, cuffed suspect. “You and me are gonna take a little trip.”

  “Let me help.” Tommy hauled the still unconscious airman to a sitting position. “Going to be tough to carry this guy very far. Where’s the van? I’ll move it up to the front door. No use making this too difficult.”