Running Fire
Page 26
As the helo neared Bravo, he smiled. Very shortly, Leah and that bitch, Harper Corliss, would be dead. With them out of the picture the other two women would not testify. With the two officers dead, they’d read the handwriting on the wall. Enlisted testimony didn’t rate like an officer testifying against another officer. He knew how scared those two enlisted Army bitches would become. And they would fear being shot, too. The two worst accusers would be dead. Already, Hayden had his lawyer digging up plenty of dirt on the other two enlisted women to bury them. No jury would convict him on their flimsy testimony. There were no rape kits, no DNA evidence. It became a he said, she said. Leah’s rape kits and photos were damning but if she were dead, Hayden would paint an ugly picture of her. He would explain she was into kinky sex and that she liked pain and being hurt. And the broken bones? She fell. Without her alive to testify, he knew he could put enough doubt into the proceedings to protect his rank and position. By that time, he would have found and dispensed with them. He’d already arranged a return ride to Bravo, departing near 2300.
Hayden had memorized the tent layout for the Shadow Squadron at Bravo. The last two tents in the row housed Corliss and Leah’s billets. He rubbed his hands, smiling in the darkness, feeling the shaking and shuddering around him. The sensations of a helo in the air were always calming to him. His mind leaped forward, to the plan to get on that return flight without being caught after he killed the two women.
He’d arrive on an already scheduled Medevac flight from Bravo back at Bagram after killing them. This was a night flight that would be dropping off surgical and medical items to the Dispensary. He’d have plenty of time to sneak into his quarters, get to his room and bed down. He smiled a little, thinking about what Major Reid would do when she found out her two main witnesses were dead. Of course, he’d be suspected, but the .45 he was using was owned by another pilot in his squadron. Hayden would make sure it was back in his locker, fingerprints wiped off it. He’d purchased a Ti-RANT pistol suppressor for it. A .45 had a damned loud report and Hayden didn’t want the sound to draw the whole damned camp to where he was after he shot the two women. That way, after he arrived at Bagram and the MPs checked his personal .45 he wore for flights, there would be no gunpowder residue on it. And he’d make damn sure to take a shower and wash away any evidence on his flesh or his flight suit. And he’d hide the suppressor so no one would ever find it.
The Black Hawk landed and Hayden headed for Operations at Bravo. The stars were bright and looked close. The wind was cold, and made Hayden wish he’d brought a jacket, forgetting the forward operating base sat at eight thousand feet in the Hindu Kush. No one would think anything of him moving through Ops. He was in his flight suit with the fake name velcroed over his real name, and he carried his duffel bag in his left hand. It was 2100, and Ops was pretty much deserted.
It was the perfect time to find them, Hayden thought, swinging out the doors. He pulled on his NVGs because there was no light whatsoever at the FOB. Roving Taliban always wanted to send mortar or RPGs into the base. Any type of light within the camp was like an open invitation because they targeted it. He settled the goggles over his eyes, flicked them on and got his bearings. Unfamiliar with Bravo, he wandered around for about thirty minutes before he found the dirt street where the Shadow pilots were billeted.
Voices! He quickly leaped between two tents and crouched down in the darkness. His heart was thudding in his chest, his hand on the .45. Hayden heard two men talking and laughing. The men’s voices subsided and he slowly rose to his feet, waiting and listening.
*
“DAMN,” LEAH MUTTERED, flipping through the files spread out across her bed in Sarah’s room.
Ax had practically ordered her and Harper to stay at night at the SEAL HQ in Sarah’s room. Leah loved that it had been painted and fixed up for a woman medevac pilot who had fallen in love with a SEAL from the last deployment.
Ax didn’t trust Hayden, so Kell and Clutch had asked the women to stay from dusk till dawn with them. At night, they would make Sarah’s room their sleeping and working quarters, which was wonderful because the large chamber had an air conditioner.
“What?” Harper asked, sitting on her cot in the corner of the room.
“Oh, hell, I left one of my files I need and it’s back at my tent.” Leah looked at the watch on her wrist. It was nearly 2130. “I’ve got to get next week’s roster of flights and pilot assignments done by tomorrow morning.” She’d promised Markley they would be ready to be put up on the big corkboard in their ready room.
“Come on, I’ll walk over with you,” Harper urged. She unwound from the cot, still in her flight suit. Leaning down, she dug into her helmet bag and pulled out her NVGs.
Leah hesitated. Outside the door, she could hear many of the SEALs in the big room down the hall. This was their poker game night, and judging from all the yells, curses and laughter, some were winning and others were losing very badly. Kell was a part of the winning group—he’d told her that he never lost at Texas hold ’em. She smiled faintly as she climbed off the bed and picked up her helmet bag. Kell didn’t want her going anywhere alone after dark. Not without him. But she didn’t want to go out there and ask him to quit the weekly poker game just to walk about four hundred feet over to her tent to grab a single file.
“Yeah,” Leah said, throwing her helmet bag upon the bed and opening it, “let’s do it.”
“Won’t take long,” Harper murmured. She pulled the NVGs over her head and they rested against her neck. They didn’t go anywhere on base without a pistol, either. She stuck her .45 in the flight-suit pocket at her lower thigh with the safety on.
Leah pulled her flight suit on, strapped the .45 around her waist, put a bullet into the chamber and left the safety off. They were ready to go. Technically, they weren’t supposed to go anywhere without their Kevlar vests, but it was such a short trip. It would only take ten minutes, total. And, aside from the poker game, the base had been quiet.
“I hate that vest,” Leah muttered, giving it a distasteful look as it hung over a chair. “I’m leaving it here because it’s so heavy to wear.”
“Makes two of us,” Harper enthusiastically agreed, opening the door.
They stepped out into the hall, the noise from the big room raucous, curses drifting down along with laughs and jibes. Leah smiled a little. It was good to hear the men having a little fun, blowing off some steam. Harper led, and just as she got to the back door, Clutch entered.
“Hey, where you two going?” he demanded, standing in the doorway.
Leah wrinkled her nose. “I need a file from my tent, Clutch. It’s only going to take a few minutes.”
“I’ll go along,” he said.
“Don’t bother,” Harper said, frowning. “We’ve got pistols. We know how to shoot if we have to.”
“I didn’t want to bother Kell,” Leah admitted, giving him a pleading look. “He’s having a lot of fun with the other guys. It’s only ten minutes. The base is quiet. Really, Clutch, we’ll be fine.”
At that moment, Ax, who was in his office, called to Clutch.
“Be right there,” he called to the master chief. Hesitantly, Clutch looked and saw her pistol on her waist. “Okay, but stay alert. I’ll go see what Ax wants and then catch up with you. This will only take a second…”
“That’s fine,” Leah agreed. The two women left the building, walking quickly and taking short cuts over to their street.
“I swear,” Harper muttered, “Clutch thinks he has to be our shadow.”
“I know.” Leah agreed. “Sometimes I think those guys see ghosts where there aren’t any.”
Harper nodded as they made the turn down their street. “It gets kind of claustrophobic to me. I’m not used to having a guard dog on my heels all the time.”
Leah agreed. Either Kell or Clutch always escorted them after dark without missing a beat. This one time, they’d just chance it without them.
Leah slowed and pulled open t
he flaps on her tent. “Come on in, I’ll need my flashlight to find that file in the drawer. I’m sure Clutch will be dropping by shortly.”
Harper pulled her penlight from her pocket. “Lead on,” she said, climbing up on the plyboard platform and moving into the tent with her.
Switching on the penlight, Leah took off her goggles, letting them hang around her neck. Harper did the same, looking over her shoulder as Leah walked over to a four-drawer file cabinet in the corner where she kept squadron paperwork. The lieutenant held her penlight high, the entire tent filling with a grayish cast.
Opening the top drawer, Leah said, “Could you hold your light on the files, please?”
Harper lowered the beam, illuminating the many files, watching as Leah quickly thumbed through them, head bent, absorbed in her task.
Leah suddenly felt the hair on her neck rise. She warily lifted her head, glancing toward the opened flaps. A gasp lodged in her throat as she saw a man with NVGs move inside, a .45 with a suppressor on it pointed at them. It wasn’t Clutch!
Harper jerked a look toward him, confused.
Hayden smiled and pulled off his goggles. “Well, well,” he snarled in a low voice filled with pleasure, “two for one. What luck.”
Leah slowly dropped her arms to her sides. Her pulse skyrocketed. In the light, she could see Hayden’s hatred-filled face, his colorless eyes with huge black pupils.
“What are you doing here?” she rasped, her voice unsteady. Her mind whirled with options. Hayden had the pistol pointed at them. Where was Clutch?
“Dropping in to see you two bitches.”
Leah broke out into a cold sweat. How well she knew that tone, that hatred. And she saw it in his face. Her mouth compressed as he swung the pistol from her to Harper and then back to her. “Hayden, this isn’t any way to—”
“Shut up!” he rasped, glaring at her. “You’re both going to pay for ruining my career. You two thought you’d be alive to testify, didn’t you?”
Harper gasped.
The only thing Leah could do was remain frozen, staring at this vicious bastard. But then the anger started to burn through her. She began to think. She knew enough not to goad Hayden. Maybe, if they didn’t show up at SEAL HQ shortly, Clutch would come looking for them. She had to keep him talking.
“This isn’t the way to end it, Hayden. You know that. They’ll find out who killed us.” A bolt of anxiety shot through her. If only Clutch would get here! She lamented that they hadn’t waited for him.
He smiled a little. “Do you think I’m that stupid, Leah?”
“No, you’re not stupid, Hayden.” Her voice sounded hoarse. Leah’s heart was galloping, adrenaline plunging through her bloodstream. “Why don’t you let Lieutenant Corliss go? I’m the one you really want.”
Hayden grinned, his lips pulling away from his teeth. He snorted. “She’s the one who got the ball rolling! No, you’re both going down.”
He fired the pistol, the bark harsh.
As Leah went for her .45, she heard Harper scream and then collapse at her feet. But Leah wasn’t going down without a fight. She lifted her .45 in both hands and fired at the same time Hayden fired at her.
Leah felt herself being knocked backward as something hit her upper left arm. Hayden screamed out and she watched him fly out between the flaps of the tent. Oh, shit! She was hit! Slamming into the rear of the tent, her legs buckled beneath her.
The penlight Harper had dropped to the floor, rolled crazily across it, light arcing and wobbling up through the tent as it moved. Leah felt her entire left arm go numb. She tried to get up, to reach the lieutenant, who was moaning on her back and weakly trying to lift her hand. Where was Clutch?
Hot blood was running down Leah’s arm as she staggered to her knees, trying to get to the badly wounded woman pilot. Dark red blood was spreading swiftly across the center of Harper’s uniform.
Oh, God…
Outside, Leah heard sudden commotion. Men’s voices. Shouting. She knew the gunfire, even suppressed, would wake up those closest to their tent area. Someone ripped open the flaps. Leah nearly sobbed.
“Kell!” she cried out. “Harper’s wounded! We need help!” Clutch came barreling into the tent behind him, his SIG raised.
The world started to spin and Leah stopped herself from falling forward, throwing out her right hand against the plyboard floor. Her vision grayed. She watched as Kell kneeled over Harper, his face tight with worry. There was a huge red patch eating rapidly across her entire stomach region.
No! Oh, God, no!
Leah sobbed for breath, fighting off unconsciousness. Clutch roared for help outside the tent flaps as men swiftly gathered around him. There was a lot of noise surrounding her right now. Her hearing was going. The blood was running down her left arm, dripping off her fingers as she tried to remain upright. The tension on Kell’s face indicated to her that the lieutenant had been critically wounded. And that was the last thing Leah remembered.
*
CLUTCH LEAPED OVER CORLISS, kneeling at her side. “How bad?” he gasped.
“Critical, gut wound,” Kell growled before glancing over at Leah. “We’ve got to get them to the dispensary. Now!”
“I’ll take the lieutenant,” Clutch gasped, already scooping her up into his arms. “You get Leah.”
Kell gently turned Leah onto her back. His gaze immediately went to her left arm. Blood had soaked her entire sleeve and left shoulder. She was bleeding out, an artery hit. Another SEAL, Breach, entered the tent.
“What can I do?” he demanded.
“She’s blown an artery here,” Kell rasped. “Put your hand over it, squeeze the hell out of it and stop the bleeding while I carry her.”
“You got it.” Breach wrapped his lean hand around Leah’s upper arm. “Kell, her arm is broken, too.”
“Do it, anyway,” Kell ordered roughly, lifting Leah into his arms. “Let’s go!”
Clutch was the first one to reach the dispensary. He kicked open the doors bellowing, “Gunshot wounds. Two coming in!”
Instantly, the quiet dispensary of one doctor and two nurses leaped to their feet from behind their large, U-shaped desk.
Two cubicles opened. Clutch hurried to the nearest, placing the female pilot gently on the gurney. “Over here!” he yelled to the approaching doctor. “She’s critical!” He kept his hand on her shoulder. Harper’s eyes were wide, shocky, and she was dazed. He watched the blood eating up the tan of her flight suit, spreading quickly across her torso.
“It’s going to be all right,” he rasped to Harper, leaning down, his lips near her ear. “You’re going to be okay. Just stay with me, Harper. Stay with me…”
Kell arrived a minute later with Breach holding Leah’s arm. Everything was in a state of barely controlled chaos. He knew there was no surgical unit here, and that both women needed to get to Bagram.
As soon as he placed Leah on the other gurney, Kell shouted, “Call a medevac! Stat!”
One of the nurses ran to make the radio request to get a bird out of the hangar and ready for flight.
Another nurse rushed over to him.
“She’s taken a GSW to the left upper arm,” Kell rasped. “The artery is severed and her arm has a fracture.” Kell threw on a pair of gloves and took a pair of scissors from a nearby metal tray, using them to begin to open up Leah’s blood-soaked sleeve. Glancing down at her, he saw her becoming conscious.
“Leah? Stay with me. It’s Kell. Can you hear me?”
Leah’s mind was rolling like a loose ball around in her head. She heard shouts, yells and snarls. Someone clamped an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. The white of the ceiling blurred, and she closed her eyes, trying to hang on to Kell’s strained voice. Pain began to drift up her arm and into her shoulder, sharp and hot.
“Get an IV into her,” Kell ordered the nurse.
Breach held her arm until Kell needed to fully open up the sleeve, then he let go. “What do you want me to do now?” he asked.<
br />
“Get over to the lieutenant. She’s got a GSW to the gut. Get an IV line into her.” All SEALs knew how to push an IV, thank God. Tonight, it would really count. Breach could possibly help Harper survive.
Kell grimaced. The bullet had struck Leah’s bone and there were pieces of it poking up through her flesh. The blood was pumping out of the openings. Cursing softly, he grabbed his blowout kit tourniquet he kept on his upper left shoulder, bound in velcro to keep it in place. His hands shook but he grabbed the tourniquet, swiftly wrapping it in place above her wound. He tightened it down. Leah groaned. His gaze was on the wound. Blood was still pumping out too quickly. He tightened it down even more.
Leah cried out. The blood slowed to a trickle. He looked over at the nurse, who had put a line into Leah’s right arm.
“You got any O type blood around here?” Kell demanded.
The nurse nodded. “Yes, but the woman next door needs it worse. She’s lost at least two pints. We only have so much here to use, Kell. Only two pints on hand and they need to go to the other patient.”
“You got Celox on hand?” It was a blood coagulant that all SEALs carried in their medical gear.
“None. It’s on order. Sorry.”
Kell nodded and moved his hand across Leah’s ashen face. She’d passed out again, either from the pain of the tourniquet or from the blood loss. He wasn’t sure which. His mind raced through options and priorities. “No surgeons here?” Sometimes, one flew in from Bagram to perform minor surgeries that didn’t require someone to be put under.
“No, I’m afraid not,” the nurse said apologetically, holding her stethoscope to Leah’s chest.
“What are her numbers?” he demanded.
“Not good. 70 over 50. She’s lost a lot of blood. Her pulse is sixty and steady. And her heart sounds good so far.” She raced out of the cubicle and to the desk, making a radio call.
Kell cursed. Both his medical kits were in his ruck back at HQ. There was Celox, a blood coagulant, in the larger kit. If he had it, he could sprinkle it into the wound area and help stop the bleeding. Kell covered Leah with a blanket, immobilizing her left arm with a pair of splints and some gauze that he tied off around her neck to stabilize her entire arm.