Edge of the Heat 6

by Ladew, Lisa

  “Why did he die? What happened? I thought he was OK.”

  She nodded. “We thought he was too. There was an autopsy scheduled for a few hours ago that hopefully will shed some light into what happened to him.”

  “Can I get the results of that autopsy?” JT asked.

  Lt. Dawson nodded. “Yes, I’ve called your unit and you’ve been cleared.”

  JT shook his head. Who cleared him? The Colonel? “Who did you talk to?”

  “First Sergeant Jones.”

  JT nodded. That made sense at least. “Did anyone come to see him yesterday before it happened?”

  Lt. Dawson shook her head. “No, no one. His Colonel came by but didn’t actually go in to see him.”

  JT raised an eyebrow. “You mean Colonel Clarkson?”

  “Yes.”

  “How often did he visit Shane?”

  “Oh he was here a lot.” Lt. Dawson smiled, like this was a good thing. “He probably came four or five times a day to check on him.”

  Four or five times a day? That seemed excessive to JT. “Did the Colonel usually talk to Shane?”

  “No, he never talked to him. Well, maybe once or twice. But mostly he just came in, asked after him, asked what he was eating today, and sat in the waiting room for a bit, reading a magazine or something.”

  JT shook his head. He couldn’t think of anything else to ask, except maybe why a Colonel would walk into a clinic four or five times a day and just hang out, but not actually speak to the man he was supposedly visiting. He decided it wouldn’t be a good idea to ask Lt. Dawson that. And suddenly his mind could think of nothing more to say. Not even goodbye or thank you. All he wanted at that point was to get his hands on the autopsy. Or, maybe for this all to be a bad dream.

  ***

  JT walked around the base for the second time. He had 30 more minutes before the autopsy report would be ready from the Pathology Center. He wondered if he was going to be able to read the autopsy report or if it would just look like a bunch of medical gibberish. Maybe Lt. Dawson would be willing to help him with it.

  He drew close to the Pathology Center and decided to just go in. His feet were starting to complain. As he walked through the parking lot he heard a car pull in behind him with a low growl. His head turned, almost of its own accord, to see who was driving. Somehow, he already knew. Colonel Clarkson’s wide, pale face stared at him impatiently, waiting for him to get out of the way. JT narrowed his eyes. The Colonel eyes widened in recognition. JT was too far away to accurately name the next emotion that flew over the Colonel’s face, but it looked like fear, just the same. Fear.

  JT stepped aside to let the Colonel park. He guessed now was as good of a time as ever to start asking questions. The first one would be “What did you send the squad out in the desert to do?”

  But Colonel Clarkson’s car never stopped. He slid past JT and directly out the exit of the parking lot. JT stood and watched him go, his mind a quivering blank. What now?

  Get the autopsy report. Colonel Clarkson couldn’t run from him forever. Or maybe he should just go straight up the chain of command and deposit this mess in their laps. Maybe Brigadier General Mayfair would be interested to know the details of this case. But JT knew he couldn’t risk that. If BG Mayfair ignored it, or Clarkson had a good story cooked up already, JT wouldn’t be allowed to dig anymore. Only now, when he was on leave and no one knew he was digging, did he have full autonomy to do what needed to be done.

  JT walked up the steps to the Pathology Center knowing almost everything hinged on the autopsy at this point. Without Shane Teagan around to share what happened that night, and with the rest of the squad buried already, this investigation was almost completely dead. JT winced at his brain’s choice of words. Dead like his squad. Dead like his mother. Dead like his best friend.

  Chapter 7

  T minus 20 hours

  Camp Patriot

  Dani pulled up to the main gate and flashed her reporter’s badge. It would get her on base, but she still had to fill out paperwork. She pulled over into the breakdown lane with the clipboard.

  While she was waiting for the gate guard to finish inspecting her car, she tried her uncle on the phone one more time. Again, she got his voice mail. “Uncle Kevin, I’m here at Camp Patriot. I need to meet with you as soon as possible. Call me back please.” She pressed end and sighed noisily. Oh well, she could head straight to his office and hopefully catch him there.

  The gate guard finally waved her on and she drove in slowly. His office was in the main headquarters building. She’d only been there once before but she remembered it well. It was the only building on base that wasn’t tan. Instead, it was a shiny white. She thought that was kind of stupid. If airplanes tried to bomb the base they would know exactly which building to hit to take out the most brass.

  She parked in front in a visitor stall and headed to his small office. The uniformed receptionist said Colonel Clarkson was out and did not say when he would be back.

  Dani sat down to wait, ignoring the disapproving glances the receptionist threw at her every few minutes.

  At 4:45, Dani finally had to admit defeat. He wasn’t coming back today. Briefly, she wondered if the receptionist had told her uncle she was here. Nothing she could do about it. And if he fled back to the Sinai Peninsula in order to avoid meeting with her? What then? She set her jaw and decided she’d deal with that when it happened.

  “Would you please tell Colonel Clarkson I’ll be back first thing in the morning? I really need to talk to him.” The receptionist nodded curtly.

  Dani walked back to her car and tried to decide where to get dinner. Order in at her hotel room? Or head to her favorite cafe, the Singing Dog. She didn’t know why the name was so silly. Was it a translation thing? Or a cultural thing? But she didn’t care. They had great coffee and an American atmosphere that she craved when she was in the Middle East. As she was still weighing the two options her phone rang. Uncle Kevin!

  She answered. “Hello? Uncle Kevin?”

  “Hello Daniela, what are you doing in Kuwait? Are you on assignment?” His voice sounded off to her, like he was quite unhappy to be talking to her.

  “No, I need to talk to you, Uncle Kevin. Dad is worried about you.”

  Dani heard a sigh over the phone. “Your dad always seems to be worried about something since he retired, Daniela. Maybe he needs a hobby.”

  Dani’s eyebrows drew together. This was at least partially true, but she wasn’t going to be dissuaded that easily. “Maybe. So, Uncle Kevin, where are you? Can I come meet you?”

  “I am off base. I won’t be back until Monday. But I can meet you tomorrow. At that cafe you so love. The one we met at before? The Singing Dog. At 12 noon. We do need to talk.”

  Now Dani’s eyebrows went up. She had met her uncle there once before but it had been three years ago. She was surprised he had remembered the name. “OK. That sounds really good. I’ll be there.”

  “Good. Tomorrow then.” He hung up the phone without saying goodbye.

  Dani looked at her phone, confused. What kind of a meeting were they going to have tomorrow? Would he really tell her anything, or would the whole trip be wasted?

  Chapter 8

  T Minus 18 hours

  Camp Patriot Visitor’s Barracks

  JT sat on his bunk and held his head in his hands. A copy of Shane’s autopsy report sat next to him. He needn’t have worried about not being able to decipher it. It was in plain English and very thorough. It described Shane’s last few hours in the medical clinic. It shared his last meal, and his last words. It included interviews of the nurses, doctors, and medics on duty. And examined his stomach contents. And weighed and measured his organs. And didn’t tell him anything. Cause of death was Cardiac Arrest of Unknown Origin. One sentence stood out to JT. Postmortem toxicology reports reveal no remarkable findings. What did that mean? He assumed they tested him for poison? Well, it didn’t pay to assume that. He needed to talk to one of those a
utopsy doctors, or someone who knew what they tested for in an autopsy.

  He picked up his phone and started to dial the medical clinic. Maybe Lt. Dawson could help him. The phone rang in his hand. He didn’t recognize the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Gunnery Sergeant. You’re on base.”

  JT felt the short hair on his neck and arms stand up. His mouth felt dry as the desert wind outside. He worked up enough spit to talk and opened his mouth, not sure what would come out. “Colonel Clarkson. I am.”

  “We need to talk.”

  JT nodded, then realized Col. Clarkson couldn’t see him. “Yes, we do.”

  “Tomorrow, in Kuwait City, at the Singing Dog Cafe. Noon. Don’t be late.”

  JT thought quickly. Technically, he wasn’t supposed to leave base, but because he was on leave still he could get away with it. But how would he get there? It’s not like there was a car rental place around. No matter, he would figure it out.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Good.” The phone went silent in his ear. JT stared at it, wondering if he was making a big mistake. But what choice did he have?

  Chapter 9

  T minus 30 minutes

  Singing Dog Cafe

  Dani pushed open the door to the Singing Dog Cafe, a smile touching her lips immediately. She loved this place. It was like the most American coffee shop that existed, but in the middle of Kuwait City. She always came here when she was in the Middle East and needed a pick-me-up, sometimes flying here specifically to visit the shop and then flying back out to her assignment.

  Her eyes darted to her favorite seat, an overstuffed, infinitely-comfortable, red chair in the far corner, with an excellent view of the entire room and the front door, the best place in the room to watch for Uncle Kevin. It was occupied. Her smile twitched slightly. Oh well, maybe he was leaving soon. The he in question held her eye, even though her brain told her to look away. He was drinking out of a white paper cup and looking at his phone. Her mind cataloged his good-looks instantly: handsome rugged face with a hint of 5 o’clock shadow, dark crew cut, broad chest, immaculate t-shirt and jeans. He was almost-certainly an American Marine. Possibly feeling her eyes on him, he looked up and locked gazes with her.

  His eyes! Dani felt a bolt of pure sensation shoot down her spine when she saw them. They were a bright sapphire blue that contrasted appealingly with his dark looks. He lifted a corner of his mouth into a charming lopsided smile. Dani froze, somehow unable to release the door and walk further into the room. Move! She screamed at herself, feeling ridiculous. Finally, she jerked her eyes away and ran-walked to the counter. Now she felt even more ridiculous. She hadn’t smiled back or anything. Maybe she should wait for Uncle Kevin outside, convince him to go somewhere else. Smooth Dani, I know you haven’t dated in a while but you still remember how to smile, right? I mean, you’ve probably done it a few times today. She berated herself the entire time she stood at the counter. When she finally ordered she dropped the heavy thoughts and retreated to a brown chair in a corner as far away from him as possible. She refused to look that way, preferring to pretend that this was actually her favorite spot in the Singing Dog Cafe and that she was the only customer here.

  She sat down and waited for Uncle Kevin. She studied her coffee and her phone. Uncle Kevin was a big boy. She didn’t need to watch the door for him.

  ***

  JT snuck another glance at the gorgeous brunette with the long wavy hair and the to-die-for freckles. He loved freckles. And she didn’t just have a few. She had a generous splash of freckles across both cheeks, her nose, and even her chin. He wished she would just turn in that big chair a little bit, just enough for him to get another look at her face. Oh well, he thought. Even if he wasn’t here on horrible, important business, it’s not like he would strike up a conversation with her or anything. She’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t want him to speak to her when he’d smiled at her and she’d just glared back. He couldn’t help but think about those freckles though, and all that brown hair. He hadn’t seen freckles like that since Tina… He cut his thoughts off there and flicked his eyes to the door to watch for Colonel Clarkson. No sense thinking about Tina. There was nothing but pain down that road.

  JT heard a loud clatter somewhere in the bowels of the cafe, as if a tray full of dishes had been tipped over. He glanced at the counter, but no employees stood there. They must all be in the back dealing with whatever was going on. Idly, he watched a tall man in a tailored dishdasha, the floor-length white robe that many men in the region wore, whispering into a man’s ear who was seated near him. The man stood up quickly and walked out the front door stiffly.

  JT’s gut constricted suddenly and he sat up very straight, absently tucking his phone in his pocket. His eyes crawled over the cafe, cataloging the customers. The beautiful woman with the freckles, the man in the dishdasha, and only one other Kuwaiti woman sitting alone at a table. JT’s gut constricted harder. There had been at least 10 people sitting in overstuffed chairs when he came in and sat down, and he hadn’t seen any of them leave. And the guy in the dishdasha hadn’t been here and he hadn’t seen him come in. Get out now, his gut prodded. JT stood up, his coffee forgotten. He took a step towards the door, then half-turned toward the woman in the corner who had glared at him when she entered. If something was going down in here, he should warn her and the other woman. He knew he would sound like an idiot, but he had to try anyway.

  In front of him, the man in the dishdasha murmured a few words to the Kuwaiti woman in Arabic. JT knew a bit of Arabic and a bit of Farsi, but he couldn’t tell what the man had said. The woman stood up quickly, threw a worried glance behind her, and ran out the door like the man before her. JT’s internal alarm pinged harder. He had to get out of here now. He wouldn’t leave the woman though, he’d at least try to warn her.

  Before he could get halfway across the room, the remaining man spoke a single word towards the hallway behind the checkout counter, loudly. JT saw the woman in the corner look up, alarm in her own eyes. Noise from the hallway drew his eye. Six more men in full, white dishdashas, plus all wearing checkered keffiyehs on their heads, crowded out of the hallway in single file. The sight of the AK-47s in their hands chilled JT. This was very bad.

  The man who had sent the other cafe customers out the door smiled broadly at him. “Sergeant Taylor, yes?” he said in perfect English with only the slightest accent.

  JT’s body tensed and he unconsciously turned sideways, away from the six men who were now lined up in front of the counter, all of their heads cocked and their guns pointed at him. You’re toast JT, just get the woman out of here, he told himself, accepting his fate as much as a Marine ever does. Could Colonel Clarkson possibly be behind this? Did it even matter at this point? It did to the innocent young woman in the corner. Why hadn’t the man sent her outside with everyone else? JT put his hands up and took two more steps towards the brunette. Her eyes seemed too big for her face. She looked from him to the men with guns swiftly, ping-ponging her glance back and forth.

  JT addressed the first man. “You obviously want me. Let her go.”

  To her, he quietly said, “Get up slowly, walk behind me with your hands up, to the door.” She started to do as he said, her face pale and drawn.

  The first man laughed arrogantly. “Oh no, she will not be going anywhere.” He stepped to the door himself, opened it and made a gesture outside of it, then stepped back inside. Four more men in dishdashas, two from each side, passed the front windows and came in the door. As they entered, they produced guns and pointed them at JT. His mind raced. Were they being taken hostage?

  The man who had spoken spread his hands wide and gestured to them to walk towards the counter, a firm smile on his face. JT could see no way out. Suddenly he felt very afraid, and very responsible for the young woman with the freckles. This had to have everything to do with him - they knew his name - and she was just along for the unfortunate, probably-deadly ride.

&n
bsp; JT swallowed and considered his options. His mind ticked off possibilities with lightning speed. In essence, they all boiled down to either fight or submit. If the woman weren’t here this would be so much easier. If he were only responsible for himself, he would fight to the death without hesitation. He swore lightly to himself and took a slow step towards the counter, trying to buy time.

  He studied the man with the smile and thought about the KA-Bar fighting knife in his boot. He could take this man and use him as a shield long enough to get the woman out of here.

  The man with the smile must have seen it in his eyes. His smile grew wider and he said, “Fucking move or the lady gets a bullet to the knee.” He could have been asking JT about the weather with that smile and his light tone of voice. The contrast with the actual words he spoke chilled JT even further and he knew why. This man was completely insane.

  JT glanced at the woman in the chair. She stared at him openly, fear stamped across her features. She hadn’t moved yet. She seemed to be waiting for him. He hesitated one more second, and the man with the horrible smile raised his fingers. One of the gunmen ran over to them and trained his gun on the woman’s legs.

  “We’re moving, we’re moving!” JT shouted, grabbing the woman’s hand and pulling her out of the chair and in the direction they were being herded.

  Now he knew why the woman was being kept. To control him.

  Chapter 10