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Or bring him in officially to a hospital, explaining that his wounds occurred courtesy of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Lots of questions being asked, the word going out quickly about a Quds member being shot and severely wounded on a country road near to one of the most secure and confidential military bases in the region. Add witnesses and surveillance tapes being reviewed, by this time next week, hearings would start up in Congress.
Aldo says, “Noa?”
She says, “Aldo, help Juan unpack that Town Car and dump the load into the pickup truck, if it’s still drivable. If not, use the CR-V. Move.”
Aldo and Juan quickly move back to the disabled Town Car, leaving Wendy and Phil with Noa and the wounded terrorist.
Becky and Beirut.
Amazing how strong those memories are.
Noa takes out her SIG Sauer and shoots the Quds man in the middle of his forehead.
“Wendy, Phil,” she says. “Help me put him into the van.”
Wendy and Phil say not a word, but instantly step forward to help her.
Juan and Aldo ignore them all, focusing on their own job, as good operators do.
CHAPTER 42
IT’S A LATE night in Arlington, near the Pentagon and Pentagon City, and Liam Grey is sipping his second Guinness of the evening—appropriate since they are at an Irish pub—sitting across a small table with an old Army buddy of his, Captain Spencer Webster. Back in the day, when Liam was chasing the Taliban up and down lots of rocky mountain trails, Spencer was the platoon’s medic, nicknamed—of course—Doc.
He was way overqualified for his medic role, being a top graduate from the Pritzker School of Medicine at the University of Chicago, and then—surprising friends and family—entering the military. Why? During leave one night in Bagram, Spencer said, “Following in my dad’s esteemed medical footsteps, I was destined to do lots of surgeries for wealthy patients in safe hospitals. I wanted to do something different. So here I am.”
Now Spencer is part of the White House Medical Unit, and it’s good to sit tight with him and exchange old stories and memories. The night is going well. Spencer is two years older than Liam, with a thick neck and short blond hair, and both are wearing civvies.
One of the best parts of military and intelligence work is knowingthat you can walk into any bar near a military installation and find a familiar face or two, like Doc.
Following that Paris mission and the long hard flight back to the States, Liam is enjoying every minute of unwinding with a Guinness and an old friend in a safe and familiar place, the Sine Irish Pub and Restaurant.
Liam asks, “How’s Miriam? And Liz? And Linc?”
“Miriam’s enjoying working from home so much I doubt the EPA will ever get her back in the office,” Spencer says. “Both Liz and Lincoln are graduating from the ‘terrible twos’ to the ‘thrashing threes,’ bumping into the furniture, breaking anything within reach, terrorizing the cat, sometimes going after him as a duo.”
“Sounds like fun,” Liam says.
“It is,” Spencer replies, smiling. “You should give it a go. I mean, sorry it didn’t work out with Kay, but like they say, there’re plenty of fish in the sea.”
“I’m sure there are, but I’m currently in the wrong sea,” Liam says. “Job not conducive to healthy family relationships.”
“Yeah, so I’ve heard,” Spencer says, taking a good swallow of his Guinness. “How’s the cloak-and-dagger work?”
“It’s … work. Too much cloak, sometimes not enough dagger. Travel a bit, poke around some, meet interesting people.”
“And kill them?”
Liam keeps smiling but thinks of that wild evening in France, killing the three terrorists, and that long night speeding away in the darkness, frantically trying to save Boyd’s life.
He and his crew sure could have used Spencer that night.
A quick sad thought: Spencer probably could have saved his brother Brian back when he was ambushed in Afghanistan.
“When necessary,” he says, suddenly feeling morose. “And you? What the hell is going on with the veep? What do you hear?”
“That, my friend,” Spencer says, words quiet, staring into his glass of Guinness, “is the daily million-dollar question. Lots of expertsare being flown in, tests after tests being run … she’s in some sort of coma, but damn right now if anybody can figure it out.”