Page 67 of Stand Fast

“Yes. They’re getting a trauma team ready right now.”

God.“I’m on my way.”

“What’s wrong?” David asked, putting a hand on her arm.

“Barakat’s been shot. They’re prepping him for surgery. I have to get there before they put him under.” Without waiting for a response she rushed out the door and ran over to the hospital.

By the time she got there and explained who she was, two nurses were already wheeling his bed toward the O.R. at the end of the hall. “Wait!”

They stopped and she flashed her badge at them as she raced over. Panting, she grabbed the rail of the bed and stared down into Barakat’s pale, pain-pinched face. He had an oxygen mask over his face and dressings covering his belly, soaked with fresh blood. The sight and smell of it made her stomach pitch.

“Barakat. Who did this to you?” she demanded in Dari.

His dark eyes fluttered open and focused on her blearily. “Hurts,” he moaned.

She reached for his hand, wrapped her fingers around his. “I know it does. They’re taking you into the operating room. The doctors here are excellent. They’ll fix you up.” She squeezed his hand. “Who shot you?”

“Jackal’s…men,” he rasped.

“Ma’am, we need to get him into the operating room now. You’ll have to wait until after he’s out of recovery.”

Jaliya nodded but otherwise ignored the woman, keeping up with them as they wheeled him toward the doors at the end of the hall. “Did you see their faces?”

Barakat shook his head, grimacing.

“Where did it happen?”

He cried out in agony, sweat beading his forehead.

“They found him on the side of the road a few miles from base,” one of the nurses said.

She felt badly for him, hated to see him suffering, but there was far too much at stake here to let this go. “Barakat. Were you coming here to find me? Did you need to tell me something?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, managed a slight nod.

Jaliya leaned over him, heart pounding. “Barakat. I know it hurts, but before they take you into the operating room, I need to know what you came to tell me.”

His eyes cracked open, and when they focused on her, the fear in his gaze sent a shiver ripping down her spine. “I know…who he is,” he said.

The nurses slowed and one of them put a hand on her shoulder. “Okay, ma’am. You’ll have to stay here—”

“No,wait.” She pushed the woman’s restraining hand off and bent over to place her free hand on Barakat’s scruffy cheek, bringing that pain-glazed gaze back to hers. “It’s Shah. Remember? We already talked about it this morning.”

“No,” he protested, growing agitated. “No. Not…him.”

Cold spread through her gut. “What?”

He bared his teeth, the muscles in his throat standing out as he fought the agony.

“Barakat. Are you saying it’s not Shah?”

He shook his head. “Help,” he begged. “Make it stop.”

She clenched his hand tight, desperate to get through to him. “Who is it?”

Endless seconds passed while she awaited his answer.

“Barakat. Tell me who it is. Who is The Jackal?”