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WINTER SOLDIERbyMarisa CarrollCopyright (c) 1999Harlequin Retail IncISBN: 0373708416"I mean, are you up to operating with me? Owens is a general surgeon.You're probably used to galland uterine excisions, not keeping someoneunder and stable while I tinker around in his brain for eight or tenhours.""Caleb does a little of everything. Slate Hollow's a small place.You have to be flexible."A hint of defensiveness had crept into her voice.A damn momentary twinge of conscience.She was a colleague, a professional.They'd be working together the next three weeks.He was barking at her as if she was a not-too-bright first-year intern."Ever scrubbed for brain surgery before?""You mean other than bashing a patient on the head with a hammer, whileCaleb drilled through his skull with the Black and Decker Two Speed tolet out the evil spirits?""I didn't mean--" She cut him off."Yes, you did."She was right.He couldn't deny it without lying through his teeth, so he kept quiet.Neurosurgeons were considered the glamour boys of medicine and had areputation for being arrogant and imperious.He'd just reinforced the stereotype, big time."The answer is yes, Doctor. I have worked with your kind before."Your kind.The emphasis on the words was so slight most people wouldn't havenoticed, but he did.He almost smiled.She was a fighter.Good.They would need that kind of grit and stamina where they were going."I apologize," he said." B.J. told me he always gets the best people for these jaunts. He was right.What I should have asked you was if you'd had He'd almost saidbattlefield conditions.What had made those words pop into his head?Was it because, below a sleeveless white tank top that molded itselfnicely to her breasts, she wore desert-patterned utility-fatigues toeveryone but an ex-Marine, and combat boots--a look that was decidedlymilitary.Or bethe past was growing stronger with every mile they flew, bringinglong-guarded memories danger close to the surface?She glanced down at the U. S. Marine Corps emblem tattooed on his leftforearm, partially visible below the rolled-back cuff of his shirt, asouvenir of his first liberty after boot camp at Parris Island all thoseyears ago."I've been around the world a few times, Ma'am. I won't bug out on you."She gave him a mocklittle salute and headed down the aisle toward thefront of the plane.He closed his eyes but could still see the proud tilt of her head, thesway of her hips in the baggy Utilities that tried hard but couldn'tcompletely hide the fact she was all woman.Three weeks in close proximity to Leah Gentry was going to be veryinteresting.And maybe, just maybe, it would be interesting enough to keep him fromlosing what was left of his mind."MAY I JOIN YOU?" Leah asked Kaylene Smiley, the mission's head nurse,as she came abreast of the older woman's seat.She and Kaylene had met for the first time in the lounge at O'Hare theevening before.Dr. Roger Crenshaw, the anesthesiologist Leah would be Adam on the backas he made his little joke."Ms. Gentry here's an officer in the United States Army.""You're active duty?"He hadn't expected that.He'd noticed the utility ties, but had her pegged for a military wanna-beor maybe a weekend warrior, not regular army."Reserves since '94.""Desert Storm?"B. J. answered first."And Somalia and Bosnia. I told you I only get the best.Leah knows the ropes.And she's not going to go into a screaming panic if the lights go out orsome ex-Charlie bureaucrat with delusions of grandeur starts hasslin' usabout our pawe're damned lucky to have her, so don't go giving her ahard time."It's too late," Leah said mildly."Mr. Walton, could you spare me one of the interpreters to run in withthe customs officer?"She lifted the big metal case a few inches."I've got everything I need to work in here. I don't want any of it someround-butt desk jockey with an over sense of duty or a quick eye for abribe. If I don't work, Dr. Sander doesn't, either.Or anyone else, for that matter," she concluded with a grin."I'll walk you through myself," B. J. said, sudall business."It's liable to take some time to get us all through the red tape, so wemight as well start with you. The commies may have lost the cold war,but they won the paperwdrk one.Then I'm coming back to ask for volunteers to stay with the plane.I don't intend to see any of our stuff get 'liberated' by any of thosedesk jockeys you mentioned and end up on the black market.Can I count on you, Captain?""Certainly.Just tell me when.""I'd like to get everyone squared away at the hotel ASAP. Would you bewilling to take the first shift with the plane? I'll leave Adam herewith you. Got a problem with that, Marine?"B. J. asked in a softly challenging tone.He had made his peace with the past.He knew Adam had not."No," Adam said."No problem.""Great. It's settled, then. I'll make sure the government liaison guythey promised to have waiting for us gets us some guards. Once they'restationed around the plane all you have to do is stick around a while tomake sure they Stay honest. Piece of cake."Adam wasn't so sure of that, but maybe with Leah Gentry to keep himcompany, he could fill the silence of the present with the sound of hervoice and keep the horror of the past at bay.ADAM WALKED OUT onto the balcony of his hotel room to greet the sunrisein a country he'd hoped never to see again."Good morning, Doctor. You're up early."He swung around.Leah Gentry was standing on another postage-stamp-size balcony next tohis.She looked fresh and rested, even though they hadn't gone to their hotelrooms until after midnight the night before."Good morning. Is that coffee you're drinking?" He'd given up alcoholyears ago, cut down on his red meat and smoked only the occasionalcigar, but he'd refused to give up coffee."Yep. I made it myself."She laughed, the wonlilting laugh he'd found himself beginning to craveas though it were coffee."I'm not fit for human company if I don't get my fix in the morning, soMom sent along one of those little coffeemakers and every conceivableelectrical adapter. Luckily one of them worked. The wiring in this hotelis ... eccentric," she finished diplomatically."Would you like a cup? The door's unlocked. Help yourself.""Thanks, I'll be right over," he heard himself say, and wasn't assurprised as he would have been only twenty-four hours earlier.The time they'd spent together at Thon Son Nhut hadn't been as bad ashe'd expected.True to his word, B. J. had gotten Leah and her tackle box full ofanesthetic drags and instruments through customs in unan hour, some kindof record in Vietnam.And true to his word, the Vietnamese official had shown up with hisarmed guards--sober young men dressed in dull green fatigues and pithhelmets that sported a red star.With AK-47s slung over their shoulders, they took their places on eachside of the hangar door.Left alone in the vast echoing space, he and Leah had made small talk,played gin rummy on Leah's tackle box and listened to the drumming ofrain on the metal roofi It was November, the tail end of the rainyseason, so the downpour lasted for less than an hour, instead of halfthe day.The sun was setting when the rain stopped.The air had cooled ever so slightly.Leah produced apples and oranges, peanut butter and cheese crackers andbottled water from her backpack.They shared their makeshift meal with the guards, who spoke English farbetter than Adam spoke Vietnamese.As darkness fell, a lithattery-powered lantern materialized from yetan pocket of Leah's backpack.It fought the dark to a standstill in a small circle around them.As the hours slowly passed, he'd kept her talking about her work, aboutgrowing up an army brat and about her family.He'd learned her parents were retired, her father after thirty years inthe military, her mother after a career as a teacher.One brother was a U. S. Navy SEAL, one a navy chaplain, the third anarmy Green Beret.And in return he had given up a few details of his own life during thedark minutes before midnight-Thon Son Nhut he'd faced and survived.This morning it was Saigon.The city had fallen to the victorious enemy only one day after hishelicopter had lifted off the airfield.He wondered if Leah's company might be as potent a talisman against thepast today as it had been yesterday.He walked the few feet down the hallway to her room and pushed open thelouvered door.Her accommodations were identical to his--high ceiling, white walls,sheer curtains at the French doors.The place had once been a villa that belonged to a South Viet general, B.J. had told him.Now it was a hotel, a joint venture between the Vietnamese and anAussie firm.They were trying hard, but they hadn't gotten it quite right yet.The rooms were clean, the toilets worked, and there was hot water, butno soap and only one towel in the communal bathroom.The electricity was eccentric, as Leah had said.To turnon the ceiling fan, he'd had to hook two bare wires together, andthere was no such thing as room service.Leah must have heard him enter the room."There's whitener in those little packets," she called from the balcony."No, thanks. Black is fine."He couldn't help himself to her coffee and then just leave, walk backinto his room and stare at the walls, so he made himself move thro... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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