Page 78 of Viral Justice

Chapter Eighteen

Max looked up at teamcommander Sergeant Greg Nolan’s question to see Ali in the doorway of the room, the smallest boy hiding behind her.

“The child,” Max said into the silence, “along with his brother and father, are under our protection.”

“For fuck’s sake, we don’t have time for that,” Nolan said, irritation making his tone harsh enough to make the child duck behind Ali a little further.

“No,Idon’t have time for it,” Max corrected him. “You, however, have plenty of time to play nice with the locals. Sergeant Stone is going to collect a few samples for me to test while you and your team keep the militants from killing everyone.”

Nolan stared at Max, his face immobile for several seconds. “Twelve men aren’t enough to keep the peace in a place this size.”

“I didn’t say you had to pin a sheriff’s badge to your chest. The militants are a dangerous and unpredictable threat. They’ve burnt down one building with a significant amount of my equipment in it and killed a number of people. They seem especially interested in capturing Americans. I’d like to know if they’re just fishing or if they’ve already taken Western aid workers captive with the idea of demanding a ransom.”

Max watched Nolan chew on that for a few moments.

“Yeah, that we can do. I’ll leave a couple of guys here to keep people out.” Nolan glanced at his men. “Hunt and Jessup can stay along with your people. The rest of us will move out. We’ll check in with you in one hour.”

“Very good,” Max replied. He wasn’t sure Nolan would have heard anything else.

Ali shuffled out of the way, her young tagalong still stuck to her legs as the team left.

“Sir,” said the one man who’d stayed behind. “I’m Sergeant Jimmy Hunt, medic.”

At least this one wasn’t throwing sarcasm into his face. Yet. He began sorting the duffel bags into a semblance of order. “Well, Sergeant Hunt, care to tell me why Commander Nolan has his panties in such a twist?”

“It’s not you, sir,” Hunt explained. “He’s pissed off at the rotten intel we’ve been getting on this situation. There weren’t supposed to be militants in this place at all, but there are. And now they seem to be multiplying.”

“Given the rapid way people are dying here, that’s saying something,” Ali put in.

“The loss of your equipment and the need for a second team makes his neck itchy, sir.”

“I knew I was at fault somewhere.” Max opened the first duffel bag and pulled out a roll of heavy duty plastic sheeting and some duct tape. “Here, take this end,” he ordered Hunt, then rolled the plastic over top of the long counter that ran the entire length of one wall. Once the plastic was cut and taped into place, Max went back to the bag and pulled out a package of nasal swabs.

Ali came over, with the boy still clinging to her like Velcro, and took the half-dozen swabs he handed her.

“Go now,” he ordered her. “While people are still distracted by the supplies. Who knows how difficult it will be to get samples once things start to calm down.”

She glanced at Berez.

Max smiled at the child, not much more than three years old, and held out his hands. The boy hesitated only a little before moving into his arms. “Come on,” he said to Ali. “I’ll return him to his father.”

Max glanced at Hunt. “Do me a favor and cover the other set of counters? I won’t be long.”

“No problem.” Hunt’s relieved smile told Max he’d have to make sure the kids and father stayed away from the operating room.

Ali walked out ahead of him and down the hall to the room the boy’s father had claimed for them. The father and older brother were sleeping.

Max put the younger boy down and tucked him next to his father, whispering in Arabic, “Time to sleep.” At first, the kid didn’t relax his death hold on Max’s neck, but after a couple of seconds, he let go.

The child studied Max for a long second, then yawned and closed his eyes.

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