Page 126 of Kiss Her Goodbye
MOVEMENT FROM BEHIND THEBRITISHspymaster as Roberta stumbles her way through the shattered sliders, crunching pebbled glass as she goes.Her hair is in disarray.There’s blood on her temple and marks on her wrists consistent with restraints.
She spares a quick nod of thanks to Lilla, whom I’m guessing liberated Roberta after she was most likely ambushed and tied up by the insurgents during her perimeter sweep.Ironically, she looks in better shape than the rest of us.Which is immediately confirmed when her gaze lands on Daryl’s still form.
With a cry, Roberta vaults to his side.“Daryl, what have you done, you dumb lug!”
“Let me, I’m a doctor.”The curly-haired man, who looks too similar to Kurtz to be anyone other than the retired army captain’s brother.He spares me a quick glance while heading toward Daryl.
“You’re injured—”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Sabera,” he barks out, already kneeling next to Daryl’s head.“First aid kit.Towels, disinfectant, gauze.Bring me whatever you can find.”
Sabera spins in the direction of the kitchen, her face an angry display of small cuts and glittery glass shards.Aliah is also inmotion, rifling cabinets and drawers just as I’d been doing moments before.
Meanwhile Kurtz deftly binds the wrists and ankles of both intruders, then drags them into a sitting position next to the kitchen table.The lower face of the man who attacked me is a study of gore.There’s too much blood to be able to determine if he still has his nose, or how much of it.As he gazes at me with fresh hatred, I make a show of delicately stroking my own pert snout.
Lilla wanders over to Habib’s body, squatting down low and inspecting his red-soaked abdomen.
“Your work?”
I jerk my head in Sabera’s direction.
“Well played.”
“Sabera,” the doctor barks again.
She comes flying over, bearing towels, a sharp knife, and a whiskey bottle.Deposits her load, awaits his next instruction.
They’ve done this before, obviously.Many times.
“You know him,” I state the obvious.
“I volunteered at Dr.Richard’s clinic at the first refugee camp.”
“Dr.Richard.But of course.Any chance, Dr.Richard, you now work at a hospital in New York?”
“Yes.”His hands are dancing all over Daryl’s body, taking vitals, inspecting injuries.Roberta appears in a state of shock, Daryl’s head cradled on her lap, as the doctor leans over and rips open Daryl’s jacket, then takes the knife from Sabera and slices down the front of his shirt, pinging buttons as he goes.
“Sandy,” he commands his brother.
“Here.”
“Plenty of damage, but here’s the main issue: penetrating wound, lower left side.I’m going to dig out the obvious buckshot.Sabera, you will pack.Then, Sandy, you apply pressure.As much as you can.Ready.One, two, three.”
They move in startling synchronicity.
Daryl groans once but thankfully doesn’t regain consciousness.Dr.Richard moves up to his head, inspects the big man’s neck, feels around the back of his head.
He gazes up at Roberta, his face merely an inch from hers.
“Your…?”
“Friend.”
“Good news.Your friend is gonna have one helluva headache from smashing his head against a hard-tiled floor.And definitely requires a surgeon’s touch.But a lotta this looks worse than it is.Little rest, plenty of fluids, he should recover.”
Roberta chokes back a sob, sniffs out.“Okay.”
