Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) (6 page)

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The clinic was busy when Farrah made it back down to the main floor. She was a little later than usual, but decided to keep to her normal routine. She smiled and nodded to those she encountered on her way to the dining room. The clinic’s cook, an older woman who knew her way around a kitchen the way a surgeon did an operating room, waved to her as she entered.

“Morning almost gone, Doctor Hastings. Good you come now. You eat today? I will wait and come back.” She gestured to the nearly empty trays on the buffet with a big smile. She was always trying to get Farrah to eat more.

“Thank you, Mrs. Diab. I am a little hungry this morning. Is there any coffee left?”

“Of course, yes. I bring some fresh right away.” Still smiling, she inclined her head and hurried through the door to the kitchen.

Farrah quickly moved to the buffet. She used two napkins to gather as much portable food as possible, including a small covered bowl of fuul, mashed fava beans that reminded her of Spanish refried beans. There were some emergency rations in the safe room Joshua and his men could eat, but she’d rather not use any more of the WHO supplies than necessary. Replacing them would be difficult. Glancing around to make sure she was still alone, she slipped the bulging packs inside the light jacket she wore under her doctor’s coat. Unlike the coat she’d worn earlier, this one was a little large for her and hid the smuggled food well. Footsteps announced the cook’s return. Farrah had just enough time to snatch a plate, pile on some food, and sit down before Mrs. Diab came in with the coffee. The cook paused beside Farrah’s chair, took in her piled plate, and blinked.

“Thank you,” Farrah said, gently removing the cup from the woman’s hand. Mrs. Diab seemed to shake herself and recovered her grin.

“You enjoy eating, Doctor Hastings, yes? Tell me if you need more.”

“I will, Mrs. Diab, thank you.” She smiled and took a big bite of fresh bread, hoping to forestall any more conversation. The cook inclined her head again and left. Farrah sighed in relief and took a sip of the hot coffee. This sneaking around business was hard. She couldn’t imagine how Joshua and Kyle managed without getting caught. She stared at the food on her plate. This was definitely not her normal routine. She usually ate sparingly at breakfast, if at all. No wonder Mrs. Diab had seemed so surprised. Well, it couldn’t be helped now.

She used a third napkin and stowed away as much of the food as possible. She’d have to make sure no one brushed up against her or they’d surely feel all the lumps surrounding her waist. She took a final sip of coffee and hurried out into the main hall, conscious of the passing minutes. Joshua would be looking for her soon. She needed to make her excuse to the head of the clinic, Dr. Couruy, and somehow sneak back into the hall closet without anyone seeing her.

Fingering the set of keys in her pocket, she turned a corner and stopped short. People crowded the hall, their backs to her. Beyond them, Dr. Couruy confronted several armed men. His round face was suffused with color. He shook his finger in the face of the man who seemed to be in charge of the soldiers.

“You have no right to burst in here scaring my employees and patients. We have the Ministry’s full approval to operate this clinic. I’ll see that you are severely punished.”

Farrah sucked in a breath. Even she knew better than to threaten a man with a weapon. She gasped again when the man Dr. Couruy was facing suddenly grabbed the doctor by the throat and shoved him against the wall. The people around her cried out and one woman crumpled in a faint.

“We search for American terrorists,” the man said in clipped English. “One or more wounded. I ask again, did you or any of your people treat an injured man last night or this morning? Do you have Americans here?” He punctuated the last question by pulling the doctor up and slamming him against the wall again.

Farrah trembled. There was no mistaking the man’s determination. He wanted Joshua and his men very badly. Had she made a mistake insisting they stay in the safe room? Dear Lord, she hoped not. She wanted to run herself, but locked her muscles, refusing to give in to the urgent desire to flee. With everyone looking around at each other fearfully, any move she made would draw quick attention. She caught a glimpse of the man she’d passed earlier on the other side of the crowd of clinic workers. Cold washed over her, leaving her light-headed. He’d seen the fresh blood on her coat quite clearly. One word from him, and she was as good as dead. These men didn’t look like Egyptian military or even special police. They were terrorists, just like Joshua had said. There would be no diplomatic rescue for her if they took her.

The sound of flesh smacking flesh jerked her attention back to the confrontation. Dr. Couruy lay on the floor, conscious, but dazed. The leader of the terrorists stood over him, gesturing and issuing orders in Arabic too quickly for her to translate. Suddenly the hallway was flooded by men with guns, shouting and shoving the clinic personnel. One by one, each person was pushed against the wall face first and roughly searched before being forced to sit. Farrah took a step back. If they searched her, they’d find the food she’d stashed. She might be able to convince them she was smuggling food out to a hungry family—goodness knows there were plenty of those for it to be plausible—but she preferred not to have to lie. She’d never been good at it.

She took another step back. Something hard poked her in the back and shoved her forward. Farrah gasped. She’d been so occupied with what was going on in front of her, she hadn’t noticed the two men who’d come up from behind. She glanced at them both, then quickly looked down. This wasn’t the time to flout custom. If they thought her nothing more than a subservient woman, they might let their guard down long enough for her to get past them.

One of the men shoved her roughly against the wall. Just as he grabbed her shoulder, more shouts joined the cacophony. The Arabic came fast and thick, the noise reaching a crescendo as a group of people carrying a bloody body rushed into the clinic. The two men who were about to search her turned their attention to the new arrivals. Farrah caught enough of the Arabic flung around to know the man was a car accident victim. Bad for him, but the timing couldn’t be better as far as she was concerned. She held her breath and inched back along the wall. There was no way for her to reach the dubious safety of the hidden room via the closet. She’d have to take the long route and hope there weren’t any soldiers waiting outside to stop her. Taking a deep breath, she ducked out of the hall and ran.

The kitchen was empty. Farrah didn’t pause until she reached the back door. She opened it cautiously. The narrow alley running the length of the clinic was empty for the moment. She stepped out quickly and closed the door. Something told her going to either end of the alley would be a mistake. Instead, she darted straight across to a deep archway in the building next door. She knocked on the half-hidden door. When no one answered, she turned the knob and ducked inside. The room was dim. No lights were on and the windows were shuttered. Still, she could make out Mrs. Diab and her family huddled in a corner. The woman had her arms around the heads of two children, tucking them in tightly to her body as if trying to hide them. She met Farrah’s eyes for a moment, then motioned sharply to the other doorway out of the room with her chin.

Farrah couldn’t blame the woman for wanting her gone. Without saying a word, she nodded once and hurried out of the room, conscious of the frightened gazes of the children following her. She needed to hurry. Mrs. Diab wouldn’t lie to protect her, not if her family were threatened.

She grabbed a scarf hanging from a hook on the wall and wrapped it around her head before leaving. Hopefully it would make her less conspicuous, though a woman in a white medical coat and pants was sure to stick in the memory of anyone who saw her. Trying to blend in with the early morning foot traffic, she forced herself not to run. Distant gunfire broke the morning’s peace. Around her, people started, paused, and then hurried on their way, some changing direction away from the ominous noise. Farrah broke into a trot along with the rest of them and was soon at her destination.

The old barn had been remodeled some years ago into a garage of sorts. She used one of the keys on her ring to gain entry, closing and locking the door behind her. Several windows set high in the walls flooded the medium-sized building with dusty light. Farrah slipped between the converted van, which served as the Clinic’s ambulance, and Dr. Couruy’s compact little sedan. The other entrance to the safe room was hidden in a corner behind a wheeled tool chest. She tugged and pushed the heavy chest away from the wall just enough to get the door opened. She stood for several seconds, staring at the steep stairs that disappeared into darkness. Her panting was all she could hear, the rush of air in and out seeming to drown out everything else.

Farrah pressed a hand to her chest. She had to do this. Kyle was down there, hurting, possibly bleeding. She needed to be with him. Too bad there wasn’t another brave soldier to go down first and turn on the lights for her.

“You’re not a baby,” she scolded herself in a harsh whisper. “You’re a full grown woman, a doctor for Pete’s sake. Grow a spine, Hastings.”

Swallowing hard, she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other. Getting the door closed again was awkward. She could only pull the chest back so far without trapping her hand. She sat on the steps when the door was firmly closed, blocking out all light. The darkness seemed to hang like a thick shroud around her, making it hard to breathe. Sweat trickled down her back and dust tickled her nose. Only the knowledge that Kyle was waiting for her kept her from shoving the door open again.

She finally made herself stand, one hand pressed against the wall, the other out in front of her. One step. Two steps. Her legs shook hard, threatening to give out. Farrah sat abruptly. She buried her face in her hands and caught back a sob. Why in the world hadn’t she brought a flashlight? It wouldn’t be so bad if she could see something.

Deciding to stay low instead of risking a tumble, she inched her way down several more steps. When she reached the bottom, she stood up cautiously, staying close to the wall. There was a light switch here somewhere. She blinked back tears as she ran her hands over the rough surface. It had to be here. She had to have light. The darkness was so absolute, adding to her feeling of suffocation. She could feel the press of the earth above her, the buildings, two and three stories high, sitting heavy on their foundations. Crowds of people stomping back and forth. Vehicles rolling along, their metal bodies pounding over the uneven roads. The thought of all that weight pressing down on top of her made her cringe. Dear Lord, the ceiling could give way at any moment!

Caught on the edge of panic, Farrah closed her eyes and hugged the cool wall. She knew she’d have to go down the sloping tunnel to the safe room eventually, with or without light. She couldn’t stay here. But right now, she simply couldn’t move another inch.

“Farrah?”

She jumped at the voice, even as she recognized it as Joshua’s. Opening her eyes, she saw him standing in front of her, a glowing light stick in his hand. With a gasp, she threw herself into his arms.

“Easy, easy there. Are you all right? Damn, Farrah, you’re shaking all over. Calm down, sweetheart. You know you don’t have to do this. You can stay up top. We’ll take care of Kyle.”

She shook her head against his shoulder, not yet ready to let him go. “The terrorists are looking for you very hard. They’re questioning everyone. Someone saw me this morning before I could change out of the coat stained with Kyle’s blood. I couldn’t take the chance on him keeping quiet. If they searched me, they’d find the food I was bringing to you and your men and I don’t think I could really make them believe it was for some poor hungry family, especially if the man who saw me said anything, and I just couldn’t, I couldn’t…”

“Hush, sweetheart, hush.” He held her tighter, stroking one hand over her hair. “It’s all right. You did the right thing.” His tone hardened. “I’m just so sorry I had to drag you into this.”

“No.” Farrah pushed back, easing out of his hold. With Joshua’s presence and the light from his glow stick, she felt her courage returning. Or at least the panic faded to manageable proportions. She wiped at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, feeling thoroughly embarrassed. “No, don’t be sorry. I’m glad you thought to bring Kyle to me. Even if you hadn’t, those men would still be at the clinic searching for you. There’s no telling what they’ll do to Dr. Couruy and the others. I should be there.”

Joshua gripped her shoulders and shook her slightly. “No, Farrah, don’t ever feel guilty for looking out for yourself. Kyle and I need to know you’re safe, that you don’t take any hurt from this. From what you’ve said, you’re better off down here with us.” He cupped her cheek. “Now come on. Your patient was getting restless when I left. You know Kyle. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and come after you himself.”

Chapter Four

One of Joshua’s men stood at the entrance to the safe room. Farrah pointed to the heavy metal door standing ajar behind him. “That was supposed to be locked.” The man smiled, dipped his head and raised a shoulder in a slight shrug. “I don’t like locked doors, ma’am.”

Joshua chuckled softly. “Don’t let him fool you, Farrah. Laptop here loves locked doors. The harder to unlock, the better.” He focused on the soldier. “Any change?”

The man snorted. “Just a bunch of swearing. Same old Kyle. And it’s Peregrine, ma’am, not Laptop.” He threw Joshua a scowl. “I am not a fu—” He cut himself off and shot her an apologetic glance. “I’m not a blasted computer. That’s Capella’s gig.”

Farrah bit her lip to keep from smiling at his sudden switch of words. Joshua must have warned his men that she didn’t like foul language. “Peregrine, as in the falcon?”

“Partially. Since we’re the NightHawks, it made sense. But it’s more because we travel around a lot. Peregrine means wandering pilgrim.”

Joshua put a hand on her back and urged her past the soldier. “Which is too much of a mouthful when we’re running a mission. We tried shortening it to Grin, but he wouldn’t answer to that either.”